The Price of Survival

17, 29…16, 24…

It wasn’t good and I’m not proud, but I do *remember* the relationship I previously wrote about back in 2014 from when I was 16, 17 & finally ending right after I turned 18. Coincidence??? Well, 2014 was a long time ago…I have a LOT more miles on the clock these days, for better or for worse. Clarity and wisdom, even when hard won, can be downright excruciating to endure. There’s really a lot more to be said than what I managed to face back then; even so, that trauma is small potatoes compared to what brings me back to the subject of the sexual abuse of minors. What I don’t remember…

The thing about having complex PTSD is that I can’t ever expect it to go away, all I can do is manage it so it interferes in my life as little as possible. The only way of achieving that is of course through learning about how PTSD affects you and over the years I’ve learned a LOT. On the up side, my PTSD is extremely well managed lately and even when I do have attacks I very rarely have to resort to Xanax to end it as I used to have to do every time, rather I’m usually now able to use many different tools I’ve learned which can help me get through it with knowledge rather than drugs! The down side is the seemingly perpetual decent down into the never ending horrors of my past in order to face them and try to heal.

Memory can be such a fickle and subversive force in how it influences our lives. The thing about trauma is, as has been shown through the use of fMRIs, it can (and usually does) literally rewire the brain. Because of this memories of traumatic experiences are inherently different from other memories. The ways in which the memories differ can vary widely, but gaping holes are common. I genuinely *understand* what this means as what memories I do have of the year I couldn’t escape E feel different. I wish facing what these two men did to me was enough, but I’ve learned the only way out is through and am thus unable to avoid descending to even greater depths of trauma in my past. A great deal of time in therapy learning about my PTSD and how it affects me plus years of practice have taught me the ability to quickly and easily identify traumatic memory – or trauma-based lack of memory. Don’t get me wrong, there’s undoubtedly TONS of things I’ve forgotten from my childhood, but the characteristics of that lack of memory is dramatically different from the shape and feel of the gaping holes in my memory which were caused by trauma, such as E’s abuse.

These days I rely heavily on massage therapy to help me cope with chronic pain and when I find a massage therapist I like, I always seem to end up getting to know them perhaps far more than is appropriate!? But there is a great deal of intimacy involved and I know that what’s going on with me emotionally is a factor tightly tied to my pain level and flare ups of various chronic diseases from which I suffer. So, when I’m in pain, upset/stressed/frustrated or whatever else, then spend anywhere from one to two hours being massaged by someone combined with the fact that I’m already an extroverted external processor and I’m opening up in no time. The release of whatever is on my mind always aids in my body’s ability to relax, making for a much more powerful outcome than massage alone – I know as there have been too many massages trying to find the right fit and getting little to nothing results wise. I don’t think there are ANY topics I’d consider to be off the table (if you can pardon the pun!) for discussion with either of my two regular massages gals I currently see…the variety of topics is perhaps the only thing in existence more eclectic than my taste in music lol.

Yesterday I had a massage with the massage therapist I only started seeing a few months ago, so she doesn’t know me personally super well yet. We were talking about my recent surgery in which I had a uterine ablation and my Fallopian tubes removed and she was sharing similar information. A few days after the surgery I got to see Mr. Trustworthy in person, who naturally asked how I was feeling? I shared my sense of relief knowing that FINALLY I absolutely could not ever accidentally get pregnant. This has been on my mind more than usual this year due to Roe v. Wade being overturned and abortion being an even hotter topic than I ever remember before – perhaps a bit ironic considering Mr. Trustworthy is my only sexual partner at this point and he’s had a vasectomy!

I count myself incredibly luck that I’ve never become pregnant as, due to my gender dysphoria, I could never survive a pregnancy. Had I ever found myself accidentally pregnant an abortion would have been my only realistic choice. Realizing I was pregnant would have made me instantly near (if not totally) suicidal. Trying to go through with a pregnancy and…I can barely even TYPE it my gender dysphoria is making me cringe so hard…carry a child to term!? That would truly be impossible for me. Even just the concept that my body was in theory capable of doing so is, for me, horrifying beyond description. Go straight to suicide, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Given what I went through losing H to suicide, know that I do not say that lightly nor would I exaggerate to make a point, not about this topic. Something I hadn’t consciously realized until recently is just how pervasive and *constant* this fear was, even when I didn’t have a sexual partner or when my only partner has had a vasectomy!

E absolutely refused to wear a condom. Continuing to bring this up and trying to get him to use them was the most obvious way in which I pushed back against his near *absolute control* over me, but of course to no avail. It took me years before I realized E wanted to knock me up; then as so many batterers do, he would have had a child to use against me as even more leverage, tightening his grip around my throat even further and injecting trauma into another innocent life. I was on the pill but I had a terrible time trying to remember to actually TAKE the damn thing every day and missing even one dose meant I was at risk of pregnancy for something like a week! Talk about disproportionately harsh consequences. I remember living in constant terror of becoming or finding out I was pregnant. However, between my history of gender dysphoria going back my whole life and the extent of fear and trauma E imbued into my life, this particular fear never specifically stood out in my mind. I worked hard to get my hyper vigilance better managed and saw slow but steady improvement. But after my surgery, I could feel something hugely significant had changed for me, something far more profound than the mere relief I’d expected.

Talking to Mr. Trustworthy that day and trying to find the words to describe how I felt, I realized for the first time how encompassing this fear of pregnancy with which I’d been living was, as I simply didn’t know any other way to exist. I have observed for most of my life the price of living being paid through suffering; this truth was inescapable given the cruelty of my childhood. Even once I was lucky enough to get away from E, the ripples of the suffering he created in my life are still felt. Thus it was easy to mistake my pregnancy phobia as just another of the many waves permeating my life. Turns out THAT fear was more of an anchor, tying me down by the very core of my being and constantly threatening to strangle me to death. As months passed and E became increasingly violent I retreated within myself, making it that much easier for him to systematically annihilate what little support system I had. It became easier and easier for me to believe his lies, the shame and guilt and sense of worthlessness he so effectively manufactured inside me quickly drowning out any sense of hope. I thought my abuse didn’t matter because it wasn’t hurting anyone else and *I* deserved it; I thought as long as he had me to harm no one that mattered would get hurt, especially the people I loved. Probably eight or nine months in things had escalated to the point that I can clearly recall, on multiple different occasions, having the thought cross my mind, ‘He isn’t going to stop this time. I’m never leaving this apartment alive again.’

Hey girl you know you drive me crazy
One look puts the rhythm in my hand
Still I’ll never understand why you hang around
I see what’s going down

Cover up with make up in the mirror
Tell yourself it’s never gonna happen again
You cry alone and then he swears he loves you

Do you feel like a man
When you push her around?
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?
Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect
Every action in this world will bear a consequence
If you wait around forever you will surely drown
I see what’s going down

I see the way you go and say you’re right again
Say you’re right again
Heed my lecture

Do you feel like a man
When you push her around?
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?
Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

Face down in the dirt
She said “This doesn’t hurt!”
She said “I finally had enough!”

Face down in the dirt
She said “This doesn’t hurt!”
She said “I finally had enough!”

One day she will tell you that she has had enough
It’s coming round again

Do you feel like a man
When you push her around?
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?
Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

Do you feel like a man
When you push her around?
Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?
Well I’ll tell you my friend, one day this world’s got to end
As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found

Face down in the dirt
She said “This doesn’t hurt!”
She said “I finally had enough!”

I hope you can’t related to this, have absolutely NO IDEA how it could be possible to think this and feel only one thing: relief. The pain would finally stop, and stop for good. I didn’t want to die but living was absolutely unbearable. Huddled against the wall, shrinking in fear as far back as physically possible, this thought appears in my mind and my whole body instantly relaxes. I was relieved beyond any words that I could finally just die and the suffering would end. I’d say it was a mistake except that the reaction was 100% involuntary, so I really can’t say I made a mistake…regardless, E’s fury reached a whole new level I’d never seen before when I had the GALL to appear to relax. I don’t remember exactly what happened next and I hope to remain forever oblivious of the details as I know my brain is trying to protect me from remembering the worst of E’s brutality. Unfortunately I’ve had to relive it many, many times in flashbacks so I know more or less how it *felt* both emotionally and physically even if I’m not totally clear on the details…head trauma will do that to a person! But I truly believed this was it, this was the time he’d go too far and genuinely was ready to greet my own murder with nothing but a sense of relief on multiple occasions. That’s the depth and breadth of the well of fear and hopelessness in which I was trapped, and present in the walls at every single level was that terrifying dread of the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy. Thanks to time, therapy, more knowledge and support I slowly clawed my way out of the bottom of that well, never seeing this one central fear was still at my side every step of the way.

For the past couple of years I’ve felt like I was perched on the ledge of that well. I’d climbed my way OUT but it was still very much a part of me, always with me as I continuously work to manage my PTSD. Thanks to this surgery I had the chance to stand up and walk away for the first time. I suppose I’m mixing my metaphors quite a bit, it’s just so difficult to describe. Something which had been a prison, then an anchor dragging behind me, then I was set free without ever having believed such a release could exist! I feel safer just existing. Being alive, being ME is less emotionally painful. I had no idea what a deep fear I’d been carrying of someone getting me pregnant some day when I didn’t want to be and using it as a means of exerting control over me; and then, suddenly it evaporated! So yes, much more than the mere relief I anticipated.

While talking with my massage therapist I mentioned how thrilled I was that I’d never have to have another IUD inserted as I’ve been using them for over a decade now to prevent pregnancy and manage serious issues related to my menstrual cycle. I said offhanded that the IUD insertions were ‘always traumatic’ not even thinking anything about that detail until she immediately asked simply, ‘Why?’ And in an instant of unusual bravery I told her something I’ve never said aloud before, having been struggling against even thinking it internally for I’m not even sure how long, ‘I don’t remember, but I think I was molested when I was really, really little.’

[and it only took me 2400 words to work my way up to putting it down in black and white]

I went on to explain the significant and classic signs of sexual abuse my sister exhibited when she had her daughters, suddenly treating her husband like a threat to their kids. It was heartbreaking to watch. There are of course other signs. I may resent, perhaps even HATE, LFD but I can assure you the idea of him being a child molester appeals even less. But I have good instincts and what ought to be an alarming amount of knowledge and experience with psychology, the subject having always been a closely held interest of mine, and I’m certain she was abused. What are the chances we grew up in the same household and one of us was abused but the other, nearly eight years younger, wasn’t? I, of course, exhibit many classic signs also, a fact I’ve been increasingly aware of over the past few years. It goes back further than that, but even though I saw similarities I wasn’t able to handle actually considering this could mean I was abused, I could only handle believing it was coincidence. Not anymore. The suspicion has been growing louder and louder inside of me and, apparently, yesterday I was finally ready to acknowledge it.

I have Daddy issues. I’m not as ashamed by that as I used to be, but it does still hurt quite badly. My psycho bio dad LFD literally brainwashed me and I remember the training going back to when I was only three years old. Before the brainwashing I have an enormous gaping hole in my memory. Not in the I-was-young-and-I-don’t-recall-much-detail kind of holes but an enormous canyon with edges screaming DO NOT ENTER: PTSD. I started self harming when I was only two years old, biting my arms until they were completely covered in red bites all up and down both arms, doing all this damage in just one day. From where else would the instinct to harm myself so extensively at such a young age have come? In a very real way, LFD’s abuse ruined me. I made easy prey for predators. Like Demi says, ‘Thought it was a teenage dream, a fantasy but was it yours or was it mine?’ I was desperate to feel loved after being told by the psycho who was supposed to be my FATHER that no one loved me and that everything wrong in the world was MY fault. I was just a kid, I had no way to know I shouldn’t believe him so I did. When V wanted an escape I was all too eager. But I was only 16! My Mom and LFD were 15 years apart in age; my older sister that I grew up with is 7.5 years older than me. I’d been around adults my whole life; we lived rurally and I didn’t have many friends my age. My version of normal involved people much older than myself and I’ve always continued to very easily relate to those same demographics. V was almost exactly the same age as my sister, so to me it made sense that I’d relate to him so easily and the validation of receiving the positive attention from him which I NEVER got from my sister also felt good. It was all too easy to rationalize away.

It feels out of character to say this now, but back then I tried to do the right thing. When I realized that I had these BIG feelings for V (at some point after we became MySpace friends and got in the habit of talking every single day) I sent him an email. I expressed concerns our relationship was inappropriate and explained I had feelings far above and beyond friendship for him and that we should stop talking for that reason as he’s married. Turns out his wife is a snooper and SHE read my heartfelt attempted Dear John letter. That’s when V and his wife separated; I personally and directly caused it to happen with that stupid email I sent. I believed his lies, not yet aware of my hopeless romantic tendencies so I could keep them tightly leashed as I do now! I thought he and I had a future, that we were going to be together and live our dreams together. I lost so much innocence to that affair. What really scares me, now that I am old enough to realize I was victimized, it’s of course well beyond the statute of limitations so he couldn’t be charged if I came forward, and last I knew he owns a martial arts school and is an instructor, meaning he has access to teenage girls who are impressionable and naive and trust their martial arts instructor deeply. Is he still preying on underage girls? That question haunts me.

A few weeks ago Mr. Trustworthy and I had a *particularly enthusiastic* morning rendezvous at my place and my upstairs neighbor, who already hates me, was apparently working from home. I was quite a bit louder than usual that day and apparently she’d put on her coat and gone for a walk even though it was pouring out. Once we calmed the fuck down, Mr. Trustworthy and I decided we were hungry (can’t imagine why!?) and wanted to go out to lunch. As he held the screen door open and I locked my apartment door behind us, the neighbor comes back from her walk and is all pissy saying she needs to get by. Well, if she hadn’t been angry enough by the extremely loud sex interrupting her work day, she all but lost it when she saw Mr. Trustworthy with me. The next morning she was on one of her angry rants about how I’m just pure evil and I heard her say, ‘I’ll just fuck a 60 year old!’ I didn’t engage with her but I was instantly furious. She knows NOTHING about our relationship and she was denigrating him based solely on his age!? What gives her the right to judge. The disgust in her voice broke something inside of me. No one has ever loved or accepted me unconditionally before, only Mr. Trustworthy. For her to imply something negative about me being with him offended me beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined. It’s a strange dichotomy, on the one hand I honestly don’t give a fuck what other people think or do, I’m gunna do what I wanna do for better or for worse. But I am fiercely protective of the people I love and even MORE so of Mr. Trustworthy, so hearing disgust in her tone kicked those instincts into high gear. Also I admit while my independent streak nearly always seems to win, I am still human and crave love and acceptance.

I have been preyed upon. I have been victimized. But now I’m in the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had, with Mr. Trustworthy. As much as I’ve always been aware of the age difference, I wasn’t willing to let that one thing keep me away from an incredible relationship…and boy am I glad now! I’ve learned so much as our relationship has grown over the past few years, lessons I will need to have in hand if I’m to have a shot at the Happily Ever After I know Mr. Trustworthy wants for me. I’m still not in a place where I’m even remotely ready to consider that, but I DO know that I want to continue our intimate relationship for as long as possible! Letting go of that part of our relationship is going to be unimaginably difficult. We’ll do it when the time comes, but I’m in absolutely NO hurry for it to arrive, selfish as that may be. I guess all of this is my protracted way of saying:

-Age is NOT just a number, as I believed when I was 16 – it truly does matter

-When all parties are consenting adults, age is not the ONLY thing that matters

I have paid the heaviest of prices, over and over again throughout my life, in exchange for merely surviving. I am a survivor, but I want MORE. I want the opportunity to be healthy mentally, physically and emotionally and truly THRIVE. That’s what keeps me motivated, that what I’m fighting for; that’s why I’m facing these horrific demons. What happened to me was NOT my fault and there is NO SHAME in surviving. It doesn’t matter what it looked like, my only job was to escape with my life and I have. Now I get to learn and grow and, hopefully, heal. Things don’t get better when you ignore them, they get worse. So down I go, following the pain echoing up from the depths of my soul. More work to be done, but my very existence is less painful thanks to this exact type of work and the floors through which I’ve already fought my way and passed beyond. The only way out is through – and thankfully through works out well time after time!

My Feelings Don’t Define Me

The thing about my relationship with Mr. Trouble is that I’ve always mentally railed against how I feel about him. Back when I finally allowed myself to give in and sleep with him for the first time I honestly believed I wasn’t capable of trusting him enough to develop real feelings for him. Then as I spent last summer really getting to know him and falling in love with him I was already bouncing back and forth between basking in the glow and fighting myself internally, seeing him deal with the guilt early on and going back and forth with each of us calling it off but always coming back together.

I didn’t fully realize that I was truly, deeply in love with him until around November and, at that time, didn’t have any idea that he returned my feelings. So, I started trying to let go and spent months feeling heartbroken, desperate to see him and unable to let go emotionally *at all*. It got so bad I was having anxiety and panic attacks just from thinking about him which, thankfully, lead me to seeking a new therapist. Game changer!

After learning about codependency I finally had the tools I needed to be able to choose to stop sleeping with Mr. Trouble. Before this, even when I wanted to end it in my head, I wasn’t able to deny what my emotions were demanding and kept circling back. Finally learning about the alcohol abuse Mr. Trouble had been hiding was painful beyond description and left me terrified for his safety as his primary mode of transportation is a motorcycle. Even though my heart was screaming in pain for us both, I was able to tell him we I couldn’t sleep with him when he was dependent on downing bottles of whiskey to get through the day. Confronting him about his drinking was one of the most painful things I’ve ever done, but he needed to hear it and I love him, so I couldn’t ignore it even if it wasn’t my place. I genuinely wanted to be his friend from the very beginning and hope our friendship can last.

Anyway, thanks to meditation I’ve realized that although I’ve come a long way, when it comes to my feelings for Mr. Trouble I have still been feeling that they in part define who I am as a person. I hate knowing that he’s cheating on his wife to be with me. I hate being so in love with him when he doesn’t have time for me. I hate how my inner hopeless romantic constantly tries to imagine happily ever after with him when I know real life would never look like that. Even so, I let him back into my bed a couple months ago. Once I saw that he was making a real effort to do better throughout his life (including drinking less), it kind of felt as if it didn’t matter whether I was sleeping with him or not. Either way I was in love with him, and he with me. Either way we were confiding in one another in what feels like an emotional affair at the very least. Either way I was judging myself and my worth as a person harshly due to our relationship. So if I’m the worst person on Earth either way, why shouldn’t I at least allow us the comfort of one another?

Thinking about Mr. Trouble makes me feel so incredibly lonely, I assume because he can’t offer the things I need. But a big part of me is desperately trying to survive on the occasional bread crumb dropped by him because of how he really *sees* parts of who I am that no one else in my life does. I suppose the only realistic way to address this, rather than continuing on hang on his every glance and occasional text, is to find new people who DO see me the way I need…tough to do when one is disabled, immunocompromised and terrified of long haul COVID.

Mr. Trouble was the ONLY person that I wasn’t nervous to tell about changing to using my last name and preferring they/them pronouns…in fact I was really excited to tell him. After our drunken discussion in the beginning of the year in which I did my damndest to explain to him what it means to be nonbinary and a follow up text convo in which I admitted I would have redacted all of the personal information about ME had I been sober and Mr. Trouble reassured me, I completely trusted him to accept my decision about these changes. I was really excited that the timing worked out that we had plans to see one another the day before I told my parents, as I don’t see Mr. Trouble in person very often and we don’t text hardly at all compared to say a year ago. So, the FIRST person I was going to tell in person was going to be the one person I was excited to tell rather than nervous. Well, life of course had other plans and he had to cancel last minute. I was super disappointed and almost didn’t bother telling him, thinking I’d just let him hear it through the grape vine at work. But that felt like punishing him when he’d done nothing wrong and I AM sleeping with him, so not doing him the courtesy of telling him felt wrong. I ended up telling him via text, which was fine.

So, I’m hanging on to Mr. Trouble so tightly, in spite of the intense negative effects on my self esteem, for perhaps understandable reasons. I am really working hard on being as kind to myself as possible, but when it comes to this relationship it’s really tough. How do I stop mentally fighting so hard against these powerful feelings he engenders in me? I’m hoping the title of this post is the key…it seems in every other part of my life I’ve gotten used to the idea that my feelings don’t define me, they come, need to be felt, and I can then let them pass/let them go/accept them and choose my decisions using wise mind. But when it comes to my feelings about Mr. Trouble I’ve never truly accepted them, never been able to externalize them or let them go at ALL. And I’ve judged myself as a person so harshly because of these feelings and this relationship…I still am. Now I have to try and forgive myself; hopefully all of the insight I’ve worked so hard to gain will be enough to finally make this possible.

This relationship does not define me or my worth.

These feelings do NOT make me a bad person.

As I try to believe about everyone else in the world, I’m doing the best I can with the tools I have and the circumstances in which I find myself. I’d expect nothing more from *anyone* else than trying their best, and I’ve sure as shit been doing that! I hope this can finally be a turning point for me as I work on accepting and believing these things on an emotional level, not just in my head. Wish me luck!

I Deserve…?

I’m just gonna say it…

THERAPY SUCKS!!!

Lol. It’s totally worth it when I’m lucky enough to have found the right person to work with and I’ve made huge amounts of progress this year and am unquestionably seeing benefits, but it’s so fucking hard! And for the most part incredibly painful, demoralizing and just generally crushing to actually face and *deal with* all the shit locked up inside myself.

I find meditation to be a more and more useful tool the longer and more consistently I use it – I get help managing my pain level, dealing with strong emotions, working through trauma and even just quieting my mind and body so I can rest. I’m discovering this indescribable freedom in my own mind, where there don’t have to be limits. I’ve loved space my whole life and became a Star Trek fan at a young age. I was fascinated around 3-4 years old when I learned of a theory that space is folded over on itself because I immediately wondered, if space is folded, then what’s around it!? And whatever that is…what’s beyond that!? This is my earliest memory regarding the idea of infinity. Around the same age LFD asked me what I though would happen if something changed from three dimensional to two dimensional right in front of me…would there be sparks!? Fireworks!? A loud crack noise perhaps? Would flames erupt? Among all of the magical effects he suggested, I was unconvinced and hesitantly responded, “No…I don’t think anything like that would happen…” and that’s when he took a strip of paper and introduced me to the Mobius Strip.

So, perhaps it should come as no surprise that my mental landscape is space; where I can use the impossibility of truly comprehending its vastness, diversity and beauty to release all of the limits I face in reality, both internal and external. In my mind at least, space IS infinite. No matter how overwhelming my feelings get, when I go there in my meditation, there is ALWAYS enough room. There is always enough space to hold whatever it is I need to release, and letting go of it in this way doesn’t mean it’s truly GONE nor lost in any way, but rather just that there is space for it without my having to hold it in…I can still come back to it, I don’t even have to leave it in the first place, only externalize it and in this way am able to release the burden of being overwhelmed and crushed by the forces with which I am struggling to manage. From the day S1E1 aired, I have always found the opening for Star Trek Enterprise to be extremely inspirational and a source of strength when I am struggling.

For most of my life I have struggled with feeling trapped in my body to varying degrees. It has been particularly brutal since my spinal injury, but I have made a lot of progress. Most of the time lately I feel grateful that I am still seeing signs of improvement even more than 18 months after my spinal surgery. I prioritize my physical, mental and emotional health to the best of my ability and have felt that this focus is essentially my full time job for some time – it’s extremely rewarding to find myself able to do more and suffer through less pain with less rest and recovery time needed as well. That said, it is still extremely frustrating to be 32 and disabled, spending the majority of my time in bed resting my neck. It’s incredibly isolating and emotionally exhausting for one naturally so extremely extroverted as myself.

It was during meditation a few weeks ago that I realized I felt closeted, hiding my gender identity out of fear. I’d made so much progress this year in therapy and was feeling so positive on a surface level, but my soul was not at peace. So I went searching internally, purposefully looking for what was hurting inside me. It’s continuously mind blowing to me to realize just how much I reflexively suppress in a misguided attempt to protect myself from having to deal with things should they rise to a conscious level. I honestly thought having figured out years ago that I am nonbinary that all which mattered to me was ME knowing who I am, that I didn’t care how the rest of the world sees me. There are advantages to being seen as an attractive young woman in our culture, and I have most certainly benefited from being perceived as such most of my life. I am also a survivor of horrific abuse, which I have suffered in one form or another nearly my entire life. Some of this likely would’ve been different had I been born male. Some of it wouldn’t have. But the point is I wasn’t even consciously AWARE of these feelings, the overpowering FEAR of being open about my gender identity, the fact that I felt like I was hiding this huge part of who I am in a closet…the people closest to me knew and I’d thought that was enough. Now as I’m facing showing this side of myself, there is fear, but there is also a sense of relief, some excitement and joy, some frustration and so many other things. However I am now actively CHOOSING to be authentic and express that in new ways, something which wouldn’t have been possible without the infinite space which was necessary for me to be able to consciously acknowledge the absolutely consuming fear I was feeling in relation to my gender identity. I couldn’t help but wonder, considering the extreme violence and abuse I’ve had to endure from a relative position of privilege being perceived as a straight cis woman, what was going to happen to me if I shed this skin and let the world know that NONE of those things are who I am?

Luckily I’ve never been one to let fear determine my choices! I learned something I suspect may be equally as profound in my meditation today. I began with exploring the idea that my body does not define me. This is a belief with which my feelings still often conflict, so I’ve been trying to find my way through the Gordian Knot of feelings which tell me my body is who I am. While meditating on this, a new thought came to me: how others perceive me ALSO does *not* define me! I was thinking about reflections and shadows I’ve seen at times when I felt the most like me, typically on my motorcycle although today I also thought about being on a horse, having spent my entire youth as an extremely active equestrian. Then this new notion arrived, I guess I must have finally been ready for it. Is this more or less powerful than the idea that my body does not define me? Because nearly all of the issues I have with my body are based in culture, perception and how others interact with me. Don’t get me wrong, there is still some gender dysphoria in there because all else aside I would still be deeply horrified, in a way for which there are no adequate words aside from ‘gender dysphoria,’ by the fact that I have the necessary plumbing to bear a child. However, without all of the cultural elements this would be a vanishingly small difficulty compared to my gender issues now.

I saw the movie ‘Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song’ recently and was deeply moved by how much I related to everything! I feel I understand Cohen’s search for meaning in life, relate to how he feels about sex, know what it’s like to feel so deeply and be driven by spiritual *need* one does not yet understand. I can only hope my story end half as well as his; he finally found that inner peace in the end for which I am still striving. Perhaps this new concept of not allowing how others perceive me to define me will be my next step on a similar journey!

I still seek to get to a place where I FEEL that I deserve better than I’ve ever been able to allow myself to have, but at least I’ve made progress on the thinking side of that and in my head do believe I deserve better.

Better than being afraid to say ‘no’ when I don’t want to have sex (which I DO now!)

Better than using sex in the hopes of stopping someone from abandoning me (recent realization so this may take some time yet)

Better than being abandoned

Better than someone who truly doesn’t have time for me

Better than an affair with someone who’s married

Better than being abused, in ANY form

Better than being excluded or ignored

Better than being taken for granted

Better than being judged just because I’m different

Better than being resented for limitations due to my health

Better than living with fear

So ya know, I don’t ask for MUCH! Lol. Lofty goals no doubt, but worthy ones! And before this year I’d never even considered what I deserve, so this is already a lot of progress! I also freely admit the thinking part is the easier one to convince, but even realizing I wanted to believe and feel these things was an enormous hurdle so as far as I’m concerned I’m on the downhill slope with only my feelings left!!!

…even so, wish me luck!

A Rose By Any Other Name

I like my name. I’m named after my maternal grandmother, with whom I have always been close. My mom’s middle name is also the same, and my sister used a shortened version of my name for her oldest. I legally changed my name after H passed, removing my middle name entirely and picking a new last name as I was not going back to LFD’s surname. As much as ‘Mustang’ feels like home, I don’t feel ready to take on the world’s reaction were I to legally change my name to that…nor do I want to lose my first name which is currently reflected in four generations of my family. What I DO think might work, however, is going by my current last name; its typical usage in the U.S. is as a first name for boys. There’s only one person who makes me feel seen and whole when I hear them use my first name and, for better or worse, that person is Mr. Trouble. When anyone else says my name, it’s just an identifier, not a meaningful reflection of *me*, just of family history that was in effect before anyone even knew who I am. I hope such a change wouldn’t hurt my grandmother, but she has always been extremely progressive and I think she’d just want me to be happy.

Thinking about changing my pronouns and the name I go by is exciting, terrifying and extremely daunting. But until yesterday I’d never been willing to even seriously consider doing either, so…is that progress? Part of me thinks changes like this are actually reactive and reflect one trying to run away from who they are and escape a traumatic past. Would I be non-binary if I hadn’t suffered the abuse I endured growing up? Does the answer to that question ultimately matter? Now I’m thinking myself in circles – I think I need to take a break from all the overthinking I’ve been engaged in recently. Perhaps I will just sit with this idea for a bit and see how I’m feeling…wish me luck!

The Only Way Out Is Through

The more I read online the more afraid I am. I have an extensive history of trauma even without coming out and I feel like there’s so little support for non-binary people, nearly everything is for trans people. I hate saying that because truly I don’t begrudge trans people any assistance, I realize being trans is unimaginably difficult. It’s just that if I feel unsafe living passing as a straight woman how can I live more authentically given what the LGBTQ+ community faces? I just feel so profoundly unsafe already but seeing my reflection hurts because I can’t help but see a woman looking back at me and that’s just not who I am.

I feel like myself when I’m ‘Mustang’ – a name I picked because it reflects my desperate need to be able to live my life wild and free, not constrained by others or my past. Part of me thinks I’d love to change my pronouns but I’m not sure anyone would support me, including my best friend. I guess I think he’d TRY because he loves me, but would he still see me for me? Would he judge me, withdraw emotionally? I feel like that’s possible and that would brake my heart. I guess fear of losing him isn’t a good enough reason to not live my life authentically…and I believed my therapist when (referring to my feelings of isolation) she said it’s probably a combination of having people in my life who are just not strong enough to handle all the weight I carry and just having the wrong people in my life, but knowing that doesn’t at all ease how painful it would be to lose everyone, the support system I’ve worked so hard trying to build for myself. I know it’s not perfect but it’s what I have.

Picasso

I feel like a coward. I’ve always run toward the things that scare me, always been enraptured by challenges. Is my own gender identity and gender expression what’s going to finally break me? I don’t want it to hurt so much to look at my own reflection. Would changing my pronouns have any effect on that? I used to believe I didn’t want to change my pronouns but now I think the deeper truth is that I’m afraid to, which doesn’t feel good. I’ve already done a lot to change my appearance, but without taking extreme measures I think people will always see me as female at first glance. I’ve used passing as an attractive straight girl to my advantage and am hesitant to trade that privilege away; the alternative is just so fucking scary.

I know my state is one that allows people to change their gender marker on their driver’s license and mine expires in a few months. Would changing mine help?

Crap…a coworker I don’t know well but do know to be non-binary just responded to my text asking if we could talk some time with ‘…. Mustang?’ and it brought tears to my eyes that they remembered the name I actually prefer; I don’t even remember sharing that! I know I’d never lose my godparents. I feel sick to my stomach having just reached out to another coworker; I’ve been really upset with him because of something that happened with work a couple months ago and hiding that I’m upset with him from everyone but my best friend. And the only reason I know his daughter is trans is because Mr. Trouble told me – not a relationship I want to advertise if I did try to ask that coworker about what he learned as his daughter transitioned and managing the fear and fatigue of having to come out over and over again in different settings etc.

I’ve become so open about my physical and mental illnesses and realizing my belief that the only way to destigmatize such things is to talk about them openly, educate others and answer questions is equally applicable to issues surrounding identity and gender makes me feel like a hypocrite, hiding away out of fear and convenience. Which I totally admit to, just between us lol. If I feel like my dykish appearance might be putting others off I just casually mention my late husband and tensions immediately ease.

I know I am a people pleaser and am personally extremely conflict averse. I’ve worked hard to be willing to speak up and, when necessary, stand my ground. However, most of this progress has been in my professional life. Standing up for myself in my personal life continues to be extremely challenging and I think all of this ties back in to the same source, not feeling safe.

I don’t feel safe as a woman in this world. I don’t feel safe as a non-binary person; I don’t feel safe being attracted to women. I don’t feel safe riding my motorcycle alone if I’m not armed. I just don’t feel safe, a feeling which has been reinforced over and over again through trauma and abandonment. I also happen to be an empath with the unfortunate tendency of absorbing the emotions people around me are feeling. I’ve been working on learning to keep the feelings I can sense in others external which helps avoid becoming overwhelmed myself, but this ability is still very much a work in progress.

So, I already want to please others and actively want to avoid conflict and on top of that, I actually experience others’ distress involuntarily. Talk about a recipe for hiding anything about myself which might make others uncomfortable! Which is almost laughable for me to say because in so many ways I have always eschewed conventional wisdom and hell even common sense! Insisting on blazing my own trail, even when that self prescribed path went straight off a cliff more often than not 😛 But what people don’t realize is, even standing out as much as I always have, I still hold SO. MUCH. BACK!

Maybe I’m still holding too much back and that’s why life hurts so much and I still feel so deeply isolated. I have to admit I’ve never truly felt like I found my tribe…every place I’ve looked I’ve still always been so different from everyone else. But looking for resources online for non-binary people was crushing to the point of pushing me to call a crisis line last week. Everything I could find online over the course of a few hours of searching was actually for and about trans people, not non-binary people. If I can’t even find support online how can I hope to find it in RL? Not that this is a yard stick worth using for comparison, but even the DSM V definition of gender dysphoria in large part only applies to trans people. I was stunned by how discouraging searching the internet for support as a non-binary person felt…I truly felt hopeless. I’ve learned to make huge concessions in my search for quality of life, but living without hope isn’t something I can do. Thankfully I ran across a local organization that serves sexual assault survivors and between their crisis line and support group for LGBTQ+ individuals, then an appointment with my therapist, I was able to once again believe there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

That said, I’m still really only one half height ladder rung above hopeless. I feel so lost and uncertain. I really don’t seem to be able to stand too much serenity in my life, always thinking my way into a new existential crisis. And I have to admit, this one scares me to death…

The Gender Torture of a Lonely little…

…currently in a monogamous relationship with Daddy. Things aren’t going so well right now…

As I’ve talked about in my post Gender Fluidity, I struggle trying to conform to society’s expectations of females. In some things I just say ‘Fuck it’ and do as I please, such as becoming a black belt in Kung Fu and riding motorcycles. I know I’ve made a conscious choice to outwardly pass as a stereotypical hetero-normative (and hopefully attractive) woman, and I am pretty successful. So I don’t always feel I have the right to suffer as I do, essentially closeted. The thing is, the people closest to me such as my partner and my Mom do know the truth, know the details. Yet more than a year in, every so often my partner still puts his hand on my stomach and says ‘Baby!’, a joke I can assure you he was the only one laughing at when he pulled it this morning. Now, in addition to the fresh wave of physical and emotional pain over my gender identity he set off, I’m also asking myself, ‘Why are we talking about marriage and raising a family?’ If he can’t accept or respect the fact that my gender identity makes me absolutely unable to bear children, am I just wasting my time and putting off the inevitable? Dark thoughts, but I’ve been struggling so much with our relationship for the past several months already and after losing H last year I know I need and deserve more than just love holding a relationship together. 

Maybe I’m going off the deep end here, but every time he has done this I’ve made it clear that it’s not acceptable and he just isn’t listening. Now after I finally got super upset this morning he reacted with anger and avoiding me all day. I texted him and offered to go stay at my parent’s who are out of town, it’s starting to get late and he was supposed to be getting ready for hunting next week..seems like he might be avoiding coming home because I’m here so I offered to clear out. He responded indicating he doesn’t know why I’d think he doesn’t want to be around me and sure it wasn’t an optimal ending before he left ‘but that happens.’ So I guess he’s going to be headed home soon but honestly I really don’t want to talk about our relationship and the pain I’m in – the pain that’s been slowly worsening for months.   

Our relationship has been a bit of a roller coaster, starting so soon after H’s death. I still feel like I don’t deserve to be happy sometimes, even though I am absolutely certain H wanted me to be happy. As I suppose most married couples do, we occasionally talked about what we’d want if something happened to one of us (though I never could’ve guessed that would be a divorce and his immediate suicide), and I know he truly loved me and wanted me to be happy, even if I had to be without him. He even expressed this during our divorce process and I believed him. But he was 29 and killed himself THREE DAYS after I told him our divorce was final, the DAY AFTER we had a big fight because of how he acted all handsy and possessive in public when we had drinks with friends to celebrate his birthday (this behavior was extremely out of character for him and I set boundaries), and the SAME DAY that I cancelled plans for breakfast and refused to go over to his place when he texted and called me that morning. I know his death is not my fault, but I think a part of me may always feel things might have been different, he might not have died that day if I’d made different choices. Even though we were getting divorced he was still my best friend and I still loved him so much. I truly hoped we could both heal and get healthier emotionally and I truly was open to possibly getting back together some day. I had zero interest in dating or seeking out another partner and I told him this more than once. One of the things he said to me when he asked if it was okay for him to continue wearing his wedding ring was that he meant his vows and even though we were getting divorced he still meant them and I felt the same way even if I couldn’t continue to be married to him. 

But H is gone and I know I deserve to be happy, I just struggle with accepting it, particularly given my total lack of experience with the feeling. Prior to my current relationship I had very limited experience exploring my submissive side but had come to accept this is a cornerstone of my personality. I am sexually submissive with men, always have been, and I’m a masochist. I wasn’t really sure if I identified as little or not before, but as my current relationship evolved and trust deepened, partially due to our BDSM activities, I admitted first to myself and later to my partner how badly I wanted to call him Daddy, something I’d refused to do in the past when asked. The thing is, I can’t take it back. I’ve never had a Daddy before and I’m terrified of losing my Daddy. He’s always liked rough sex but didn’t have any real BDSM experience prior to my tempting him into the fold. I asked him once if he likes it when I call him Daddy, he does, and why? He said it makes him feel important to me. Gods, he has no idea just how much. Too much maybe. 

I was rear-ended back in June which resulted in a serious neck injury, I’ve been on bed rest ever since. One minute I’m working two jobs and super active, the next I can’t work at all and barely manage to care for myself. Not only did BDSM go out the door all of a sudden, so did sex! I think we’ve had sex four times since my accident. After so much time passing and no idea when I will actually be healed, I’ve really started resenting him for taking away things that are so important to me unilaterally. I got so upset that I actually decided if he isn’t willing to step up and dominate me, I don’t even want to have sex and turned him down two or three times in the past weeks. Last night I was having a better pain day and we had a date night, dinner, movie and yes, sex. I was shamefully desperate to feel wanted and loved. This morning he thanked me (again) for sex last night and said half jokingly, ‘I thought you didn’t want me or find me attractive anymore.’ It took me a moment, then I responded, ‘Back at you babe.’ Not too long ago he mentioned something about how I’d turned him down for sex multiple times and I responded, ‘Too little, too late.’ Prior to this I’ve tried to bring up how many times he has turned me down for sex since my accident and he said something like, ‘Well, your neck I needs to heal.’ As if there are no compromises available, which obviously there are since we have had sex when he wanted to after my accident. Mostly he had stopped having sex with me and would just masturbate next to me and then cum in my mouth. This is fine when we’re having sex and BDSM activities regularly, I am happy to submit in this way. But given how things have been after my accident, the last time this happened I resented him and felt used. So, the next time I said no and he came on my breasts instead. I think that’s happened about twice since I realized how upset I am with him for starving me on these fronts. I haven’t exactly been silent about my discontent, but I haven’t explained all of this in detail either. Mostly because I don’t think it will change anything. He’s made up his mind and it’s not like it would be fair to push him into doing things he isn’t comfortable with, nor could I seeing as he is the dominant one; I’m not trying to top from the bottom. 

I’m just so lonely, even when he is home. Cuddling is simply not enough to keep me feeling happy and wanted and loved. Maybe I am too needy for him. Maybe he just thinks it’s fun to be called Daddy in bed and will never want to be my Daddy all the time like I want. I can’t even bring myself to call him Daddy in bed anymore, let alone out of bed! It just requires me to be more vulnerable than I can allow with how I’ve been feeling. I don’t think he has any idea that I want even more of him than he’s already given me, and I’m not about to ask when he’s pulled away so much after my accident. We have talked about our future so much, wanting to buy a house and raise a family, about the possibility of adoption or using a surrogate, about wanting our kids to grow up rurally as we both did but needing to make sure there are private schools close enough because rural school districts have horrible ratings. It’s a beautiful picture but right now it feels like no more than a pretty dream. I felt lonely in my marriage to H and I am not willing to live the rest of my life like that, no matter how much I love and want my current partner. I have to love and want him for who he is, and that may not meet enough of my needs, which terrifies me 😥

Considering all of this emotional pain (and not even counting the physical pain of my neck injury!), feeling the agony of being reminded of the anatomical ability of my body to get pregnant was just too much. I’ve spent all day feeling nauseous and resisting the very strong urge to self harm. I feel like having sex last night was a mistake; I allowed myself to be too vulnerable. Maybe I could’ve managed to get through his ‘joke’ better if I hadn’t let him in last night and exposed my vulnerability; maybe there wouldn’t have been the joke at all if we hadn’t had sex again. I wish I knew how to put in to words how viscerally horrifying the idea of getting pregnant is to me; yet I can think of nothing which would be more beautiful than seeing the woman I love carrying my child. I love kids, I want kids. But I don’t believe I could survive pregnancy – I’ll take gender dysphoria for 100 Alex! I’ve never been formally diagnosed, mostly because I feel like I manage pretty well on this front, so my times in therapy have been focused on other matters. In spite how how deep my instinctive hatred of being stuck in a female body is, I’ve never had any desire to transition. I do believe I would be far more at peace if I was male, but I believe in reincarnation and I have worked very, very hard to figure out how to live with the body I was given without being constantly at war with it; a bit ironic considering I have autoimmune diseases so my body is literally fighting itself. I made certain when this relationship started to turn serious that I was open about my gender difficulties as well as needing BDSM. I’m not sure what I did wrong, how I ended up caught between the future we’ve been building together and my present loneliness. What do I do now?

Looking Back on 2016

I’ve had a full year! It’s hard to believe I was suicidal this time last year. A couple months ago my boss let us know we would have performance evaluations by the end of the year and gave us a …

SYMPTOMS OF BEING HUMAN

I live in the binary. Basically, I tend to categorize things into two piles. Things I like and things I do not like. Good things and bad things. Smart people and dumb people. Women and Men. Democrat or Republican. To some extent, I think it’s human nature to put a label on something. Labeling allows […]

via Diversity of Gender — Politics, Polymers, & Pretty Dresses