Sunday, December 19, 2010

Day 2

No tears, but it was close I'll tell ya. I think that part of the ability to have two arid days is because Papi told me, "I'm going to stay on the lowest dose of testosterone." I think it gave me a small measure of relief. But, I do take back what I was saying yesterday about actively making music never making me cry. I forgot about writing lyrics that are too close to home.

One of the songs Lin gave me to work on was a piece that we had started months ago. This was months before any idea had entered my mind that my love would be going through male transformation. The topic was about making sure you talk to someone when the troubles in your life get to be too much.

Heed my own words? No. We never do, do we? We are pros at telling people what to do to feel better, but listen to the advice we give? Hell no!! What are you nuts? We know best how to deal with this situation because 'you just don't understand'. Familiar?

It was painful to complete the lyrics, because I know speaking about the fear and pain is the right thing to do, but I'm way too scared to talk about it or the tears will flow and I'll look like a crazed, pale marshmallow again. Not to mention the pain I'm feeling is so raw that I don't have the strength to defend myself or my love if I had an adverse reaction from someone.

I remember when I came out of the closet and thought that everyone that loved me would be supportive.


My 'bff' dumped me in seconds. She believes in god and told me that the bible doesn't approve of homosexuality. So, showing 'love and tolerance', my jesus worshiping friend cast me aside, flicking me like a bothersome cockraoch. It made my world feel like the scariest place I could imagine. Who could I trust if I couldn't trust my closest pal?

So here I am again. Who can I trust? I have a handful of people that I could talk to about the F-M topic and not have them dump me over that, but what about the insanity I'm going through? This is the part I'm afraid of the most.

In the past I've been judged for my mental illness. Mental illness comes in many forms and levels, but people just put everyone into one category if they don't understand it or have never experienced it themselves. The person who sits next to you in class, or at work, or even the person you know very well may have a mental illness and you don't know.

Part of the reason you don't know is because people don't talk about it, lest they be ostracized. I've been there. I have my illness under control, but during this agony over my love's male transformation, it's poking out it's green, festering, abscessed head and doing it's best to show the world who I really could be if it wins this battle.

Who do I trust with that?

I have a chemical imbalance and an eating disorder. My chemical imbalance is taken care of through medication. If I don't take it, I'll wind up suicidal. Taking my medication keeps me alive in the same way someone who has a heart condition would die if they stopped taking their pills.

My eating disorder took a lot of hard work in therapy to deal with, but I now control it, not the other way around. I still see the body in the mirror as less than desirable (that's putting it in the nicest way possible to myself), but I'm not damaging my precious being with a lack of caloric intake so that I can see the woman in the mirror as 'perfect'. The proof that I haven't lost to this demon is being revealed right now.

An eating disorder is a way of controlling one thing: our body. When the world around us can't be bridled, we stoop to the one thing alone that we can bully. Our body. Our food intake. And in this case of terror, it's my love's decision that I can't manipulate. Still, through it all I'm eating in a healthy manner.

I also haven't flipped to the other side of emotional binging. However, I do see that controlling my over-eating is a way for me to find my domination. I've bought all the cookies that I would usually gorge on, yet I'm curbing how many I eat in a day. This is where I see my eating disorder's talons still piercing my skin. I'm very afraid of putting back on the 30 lbs I gained after my brain injury. I worked very hard to lose that weight when I could finally exercise and eat properly. So, I allow myself the treats in a controlled fashion.

I'm in control. Of food. In everything else, I'm so very powerless.

Who do I trust to show my insanity to? Well, I show it to my dear, understanding soul mate and 'you', my imaginary friend. Do you judge me?

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