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Tuesday, 29 July 2014


You may have noticed (no you didn't, I know no one's reading this) that the last post, dated from over a week ago, has no labels and seems incomplete. That's because it is. I started writing it and kept it as a draft but could not finish it. I could not even bring myself to read it through before posting it. I considered adding to it instead of writing a new post but the post I wanted to write to follow up on it was not written either and I don't think this post will do it. 

I am still in an unfortunate dry spell, as far as being able to word my thoughts goes. 

It will seem a bit implausible, but the reason I am writing this post is because I just watched The Princess Bride. I watched it because Nd recommended it after watching it with their boyfriend. I had a vague memory of its name and the notion that there was a bit of a cult in its honour and it seemed like a good enough reason to watch it. The film did not disappoint me. In fact, I was gladly surprised by its twists, turns and the way it made fun of itself. I appreciated the clever dialogue and could excuse the poor acting or horrid soundtrack. The idea that stuck with me, though, and that's perhaps because I somehow made a connection in my mind between Ax and the film, is that true love is an honourable cause. Ax posted a status update on facebook the other day where he essentially tore apart that saying about letting go the one you love because if it's meant to be they'll come back to you and if they don't it wasn't meant to be in the first place. Ax argued love is worth fighting for, it's worth being passionate about and worth the risk in general. I have to say I agree. Or, well, I silently do and then ponder on the possible consequences of what it would actually mean to hold to that in my current situation. 

I didn't write about it (or you would have read a fresh retelling of it already) but I received an e-mail from SmTn. I made the mistake of asking for EBF's advice when I couldn't think of anything to answer and that's more heartbreak than I can bear to talk about just now, so I'll just go back to the e-mail for now. It was not a long one, but it was the longest communication I've had with SmTn in a very long time. Why, it's been almost a year now. It's been almost a year of hardly talking at all and I still feel excited when I'm reminded of the fact that he still thinks about me sometimes. His e-mail was melancholy, and at least by two different accounts indicative of the fact that my initial diagnosis may have been correct: perhaps SmTn does struggle with depression. He meant to say "I miss you" in a somewhat cheerful way and yet conveyed a bit more than that. All right, he openly said lovely things that make my heart warm and my soul twinkle. I didn't say the same to him and I sometimes worry if I should have but then remind myself it's not my place to tell someone in a committed relationship of such feelings. I simply settled for saying "I miss you too" and implied that the sentiment behind those words wasn't going anywhere. Except not in those words. I may have been a bit more cryptic than that. 

Again, I couldn't keep writing. I'm determined to write some more, though. If only to rant about something. I'm growing more and more misanthropic by the day. You know how earlier, because I don't care much for myself, I settled for doing good deeds for others? A good deed is a good deed and time spent on good deeds is never wasted, or so I thought. Until I started growing weary of people. At first it was Nd, and that was bound to happen sooner than later because of their horrible manners, but now I'm growing tired of Md. I cannot stand her shrugs, her indecisiveness, her permanently pessimistic mood and the way she catastrophises everything and keeps using meaningless apologies as bait for compliments. I've had it. I actually find it hard to make conversation with her. I really have trouble being around her and I used to prefer her to Nd. It's all to say... I'm terrible around people these days.

Yesterday I had a personalised tango lesson all to myself courtesy of Rh and the complete disinterest of just about everyone else who cancelled the previous lessons and practice sessions and grew tired of showing up for them. It did not help matters one bit because a point was further reinforced that I do not connect properly during close embrace (or any embrace, really) and I'm always ready to move away from my dancing partner. A week ago this was pointed out to me as "you have to hold me like you want to make love to me." Rh was a gentleman and used every other way to say the exact same thing. Needless to say, I just can't do it. Not with strangers, not with less than close friends. I see it's a problem but I'll insist on trying to make things work without this because I'm determined to keep tango up even if it continues to ruin my budget. I need some form of escape other than Nd and Md. I need to interact with other people even if most of them are old people I don't know who, in spite of trying to be in their best behaviour, act like old people. It's an excuse to dress up, every once in a while, and play around with make-up and be away from everyone else I know. 

Any and every excuse is a good excuse to stop writing, apparently. I just went off on a tangent looking for sixties' nail styles because I figured I might do a sixties make-up look on Saturday and... why am I writing this?

There's so much more to write!

There's the picture posted today on my facebook newsfeed that I keep going back to because it's been so long since I felt the butterflies and that's the effect this picture has on me. Even if the butterflies have nowhere to fly other than my not-nearly-empty-enough stomach. And yes, that's a statement about my body image issues because I'm aware of the fact that I'm overweight. At least 6kg overweight and I have a torn and mended dress to prove it. Once again, I'm avoiding the difficult subjects.

This was pointed out to me during therapy. When questions were asked I avoided them by answering with stories that were unrelated. Painting detailed pictures of trees when asked to show the forest. Or something along those lines. It was pointed out to me that I make little of big issues as a coping mechanism and that I should practice mindfulness, not so unlike the mindfulness that happened when I broke down and cried for almost two days straight after receiving SmTn's e-mail and talking to EBF about it. 

It's as if thinking too hard about anything were hard because I'm so used to numbing myself out with YouTube videos, pointless comedy articles and random bits of useless information I fill my days with so I don't get bored and actually have to think. It doesn't matter if I make my mind up to do something, I can't bring myself to do it in a timely manner.

Now my mind wanders again and I feel like I have to write about the fact that I was supposed to meet with Tx and Ax but Tx called to cancel. Except she was crying when she did and got me worried because she might as well just have texted if she didn't want me to know what the problem was. And she didn't. She kept saying she was okay. I felt obligated to ask about her later because she'd promise to get in touch later and three hours later hadn't, and I offered to be nice without meaning to be nosy and she said "thanks but no thanks." She still made me promise to meet her some other time this week, which shouldn't be a problem because she has the housewarming party on Friday anyway. After not-that-much facebook stalking I dare make a guess about what happened: her other sibling died.

Silence again. 

I feel numb. Empty. I'm barely dragging on and there's barely a shell of what I once was left to do what needs to be done at this point. 

Third day writing this post. *sigh*

I'll just leave the two songs I've had in my head for a while now. Well, the two singers, mostly. One is the song I wanted to send SmTn. The other is the one I actually sent. It won't take you too long to guess which is which. 

Friday, 11 July 2014

Motivation and silence

I may have pointed out in group a couple of weeks ago that there were a few things I wanted to talk about and never got around to ringing up because I don't want to take time away from people who can actually solve their problems. I was absent last week and especially silent this week. At the sight of three members breaking down and sharing deep and dark secrets of anguish and despair all I could think was "your brains are messing with you, that's the only reason this all seems so bad" while "Do You Hear the People Sing" from Les Misérables played in the back of my head. I was encouraged to share more next week and the efficacy that group therapy has on me was brought into question. I can't deny those are thoughts I've had myself earlier. I continue to go religiously but I'm not sure the goal I set is consistent with the kind of help I need and the kind of help I can actually get from group therapy. I promised I'd write something down and try to talk next week, but if something is up with the others I will not take up their space. I just don't think enough of my troubles compared to theirs and I can't change that. It's been increasingly hard to bring myself tow rite not just the bullet points of what I want to talk about with the group but of anything at all to write on the blog, you know? I'm all out of words (but not really, you're reading this) and I'm more like an empty shell just barely getting by and dragging along existence than anything else. 

I want to break this down into parts but even that proves difficult because my brain can't seem to break ideas down, leave alone elaborate on them.


Let's see... The goal I gave myself and stated to others when I started therapy was "to help me deal with living with the As." I can't say if it has helped much or not and I feel bad because I haven't even done the things I promised myself, and the group, I'd do. Things such as moving out. Things such as interacting more with others. Things such as scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist. Things like talking to the nice maths professor. I've been putting it all off indefinitely. Back to the purpose of therapy, well... on the one hand, there's the depression and anxiety and the general fucked-up-ness that is living with the As. Realistically, what can group do for me? I can go to them and rant about the As and about life not being able to get away from them. But I haven't been doing that recently. Not in therapy and not even on the blog. It's not that I'm any less unhappy there, or that they've somehow started being nice or reasonable. Why, only in the last couple of weeks I found my sleeping cools gone and a note on the bathroom mirror for the one night I left in a bit of a hurry and left a mess there, telling me it was dirty and other people use the bathroom. Between 9:30pm and the next morning? They use their own bathroom and I'm quite sure they didn't have visitors. While I can see the point, the callousness of the accusation or how, after being left a note and me cleaning up when I was leaving the house uncle A remarked upon it once more, like I somehow hadn't noticed and/or had done nothing about it. I do not take lessons in cleanliness from you lot and I don't see what the bloody fuss is all about for a one time thing of something that would be there in the dead of night and for maybe a whole morning. Visitors come through the garage which is just about always dirty and smelling of cat poop. Visitors use the fridge and pass through the kitchen, both of which are permanently dirty. I have no say in those and somehow the messy bathroom is a problem how?

See? Not gone. Still exasperated. And I didn't complain about this to group, or the blog. I was just defeated. I still am. I have tried talking to EBF in vain. I tried to talk to him about deep subjects and, while he genuinely seems worried by the fact that I'm not eating very healthy food or even full meals, he's hardly the person I used to know. He's unable to carry the conversations I want to have. He's incapable of opinions and observations outside of quack science and nonsense psychology. The insight is gone. His interests beyond work are shallow and quite boring. I can't talk to SmTn. Talking to A never was much use. I haven't talked to AOB, not in a real conversation, and I don't expect to. I'm friendless and lonely, though not completely alone. I'm sorry to leave Md and Nd out of it, especially Md, but they're only situational friends and I'm not that much closer to them than I am to anyone in group. I care about them and worry about them but deep down I don't feel a very strong connection with them. Deep down, I don't feel a meaningful connection with anyone. 

The thought my mind speaks out loud the most often is "I just want to go home. And sleep." And I wish I had a home but I don't, so sometimes I just switch that for "where my parents are." I do very much still want to sleep and it doesn't help matters one bit that I've been surprised by ON during an office nap and I'm now constantly paranoid that someone will come in and find me on the floor of the office, not working. It's come to the point where I want nothing for myself other than rest, peaceful rest, and even silly questions like "What would you do if you could do anything without consequence?" or the more worldly "What would you do if you won the lottery?" have answers that almost don't involve me at all. I would pay my debts and my sister's. I would pay for my sister's education and livelihood anywhere she wanted and was admitted. I'd get my parents a new car and a house or apartment of their own (with a fabulous kitchen) as well as a couple others they could rent to get some monthly income. I would send YEP1 and YEP2 some money so they don't find themselves selling their things to make rent payments and go grocery shopping. I would find aunt LM a nice apartment to live in. I would remodel aunt MT's shop and make it fabulous after buying all the old/never-to-be-sold goods and donating them to some church. I would give EBF the equivalent of my first salary to settle an old bet. I would pay for Md to get facial hair removal treatment. ´

I can think of nothing or very little to do for myself. Even the dream I once had of trying to meet with SmTn is too far from reach now. I would maybe spend money learning many new languages and then travelling. I don't hold high hopes of getting very far ahead with any kind of education now. I don't expect to find love. I don't expect to find happiness. I can only hope I learn what I can (languages) and enjoy myself observing the world around me. I want solitude. I don't want accomplishments. I don't want fame. I don't want titles. I just want rest. 

Monday, 7 July 2014

Not keeping up

I'm still very slow on the whole getting-back-to-writing-with-some-regularity. I'm not keeping up with any of this very well anymore, am I?

I had a dream a couple of days ago about my little one... It involved the possibility of curing her if she had only survived one more day. Like, somehow, that proved she was strong enough to go on and survive the procedure that would rid her of the tumour. Waking up to that one was heartbreaking and I not only woke up to it but had dreams where I told mum about it and dreams where I still blamed my parents and their cheapness for her death. I miss her. I don't say that enough. 

This is a depressing one, I'm sorry. Things are not going so well. I find myself to be completely unmotivated to do anything worthwhile. I'm not doing nearly enough to work on the maths textbook, or the problems, or the one problem the nice professor gave me. I have not even attempted to contact him and the more time passes by the more embarrassed I am to try. I have not e-mailed the ex group member and I'm afraid to find out how long ago I received her e-mail because it will tell me exactly how long I've gone without talking to the nice professor too. I have not done much to secure a job I can no longer get because we're too close to the beginning of the next semester and I have not the heart to ask Pf2 if I have a job for Autumn. I haven't updated my résumé. I haven't been keeping up with the blog. I haven't been taking very good care of myself. I haven't sown the dress I ripped because my butt is too bloody big to fit in it and I still tried to wear it. I haven't gotten over the heartache of wanting a relationship that can't be. Of wanting several relationships that cannot be. I have not been in the mood to write for the longest time and I'm afraid that the longer I go without writing the less there is left in me to write about. Like I'm slowly letting go even of that one last bit of me that still cared enough to keep track of things.

Of what things? Of the fact that Thursday night I could. not. bear. the thought of being around Nd. That day I'd had enough of their bad table manners, their inconsiderate nature and the way they disrespect personal space. I'd had it. I tried talking to EBF about it (stupid me) and he came up with the theory of the four humours, for psychology. According to him, something modern psychology absolutely uses and is totally valid, especially in the setting of big corporations that use it to analyse their employees. Goodness. I don't know what prompted me. I had wanted to talk to EBF about feeling like a piece of meat and about utilitarianism in human interaction. He'd agreed to talk to me and then kept fucking silent. I was so desperate I reminded him of this and started the conversation I was talking about earlier. What is the matter with me?

Besides not having friends, that is.

Oh, I don't have friends.

Make-up playing plans with Md got cancelled, re-scheduled and turned into a trigger I'm now to stay away from.* I can't say a single nice thing about Nd. Not even if I try hard. I'm worried about Md and not being able to do enough for her, partly because I'm a little afraid she might develop feelings for me and because I don't care nearly enough about her. I really needed to have that conversation I tried with EBF and I have nowhere to have it. I don't even want to bring it up in therapy and I've found myself increasingly quiet, deliberately wanting to have nothing to say. Even if and because it makes me a bit of a wallpaper flower.

I had a dream last night where the wind swept me away as I stood on a very tall pillow pillar. I tried wobbling it around as I sat on top of it and I think I remember trying to wobble it around as I tried to land somewhere. I knew I was safe riding the air currents and yet I was afraid I was not going to land, ever, and I desperately tried to get myself to land safely. 

* After I'm done talking about it, I mean. And I'm not quite done. Md is a trans girl. I thought make-up was something that cheered her up because it made her look more like the person she really is. Having no experience with gender dysphoria, I tend to imagine it much like any other "hating your body" scenario: feeling too fat, disliking your stretchmarks, the shape of your toes, your too sparse and too thin hair. And yet it's not something I'd ever cry about, like Md today when I was doing her make-up. In attempting to cover blue shadows on her face, wanting to make them vanish before her eyes to make her happy, I succeeded only in making her acutely aware of their existence and causes. Score one for dysphoria, zero for the cisgender ally. It was all I could do to offer tea and hugs. To be too honest, when she's feeling dysphoric I sometimes feel bad for being cis so in her face. I feel bad for the clothes I'm wearing and how they fit me, the way I wear my hair, what make-up I'm wearing, my nails, whatever parts of my body may be showing at any point. I'm terrible at talking about dysphoria. I disregarded Nd's view of friendly services based on their experience because they pass as female all the time and never confuse the people providing services, hence not getting the treatment someone like Md might get. It hurt their feelings because of course they would sometimes like to present masculine. The problem with that is that, though I simply apologised and said noting more, I was willing to challenge all of their discourse. I often think they only assigned themselves a non-cis gender to fit in and seem more interesting. I sometimes wonder how many of their traits are dependent on wanting to impress others. I fear there's nothing much more to them than their awful manners. I'm sometimes a horrible ally and a terrible friend.