A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)

Posts tagged ‘therapy’

Day 3

Welp.  I intended to update this every day, but these last few days have been really rough and I haven’t felt like updating unless I had something positive to say, which I didn’t.  A lot of it has been “I don’t know if I can make it” and other uninspiring messages of fail and depression.  Yesterday was the worst, because I was supposed to go to my weekly therapy appointment and I had been hanging on all morning, dealing with thoughts of hopelessness, worthlessness and suicide, and when I got to the clinic, I waited half an hour, only to be told that my therapist changed my appointment to a day I can’t even be there.  I also found out I can’t get an appointment with my psych to have my meds adjusted until late June, so there’s that.

I did get to meet with one of the other behaviorists there, though, and told him of my quitting plight.  He was very understanding, and said that if I was having thoughts of suicide, then maybe quitting cold turkey wasn’t the best idea for me.  I hadn’t even thought of it that way- I felt like I was either quitting or not, and any compromise constituted failure.   So maybe I’ll just go into a plan of moderation and wean off instead.

He also suggested working out, which he said could emulate the effects of a high by releasing the endorphins naturally.  I’d heard all that before but kind of dismissed it, as doing a whole workout routine while depressed is kind of similar to lifting a train while not Superman.  But this morning I found myself with a spare hour and a half, so not having anything else to do, and craving some of those sweet endorphins, I dug out the old workout tape and gave it a shot.  I figured if nothing else I could do it for science and see if it really actually emulated the effects of being high.

Needless to say, it really didn’t, but it did give me a sense of having accomplished something, which is something I haven’t been able to say about anything for a while now.  Plus it made me actively sweaty enough to actually want a shower, instead of just kind of smelling myself and going “…meh it can wait.”

I wish I had more to say, or more time to write it, but I’m on my way out to meet my case manager, so that’s really all the update you get for today.  I hope I can actually work up some enthusiasm for Fanime this weekend.

Anger management.

I’ve had little to write about lately- kind of been sitting in a pool of stagnation for a while- but I feel obligated to update.  There hasn’t been much change except for the fact that my life has been taken over by a couple of munchkins.  In a sense, that has changed EVERYTHING, but it’s put me on hold.

I’ve been feeling an inordinate amount of bitterness towards the kids, and it took me a little while to figure out exactly what it was that was bothering me.  But now I’ve got it sorted out, and I guess I could stand to get it off my chest.

Just before they came into our lives, I was getting to that point with my dad where I was nearly comfortable enough with him that I could have come clean with him about everything and maybe not even have to leave home in order to start transition.  We were getting really close and he was even on good terms with Jack before he integrated.  I’d just had that talk with him where I explained that integration was happening and a lot of big things were about to change.  I didn’t say what, but I think he had a guess, and I was going to give him time to figure it out and let it sink in before I dropped the bomb.

And then these kids showed up, and he’s completely moved away from me and sunk back into this weird religious hellhole.  Now I’m expected to set the best possible example for these kids, and there’s no way I could start transition with them in the picture.  He wouldn’t allow it.  I feel utterly betrayed.  I was on the edge of finally, finally having something, a place in my life where I didn’t have to hide anymore, and these kids stole it from me.

I’m having a hard time coping with it.  I know these kids didn’t do anything wrong, and I can’t take it out on them.  I know my dad is just trying to do what’s right, and my stepmom loves those babies and wants to see them grow up right.  But I don’t understand why it has to be us.  And maybe I’m just being selfish, but this is the worst of possible outcomes for my transition.

I was so close.  And now I’m back to square one.  I have to leave home before I can even think of starting transition.

Now I’m thinking about having some kind of anger management therapy or something.  I’ve been having the same dream almost every night for weeks, where I get in a fight with someone and I’m trying to hit them, but for whatever reason, my punches won’t land right.  I miss, or my arms feel too heavy to lift, or I’m too weak to do any kind of damage, but it’s always the same- I’m trying to fight some kind of enemy, and they’re just laughing in my face.  I wake up in humiliation every morning.  I’ve always had a good right jab and I throw a heavier punch than the typical female-bodied person, and having that taken away from me every night only makes me more and more frustrated.

And plus, my anger threshold keeps lowering.  I fall into a rage at some of the slightest and most stupid things, and it makes me look like an idiot because there’s nothing I can do about it.  I don’t like people seeing me as this overly sensitive, bull-headed jerk.  I used to be level-headed and logical.  Where did THAT go?
I’m crawling in my skin.  My sex life is alternately eluding me because I can’t deal with myself or anyone else seeing me naked, among other things.  My back is slowly being raped by the binder I’ve been wearing lately- I need to order an underworks binder before I warp my ribs permanently.  There’s a whole new set of people in my life who are learning to address me with the wrong pronouns and the wrong name, and hearing the occasional “Tommy” from the one friend who even bothers to use it does little enough to cool the burns.

I JUST WANT OUT.

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