Thoughts on Transgender

This is probably going to get a lot of hate. I’m hoping that it gets a lot of thoughtful and open conversation. I’ve had people be very abusive in discussions. I’ve also had some people be very kind and thoughtful on the topic, even though I am pretty sure they are screaming on the inside about how I’m an old white cis woman who is oblivious (or worse).

There are so many layers to transgenderism in my mind.

• Transgender: of, relating to, or being a person whose gender identity differs from the sex the person was identified as having at birth / especially : of, relating to, or being a person whose gender identity is opposite the sex the person was identified as having at birth

I often ponder under what circumstances this could occur. How does it correlate with homosexuality and reincarnation? In my adult life, I have spent a lot of time with gay men. The term applied to me at one point in time was “fag hag.” My flatmate was gay, and our circle of friends was about half gay. We all spent a lot of time together. Some of them were very effeminate, some were flaming, and some of them seemed fairly average in the grand scheme of “gender norms” imposed by society. My first exposure to a sweet transexual, transvestite from Transylvania was the character we all know and love from the Rocky Horror picture show, Dr. Frank-N-Furter, brought to life in a way no other could ever duplicate by Tim Curry. My thoughts on Dr Furter…. A sex-positive flaming bisexual man, who has insecurities just like the rest of us. He was fabulous and desperately in need of understanding, support, and a long hug.

For the most part, I tend to take people as they are. Because of the gender norms that have taken hold in society, we have some pretty strong ideas cemented into our core value system about how we see people and how our brains identify other humans. The idea that this can be flipped over and changed for the entire human race is ludicrous. That’s not how brains work. That’s not how humans work. It takes a long time to create the change that is desired by the transgender community. It sucks, but it’s the truth. And the truth can sometimes suck.

I’ve never had a problem with humans dressing in clothes. you’re a man and you want to wear what we tend to see as female attire, go on with your bad self. Same for women wanting to dress in so-called men’s attire. Clothes are just clothes. As long as you aren’t sharing your naughty bits openly in public, I don’t care what you wear and I’m not going to go out of my way to judge anyone for it. As long as you aren’t wearing white after Labor Day. Just kidding… I don’t even really understand what that’s about or why it’s a thing.

I’ve always had people in my life who are running around being non-conformists when it comes to gender norms. It doesn’t bother me. Do you. As long as you are feeling fine in your own skin and you aren’t causing harm to anyone, do you. (That being said… some people are a little over-sensitive about EVERYTHING and imagine you are doing them harm by staring off into the distance in their general direction, but that’s an entirely different conversation.)

Most of the transgender people that I know personally, male and female, are just out here trying to live their best lives in a way that they feel comfortable and secure in. And to be quite honest, I haven’t really pondered their decisions at all. I meet someone whom my brain identifies as one or the other gender, but they clearly are giving off other hints, I just ask. I’ve rarely gotten an attitude about it, and more often than not, thanked for asking. It’s not hard to ask. If I’m having trouble with pronouns, I just use their name when referring to them. As a person who has a hard time remembering names, this is a great way to train your brain to remember their name. You may say… “just train your brain to use their pronouns.” Your logic is sound, but still not how brains work. Years of conditioning are throwing a monkey wrench into your solution. 

There is this lovely human being in a group that I enjoy spending time with. This person and their girlfriend are a lovely couple. When I see this person by brain identifies them as male, but also as the female they are presenting themselves as. I see them as both. And they are not the kind of person that is in your face aggressive about their identity. And I think that is what makes it easy to be so accepting of who they are. Not that they need my acceptance. But I think you get what I’m saying. At least I hope you do. I was in a singles group online for a while and there was a very attractive man that I had a huge crush on but he lived in Oregon and I just don’t do well in long-distance relationships. He was a trans man. fully transitioned. But I didn’t identify him as trans. He was just a man. I guess if you wanted to grill me about it, yeah, he was trans. Okay. But my brain didn’t identify him as that even though I knew that was what he was. But he wasn’t being all dramatic about it. He told me he was trans and I was like… okay. Are you fully transitioned? yeah? Okay. You’re a man.

I follow a trans woman content creator online, Alexis Blake. OMG, I love her. And there is nothing about her that identifies her as male in my mind. I don’t know that she is fully transitioned. But really, it doesn’t matter to me. She’s a woman in my eyes. And she seems to be super healthy about it from a mental aspect. Some say she very clearly is mental because she’s trans. But what I see is she was a gay man who was happy with their relationship, their job, and their life in general, and the only issue they were struggling with was their gender. So they changed it.

I have another person in my life. I’ve known them for a very long time. We’ve been friends for a long time. we had a brief sexual relationship. This person has always been very masculine in my eyes. They have recently come out as a transwoman. I want to be supportive. I want them to be happy. I have seen them struggle in life for acceptance and validation from the outside world. From friends, family, community. There’s a lot of trauma and insecurity built up in this person. And it’s been hard to see them struggling with drugs and alcohol and various other vices in the time I’ve known them. So while I want to be supportive, there is a part of me that is concerned. I am concerned that they are using this as another way to fill an unfillable hole inside them. I hope that is not the case. They seem to be so happy in their path to transitioning and that brings me joy to see. They have so much support and validation since they’ve made this announcement. I want to see them thrive. I just don’t want this to be another vice. I pray for it to be the true path to their feeling of peace in this world.

The biggest problem I have is with the people who are cramming it down our throats and making demands. This seems to be a transwoman thing because I have not seen any transmen making a public spectacle of themselves. There is a part of me that wonders about how men see women and how this correlates to how gay men and transwomen behave 89% of the time. How many “cis” women act like this? And let’s talk about this “cis” thing. I understand the argument that it’s just a way to categorize us. But I feel like it’s unnecessary. Why is it necessary? Maybe it’s necessary at a trans event of some sort, because we are the odd man or woman out. But out here every day… not so much. And really I think the only reason it’s important to categorize at all, trans or cis, is if you are looking to have a physically intimate relationship with someone. Only 1.03 % of the US population is trans. Some of this debate seems silly and unnecessary.

I have gotten of track. Gender dysphoria.

While I was raised in the Christian church, I’ve studied many different religious followings. I believe in reincarnation. I believe that before we reach the next plane of existence, we have many things we need to learn and experience on this human meat sack plane. Why is that? I don’t know. But….. I wonder if Gender dysphoria happens because say, in all my previous lives I was a woman. So being a woman fits. But what happens when I am reincarnated as a man? While we may not remember all of our previous lives, per se, have you ever met someone and feel you’ve known them forever? Have you ever been somewhere that you’ve never been before but you recognize so many things there and they bring up strong feelings for you? Have you ever just known how to do something that no one ever taught you. Instinctive stuff, like what to do in a certain type of emergency? So imagine every previous life you were a female and in this life, you are born a male, or vice versa. There is some part of you that is going to feel wrong. It’s going to feel so insanely foreign to you. That would be difficult to just roll with. wouldn’t it. Hell yeah, it would.

Honestly, this is really the only explanation that seems logical to me. And for those of you who don’t believe in reincarnation… it’s not going to make any sense at all. 

Now I have a question to pose, and I want to make it clear, I want other humans to be happy and feel good in their lives, in their bodies, in their minds. But the question is this. If you have been reincarnated as the opposite gender from previous lives, could it be that you mastered whatever it was the universe wanted you to master as that previous gender and your next lesson can only be mastered by living in the gender assigned to you in this life? Could we call this refusal to just “roll with it” Reincarnation Assignment Defiance Disorder?

The argument could be made that the lesson is to learn something else, about gender fluidity or that the meatsack we are residing in doesn’t define us. That we can change our gender stars.

But I argue that who we are and what we do is what defines us. We have complete control of that. The only reason we have control over our physical gender attributes on any level is because of medical science, which is still marginal. If this is what makes you comfortable in your skin, and you are a grown adult, then have at it. I support you. I will do my best to address you in a way that supports you. Just please, don’t be angry and violent and aggressive about it with me. It’s really not necessary. I prefer to see you as a human being living a glorious life and not a confrontational content creator making a spectacle of yourself for clicks. Be a content creator who is just living their best life and is happy doing it.

We are all just a cosmic bundle of energy residing on a human plane of existence until we can reach the next plane, whatever that is. I would like to think our purpose here is to learn to care for one another while we are here. And sometimes that can be hard, for whatever reason. That reason is different for every person. We ALL deserve to feel safe and comfortable in our own skins. We cannot do that by forcing our will on and inflicting pain on others.

My train of thought is gone, but if you are here reading this, I’m hoping for some open and honest insights. I’m hoping for open and honest communication. I’m not the end-all. These are just my random thoughts. And very clearly they aren’t complete. There is a lot I don’t know or understand.

Holiday Existential Thoughts – DD 12.23.23

Dear Diary,

Over the last several years, the holidays have become a very dark time for me. Of course, as a child, I loved Christmas. My parents always made our Christmas extravagant, it felt like. They would stay up late wrapping all the presents on Christmas Eve after we had gone to bed and then put them all under the tree. In the morning, Father would play Carol of the Bells by the Trans Siberian Orchestra very loudly, followed by all manner of Christmas music at the same volume until we go up. Then he would march us into the kitchen and proceed to make us a breakfast feast of pancakes and bacon while singing loudly like the Swedish Chef from the Muppet Show. And while this was happening we would all be chomping at the bit to get at the huge pile of presents that have buried half the Christmas tree, which we could not touch until after brekkie.

When I became a parent, I tried to continue this tradition with my kids. No, I cannot sing like the Swedish Chef, but I always made brekkie before we could open presents. And I never had to play loud music to wake my children up on Christmas morning. And our tree was never buried under a pile of presents. But I never put the presents there until Christmas morning, because if I did the kids would be asking to open one gift on Christmas Eve. And I would cave and let them. So if they aren’t there yet, there won’t be any asking. I did not have the stability of a two-parent household for my children. I raised them on my own, in every sense of that idea. Financially, physically, mentally, emotionally. They were mine and mine alone. And that was fine. But because of that Christmas was not as extravagant as it was when I was a child. I made most of their gifts and I would scrimp and save and put myself into debt sometimes, to get them each an expensive thing that they really wanted. And because of that, I think my children learned something very valuable about Christmas. That it wasn’t about presents. It was about being together. But a lot of things get in the way of that now it seems. We don’t make things a priority like we used to. I blame so much of that on the timesuck that is the internet. I mean, you’re here reading this now… on the internet.

My parents got divorced when I was like… 10 or something like that. And then Christmas got weird. We had 2. And there was a very stark contrast between them. And when my Father remarried, even more so. Christmas with Mother was very meager and not very jolly. Christmas with my Father was much the same as before but with extra children, and extra grandparents. We had Christmas Eve at my step-sister’s grandmother’s house (the mother of their Father. I know, that sounds very strange. But she treated us like we were hers.) Christmas morning at Dad’s house and then Christmas dinner at my Stepmother’s parent’s house, which was on a farm. It was a wonderful place.

Now that my children have grown, My daughter and her little family in a completely different state, and my son on the other side of Seattle from me, I find myself feeling…. not in the spirit. And it’s been this way for the last 10 years or so. Let’s top that off with being single, which I don’t mind the majority of the time. But my love language is acts of service, and one of the cool things about having a functional and healthy relationship is someone who appreciates your love language every day, and even more so on the Holidays. I love nothing more than having a house full of people on the holidays. I love cooking for everyone. I love watching people open their gifts. Especially if it was something I put time and effort into making. The past few years I’ve not really made anything for anyone. And I don’t really feel like it. I think the last time I felt excited about making something for someone was when one of my shieldmaiden sisters was receiving her Laurel. If I make you something, best believe it was made with my whole heart.

Anyway…. the acts of service thing. It just seems like “Why Bother??????“ No one cares. No one appreciates it. And there was a time when that didn’t matter to me. But I’m sitting here alone and I’m tired and no one cares. That’s not to say that no one cares about me. I know many people who care about me. But they aren’t here. We don’t spend time together. One could even say that they obviously don’t care. And one might be right. I’m not suicidal. But I’m also not feeling like there’s much purpose in me taking up space. And I hate that. I wake up, I work, I pay bills, I take care of my dog, I clean up after myself and others, I go to bed, and then the next day I do the same damn thing. How to get out of the rut?

I find myself pondering all manner of things to write about. Maybe that’s an okay thing. I like writing. I need more writing.

I know that there are so many people who go through this same kind of thing. My heart hurts to know it. I wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone. I hope you can find a way to find joy in your life. These months are the worst for many people. You are not alone. I’m going to make my coffee now and figure out how I can boost my mood.

Writing prompt 12/17/23

Daily writing prompt

Is your life today what you pictured a year ago?

View all responses

Dear Gods! Not at all.  I wanted to be June Cleaver/Betty Page. I wanted a home and a partner. I thought I’d have something to leave my children. But things don’t work out the way we plan always. I wish I was better at the art of manifesting. I keep trying. But I’m really just not sure how it works.

Now all I want is a little piece of property next to some water to build myself a yurt on, with a garden and a greenhouse and some ducks and some goats. And maybe a man who loves me. Or not. I don’t need one. But it would be nice. I’d be down with a community place. We all have our own little houses, but a community where we live and care for one another. shrug. My idea of what I want my life to look like has certainly changed.

Dear Diary: December 17th 2023

Dear Diary.

Yesterday was kind of a shit day. Or to put a positive spin on it, as I like to do, it was a do-nothing relaxing day? Except it really wasn’t. I don’t feel mentally good when I am not accomplishing things. Why am I not accomplishing things? Well here are my excuses.

I live every day with chronic pain. That being said, in general, I do not use it as any sort of excuse for not doing things. I will hurt whether I do things or I don’t. So I may as well do them. Because at the very least my mental health will be all the better for it. But there are some days where I’m feeling like the person that just spent hours walking around Costco pushing a giant cart of crap around and when you’ve finally filled your car up with that crap you look at the cart and the distance to the cart return and you think…. “NOT ANOTHER STEP!” (By the by, I would never do that. Who does that? How hard is it to just put the damn cart in the return? I give zero flupps how tired you are. That’s your own damn fault. 🙄😂 )

Yesterday I woke up with a migraine. You know, the kind where your head feels like it’s a grape that an elephant has got it’s foot on and it’s just about to pop into a flat puddle of goo? Yeah, that. And you’re nauseous to boot. I know, I know, just take a pill or something. We are not even going to go into how pharmaceuticals and my body do not play well. I had a physician once tell me that I should NEVER do clinical trials. Because I will mess them all up. At any rate, I have a ritual for this type of scenario. 1) water, 2) stretching, yoga, spinal rotations 3) Caffeine (which can be difficult when feeling nauseous) 4) Shower, alternating cold and hot water over the top of my head…. which is difficult because the damn tap is at the other end of the tub. When none of this works, I grab some Tylenol and maybe put some topical 50/50 THC, CBD cream across the back of my neck, base of the skull. For all those who know… over the AO joint area. And then I go back to bed.

Going back to bed seems great, yeah? No. No it isn’t. See, my body doesn’t particularly care for bed. People who can sleep in, I envy you. But my body wants to move. It is not down for this staying-in-bed crap. And it screams from all of my various chronically painful areas “for the love of all that is Holy in the universe…. GET UP!” I’ve had partners totally annoyed that I will get up and start cleaning the house after having morning sex. MUST MOVE. MUST ACCOMPLISH THINGS!

So anyway… back to yesterday. I got up. Drank water. Normally this is where I would do the dishes… but migraine. So I made the coffee and did the stretching. Attempted to start my writing practice again. The pain in my head eventually began to wane at about 10:30 am (I got up at 4:30). But here’s the thing. I’ve been in a chronic pain flare-up for the past week. People who know me well can tell you, most of the time when I’m in pain they don’t know I’m in pain. I don’t talk about it or bitch and complain about it. I do make a lot of off-handed jokes. But, I do stuff. Everyday. I go to work, clean, cook, and work on hobbies. Etc. But if I go to bed and cry… it’s bad. And no one knows about that either. Except for you. Now you know. Thursday and Friday nights were go to bed and cry nights. Anyone who navigates chronic pain can tell you that it is emotionally and mentally exhausting. And with my ADHD, my brain is looking for anything and everything to distract me. Which makes focusing on work a pain in the ass. And the more pain I’m in the more things I forget. Like feeding the dog or taking my supplements. (Some of which are super important to help with my ADHD).

Anyways… yesterday was a bust. No migraine this morning. There is something niggling at me just behind the temples, but nothing major. I got up this morning and tried to take the dog for an actual walk. She is old too and we don’t go walking like we used to and that’s a problem. For me and for her. I keep looking for a partner that will walk with me. People always say they love walking. just love love love it. Love hiking. Bullshit. BULLSHIT, I say. Because they never ever ever ever go walking with me. Anywho, at 5:30 in the morning, in the blessed dark and silence of the chilly morning, We went on a walk. Sure, Bella sat in the shoulder bag the whole way, but we walked around the block. Which is the equivalent of walking around 3 or 4 blocks because we aren’t sectioned out like that here. Half of the walk is uphill. Really really uphill. I live on the top of quite a hill. And I realize how out of shape I am because the walk was gloriously difficult. I’m embarrassed and not embarrassed to say that. And now I need to do that every damn morning. Except at 4:30 am so that I can have time to do the other things I do in the morning. I’m awake then anyway, so why not?

Today is folding and putting away the towels day. My knees are complaining loudly so they are getting creamed because I also want to hang some Christmas lights. I wonder if I can make them into our house numbers since you can’t really see the house numbers on the house and the house numbers we put on the corner at the end of the driveway are blocked by my housemate parking there. People are up and moving now in the house, so solitude is broken. No more writing for me. The focus is kaput. It’s time to feed the dog anyway.

Lessons and skills:

Skill: I finally figured out how to create my own tablet weaving pattern. It took me a while to wrap my head around it. I don’t really think I understand fully how it works yet…. but I did a thing.

Lesson: I’m still grieving a loss. It’s been 15 years or more… This is going to take a lot of writing, processing, and healing. I don’t know that it will ever go away.

Lesson: Online Dating sucks. It sucks so hard. This is not how to meet people. Seriously. These guys don’t even know how to ask you on a date. They just chat online and never ask me out. Are they waiting for me to ask them? I’m not going to do it. You can man up or go away. I’m a conservative woman for the most part. I guess I have strange ideas about what a man is.

Daily writing prompt

What skills or lessons have you learned recently?

View all responses

Dear Diary

So…. my brain is starting to get quite congested. I know, I haven’t been here for a while. Not that anyone is noticing. 😂 But seriously, I don’t honestly care if anyone is noticing. This site is for me and me alone. If you find yourself here, Hi there! Welcome to my tiny little minuscule corner of the vast expanse of the interwebs.

Why have I returned here? Why not. Everyone else is out here creating content. Why should I be any different? I guess the difference is that I don’t need EVERYONE to notice me. I don’t care about followers or anything like that. I don’t NEED to be seen by EVERYONE. And I don’t really care if I am. I would like to be truly seen by one person. (no…. not anyone in particular at the moment.) But maybe again someday, someone will truly see me again. And love that person. And let’s just get this straight, I’m not short on people in my life who love me as I am, accept me as I am, and think I’m gosh darn wonderful. I’m good.

Anywho…. where was my scatterbrained ass at? Oh, here she is. As I said, my brain is getting congested. It’s apparently time for another growth spurt. I’m being told I need to write. My thoughts, my ideas, my feelings, my perceptions… that book I’ve been meaning to write. I should get on that before Alzheimer’s kicks in or something. Hold on…. my coffee has gotten cold…… okay. I don’t always have something specific I want to write about. Most of the time I have about 80 specific things I want to write about and that’s a problem. Focus.

I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately. And with that comes introspection. While I struggle with organization in the physical realm, so do I also in the headspace. Decluttering needs to occur across the board and writing helps the headspace. Topics I may discuss here:

• Dating
• Physical Self-care (and the struggles)
• Mental self-care (and the struggles)
• Perceptions of the world around me
• Successes and Accomplishments
• Projects

And you know… all other manner of personal shyte. If you are find yourself visiting, please feel free to provide commentary. Share with me your thoughts and ideas. I’m all about it. Really. It’s how we grow.

So let’s get started:

Dear Diary,

We’ve started the day with a migraine. Cheesus H. Roosevelt Christ on a Cracker, I hate that. Like the other chronic pain was not enough. So what do we do? We stand outside in the cold without shoes and a coat. (If I had one of those cold water tubs… I’d get in it. We’ll just stand under a cold shower later) Practiced my coffee ritual. Got down on the floor and did some stretching. And now we are here. The holidays seem to be depressing for me for the last 10 years or so. I’m filled with the “Why bother” mindset. If you don’t know what mindset this is, let me help with a little Bette Midler. May I present, Angst on a Shoestring:

I used to love making gifts, and a part of me still does. I have all the materials to make the things. Yes. I’m a hoarder of fabric and yarn, I admit it. I really need to get to making the things. I remember when my babies were young and we didn’t have a lot of money, so I would always try to save up and buy them each one big thing that they really wanted and then I would make them things. How proud I was when my daughter made her first sewing project. She made us all these little stuffed creatures she called “nubbins.” She cut shapes out of fleece fabric scraps, sewed them up, stuffed them, and then stitched some goofy faces on each one. I still have my nubbin. She was so proud of herself. It makes me smile to think about it.

I did set up the tree in the house to try and be Christmassy. Is that a word? According to spellcheck, it isn’t, unless I capitalize it… so there we go. I put some weird green and red disco lights on the front porch that come on when it gets dark. If can get some elves out there to repeat “Boots and Pants and Boots and Pants and Boots and Pants” in a whisper, this could be a party. They make cool patterns on the living room ceiling as they sneak in from the blinds, and the cat is enthralled. Maybe later this morning, when the sun comes up I’ll take my migraine outside and make it put up some Christmas lights. Oh yeah. Get it. Giggity. I was going to show you my sad little tree but I ran into an ADHD moment where I discovered that my iCloud is not sharing my photos with my pc and that was a rabbit hole and then I discovered that my hard drive is getting full and so I need to handle that issue… and and and…. time to make a list.

• Clean up hard drive
• clean up photo storage

Damn, there’s a bunch of clutter everywhere!

Well, we’ve gone off-topic, haven’t we? Focus goes Poof. I guess it’s time to focus on other things. Have a great day.

Morning People

Daily writing prompt

Are you more of a night or morning person?

View all responses

I am such a morning person. I reflect back on my younger days when I could stay up half the night and wake up oh so early and function fully. Now… I turn into a pumpkin between 8:30 and 9 pm. But my brain wakes up at around 3 am. Sometimes I tell it to shut up and go back to sleep, but this is only successful half the time. 4 am is it for me. I am wide awake and ready to start talking about all the thoughts and ideas in my head.

I haven’t been blogging or writing or anything. Which is sad… because I should be. It brings me joy and clarity. I’m not concerned about likes or a following. I don’t need all that outside validation. I mean, it’s nice but not necessary. It isn’t required for me to be happy or functional. My Gen X status leaves me in this “what you think about me doesn’t define me” headspace. Hold on… my housemate wants to talk….

Anyways… morning. When I am the most functional. I get all the things done. I should be a farmer. I want to talk about all the things. It is now 10 am… starting to get scattered because writing groove got interrupted and now I am stupid. 😂 Let’s take my ADHD brain to do things. Have a great day!

To love and be loved

I’ve spent a lot of my life looking for acceptance. The earliest I can remember was at 5. I wanted my mother’s acceptance. I don’t think I ever gained that. And now… I don’t care.

It took a long time to say that. I don’t care. I don’t care if you like me or like what I say or what I do. Because I’m not doing it for you. And if I am doing something for you… it’s because I do care. I care because I love you. And if I love you… hold on to your hat.

If I love you, I will be fierce for you. If I love you, I will stand by you and have your back. I will take care of you, dote on you, touch you, share all my secrets with you… even the ones that might make you look on me unfavorably… because I love you. If I love you… it’s because I trusted you first. You have to be my friend before I love you. And here’s the great thing about real friends. Real friends are honest with you… even if it hurts. Do you want to know why? Of course you do.

Real friends are honest with you, even if it hurts, because…… they actually care about you, and about you becoming your best self. The best you that you can be. Some say there is a selfishness in that…. and they would be right in that assessment. If you are constantly becoming the best you that you can be, imagine what a benefit you can be to those around you. If you are practicing being your best self…. that means you are probably pretty happy. And happy people tend to be pretty supportive of those around them becoming their best selves as well. It’s this weird beautiful circle. Can you imagine if we all ran around being our best selves and supporting those around us so that they can be their best selves? What?!?

Honestly I have these moments when I see myself not being my best self…. I feel ashamed. I want to be better. Sometimes I look back at my writing and see that I was not being my best self. I could delete it… or I could leave it to remind myself not to be that way. To remind myself how far I’ve come or how I need to change.

I want to be my best self. So that I have that to give to those I love.

I’m all over the board here, I feel like. What was my end game with this talk? I don’t know. To love and be loved. I can say that in the past 20 years… I’ve gathered some amazing people into my life. People who I never want to let go. People who, when I think of them, I feel a lump in my chest and my eyes start leaking… because they mean so much to me. People who were there for me in my darkest hours. People who were honest with me when I was being a frigging idiot. People who love me just the way I am and who revel with me when I succeed in making changes that lead to me being a better me. And some of those people may be reading this… and you know who you are,

Some of those people have said “If you weren’t sitting in front of me right now, I wouldn’t even know that you were you.” That’s how much I have changed. And that’s a good thing… because 25 years ago… I was a hot mess. Heck… I’m still a hot mess. I’m just a better hot mess than before.

At any rate… My end game is a life partner. And I’ve come to a point in my life that I’d be perfectly ok with my life partner being more than one person in the same home. I know…that’s weird to some people. But it can work if the chemistry is right. And that’s important… and rare, I think. I want someone to get old with. To explore with. To share everything with. To pour myself into and love until I shed this mortal coil and move on to the next life. Oh.. big silly dreamer.

Until then, I will love who I am drawn to love. And I will love them with all of me. I will experience them and drink them in. I will revel in each moment. And I will not be ashamed or care what others think about that. (They’re just jealous. LOL)

 

 

 

Let’s talk about dating for a minute….

I started writing this last year, March of 2017. I’m reading it now… and it still holds true. Currently, I am seeing someone… I think…. that I actually like a whole lot. I don’t know exactly what it is… and that’s okay. But anyways…. I wanted to post this because I read an article today about how only a real man can hold on to a strong woman and how that relates to dating sites… and it was totally relatable. Here ya go.

Life can be messy

Hi there. Haven’t written for a while. I should do something about that. Let’s see how this goes.

Currently I am having a nervous breakdown. I mean… like today. Which I am trying to see as a blessing because it’s a Saturday, so I am not at work. I can have my nervous breakdown in private… except that it’s not private. It’s been building over the past few weeks, and without realizing it, I’ve allowed to really take control of some coping skills. Well, that’s effing embarrassing. *facepalm* I hate that. Hi there… now I have to apologize for being a complete dick. *deep breath*

As a person who likes to try to take ownership of my own shit….. I’m taking a moment to try and realize what the root of my issue is. Where to begin. There’s a lot going on right now. So….. people who know me well, know that I often times get over stimulated by too many people. I need to withdraw. It’s funny that I’ve become this way, because my whole life I’ve been a super social person by nature, which makes it really difficult to deal with this weird thing. I’m trusting by nature….. but have learned that this is not always the best thing for me because often times I am trusting of people I shouldn’t be. This realization (or experience factor, as the case may be) causes me to be more suspicious of people and their motives. While some instances are entirely just coincidental, often times, it turns out that my initial scrutiny is correct.

Anywhoooooooo. I’m currently feeling “people’d out” and the bad part of that is that it is in the place I call home. So…. while I have discussed this with one of the people involved, he is unwilling to do much about it at the moment, which I totally understand. But still…. it doesn’t change how it’s affecting me. So I need to figure out how to deal with it on my own. Because currently….. I’m not coping well. Also, I’ve met this amazing person and I like him more than I am comfortable with. Why am I uncomfortable? I don’t know why. Normally I am all “Hey, I like you, you like me, lets enjoy the hell out of each other,” all in kind of person. He terrifies the hell out of me. I am terrified. I’ve never been terrified before.

So.. this morning I’m having a panic attack. I feel all tingley and needy and I can’t breathe and I need to be held and I don’t have anyone to do that. It is moments like this that I doubt myself and my self-worth. Because I’m alone and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me that no one but my friends love me. I don’t feel unworthy of love. I’m totally worthy of love. When I love someone, I try to be 100%. But when I see what I get traded up for… I doubt myself. I wonder what is wrong with me. I have the most wonderful friends who tell me there is nothing wrong with me. No one is perfect and everyone has their rough spots. Over the last 15 years I have spent a lot of time trying to get rid of the things about myself that I find undesirable. (Not the things others find undesirable… but what I find undesirable.) It’s why I try to  surround myself with people who will be honest with me, even when sometimes it can be hurtful. Sometimes we don’t see or choose not to see the things that are not pretty in ourselves because no one likes to see they are flawed. This last week I found a flaw that I need to deal with. I need to be more mindful of my own thought process and my reactions that fall after. I’m not perfect. I’m not trying to be perfect. No one is perfect, and in fact, no one can be perfect, ever.

I’m rambling… what’s my point? Oh… my point is that life is messy. This is life. Right now my life is messy and I need to deal with that. I need to figure out a way to move past this messy bit so that I can keep going. That’s the thing. Life around you doesn’t stop because things in your life become messy, whether it’s your fault or someone else’s fault. Because it’s what you do with it. Not what someone else does with it. Your shit is about you. Roll with it, lean with it, Wacky Wavey inflatable tube man with it.

So… back to the last blog… there is beauty in the breakdown. Same song… different day.