CAPTAIN'S BLOG
For most of my life, I've been a fiercely logical person. I don't know what ratio is appropriate, but some ratio of that is easy to blame on my father and my testosterone. I could see that being a Logical Man was one of the accepted archetypes, knowing that I didn't want to be an Angry Man.
I've obviously left that overt philosophy behind, but I've gotten very, very good at just... thinking my way through things. It, you know, makes sense and all, but I guess.. that's the problem. It does not make sense that I am still this upset about Natalia. I don't understand it. It is annoying. Perhaps it would be fair to blame my estrogen levels. Whatever it is, I remain deeply wounded, and embarrassed about that wound, even. Even as I review the relationship and find it very much lacking, I find my complaints about her... are complaints I get from others about me. That I'm emotionally cold. Distant. That I'm an asshole. And I don't want to be that kind of person. And when I connect with my emotions, my feelings, I cry. A lot. Seemingly forever. And I'm tired of it. Of crying about Natalia... of crying about Marion. Two people who treated me like shit. Where the best part was the sex. And recently I read that the reason the sex mattered so much to me, was because it was the only part of the relationship when I felt truly seen, and like I mattered to them. Because the thing is, the fact I still write about them, think about, it means that they mattered to me. And you know... that's what matters. It's what sets Freya apart from them in that way. She's willing to work through things, to try, to put in the daily struggle. We may not be able to work, but goddamn do we work on ourselves and each other. This could be, dare I say, an alright year. So if I really do never hear or see anything of them ever again... though it still makes me cry more than I ever thought it would, that's me. That's who I am. I really did love those two, and they really did treat me like shit, and I really hate them both for it. I'm sure they had their reasons. I'm sure they feel at least a little guilty. But that's not good enough. I've tried to reach them. I've tried to extend multiple olive branches of multiple types, but to no avail. And it makes me sad. That I could love them then, and still - and it could leave me crying even today from the frustration, the sadness, the unjustness... they got to judge me but they hear nothing of my rage, of my scorn. It is one of the reasons I picked the name Aphrodite. Love is passion, passion is fire, and fire burns the hands of the unwieldly. No doubt, my frustration has been extended by the virus as well. Although I clearly needed a reminder in the foolish danger of NRE, the inability to connect in the same way with healthier people has been very frustrating, in a background radiation sort of way, especially as people no doubt ignore the regulations under the guise of being "safe enough". I just imagine people hooking up with strangers with face masks on or something. Hopefully, things will change soon.
0 Comments
What a perfect title for a post that was continued after Weebly threw away all my writing because I pressed "back" on my mouse. Reflections on my relationship with my father post election, the year in retrospect, all just thrown away because weebly still doesn't have an "Are you sure?" prompt. I bet you it's in the paid version though! But the frustrations of trial software are not the topic for today.
I deal with a lot of frustration in my daily life. I find I have spent a lot of energy in my life trying to protect myself from frustration, but the older I get the wider I see, and I see a lot of things that intentionally constructed to frustrate. This always happens when money is involved, for one thing. Money can never be easy to get, so as a disabled person, I still have to do all kinds of stupid bullshit to get enough money to live comfortably, and of course, I often just can't. I've been emailing the Finance Minister of British Columbia in effort to persuade them to increase disability pay to the poverty line immediately, in part because our covid relief pay is ending, but also because our pay is way, way below the poverty line. Disabled people are paid less than half the minimum wage. Our wages have been flat for almost 20 years, only being increased recently, thanks to the NDP government. They need to increase the pace if we're ever going to live without stress and fear. I feel alone when people are with me.
Familiar people bore me. But I need familiar people in order to feel comfortable exploring the new. There is a dichotomy inside of me. I want things to be the same every day, and I want things to be different every day. I want to see my friends and lovers every day, and I want to do nothing and play video games every day. I want to stay in. I want to go out. I want to make games. I want to play them. I want to fall in love - I don't want to get my heart broken by people who I love, but who don't love me. I want to get laid. I don't want people to use me. I want to look deep into the eyes of a woman I love again. I don't want to cry uncontrollably while doing so. I want to tell her that I hope she's miserable. That I hate her for not just doing what she did, but for getting away with it, too. I want to see her on the street and scream at her, kick the shit out of whoever she's with, and laugh at her pain. Just like I can hear her laughing at mine. And the dichotomy remains even here. I want to forget about her. To not care about her. But I also want her to know that I've realized what she did to me. How she treated me. How she made me feel. I want her to feel as bad as I do whenever I think about her. I know, or at least think, that she is not evil. She's broken, just like me. But she didn't seem to care that I was broken. And I thought I was finally somewhere safe to be broken. |
AuthorChristina Hitchens is a trans female writer living in BC, Canada. She loves computers, animals, and a good argument. Archives
March 2022
Categories
All
|