Rituals, or Healthy Body Healthy Mind

In my last relationship, the state of my body was pretty much irrelevant. It's nice in some ways, if I didn't feel up to shaving something (even my face) then it didn't matter. But I wanted it to matter, I wanted her to care. Like most things though, it wasn't met with much interest, so I just let it slide until I didn't care about it anymore either.

The last month, though, I've had a desire to care about my body. Every week, I put aside an hour or two, and shave everything below the neck, and lay in bed, naked and wet and tired, and just absorb the feeling. It's a hard thing to grasp, to feel positive about my own body beyond "it's just barely good enough" but ever since I started this, I've felt... sexy.

I've even gotten to the point where I've taken some new photos of myself for FetLife, and all have been met with positivity. Again, like my previous revelation, I'm not putting them up to gain validation from others. This is me flaunting newfound confidence.

The interesting thing is that this is all in my head, but that doesn't make it a bad thing. All I'm doing is shaving some hair. I'm not losing weight, or fixing my female voice, or even dressing differently. It's just... hair. Yet it's removal is making me feel good about myself, and my physical body. It's a strange new feeling to care about your own body in some way.

The Log, and other things

The Pills are making me sleep way more than I used to. They don't make me tired, but when I'm asleep I'm down for a long time. Every night for the last 3 weeks I've been asleep between 10 - 14 hours. Today, I slept in through 3 separate alarms that were set to make sure I'd be awake early enough to go to my friends place to watch movies before we had to go to our transgroup meeting.

Well, obviously it didn't work, which is disappointing because my computer has died again, and she knows it's making me miserable, and invited me over to get me out of the house and get my mind off it. It's really sweet, and I'm frustrated I slept through spending more time with her. I sleep through a lot of things lately.

It's kind of nice, in a way. I know that when I go to sleep, I can stay there for half a day. I've been having a lot of different dreams, too.

Another thing The Pills are effecting is... not really my memory, but more my perception of time. I saw my friends earlier today, I know that for a fact, but it feels like it was a few days ago, or even last week. Yesterday feels like a week ago, and the day before feels so distant I barely remember it.

It makes my life right now very surreal. I feel like I've been writing this post for hours, but I know it's only been 10 minutes at most. In a way, it makes big events stand out more than usual, because I can still remember them really well, just not the surrounding stuff as much. It's actually made my mind a lot less cluttered, which is always a good thing.

And finally, I mentioned my computer being broken. It's making me pretty sad, partly because I may lose almost a decades worth of chat logs and irreplaceable pictures, but also because that computer is where I let off my steam. It has my video games on it, where I can finally let loose my aggression and anger, or just fade away and get lost in a world that isn't this one. Sure, I can just reinstall them, but they're all attached to Steam, so it will take a long long time until I'm back up and running if I have to start over.

The pictures and chat logs, however... those will be gone for good. I really don't want that to happen.

Exposure

I've been hanging out with a friend a lot lately. It's really nice. She understands depression, and has an open mind. I've been pushing that open mind a bit lately, slowly letting little bits of myself out, the kind of stuff I keep hidden from most people. Some of the stuff I write about here.

It's been really interesting. Everything I bring out is met with a smile, a nod, a question... but not disgust. Not repulsion. None of the things I expected to happen by this point.

I don't know if I hate myself, but sometimes I think that I'm too much. My sadness, or Monsters, or Walls, are too much for people to put up with. I think the worst part is that it's happened before, so it's not completely irrational. Even though I'm testing her open mind subconsciously, I think I should put some effort into stopping. While the content may not drive her away, the quantity and frequency might.

Still, it is nice to have someone see me. And I feel like I see her too. I've told very few people in my life about my breakdown 4 years ago, yet with her it was easy. Maybe it's because I know some of her damage, and know she would understand. The worst reaction someone can have after telling them something like that is confusion.

The concept of knowing almost too much on a subject

In a delightful contrast to my floundering about with makeup, there are things that I know a lot about. Team Fortress 2 is one example, where I know far too much on the metagame and can outclass most players with little effort.

Another example. which is the focus of this entry, is Marilyn Manson. I have all of their albums, I know almost every song back to front, I've seen them live twice, I have his autobiography, I have a lot of videos of interviews he's had over the years, his appearances on talk shows... I know a lot about him, the band, and a lot of the controversy surrounding everything he does.

It's at the point where I'm starved for The New. I feel like I'm near the ceiling of knowledge when it comes to him. This sadly results in me getting bored with the subject, because of my desire (need) to constantly learn, so if I can't learn more about something I move on.

Thankfully, I happened upon a book, Dissecting Marilyn Manson. I thought it might be interesting. At worst it'll be something to add to my library. At best I'll learn a few things about him.

I just finished reading it, and it's probably one of the most interesting things I've ever read.

What I expected was a mostly on the surface analysis, maybe some lyric quotes, something about religion and bam, instant book. What I got was a complete and total deconstruction of MM, his surrounding philosophies, Satanism, drugs, Alister Crowley, Marilyn Monroe, Charles Manson, The Beatles, gothic culture, industrial music, Nine Inch Nails, the antichrist, decadence, serial killers, David Bowie, glam, gender roles, gender stereotypes, childhood traumas, art, horror, sadomasochism, fetish...

The startling thing is that the more I read, the more I identified with him. Reading through the early chapters about Dr Seuss, I got a flashback to my year 12 art project, which was focused on Green Eggs and Ham, specifically bastardising it into a dark and horrifying book. I remember being obsessed with this idea, but I could never articulate why. The contrast is delightful, really. Such childlike innocence, placed next to horrifying images. Does it corrupt innocence, or shed light on the horror?

Either way, reading through the book (the book about Manson, not Green Egg and Ham) I felt my brain expand as I suddenly relearned old concepts, and figured out how they fit into my life. All of the information was there, but it was arranged badly, so I saw it wrong. What I felt was the pieces falling into place.

The biggest thing I got from this book is that it has given me an intense urge to create.

Falling free

I forgot to take The Pills yesterday. By the time I realised, I figured it was too late anyway, so I thought I'd just wait until the next day (today) to take em again. I'm still new on them, sure I can feel their effects and all, but what's one day?

Holy shit. Never again. Last night was fucking weird. I don't know if everything I felt was because I missed taking them, but I felt like total shit, and it's just not worth it.

It started off with a splitting headache, and then suddenly, my mood plummeted. Just straight down with nothing to stop it. For the first time in over 2 weeks, I was in bed on the laptop because I was too sad to do anything else. I've been reading some books, and I really wanted to continue them, but every time I glanced at them the last thing I wanted to do was reach for them, open them, and continue where I left off.

I got a message from a very nice person I've been talking to lately, and he made me smile because he is genuinely one of the most adorable and energetic people I've ever known, but any positivity he brought didn't last long. Eventually, the discussion just went to the depressing things that were on my mind, and I went to sleep, and started to cry. I don't even know why.

I still refuse to believe that was all because of The Pills, but again, I don't think I'll take the chance again.

A new approach

Lately, my interest in BDSM has shifted. Oh, I still find certain things extremely arousing, and my fetish list still has everything on it. I still (mostly) identify as submissive. So what has changed?

I used to cruise K&P for eyecandy, and maybe ideas for things to try, and that was pretty much all I saw for a long time.

My attention has since shifted to the writing people churn out. I think this is because of my desire (need) to learn as much as I can about a subject I enjoy. There are interesting threads in the groups sometimes, but most of the time it's just an endless barrage of greetings and basic questions that are either irrelevent to me, or I know the answer to already (and considering earlier this year I felt like I was drowning while figuring some of this stuff out, that's a nice yardstick).

This is an interesting shift. But lately my interest in the writing that pops up in K&P has been fading, I think because it seems to loop it's messages. For every "this is my intimate and well written history on this subject" there are a dozen "10 dos and do nots of a scene" or "how to train your submissive" or something like that. Those last things are cool, but they seem to pop up in different skins a lot of the time.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I don't know enough to be able to distinguish the subtle differences between seemingly identical ideas from two different people. But even if I'm right, it still has the same result: I need to learn more.

One frustrating thing about K&P is that it's temporary. No matter how life changingly spectacular something is, it will get moved down the line to make room for new eyecandy. I need to add to my library.

Dress ups

Over the last few months, I've been connecting with others a bit more. It's been extremely rewarding.

For the first time in over a year, I had someone who wasn't my ex at my house. I had an actual friend hang out here. Not that no one else has been here, but this is the first person to be here just for the sake of being here. Not to pick me up to go somewhere, not to borrow something. Just to be here.

It was so strange. I kept getting paranoid they'd find something disgusting about my environment. That my mother would harass them. That she'd never want to stay my friend.

As my usual route, I won't name the person, but I shall call them C. C came into my room to show her my Lego collection, and she was impressed, and nostalgic, which then spread to me when I realised just how much Lego I have. Then she spied my clothes rack. I don't have a wardrobe, or closet or anything, just a rack that has clothes hanging off it.

She loved all my goth stuff, so I asked if she wanted to try on my corset. She tried to hide her excitement at this suggestion (meanwhile I was visibly ecstatic I could lace someone up for the first time). So off came some of her layers.

I was somewhat amazed at her body. She is trans, male to female, but always looked and dressed so masculine. She absolutely definitely passes as female, and I can understand not wanting to flaunt femininity, but it seemed a shame, because she has a lot going for her, physically.

Anyway, I cleared a space in front of my massive mirror that my Big Sister gave me, and wrapped it around her. I pulled it in a bit to get in the slack, adjusted the position more, and asked "ready?" and she nodded. I pulled it, and she let out a gasp, and just as I was fixing the X's she said that was tight enough. So I tied it off, and stepped back.

I had forgotten how much fun this was. It's been forever since I've done this with someone. I've documented many times how I like helping out new transgirls, but these kinds of times I get a real thrill. Corsets are sexy, anyone who says otherwise is provably wrong. It suited her quite a bit.

After 5 minutes she had enough of it, so I undid her and she eyed another piece of mine. I left the room and she tried on this dress I have that's just barely too small for me (I bought it as incentive to lose weight) and again, she looked amazing. She is not the kind of person I'm attracted to, but she looked really hot.

She was super shy and awkward. It showed off a lot more skin than I think she was comfortable with, right now. But I think I've created a monster, I've given her a taste for blood. I really hope this was the push she wanted/needed to start dressing how she wants, cos she can definitely pull it off.

God damn. Dress ups are so much fun.

On the leash

Over the course of my last relationship, I found I had an obsession with leashes. I adored being on the end of a leash, I couldn't get enough of it. I even came close to dying because of my love of leashes: I was leashed to the bed one night when she was here, and we went to sleep for the night, and I woke up in the middle of the night because I had turned over multiple times and was strangling myself. I never told her out of fear of never having a leash again (though at the time it seemed more like I'd rather die than never be on a leash again).

It's such a simple thing, too. It's just a chain that leads to my collar, but it can be so powerful. If the person holding it wants me close, they pull me in. If they want me further out, they give me some slack. If they want me to wonder around of my own accord, they take it off. If they want me to stay somewhere, they tie it to something. But even then, you're still under their control, still submitting to them, because you're where they want you.

I found immense comfort being leashed to things. Frequently when I was feeling low, she would leash me to the bed, or she'd put the leash on me and hold onto it while we sat on the couch. I remember one night at a party at her house, I got very sleepy and went to bed. She came in a little while later to check up on me, and I said I wasn't coming back out. She wrapped my old collar around my neck and leashed me to the bed, and kissed me goodnight. I felt so cared for, and loved at that moment.

I think I need to put leashes into the Need category for future relationships.

Let's meet

Actually, let's not.

I've been talking to someone lately, and it progressed far enough to warrant meeting in person. This is great, I thought, this guy seems decent. We had a lot in common, in terms of kink.

So I asked where he'd like to meet, and he said my house. Um, no, that's not how this works, dude. Why not a cafe? Cafes are nice (and neutral and you're less likely turn me into a statistic), let's go to a cafe. Then, the bombshell: that's too public.

He does not want to be seen in public with me. He says he doesn't want people to know he's bi and kinky. After getting more info, it was clear he was referring to the fact I'm trans.

Dammit, this isn't fair. You can't have so much in common with me, and then be like this.

One strange thing about this is that I can definitely feel The Pills working. My normal reaction to this happening (he is the fourth person to do this) is to sulk for a few days in bed and maybe cry. Not crying over them, really, just crying because it's another layer of icing on the Shit Cake that is being transgender. But today, no tears, very little bed.

I can almost physically feel my thoughts bumping up against a wall, but not that type of Wall either. Maybe it's a new type of Wall, one that's keeping me from accessing the bad thoughts, but my brain is a creature of habit, and doesn't yet understand that there's now a Wall in the way, so it keeps going for them.

The result is me being very confused about my own headspace. Like I said, I can almost feel what's happening in my head now, because something about it has changed. I know what I would normally be feeling, and this latest one has been the worst of them all, so I should be a wreck. But I'm not. I've had a vent to some people, had a minor sulk, and resumed my day. It's not that I haven't felt the hurt, or sadness from this, but now it seems I can put it in it's place a lot better.

Better living through chemistry, indeed.

How much is too much?

I like to help people, especially new trans people. I like being that person, it makes me happy. It makes me feel like I'm giving something back. I also like seeing people grow, become more confident, learn, evolve, change. But at what point do you decide that a person is just too much effort? Can you decide something like that?

I seem to gather people like myself, who like helping others, and we tell each other stories, and each of them has that One that made them give up. I know these people, and they wouldn't make a call like that lightly. So is it reasonable to say "abandon ship" and move on?

At what point does trying to help someone turn into being their only source of motivation?

Is there any point in carrying on this type of relationship when it just isn't working?

Most of these questions have long answers that seem to boil down to what your motivation is for making a call like this. There is definitely a wrong reason to bail on someone like this, but is there a right reason, or just less wrong ones?

If you are there to help this person learn and progress, and they don't listen and don't learn despite your best efforts over a long period of time, is there a reason to continue?

I write a lot

Taking a glance at my blog, I see I've written 71 entries this year. 72 including this one.

At first I was shocked, how could I have written so much? But then I remembered, I'm used to doing this. I've been writing down my life and thoughts since 2006 and posting it online. This may be my first blog, but I had a journal on a website that got a lot of views and replies.

Unfortunately that place is gone now, taking all my posts with it. Most of it was depressing rants about how shit my life was at the time. At least I have some positive things to say now. I keep thinking, what would those people think of some posts in here? They would have seen not only my gender transition, but my transformation into an almost completely different person. Judging how the rest of my reality took the changes, I'd drift from most of them and find a new audience.

I sometimes feel the need to write a small part of my history, involving my first love, just to re-immortalise it somewhere. It seems a shame to let something like that slip into obscurity when it occupied a defining time in my life. Maybe one day.

I really enjoy writing. From what I've been told, people enjoy reading what I write, which is good, but I'd still do it even if it was hated, I'd probably just do it in a less public space.

Submission and you

How do you spot a douchebag who's masquerading as a Dominant?

Maybe I'm being paranoid, but it's reminding me that I just don't know what to look for in terms of warning signs or good points. I could be talking to a sociopath, or worse, someone vanilla. What if he only has interest in me because I'm trans? Or because I'm easy? Or because I don't have much experience and can exploit that?

On the flip side, assuming he is genuine and good and not crazy or vanilla and all that, what if I bore him? What if I'm too damaged, or inexperienced, or scared?

The scary end to this is that I just don't know. In this case, he's interchangeable with anyone who would be interested in me. In my head, the idea of submitting under another person is... terrifying, and I have to keep reminding myself why I want this. It's the ambiguity of it. If I imagine submitting to someone, then of course it's scary. But if I imagine submitting to someone who I like, who I understand, who is understanding, it removes a lot of the fear. If there were no fear, I wouldn't be taking it seriously, and I wouldn't be thinking about it, right?

How do you spot a scared little girl who's masquerading as a submissive?

BLTC pt5

I went back to The Doctor yesterday, explained what happened, and not much was said about it.

He asked if I was feeling any effects from it, and I mentioned my sex drive disappearing almost completely. I remember back in high school, I hated my sex drive. I was really happy on the days where I felt nothing, and that's still the case. So these last few weeks where I've had no desire to touch myself, or anybody else, have been great for me.

Outside of that, my mood seemed to be picking up, but I don't know how much of that is because of the pills. Either way, I've been smiling a lot more lately.

However, the chemist I stopped in at on the way home didn't have what I needed, and I was totally out. I would have gone somewhere else, but my mother was expecting me to have done something before she got home, so I went home instead. And of course I only just get home with enough time to do that, and I sit down at the computer to relax and she comes home and gets angry that I'm so tired.

Oh well. At least I've got the pills now.

On the verge...

I've been reading a lot lately. Learning. Understanding.

For once I'm not reading comics. For once I'm not playing games. For once I'm not reading pseudophilosophical crap found on internet forums written by 16 year olds. I've fallen back into an old groove I'd forgotten was a big part of me. And it's making me want. Making me need.

I feel like I'm on the verge of doing something, but I don't know what. Whatever it is, it's making me want to create again, when all I've wanted to do for so long is destroy.