Open

I'm bored and can't think of anything to do or write about. Should look into my autobiography again. Been starting to write about last year. Since a lot of shit happened then I put it in a chapter for it alone. Dreading when I'll have to read it all (all of it) through and edit things, put the chapters in a decent order and see if I've missed something important or of there's something I want to delete. Probably gonna take me days. But I will finish it someday, I promise!

I don't intend to shock people with my story, but it might appear that way cause it's gonna be pretty graphic. I just want to get my story out. Though I'm not including absolutely everything, just as much as I'm comfortable with, and that is a lot.

Some people might not realise that, that I'm comfortable with sharing even my darker thoughts and things that I'm apparently supposed to be embarrassed over. I've always been like that, even when I was bullied I wasn't afraid of making a fool of myself. There are very few things that are too personal for me to discuss openly, or at all, and I can easily count them on one hand.

Some things that I've done, thought or felt. Things no one would even want to know about, or even if they would want to know they would most definitely not like it. Most of what I carry around is darkness with a few exceptions, but those things that I hide... they're pitch black.

Maybe that's just the way it is. That if I was more inhibited or cautious about how open I am, I would have less to hide, and the other way around. That maybe because I'm so comfortable being open about my trans identity, the rape I went through, self harm, mental illness, the bullying, suicide attempts and so on; I have to hide even darker things. Like no matter how open you are about your bad sides, you still have something that is even worse inside you that you don't want anyone else to know about.

No one is completely open because of this. We all have our levels of tolerance, like how much of our insides we can tolerate for the world to see. I happen to have very high tolerance, but I think that is only because I know I can draw the line further to easier hide what is really worth hiding. I'm not just talking law breaking, I'm talking really awful things.

Yeah, there is something that is nagging at me there, wanting to tell but it's like I just can't. Want to push that tolerance even further, be open about exactly everything. And then that crap just showed up from deep in my memories last summer, and I suddenly understood why I've always been a bit uncomfortable around cops. I've been good these last few years at least, so I don't have anything to hide from then on... So yeah, that recent. 2011 I think. My god, what the fuck was up with that year!?

Some years of my life, just saying. Those are: 1998, 2002, 2005, 2007, 2009, 2011 and 2013. I'm starting to see a pattern... so what atrocities are gonna happen to me next year then? There's always something new that sort of strikes me like a lighting from a clear sky, so with a little anticipation I'll look forward to 2015 to see what more crap I'll be getting. Yes, I said anticipation. I'm ambivalent about my future.

But as I said, I'm open about almost everything. I'm comfortable talking about things people don't want to hear. I discuss deeply personal stuff at the dinner table. I'm the one who opens up at a party even before I get my first drink. The only reason I've been holding back IRL lately is because I know people become uncomfortable with me sharing absolutely everything like it's perfectly normal. I'm trying to add in some decency in my life, though I'm not a very decent person and I don't live a very decent life.

Wow, this became a very long entry about openness. The bottom line is that I don't know where to draw the line. Of what is okay or not okay to share about my life. I never tell other people's secrets or even things that I don't know if they are secret or not. You just have my trust completely even if we're just acquaintances. I will take your secrets with me to the grave.

It's when it comes to myself that I just can't keep my mouth shut. It shouldn't be a problem - cause how the hell can being so very open about oneself be a problem? - but it is. Not necessarily a problem I'll take into consideration, but still. People can be embarrassed because of me or even ask me to shut up. Sorry guys, but it's my fucking life and if you don't want to hear it, just shut your fucking ears.

When there's no escape

Let's talk about pain. It does things to you. It makes you do things you didn't think you'd ever do. As a kid I never wanted to drink or do drugs, I swore I'd never do that. I never got desperate enough to take a whole bottle of pills or get so drunk I couldn't stand on my own feet cause I couldn't deal with my headache. Because I wanted to escape.

I remember the first few months after it got chronic. I was sixteen and just wanted to lead a normal life, go to school and meet new friends. Become something, have a job that I didn't hate. Of course I still wanted to be different, that's not what I mean. It was so hard to come to terms with it and accept it. It took almost a year before I gave up on trying to understand and cure it.

Now when I take something, recommended dosage of painkillers or something more of a dangerous amount, I just try to get rid of the worst of it. It never works anymore. Not even morphine and I think it's because it isn't physical anymore. There's this thing with our brains, it remembers pain and can make you experience it even if you aren't actually in pain anymore. It's hard to explain, cause I don't fully understand it.

There is no cure, there is nothing I can do. Most days I accept it, try to work around it somehow, anyhow. Find my limits, when to stop or slow down. I can't even go to School anymore. It is that disabling, cause after one or two School days in a row it becomes so strong I have to go home and rest for a week. Aside from the other mental problems that hits the roof at about that time or even sooner. With slight social anxiety, dysphoria, psychotic symptoms and a splitting headache you just don't work in society.

It makes me nuts sometimes, all of that, but I can handle most of it, with rest and time, but not the headache. Psychotic episodes eventually fade, dysphoria goes down when I'm back at home again, social anxiety goes away when I'm away from social situations. But the headache never goes away. Ever. It doesn't matter how much I rest or whatever I do or don't do.

I wish there was something that could be done about it. My ideas have been everything from crazy to stupid. Like when I want to literally be beheaded or when I cut myself only to ease the headache. Sometimes it works a bit, the latter that is, which is kinda sad.

Right now I'm worried I'd get a fever. Cause if I do it's likely an infection and I have to go to the emergency ward. Don't want to spend my Easter that way.

Anna says: Don't be afraid of your own body.
I respond: There's nothing I am more afraid of.

In past tense

I remember a lot from our relationship, I realise when thinking about it. I have conversations in my mind about us hooking up, just as friends. How far I've come since we broke up, how much is different now. Would we even recognise each other? How can I ever know.

The memories are haunting me like ghosts, and I don't know why all of a sudden. It's been over five years since we last saw each other, and now I get flashbacks and imaginary conversations. Why now? Is it that five years means something, is it a special number of years somehow? Cause I wonder, it must be something.

Well, at least it's not any negative flashbacks, but that's what is bothering me. If it was negative then maybe I could understand it. I've moved on a long time ago and I've never had a reason to look back, other than to acknowledge the fact that it is a part of my past. And I've always been fine with that.

I just can't shrug it off, you know. Do I want us to get together again? No, I hardly think so. Maybe I'm just curious what became of him, what stories we could tell each other from the years we've been apart.

But that I enjoy those thoughts of us, and I let them continue and that I find solace in them somehow, might also be a bit of a pet peeve.

But of course, it was after all the only relationship that I've ever had in which both me and my partner were deeply in love. That does become a special bunch of memories altogether. That I've never been anywhere near those feeling again or before that relationship. And I long so badly after having that again, with someone else. Yes of course, that must be it. It's not actually him that I miss, it's what we had.

Dysphoria

I'm making tail space when I sit on chairs, I've noticed lately. You know, leaving a gap between my lower back and the back support. So I put on my fake (obviously) tail just to prove my point, and sure as hell, that's exactly what that gap was for.

Phantom limbs doesn't have to be missing human body parts, though I doubt I will walk around in public with a fake tail made from silk-like fabric and pillow filling material like some sort of prosthesis. I know some otherkin do, but I don't know... maybe it's cute on a teenage girl, but it sure would look a little funny on me. I've thought about it, but then people would stare and have opinions, so I don't think I'll actually do it. Alone at home sometimes, sure, but that's an entirely different matter.

I've been meaning to finish making my horns as well, but I'm stuck on trying to figure out how to fasten them on my head. I can't make authentic wings though, cause they would be about the size of my whole body (each wing) and that is just too much to make and to wear.

I don't mean to say that I'm not human, cause I know that I am. It's more that I so strongly identify with demons, they feel like family on a very deep level. I was one in both of my two past lives (that's as far as I can remember), it lies embedded in my soul. Imbued with it. I don't remember being anything else than a demon. I'm so used to it, and there's so much I miss about it. Maybe it's a delusion, but if it is then I am nothing. Cause I cannot exist if I am built without a foundation. Maybe that too is a delusion, that I think I don't really exist, sometimes. A delusion build on a delusion... interesting. Impossible, likely, possible, probably? How will I ever know?

However the case, I have a dysphoria. Gender and species dysphoria and both are clawing inside me today. Ripping and tearing and screaming, like a wild animal in a cage. I get no rest at all. There's something else too, but I hush it before the words reach my lips, or in this case before my fingers reach the keyboard. I'm afraid, but I can't tell you of what. That fear is both painful and exciting. I guess you might already know what it's about though.

I should go to bed, but I haven't even taken my sleeping pills yet. I slipped them when my mother called to make sure I got my whole cocktail of drugs swallowed down around ten o'clock this evening. Saved them "until later", sort of. Maybe now is later.

Make it through

I cannot torture my body enough for all the hatred I feel towards it. I couldn't find my binder as I was about to go to Visby and see my shrink earlier today. You should have seen the despair in me, I can't leave the house without it. I cried out to my mother on the phone, then she's helped me find it. I told her I simply won't go if we didn't find my binder. Then should I ask her if she still thinks the surgery won't do me any good?

It's like nothing can calm me down these last two weeks. I'm a nerve wreck, constantly on the edge. My body aches more than usually, I forget to eat more often, my sleep only seems to make me more tired, it's hard to focus, it's hard to think. Why am I supposed to have this much anxiety? There's not enough room for it inside me.

Well, the anxiety hardly only exists because I misplaced a piece of clothing. No, it's always here. Like my shadow, it's following me everywhere I go. And sometimes it attacks me with full strength, beats me to the ground and I forget how to get up again. Sometimes that happens several times a day.

I have a sensation that February is gonna be a very long month this year. Even though it's technically the shortest. I couldn't tell my shrink about tomorrow, it's just too damn private. Yeah, there's my logic, cause it's easy to write about it online and a whole different matter to sit one on one in a white office and talk about it. But I'm pretty sure she noticed something was up with me, cause it's hard to lie when you're shaking like a leaf. Didn't stop me from trying though, cause it's my life damn it, and I'm just not ready to open up about that yet.

And why isn't that in my chart by the way? I've told shrinks before. Maybe they didn't believe me. Of course they didn't believe me. Why would they? It doesn't matter if I'm shaking and crying, I have no real proof that it actually happened. It was never documented at the time, I never went to a hospital or anything after. I just tried to bury it in the past. All I've got is my words, and that's all I've ever had.

My thoughts are mostly very scattered. I can hardly finish one before the next pops up and then the third and so on. It's like I'm trying to do fifteen things at the same time and it's impossible to keep track of it all. So I just zone out and let it slip away instead. That's why I don't put up everything I write here. It's too much and too little and I don't have the attention span to read it through. Though I'm gonna try to keep you posted, at least once a day or so, especially since things are happening and such nowadays.

I've been smoke free since Friday last week, and it's Thursday now so it's already been a whole week! A little over three weeks left until the surgery, and I still don't know how the hell I'm supposed to survive that. No smokes, no pain killers, no cutting... no nothing? I'll make it, cause I just fucking have to.

But love isn't fair

It's only two days left now, and the anxiety is holding a firm grip around my throat, suffocating me. It's the "Love is in the air" thing in world of warcraft now, and all the pink hearts popping up everywhere make me feel sick. Was it always like this? I don't remember.

This just struck me, what am I gonna do without the cigarettes this time? How can I endure this without the sweet smoke? Blood, alcohol, anxiolytic drugs, chocolate, blankets and warm showers, movies, more video gaming and whatever I can think of. Whatever I can think of...

I just got a phone call, and the person on the other end said they were calling from "Socialstyrelsen" and my heart missed a beat or two. I snapped at them and didn't know what I was feeling. But after they had explained who they were, I was like "oh... it's you" suddenly feeling utterly embarrassed and unnecessarily evil. Or something. It's just the LSS people, no worries at all.

I'm a bit jumpy and freaked allover today. Hardly know what I'm doing and I think I forgot to eat too. My head is spinning and I'm trying to calm down, but it's not easy. A thousand things run through it and I can't keep up. Maybe I shouldn't even try.

At first I thought this might not go so bad at all, considering I seem to take it better every year, but then this about the cigarettes. I'm in abstinence and quite a mess mentally. This... hopefully I don't go and do something stupid that I will regret after. It's just a memory, why do I let it kill me?

I miss my blood elf priest. Gonna go and do some pointless quests now. I know I don't write here that often nowadays, but trust me I do write, I just don't post it. Well, until now that is. The title, I just thought "love is in the air, but love isn't fair". No other reason, or whatever.

Seven years

Valentine's Day is coming up soon. That date is really digging a hole in the remains of my heart and it's getting worse now. The ads and commercials are starting to leak out through the media, taunting me with false hopes about love. They're celebrating the worst day of my life. Opening up that terrible wound inside me every god damn year for soon seven years now. I didn't like the holiday before that either.

When as a kid I was one of those who never got any cards or whatever you were supposed to give each other. I was destined to be alone, it felt like back then, and it still feels that way, even though I've done everything in my power to try to change that. But all I got was a broken heart.

And then that thing happened in 2007. At the moment I hadn't noticed what date it was, it wasn't until right after. Happy Valentine's Day! He said and gave me candy. Oh fuck... now that has really been a mind twister. Mostly I don't think so much about that event, cause maybe I'm over it you know. Well, I might be over it the other 364 days of the year, but when the anniversary is coming up I just sort of... wanna disappear.

Well I don't know what's gonna happen this year in particular. Last year I was doing almost okay, but I was more stable then, less fucked up in a way. But this year... I'm already at the verge of total breakdown, sick with love and hopelessness is slowly drowning me. Yeah, I'm gonna be a wreck, I can tell you that much. Why can't people allover the world stop celebrating the day I was raped!?

Yeah, I really, really wanna disappear on February the 14th. Go far away from the whole world and all the chocolate hearts, red roses and jolly little glitter sprinkled love letters. Ughh... kill me now please. I wish I had someone to be with that day, at least. Someone who would just understand and protect me, keep me safe. I don't require much. Just your full attention, a whole carton of cigarettes, perhaps some tea and lots of hugs. Watching Thelma and Louise, or some other "fuck the world" -movie.

For some reason my parents just don't do. I feel like I'm hurting them in some way. Like as if it was my fault I got hurt and in that way I also hurt them. (Now I know it wasn't my fault, it's just a lingering feeling that I think almost every rape victim carry with them). That I feel guilty to not have gotten over that incident after seven frigging years. I don't want my parents to see me shattered to pieces, no matter what the reason for it is.

I don't think I'm in shape to travel either, and I'm broke as well. I'm just too poor, can barely pay for my own food. So I can't go to Uppsala, at least not for a while. I'll have to make it on my own somehow. I've survived worse, this... it's just memories.

Half here, half there

The silence scared me as I lied in my bed, trying to get back to sleep. I've never heard such silence before, my breath takes was the only thing I could hear. So I went up at 3:30 in the morning. I like mornings now, cause I don't feel so much during that time. And that's why I didn't like them before, cause I feel like a zombie at dawn. But better a zombie than an emotional chaos of anxiety and sadness I can't handle.

For some reason I've been having nightly dreams about bleaching my hair blonde for a while now. It's not the same dream recurring, but different ones. I wonder what they mean. Probably that I want to change something in my life, trying something new in general.

But waking up wanting to become blonde is a bit weird. Like "Yeah I should totally bleach my hair! Oh, wait... it's gonna be tricky and probably damage my already damaged hair further. Though I kinda like having black hair... why would I want it blonde by the way? Oh yes, I don't. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh, weird dream..."

It's like I'm sort of still half in my dreams even after I wake up, that the bridge over to reality is blurred somehow. They're becoming more vivid, and it's harder to let go after I wake up. Not in a clinging sort of sense, but more like it's hard to tell if I'm still dreaming or not. That's been going on for like a month or so now, maybe longer.

My memory seems to be shorter than a second sometimes today. I'm like "Oh, yes! I'm going to... huh? No, now I reme... huh?" Seriously, I can't even finish half a thought before it's gone again. More confusing than annoying though.