So I’ve broken up with my boyfriend. The gap between where I’ve been changing and where he hasn’t been changing has finally gotten wide enough that we’re basically incompatible in every way. He wants things from me that I can no longer provide, and I need new things that I didn’t need a year ago, things he has proven repeatedly that he won’t be able to bring to the table. I’m not happy, and neither, I suspect, is he.
Nonetheless, I hate being lonely- but settling for less than what I need has consistently proven to get me nothing but hurt, and I’d rather fight through this alone than with someone who’s going to do nothing but drag me down.
I’m now feeling very alone. I’m shedding elements of my past from the inside out, and I’ve reached that area where I’m losing old friends and lovers, and if I don’t reach out and move into a new area with that, then I’m just going to sit in a pool of isolated stagnation, so I guess it’s time to get back on the old bike. I’ve had my pity party for a couple of days and now it’s time to get up and dust myself off.
Of course, that night after the breakup, I went with the cliche ending and got very good and drunk. I said a lot of things to one of my old flames, and got turned down flat. It seems like losing two people in that way in 24 hours can really deflate the hell out of your tires, and I can only take so much rejection in a short time. I’ve spent a lot of the last couple days reeling from that one-two combo punch, just trying to stay on my feet.
A while back, I spent a couple of days in a house with two people who called me by Tommy and used male pronouns. It was obvious that it was forced, but nonetheless it brought a smile to my face to feel that someone cared enough not to call me by things that hurt me. It was like a vacation.
Now I’m back home again, with parents. I’m very close to having a job and thereby a place of my own, which I’m very grateful for, because I’m feeling very worn and thin, and that’s not a good place to be in when the pronouns floating around are “daugher”, and “she”, and “her”, and That Name which I’d almost somehow forgotten was mine. At first, it feels like someone’s talking about some long lost cousin of mine who I hated as a child, and then I remember that’s supposed to be me, and I get that sick, green feeling deep in my stomach.
Normally I can deal with mispronouning with some sort of grace and brush it off, just dismiss it because “the poor ignorant things don’t know any better,” but when you don’t have the mental stamina and inner strength to deal with the little things, every mispronoun feels like a swift kick to the gut with my hands tied behind my back. I don’t even want to talk to my parents because I know that every time they refer to me, I’m going to feel sicker and sicker.
What I really want is just to get away from these people, these “friends” and this “family” and people who I have loved and who seem to love me but can’t turn around without hurting me in my darkest times, and I just want a break from them so I don’t wind up hating them for what they don’t know. I want to spend time with people who understand, maybe even other trans people, and soak up some strength and rejuvenation so I can get my life back on track without so many migraines and so little energy.
I just want to even TALK to people who understand. Even on the internet, it seems like every time I look, I can’t find any other trans people online when I need to talk to someone.
I hate feeling alone.