Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Baby steps.

I feel as wiped as I thought I would today. There was a lot of 'getting it out' yesterday. I think today will be a 'no speak' day.

I need more sleep. I got up early so that I could have more time to let these eyes settle down. The longer they're open, the better they get. I have to see my mother today, and the last thing I need is for her to recognize that I've been crying the night before.

I love my mom, but she's not someone I can trust with my emotions. My parents are part of the reason I am tilted more towards the depressive side. It wasn't the best upbringing to have. It could have been worse, but growing up with a drug addict and (functioning) alcoholic mother was problematic as I'm sure you can understand.

My parents split when I was 10, leaving me with a deadbeat, drugged out dad and a mother who was way too young to know how to deal with two orangutan kids. She didn't have the mentoring that she needed from her mother either, so being a young woman stuck with two kids, she grew a lot of resentment for us. I've sensed it all my life.

My mom did the very best she could with what she had. She really did try. She helped us grow up with everything we needed, and I love her for it. I didn't make it any easier for her being a suicidal, addicted and depressed teenager. All of these life experiences make me out to be the person I am and have wired my brain to give me the feelings I encounter today.

And here I am. Last night at my friends house, it was 2 people asking a million questions and giving harsh suggestions, 1 person answering with as little defensiveness as possible and one person sobbing for 4 hours.

Can you guess who the weeper was? Yup. You win a prize.

This is the reason I don't want to see anybody or speak to anybody. 'You', my imaginary friend, can walk away any time and not have to listen to it. But imagine being stuck in the room with me? Bound to a chair while you witness the grief that has thrown me into this dark place and you can't reach in and pull me out? You can only helplessly observe the disaster unfold.

I really can't stand to subject anybody to this madness. But I'll tell you that last night I felt so supported, protected and loved. I really do have wonderful friends who love me. I'm hand picking them one at a time in this event. I've found two who would lovingly fight for me and last night they did.

In my therapy session yesterday, I expressed how I was feeling about not wanting to share my pain with anybody, lest I be judged and abandoned. She told me something that I hadn't really admitted. That all my life I've held back my pain so that nobody sees it. She identified that I've done this out of fear of people, but at the same time, I'm screaming to be held and supported. I incedingly accepted this. It's so true. And last night I was physically held every time the tears took over my breath and I reeled into the hyperventilating landslide. I was held by my love and by my friends.

It felt really good to be embraced, and at the end of the night, I was told I am loved. On the ride home, I was told I'm protected. The little girl had a place to go to get the love she's never trusted she could have. I love my mom, but I realize that she is the reason I can't speak right now in my darkest place. I understand now that not everyone is going to be that mother who doesn't want to wipe my tears. Not everyone is going to be that father who will abandon me then nervously laugh at me while I'm lying in a hospital bed after a suicide attempt.

My friends helped my love see what the male transformation decision is doing to me and they convinced Papi to just take a small step back to take my hand and help me on to the train. The train that my love has driven from the station, leaving me alone on a platform to watch it go.


There was compromise that came out of the evening. Papi will stop the testosterone until the hysterectomy is done. After the hysterectomy it's mandatory that Papi goes on a hormone, and we can deduce that it's definitely not going to be estrogen.

This is Papi's way of putting the train in reverse to come help me on to the train. It's a very steep step and I'm not able to do it on my own.

My end of the bargain is going to be very difficult. Not that all I'm going through now isn't already hard, but I do have to lift my foot on to the step and reach my hand out in order for my love to pull me into the cab. I have to actively learn about testosterone and when my love wants to talk about everything, I have to engage in communication.

Good lord.

My love's sacrifice is hard, I know this. My sacrifice seems more difficult every time I think about it. I have to tell the stubborn teenager to go and distract herself because she can't look at it right now. I have to let her go protect herself in the only way she knows how. The teenager thinks that if you just ignore it, it will go away.

Well, it's time to hail the adult who has the toolbox. She has to come out and deal, learn. The teenager is offering every manipulative trick she knows, but unfortunately, she has to go sit in the station and wait for a different train. Damn she's stubborn. She just doesn't want to do this and is throwing a hissy fit. Damn good thing the station is empty and we're alone.

The adult has to walk away and let her sulk.

I have to learn, grow and deal. For my soul mate, for me, for my marriage

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