The past few days have been hard. I’m questioning my decisions, questioning my heart, questioning my status and state in life. The only thing I’m not questioning is my transition.
In many ways I don’t know who I am anymore, only what I am striving to become. But “what” is not “who”.
Now Vanessa is in serious trouble. As a result my doubts have increased and my mood has turned dark. It will pass, though it’s hard to see when. In the meantime dark moods tend to reminisce about a dark past.
I am still a wreck. My heart is still in pieces, bleeding pain into my life. And I again I am trapped with nowhere to go and a sinking feeling I needed to be somewhere else yesterday.
Please keep all that in mind when reading the following from this morning:
I remember being told you were leaving in the middle of the night. This was somehow protecting James. I agreed to leave instead and you stood there repeatedly telling me to get out.
A week later I had barely contacted you. You insisted I come over so we could talk about finances. I had asked for reasons to give you $300 per week. What I got was an attack. I barely said anything as you did most of the talking.
It started with, “You’re not going to like this.”
Then you proceeded to give me a list of fix-it items, insisting that I wrote them down. I still have that list. During this you repeatedly bashed me. I still don’t remember the exact words, but I do know I asked you to please stop. At that you backed down a bit.
I then started talking about week-to-week finances and you shut me down with a, “I don’t care” statement. I was devastated, ready to burst into tears. I held it as long as I could – just long enough to get in the car. Then I cried my way back to my friends. I cried hard and long that night.
The next day I was served with the restraining order.
A week later at court I was expertly turned into some evil jerk looking to destroy you and your son. The order stayed in place.
With 1 exception I haven’t hurt anyone physically since I was 18. And that 1 exception was not deliberate. I was not trying to throw you into a wall. I was trying to get you out of the way so I could escape. If I had aimed a little I could have sent you to the stairs or straight down the hall. But I was panicked. I was livid. I was in horrible pain on top of suffering horribly with dysphoria.
Meanwhile for years I suffered while standing with you, holding you up. For years any time I needed help with my dysphoria I was verbally abused. Just to say the word “transgender” in a conversation would result in a nice verbal lashing. Any time I would go to the LGBT center I was questioned as if I was cheating. I was made to feel uncomfortable for seeking help because you thought they were trying to convince me to transition. I could not get comfortable around you but I tried. Lord knows I tried. Day after day I sat loving you, hoping you would reach out and help me.
But it never came.
Instead I got labeled a villain and kicked to the curb.
That still hurts. It’s a wound that may never heal because it broke my heart so hard and so deeply. I nearly died. I was repeatedly ready to die, though I cannot take my own life. You know, just lay down and not wake up.
That changed my life and the ripples are still rebounding off me.
As a result of the restraining order I lost the church. My moral support was ripped from me. I was set adrift and for a time (with help from other “christians”) I lost God entirely.
Do you know what really hurt?
Nobody was upset. Nobody tried to bring me back to God.
Not 1 soul.
(Okay, I have to admit Rebecca did suggest I find another church with more accepting standards. But there was no concern when she suggested it, almost as if she expected me to leave.)
Can you imagine the horror? Can you imagine feeling cut off from God? Can you imagine feeling like everything is being stripped from you? My status, my home, my family, my happiness, my sanity, my love… gone.
All this was because I could not handle my dysphoria and could not find help.
And now my friends are having big troubles – the only people who cared and took me in.
Am I cursed? I keep asking myself that and wondering what can be done. Should I just drop off the map, go hide in some hole deep in some forest? Everything in my life is rotting away or being stripped from me.
Is it any wonder my work performance shot up but has steadily dropped?
I’m torn and tattered.
I’m tired of the stress.
My friend is lying in the other room sick and dying.
My wife will see me but encounters are a big stress unto themselves.