CAPTAIN'S BLOG
My partner said this to me a couple of days ago, and it really got me thinking.
Without a doubt, my life has been marked by obsessions with women. My most powerful memories revolve around the women who have captured my attention. I have definitely acted foolishly in the past. Embarrassing moments are the crown jewel of the sweetest memories of my life. Mistakes made with enthusiasm, not really knowing or understanding, especially in my teen life, how unequal enthusiasm can scare people away. Looking back, I can see how my obsession was driven by my desire to be a woman. I became the most obsessed with women who I most wanted to be, almost exactly to the degree I wanted to be them. I wanted to be as beautiful as the Carissa's, as smart and funny as Mina, as sexy and nerdy as Sirena, as cool and interesting as CJ, as cool and sexy and funny as Anastasia, as tough and athletic as Marlo, as loving and fiery as Freya, and as smart and cool and sexy and independent as Natalia. These were the things that my mind focused on, brought up feelings on. Things that, to me, defined them in my mind. They all, of course, had many other wonderful (and even some shitty) traits. I was never selective about what I found worth admiring, or even envying, in the women I loved. And therein lies the quandary. If I am not obsessing about someone, I don't feel alive. But Natalia has hurt me in a way that will change me forever. I no longer feel safe loving someone like that - letting them into my castle gates through the gateway in my eyes, free to slaughter my animals and burn my grain. The words "I love being gay with you" lowering the drawbridge to my inner sanctum. Nearly a year later, the word "disgusted" still rings in my ears. And that's fucking ridiculous. Yes, my feelings for her were out of control. It was excellent. I felt safe - to be free with my love, to say it, to hear it, to see it in her eyes. I let myself go, letting myself get obsessed, so that I could enjoy some time without depression. But I guess that's not really working for me, is it? Now I find myself with two loving partners. Good people. Someone who accepts me and doesn't judge me or my mistakes - who knows mistakes are something that happens in life. Especially in the ignorance of adolescence. Especially when educated in America. But I find myself not obsessed with either of them. Which leaves me with a deep sense of dissatisfaction, which I also resent. I want to love these women as they deserve - with the attention that I gave all the women in my life I've wanted to be the most. So I have no obsession, and as such, am consumed with depression. Too depressed to see anyone, and paralyzed by the fear of Natalia happening to me again, as she already has so many times. Just livin my life at the bottom of a coffee cup.
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Drink the wine, my darling, you said
Take your time and consume all of it But the roses were only to drain my inspiration The promises were spoiled before they left your lips and... I breathe you in again just to feel you Underneath my skin, holding on to The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison I tell myself that you're no good for me I wish you well, but desire never leaves I could fight this til the end But maybe I don't want to win I breathe you in again just to feel you Underneath my skin, holding on to The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison I don't wanna be saved, I don't wanna be sober I want you on my mind, in my dreams behind these eyes And I won't wake up, no not this time I breathe you in again just to feel you Underneath my skin, holding on to The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison A familiar taste of poison A familiar taste Of poison -Halestorm I am not looking forward to christmas.
Just another day of battling memories of her. It's tiring, fighting the memories and the feelings. Trying to understand, only to ultimately conclude that I am missing the pieces I need to truly understand. All I can do is guess. I understand that she found my story alarming, but I don't understand why I only got that one brief, panicked moment to explain myself. Obviously there was a lot of learning for me to do about myself, and I understand that she didn't want to be around for it, as it is not her job to educate me about morality. But it still hurts that she never gave me the chance to learn and grow. I thought I had shown to her that I was capable of such things, but looking back I can see how she may not have seen that. The way I reacted to her decision to do sex work was foolish and absurd. I don't know what I was thinking - obviously, I was consumed by fear. I was afraid someone would take her away from me and I would never who. Instead now I worry that she'll die and I'll simply never know. And of course, a breakup like this always feels like a death to me. She's out there somewhere, but I never see her. The intensity of my fear at the time made me consider leaving her, but after my feelings subsided I realized I was being foolish. For one thing, for trying to influence her by threatening our relationship. I immediately regretted what I said but it was all I could think about - as if doing so would do anything except sow distrust. Knowing I did that makes me feel like I was insane. And maybe I was a little insane. I was very in love with her. It had been a very long time since my New Relationship Energy lasted that long. If it was even that - I don't know if it was healthy or not. I guess it wasn't - I did after all start this paragraph accusing myself of some level of not being myself. She made me feel alive, and anxious. She made me feel loved, and seen. Seeing her looking into my eyes still makes me cry in the drop of a hat. I never thought something would overtake thinking of my dog when I find myself disconnected from my emotions. It is nice to feel. I never really explained to her why I reacted the way I did - I just apologized what I hoped was enough. I was too embarrassed to admit to her that I said it because I was afraid of losing her - I didn't want to seem desperate, even though it was no doubt too late for that. I did tell her that I supported and understood her reasons for wanting to do sex work though. She assured me she would be careful, and I believe her. I do think that perhaps she doesn't deserve to put herself through what that life can entail - but I would never blame her for trying to make her goals come to fruition. Her determination is definitely something I found very inspiring. I still remember Carmel calling her my young teacher. What a nice idea that was. And I guess in a way she was. Thanks to the focusing effect of the emotional turmoil, I've been thinking about my life and how the things that have happened in my life have affected me. Am I really such a bad person that I deserved to be abandoned after a single 5 minute conversation? How saved am I given that nothing happened? Is what happened to me to blame, or am I? I believe that free will is an illusion, but is that enough? If I could have done things differently, I would have. Whatever she thinks about being lonely, I was very alone for a very long time. That experience changed me, it made me vulnerable and I was taken advantage of. I didn't know that what happened to me was wrong until much later in my life, and it set my boundaries wide. It only occurs to me now that I was actually in danger at that time. He was my friend and I trusted him, and I thought he was showing me something cool. It was a secret we shared and I liked that. It made me feel special, loved, and trusted. But I still would get panic attacks when staying the night at friends houses, years later. I still get nervous spending the night at someone else's house, but not like back then. I didn't even understand why. I would get to a different friends' house, and it would be time to sleep, and I would be gripped with anxiety, burning in my chest. In a panic, I remember running through a baseball friends' house, looking at all the crosses on the wall and the angels on the tables, and finding no comfort in them. I called my mother, begging her to take me home, but unable to tell her why other than "please come, I can't sleep here, please come get me right now." (I'm too emotionally drained to proofread this. I'm sorry.) Finally, I feel like I've begun to turn the corner.
I hate all the garbage that I produce while processing things - especially what ends up here is often an emotionally charged version of what I'm talking about. That is my writing style, and it is unfortunate that the people I am writing about often don't appreciate it. But it's true that text has the authority of permanence that adds to its power. It is regrettable, as my thoughts and feelings inevitably change over time. In any case, I met someone new this week. Inevitably, you came up. We talked about my decision to email you. It has not been a popular decision. I'm sure you will not appreciate it. Hopefully you read it - hopefully it will give you something to think about. I know I've had my fair share. At least now I feel like I have some sort of closure. I never get the kind I want, but hopefully the nightmares will go away. Regardless of the cause and effect of my decision way back when, it happened. Without input from my cousin, I can't decide if what I did was wrong, and I think that is fair. I do know me, and I know that I never wanted to take advantage of anyone. My attraction to my cousin was based on the assumed trust that comes with family and friendship - that plus my situation at that time lead me down the path that I took. What I learned about you however is more relevant to now, however. No doubt, you have your reasons for reacting the way you did and I don't blame you for that. I don't think it was fair, however. You did not handle this situation well at all. I understand that too. These kinds of things can definitely interfere with ones ability to communicate. But you don't seem to have that level of understanding for me. This is why I generally avoid dating young people. You lack the emotional maturity to handle the complexity of this situation. And of course you do - you're young. Just like my cousin and me, way back when. Ah, these one sentence paragraphs are frustrating me. It is the structure of a drawn out conclusion. So I'll just say that I miss you, and I hope you're doing allright out there. On balance, I think of you fondly. Don't take any fireworks to the face tonight. The Impression That I GetI've been on a few dates.
None of them have that same connection we shared. Fuck, I just want to move on. I'm so tired of thinking about you all the goddamn time. The time before I go to sleep is the still the worst. When I'm about to kiss someone is another. And there's also the ending song of Dragon Ball Supers second season. Beyond The Sea. Halloween. My birthday. Christmas is going to suck a lot. That hill on clark where we got stuck in the snow - the place on Clark where I cut those disappointingly filthy daffodils. My girlfriend in Mass Effect 3. Of course she looks like you. Ugh. She talks about how she can't believe she's in love with the ships captain. "My girlfriend, Captain of the Normandy!" and your goddamn face pops into my head, holding hands with you in front of The Princeton. It's annoying, it's stupid, it's frustrating, it's depressing. I see punks walking down Clark and my heart jumps into my throat. At least I haven't seen you. I certainly try to avoid you. Generally, I prefer to take Nanaimo. But I also resent that I change my routine because of you, because I'm sure you don't give a fuck if you see me or if you don't. You'll just say "Oh I used to date that girl." and move on. I tell people about what happened. About what you said about me, about my cousin and I. I know you don't care, but they don't see a big problem with what I did. Neither did my therapist. Or my mother. But they're not you. They often ask me if our relationship was any good. And, you know, it wasn't. The sex was good - the eye contact was amazing. The kissing was amazing. The communicating started out strong, but it faded. I cried a lot. In secret. God forbid you thought I was desperate. Or not confident. You said it often enough, that you didn't like desperation, it brought back old fears of mine, when other women said the same, but much more directly. But I figured if I was doing such a thing, you'd tell me. You did, after all, tell me you would. And you had what seemed like much more difficult conversations with Freya. And with me. I know I did not often handle things well. I was not the person I usually was when I was with you, and that frustrates me. I was madly in love with you, and I was blind to the red flags. I was also sick for like 6 months. I also hate the winter. It hurt me when you'd go on at length about guys. It's not that you'd mentioned them that bothers me - maybe less often would be nice, but I never shut up about women so I guess it's fair play. But I tried to work on my feelings about men, and still very much am working on it. You never mentioned me in your future plans or dreams. Your new years resolution was to fuck a lot of guys. That's cool, I wanna get fucked by a lot of chicks, but I still wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to drink with you under the rail road tracks, roll around in the grass in the park with you. Did you still want to do those things then, or was it already too late? Or maybe you were just drunk. I can get it. I should have asked, but when you talk about how much you don't like weakness or desperation, shouldn't I just be strong and trust in our love? Towards the end, it started to feel like it was just about the sex to you. What was our last date, exactly? Getting physical with me in a bar? I enjoyed it a lot, but in retrospect I felt.. used. Was that your last desperate attempt to save us? Why not just say to me hey, that story about your cousin freaked me out? And instead of judging and condemning me right away, giving me some time to think? Maybe trust me a bit? But I suppose your capacity to trust has been compromised by events in your childhood. I do my best to understand that. No doubt, the suffering I'm going through now pales in comparison to the suffering you went through. I can only guess that this was hard for you too. It just sucks that there is no way through this suffering for me except to wait. Wait until I forget about you, wait until the memories of you and us no longer invade my mind like a Vietnam vet. Wait until I don't cry when driving past any of the places we've been together. Try and hold it together when songs like Pictures to Prove It come on. I have many regrets about our relationship. I regret how it ended, I regret holding myself back at the start, and not holding back when I asked you what love was to you and you barely had an answer. I should have asked you then, but oh god, I just wanted to keep looking into your eyes and kissing your lips. Even one more time was worth holding my tongue. And then you'd look into my eyes and we fell onto Cassidy's bed kissing and my worries melted away. And then I'd cry after dropping you off at the ferry terminal and I wasn't sure why. I reminded myself that I was in love with a true Wild Woman, and that my heart would be challenged by being in love with someone like you. But I reminded myself that it was worth it to have a woman like you in my life. I also regret, quite acutely, how I reacted to your decision to escort. It was driven by fear, and envy. Fear for your life, of losing you, (oh sweet irony) and envy for doing something I don't have the energy - or body - to do. It reminded me of my failures to succeed, deep and varied, and all that emotion fueled my fears for your safety. I pictured you needing me, and unable to ask for my help. Saying I wasn't sure if I could be with you if you would do that was asinine, and plain false. Again, I needed to work on my own issues, this time with envy and anxiety, and I fortunately did very quickly. But the damage was done, the words left my mouth and I saw your cold, distant stare for the first time. I also regret how I handled that party we went to. You asked if you spent time with that girl if I'd be jealous, and I said I would. It's true I would have, but I would have been ok. Especially with a little extra attention from you, like finding someone for me to hang out with (or even better, flirt with) or hey, including me. And if you said look, this is an opportunity I won't have again, I'd be a little hurt but we can just see each other again, right? I'm your girlfriend, a one night stand or even a continuing casual relationship are fine by me. Even having two girlfriends. I'm a jealous person, but I am also a polyamorous one. I explained very little of this to you at the time, and that was a mistake. You never brought it up again so I assume it didn't bother you, but I can't really be certain about that kind of thing anymore, can I? I know time was becoming a very big concern for you, at the end. You've got goals and aspirations and I didn't want to interfere with any of that. I was going to suggest we meet less often but for longer, but of course I didn't get that chance. But maybe you should have been more understanding and less judgemental. Maybe you should have understood that no one is perfect. I have made many mistakes - some I regret more than others. My childhood was filled with loneliness and anxiety, and I found outlets in many ways, some of which I regret intensely. I've spoken with my therapist about those events as well, and I've come to understand why I did the things I did. If I could go back and change it, I would. But I was a child then, just as I was a child when I was pining after my cousin. I still don't know if I should regret what happened with my cousin or not. But oh god, I regret that it came between us. If I could have told that lonely little boy to just be patient, someone more appropriate will come along in time, but back then all I knew was someone cared about me and it was someone I could trust to be vulnerable with, my true self. And ultimately, that was the problem with our relationship. I didn't feel safe being vulnerable with you, emotionally. You wouldn't even let me have a piece of the punk identity - an identity I think I qualify for. Sure, I should have fought harder, but you didn't even listen, really. I was a freak in high school. We didn't have many punks, but we had a lot of emo kids and freaks. I wore baggy black pants and, well, listened to whatever music I damn well pleased. Those people were my friends, and they shaped me and who I am today. Maybe I don't owe my life to punk-dom, but I definitely needed somewhere to call home and those freaks welcomed me and my weirdness. Remember me joking about us both being assholes? Well, I guess I was right about at least one of us. Sigh. I don't know if I want you back or not. But I'd give anything to talk to you again. I've never had to knock on wood. But I know someone who has. It makes me wonder if I could And it makes me wonder if I could Cause I'm sure it isn't good And I'm glad I haven't yet That's the impression that I get. It's been about three months now. Honestly I hesitate to write about any of this. But I need to process and I'm tired of writing this damn post in my head all the time. I'm tired of crying before I go to sleep every few days, for a few days. And on the off chance someday you read this, maybe you'll understand my position a little better. I've been doing a lot of travelling to the US and Washington, camping with Freya and Jade. It's been nice, despite the nagging sadness that I'm dragging around. I'm trying to ditch it as fast I can. I just want to enjoy the sun and the water. I don't want to think of you every time I touch my girlfriends or look into their eyes or they tell me that they love me. I just don't know what to make of you anymore. The kind of woman I thought you were, the kind of woman you presented yourself as, the kind of woman you said you were. Holding my hand and looking deep into my eyes telling me how much you loved being gay with me, like you'd never felt that way about any other woman before. It made me believe I really mattered to you, in a unique way. In an irreplaceable way. I miss you so terribly, but I can't reconcile what I knew about you then with what I know about you now. It clashes in my brain, twisting it into knots. So I've spent a lot of time thinking about what you said about my actions with regard to my cousin. First, I'll say that as part of my childhood in Florida, I had an encounter with an older friend that affected how I form and maintain relationships. I'm still figuring out what all that means for and to me. As part of that experience, my ability to understand boundaries in relationships was compromised. It had a negative impact on my relationships going forward, especially in the immediate aftermath, but the tendrils of that behaviour are extensive. The story of my cousin is something that I've talked to a therapist and others who are close to me about, so I was not surprised that you would be alarmed. Attempting to engage in a consensual sexual relationship with a family member, while not unknown, is certainly taboo. My excitement about her was based on my enjoyment of that taboo, not her age, as you appear to think. Her age was never relevant to my feelings - hence me forgetting it. All of this happened just before I came out. This event was entangled in my own transition, as she rejected me when I came out because she's not attracted to women. She was the second person in the world I told when I came out. We had a strong connection, as I've had with many women in my life. My own dysfunction in my own life at this time was at its absolute peak, she was a lifeline for me at a time in my life when I was drowning in loneliness and isolation, as so many trans women do. She showed me compassion, and understanding - someone who, as a family member, I could trust. Thanks at least in part to my other experiences, I was driven to express my appreciation and feelings through sex. Before I moved back to Canada, the only family members I had were 4,000 miles away. While in Florida, the nearest person my age lived a 30 minute walk away in 30C heat. In retrospect, it seems inevitable that I would fall in love with a cousin during that vulnerable time. In talking with others, this is especially true for me since I've never really had asshole siblings or cousins or anything like that. Many of the people I've talked to about this have all mentioned that their sibling was an asshole, limiting their attraction. The extended family I have of cousins are all very cool and interesting people that I get along very well with. After I transitioned and she told me she was not interested, we stopped talking about such things and have a reasonably normal relationship. Nothing ever happened between us. I've done a lot of growing since then. I don't know if what I did was wrong. She has never said so. If my cousin ever felt the need to talk about it with me, I would be happy to do so, just to help make some sense of what happened. Was she as vulnerable as I was at that time? Sure, I was older, but I was no adult, stunted by being in the wrong body with no way out for all that time. And then, there's you. What really hurts me, then and now, is how you said if there was ever a problem, you'd let me know. I thought there might be something on your mind, but you didn't bring anything up so I thought everything was fine. You gave me about 15 seconds to explain myself while I was reeling from you saying we were breaking up. I'd been anxious for days before that - doing my best to keep my fears from getting the best of me, that nagging feeling that I'd use the look in your eyes and the squeezing of my hand to reassure away. Crying at night, with Freya telling me that everything was going to be ok. If there was a problem, you'd tell me. Me believing her, just look at the respect and care and understanding you'd shown her? Surely I was worth similar efforts. That's the feeling that sticks with me to this day. It's the one that I can use to cry on command - it's always just a few flashing memories away. The shooting star in your window, the fireworks on the beach, the hand squeeze on Dundas, the look in your eyes every time you looked into mine, the look on your face when you say "I love being gay with you." All of that seemed to imply that you wouldn't just give up on me, on us. I suppose I should have asked but I didn't want to seem desperate - given how frequently you mentioned you found it unattractive, I definitely didn't want to wander into that territory. But who knows how you interpreted my actions? Is getting my girlfriend flowers when she's having a hard time desperate? Well if it is, then you really are an asshole. Sigh. I still don't know where to go from here. I just wish we could have had another chance - instead of blowing it all up a week before my birthday, in my car on a grey day. There are some exes that I still miss terribly. I'm sure I always will miss them. There are some I do not. You, I fear, are one of the former, which means I will be carrying this sadness for a long time indeed. I guess I'd better get used to the idea. AddendumWhat was the deal with saying you'd never want to watch my favourite movies with me?
Over time, I came to recognize that you were extremely judgemental. This inured me with a general sense of fear - but I knew not the true depth of your judgement. I just wanted to be happy. With you, with my life, with how I spent my time. My days of harsh judgement are behind me. Hurt though I am by your actions, I will always be able to forgive you. If only you could forgive me. Maybe when you are older, you will understand. Perhaps I will hear from you in 8 years. 8 years is a long time, and I dunno who you have in your life now, but I doubt it's as good as what we shared. Relevantly, last night I had another dream about my stepsister. I have a dream about her about once a month. In my dreams, we are in love. Sometimes they take place in Florida, sometimes we're both in college, sometimes we live in a small mountain together. They are Weird Dreams, and I always wake up from them feeling very confused, and with a deep, pervasive sense of loss. It's strange because I don't really like her that much. She's attractive in many ways to me, but unattractive in many others. I don't know what to make of such dreams - probably nothing. But I can remember feeling confusedly happy in them - unsure why I am getting physical affection from my stepsister, but deeply appreciating the acceptance, love, and unique relationship arrangement such a situation offers. It would be, undeniably, fun. In my dreams I know that even if we break up - or, uh, whatever - that we will still be in each others' lives, which gives me great comfort. That is why I have a tendency to fall in love with extended family members. Sometimes she has other partners, sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes it's early in our relationship, sometimes it's later. I swear we retired in Florida together once. Dreams are weird. I know and recognize that such things are strange. But I enjoy the dreams. When I first met her after I moved to Canada I had a crush on her. She's tough, smart, attractive, and although we see many things differently, I appreciate her a great deal. During that confusing and embarrassing time before transition, I flirted with her, and she rebuffed me. I guess I'm just trying to illustrate that I have a history of weird behaviour such as this. This makes me a Weird Person, which I've always known, but I am no predator. Sadly, you never gave me the benefit of the doubt. Good bye my little dove.
I will miss you so, so much. I will miss your heart. I will miss your love. I will miss your beauty. I will miss your mind. I miss looking into your eyes with love in mine, I miss thinking of you and smiling, I miss holding your face in my hands and seeing love in your eyes, I miss seeing beautiful things and thinking of you, I miss the view from your bedroom window, with you in frame. I miss the look in your eyes when you wanted to make love to me. And the gentle sounds of lovemaking that resulted from that seductive look. I'll never forget the way you made me feel when you told me I was beautiful. Or how you looked when I told you the same. Or how I felt when you first said you loved spending time with me. Or when you first told Oakley that you loved me. Or how it felt when I finally told you that I loved you, and you looked at me with those beautiful honey brown eyes of yours, and you told me you loved me too. Or you on stage, fierceness in your eyes and thunder erupting from your arms. Or you playing the drums on my legs while looking off into the distance, concentrating. Or the simple pleasure of your hand clasped in mine, Walking in front of the Princeton. Standing beside the road, you looked into my eyes and said "I love being gay with you, Jessica." And how my heart sang with the words I heard and said! "I love being gay with you too, Natalia." -- I know it was too soon for us to meet. I knew it within a month of loving you. I cried so many times, perhaps hoping to take the edge off when this day came. But no, there are just as many now as there was on the drive home from the ferry, and when you'd say things about men, but not about me, and every day I had to go home early. And please, do not take that as a jab. I understand now, and understood then, how tired you are. I have been there. Your need for recuperative time is as important to me now as it was then. I wanted to tell you before we broke up that although I wanted more of your time, I understood that you didn't have room for it in your life right now. I wanted to talk about some other arrangement, like seeing each other less frequently but for a longer duration, or maybe even just having a chance to tell you how I felt as I kept getting to know you. I was hurt by things you'd said and wanted to talk about them but we spent so little time together I didn't want to spoil it. Perhaps that was wrong. But I wanted to give us more time together to experience each other more fully - I wanted to be there for you when you were tired at night, when you woke up in the morning, when you got frustrated at something during your day, when you were sad about anything at all, and most importantly, to relax with you, to simply be with you. I'd have been perfectly happy listening to music for hours with you, laying on the bed, exchanging heartfelt glances. I can only hope that someday, we will find each other again with love in our hearts. Whatever happens, if you ever need a warm bed, heart, ears, or arms, I hope you will call me. I will always do my best to be there for you, and I will always worry about you and wish you well. I slept with a guy recently. A friend of mine.
It was an interesting experience. I regret being sick for it - that's a convenient excuse for my experience, if nothing else. Fuck it's hard to write with these fingernails. I'm proud of myself for growing them out, and this nail hardening stuff really helps. It's OPI Nail Envy Original - it's the only thing that has fixed their tendency to bend and then get a fold and then break. I found putting it on the underside of my nail helps a lot too. Anyways. I honestly wish I had a better time with my friend. Maybe I was sicker than I thought I was - regardless, it's a little disappointing discovering that heterosexuality is basically unavailable to me. The pull of normalcy is real - but oh well. I'll leave it to the others I guess. The word "boyfriend" literally makes my eyes roll into the back of my head. Only if it's uttered by a man does it take the edge off - but only slightly. I almost seem to resent normalcy. This makes me especially frustrated by my addiction to routine. The taboo is simply what most regularly turns me on. This means that my next step in exploring my heterosexuality will have be to be kinkier rather than romantic. Awkward for some, but I'll be damned if I don't chase those butterflies. It sucks they are so hard to keep. I feel guilty and frustrated about these feelings. It makes me resent those kinds of relationships. And sometimes, that whole gender. It makes me feel left out. Many people in my life have told me how validating it is to be with a man, but it just made me miss everything about Oakley and Natalia. Which is a shame. He's a very nice man. He's even taller than me. Not many people make me feel small. But I dunno. I'm just like. Who cares? I don't care to feel small. I'm a formidable woman, and I always will be, and I like that and am proud of that. Men and their fragile masculinity will not encourage any fragile femininity in me - but oh, it shall encourage sadness, oh yes, as so many things do. I like it when women make me feel small. But a woman of any size can do that. It's an attitude. I mean it's like I'm fucking gay or something. Such was the warning of my therapist. Emotional Space. As an intellectual, emotional space is something I often rejected. I saw emotion as, not weakness, but dangerous. No doubt it was a part of my own attempts at limiting the emotions I felt. I have always felt many, and strongly. They have not always been helpful, or healthy. I have not had healthy ways to express them, either - I grew up in a rather typical household with a household with an only boy - a distant father, an emotional mother. I see the streaks of my fathers influence on my personality. They almost universally work against what matters most to me - feeling connected to those around me, unidirectionally. Like old printer standards, I am a black hole for emotion - it goes in, but often, never comes out. People look at me with confusion, as PC LOAD LETTER broadcasts across my face in pixelated, digital letters. Or maybe I just have an indicator light: ERROR. I/O ERROR: BUFFER OVERFLOW |
AuthorChristina Hitchens is a trans female writer living in BC, Canada. She loves computers, animals, and a good argument. Archives
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