(no subject)
Summer was lovely. I had planned on making it the best summer of my life and I think I might have succeeded. I went to the lake a lot. I went swimming. I sunbathed. I read on the beach. I drank wine on the rocks of Lake Michigan with my girlfriend.
I met Bess at Cafe Boost at the end of September last year, so a year ago. Immediately, I liked her. I liked her before she started working there. I remember watching her with her blue apple notebook when she would come in to the cafe to write. Then one day she came up to the counter and asked me if we were hiring. And we were, because I didn't want to work so much.
She started working there and at first I avoided her. I liked her. Then I started following her around and listening to all the things she had to say about her personal life. And then, Katie and I broke up and I tucked my tail between my legs and went to Omaha to nurse myself back to health. When I came back in January, I was a different person. I was happy and alive and determined to stay that way. I got my job back at Cafe Boost and started talking to Bess more. Then I added her on Friendster and things started moving along. We began flirting and I asked her out for a beer. I wasn't sure if it was a date or not though. But I was more nervous than I've ever been on a date before. I met up with some friends before it and I was all shakey and anxious. When I arrived she'd brought be a pony from her classroom and a grilled cheese sandwich. Two things I love. It was a date. That was 5, almost six months ago. I moved in with her a month after we started dating. We call the apartment "The Farm." This is the second place I have lived which has the word farm in its name. I've never loved anyone like this before.
I'm in therapy again. I'm on anti-depressants/anxiety pills, Paxil, which I've learned kill my sex-drive and put me through hell if I don't take them. My brain must really need that seretonin. In therapy we talk about my mother a lot. It's taken me years to realize that my childhood was a lot more fucked up than I knew when I was experiencing it. The moving, my mother's delusions, my father's screaming red face, the cons and "businesses." A normal childhood doesn't consist of moving every nine months, nor do most mothers think they can control and communicate with UFOs with their thoughts. Usually, if a child has severe anorexia (or an upset stomach, whatever.) and isn't leaving their bed or going to school for a few months in a row and thinks they will spontaniously combust if they leave the house, usually somebody would realize that something is amiss and take that child to therapy. Normally a child realizes that they have a seperate personality from their mother...that they are an individual. My therapist thinks my mother is schizophrenic. So does everyone else in my family, just about. I don't know how my dad can't see it. I don't know how anyone can not see it. I guess though, that they're so isolated and my mom is so high-functioning (probably because she's pretty intelligent), that it's easy to hide or not recognize. Shit, I thought things were normal until I got out and realized exactly how UN-normal they were.
In therapy I'm going to learn how to rebuild my personality. How to accept myself and not crave validation from every source I can get it from. I'm going to re-raise myself, basically. I'm finally not depressed after being depressed for 15 years. I mean, I'm still depressed but it's at a normal level now. I'm not hopeless anymore. I'm going to work on my withdrawl and avoidance problems so I don't end up in that place that I found when I was 13 and couldn't leave the house, that place I went to to escape the madness that was growing monthly. Where I hid from my changing body, my mother, my father and myself. That's where my mental health is right now.
I love fall. I love Monday Night Football with the boys. I love Bess and I love myself. I love my Aunt Vergie and my cousins and my grandma. I love everyone that's there for me. I love that they love me. I love my parents and hope one day they get help. I love my siblings and hope they make it out of the madhouse unscathed, or relatively anyway.
I went to Wyoming for Frontier Days for the first time in years. Bess, Grandma and I drove out in my grandma's car, which I wrecked outside of Ogalala. We're all okay but it was fucking scarey. My grandma's face got fucked up, all bruised and swollen. Her car was wrecked but my aunt got her a new one. I tried to bravely carry my grandma out of a cornfield but it was too hard so I left Grandma and Bess in the field and found the highway and called 911 from my cellphone. The ambulance came and took us all the the Ogalala hospital. I had to tell them that I was trans and that was awful but thankfully they were all pretty stupid and didn't get it. I called Aunt Vergie and she said she was on her way. For 3 long hours Bess and I waited to hear about my grandma and for Aunt Vergie in the waiting room of the hospital. I was devastated. I'd never been in an accident before and I'd hurt my beloved grandma. Thank god we were all okay. The rest of the trip to Wyoming was fun and I think I'm going there for Christmas, if I don't go to Ohio with Bess. I rode a mechanical bull and Bess took my picture. I look tough.
So. That's life right now. I'd say I'm doing well. I'm always looking for a better-paying job though and chest surgery is nowhere in sight, yet. My friend DJ is going to throw a benefit party at his house in early October though, so that'll be a start.
I met Bess at Cafe Boost at the end of September last year, so a year ago. Immediately, I liked her. I liked her before she started working there. I remember watching her with her blue apple notebook when she would come in to the cafe to write. Then one day she came up to the counter and asked me if we were hiring. And we were, because I didn't want to work so much.
She started working there and at first I avoided her. I liked her. Then I started following her around and listening to all the things she had to say about her personal life. And then, Katie and I broke up and I tucked my tail between my legs and went to Omaha to nurse myself back to health. When I came back in January, I was a different person. I was happy and alive and determined to stay that way. I got my job back at Cafe Boost and started talking to Bess more. Then I added her on Friendster and things started moving along. We began flirting and I asked her out for a beer. I wasn't sure if it was a date or not though. But I was more nervous than I've ever been on a date before. I met up with some friends before it and I was all shakey and anxious. When I arrived she'd brought be a pony from her classroom and a grilled cheese sandwich. Two things I love. It was a date. That was 5, almost six months ago. I moved in with her a month after we started dating. We call the apartment "The Farm." This is the second place I have lived which has the word farm in its name. I've never loved anyone like this before.
I'm in therapy again. I'm on anti-depressants/anxiety pills, Paxil, which I've learned kill my sex-drive and put me through hell if I don't take them. My brain must really need that seretonin. In therapy we talk about my mother a lot. It's taken me years to realize that my childhood was a lot more fucked up than I knew when I was experiencing it. The moving, my mother's delusions, my father's screaming red face, the cons and "businesses." A normal childhood doesn't consist of moving every nine months, nor do most mothers think they can control and communicate with UFOs with their thoughts. Usually, if a child has severe anorexia (or an upset stomach, whatever.) and isn't leaving their bed or going to school for a few months in a row and thinks they will spontaniously combust if they leave the house, usually somebody would realize that something is amiss and take that child to therapy. Normally a child realizes that they have a seperate personality from their mother...that they are an individual. My therapist thinks my mother is schizophrenic. So does everyone else in my family, just about. I don't know how my dad can't see it. I don't know how anyone can not see it. I guess though, that they're so isolated and my mom is so high-functioning (probably because she's pretty intelligent), that it's easy to hide or not recognize. Shit, I thought things were normal until I got out and realized exactly how UN-normal they were.
In therapy I'm going to learn how to rebuild my personality. How to accept myself and not crave validation from every source I can get it from. I'm going to re-raise myself, basically. I'm finally not depressed after being depressed for 15 years. I mean, I'm still depressed but it's at a normal level now. I'm not hopeless anymore. I'm going to work on my withdrawl and avoidance problems so I don't end up in that place that I found when I was 13 and couldn't leave the house, that place I went to to escape the madness that was growing monthly. Where I hid from my changing body, my mother, my father and myself. That's where my mental health is right now.
I love fall. I love Monday Night Football with the boys. I love Bess and I love myself. I love my Aunt Vergie and my cousins and my grandma. I love everyone that's there for me. I love that they love me. I love my parents and hope one day they get help. I love my siblings and hope they make it out of the madhouse unscathed, or relatively anyway.
I went to Wyoming for Frontier Days for the first time in years. Bess, Grandma and I drove out in my grandma's car, which I wrecked outside of Ogalala. We're all okay but it was fucking scarey. My grandma's face got fucked up, all bruised and swollen. Her car was wrecked but my aunt got her a new one. I tried to bravely carry my grandma out of a cornfield but it was too hard so I left Grandma and Bess in the field and found the highway and called 911 from my cellphone. The ambulance came and took us all the the Ogalala hospital. I had to tell them that I was trans and that was awful but thankfully they were all pretty stupid and didn't get it. I called Aunt Vergie and she said she was on her way. For 3 long hours Bess and I waited to hear about my grandma and for Aunt Vergie in the waiting room of the hospital. I was devastated. I'd never been in an accident before and I'd hurt my beloved grandma. Thank god we were all okay. The rest of the trip to Wyoming was fun and I think I'm going there for Christmas, if I don't go to Ohio with Bess. I rode a mechanical bull and Bess took my picture. I look tough.
So. That's life right now. I'd say I'm doing well. I'm always looking for a better-paying job though and chest surgery is nowhere in sight, yet. My friend DJ is going to throw a benefit party at his house in early October though, so that'll be a start.