Have you ever seen someone from across the room, and how they carry themselves, and thought I need to be friends with this person?
I see them a lot. Yesterday, I got up the courage and decided to introduce myself to the latest one, to not only be met with a smile, but an invitation to their picnic blanket and 3 hours talking to them and their friends. My small little world suddenly got a lot bigger.
I'd been feeling somewhat limited and sheltered lately. I was soaring because of The Pills, and slowly the momentum wore off. Strangely, there wasn't a crash, but a slow stop. As great as my trans group is (and I seriously love them all) I've been feeling the need to branch out. I've been growing, not necessarily away or past them, but I want more in my life than just the queer/trans community.
This is actually a big step for me. For so long, I felt swamped with what little I had going on. Slowly but surely, I felt myself becoming a bigger and bigger fish.
The people I met are extremely open minded and some seem to be very arty, which is fucking great for me. I've needed something to get my creative juices flowing, expand my mind and learn some new things. I'm going to one of their galleries in the next month, and I'm so incredibly excited I think I might pop.
Monday, 15 October 2012
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Out and about
It was national coming out day in America yesterday, and a friend of mine is talking about coming out to her parents as trans. Surprisingly, this got me thinking about coming out to my mother, but mostly, my mentality around that time.
I keep a diary, and I reread it sometimes, and the entries around that time are weird, and kinda distorted. Not that I need to read my old diary to know what I was feeling, I remember it. You don't forget something like this. This is the kind of thing not many people do, inform your parents that you're not really male, or female, and expose yourself after hiding for so long. I remember right before it, I was terrified. The only other terror that tops it in my life is when I was in hospital when I was 13.
I was at tafe studying multimedia. I didn't really want to do that, but I enjoyed it and I was good at it and couldn't think of anything else to do with my life. I met some good friends there, one of which I still talk to almost every day. But this is the time when my depression was at it's absolute lowest.
I was part of a forum for trans people (not Laura's Playground thank god) and it was a pretty relaxed place in one way, but really intense in the other. Everyone was really eager to show off their battle scars, tell everyone about their suicide attempts and DIY orchies and just wallow in self destruction. I stayed there to learn what I could, a lot of people had different perspectives and attitudes and threw them around liberally. But I hated the place because just as people were eager to show off how damaged they were, others showed how perfect they seemed. Posting timelines and stories and other things, and I was extremely jealous of their progress.
One day, in a usual Help me come out thread, someone posted a short story of their life as most people did. But unlike the others, this person resonated with me, and said something I still remember, 4 years later: it's either the bullet or the pill. It's a twisted form of motivation, sure, but it worked. You get to a place where you're at rock bottom, nothing else matters. You move forward, or you just don't.
Offline, my life wasn't very good. I was depressed, and didn't know what to do. I had no motivation to do anything. I felt like I was just living for someone else, because this wasn't the life I wanted or cared about. Eventually, I settled on the fact that I was mostly numb. Sex didn't feel good. Getting drunk didn't do anything except make me sick the next day.
I was having an exceptionally bad day one day, I felt absolutely horrible about myself and everything, and looking back on it now, I went home from tafe that day knowing I would either be out to my mother by the end of the night, or I would kill myself. I told no one else this plan, though. Some people knew about me already, which was good, but wasn't enough. I needed to progress.
I had no safety net, though. No job, no money. I couldn't leave if she reacted badly, I couldn't call for help. I had nowhere to go. The only safety net I had in my mind was, essentially, suicide.
I felt Walled off that whole night, before I told her. I'd spent so long hiding any aspect of myself from her, more than just being trans, and I was about to expose everything. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, staring down it. She could tell something was on my mind, but I kept deflecting her questions. I wasn't ready.
I went into my room and got on the laptop to get my mind off it and maybe get some confidence up. Then out of the blue, it hit me. I told my friends what I was about to do, and I went to talk to my mother.
"I need to tell you something"
We sat down in the loungeroom, and I told her everything: I'm a girl, I like guys and girls, I've had sex with both and I'm really depressed.
She asked questions, I answered them. It was all over in less than an hour, but it felt like days. The chatroom I was in had exploded at the news of what I was doing, and then it exploded again when I said I was back, and that it went well. It was really comforting to see these people care about me so much. Then I told my best friend, and he was so excited for me. I was actually happy that night, for the first time in a long time. I felt like I could think again. I felt a massive weight lift off me. I... felt.
So what did coming out do for me? It let me move in a direction I actually wanted. It let me feel comfortable in my own house. It made me feel like I didn't have to hide myself from the world. It set me free.
I keep a diary, and I reread it sometimes, and the entries around that time are weird, and kinda distorted. Not that I need to read my old diary to know what I was feeling, I remember it. You don't forget something like this. This is the kind of thing not many people do, inform your parents that you're not really male, or female, and expose yourself after hiding for so long. I remember right before it, I was terrified. The only other terror that tops it in my life is when I was in hospital when I was 13.
I was at tafe studying multimedia. I didn't really want to do that, but I enjoyed it and I was good at it and couldn't think of anything else to do with my life. I met some good friends there, one of which I still talk to almost every day. But this is the time when my depression was at it's absolute lowest.
I was part of a forum for trans people (not Laura's Playground thank god) and it was a pretty relaxed place in one way, but really intense in the other. Everyone was really eager to show off their battle scars, tell everyone about their suicide attempts and DIY orchies and just wallow in self destruction. I stayed there to learn what I could, a lot of people had different perspectives and attitudes and threw them around liberally. But I hated the place because just as people were eager to show off how damaged they were, others showed how perfect they seemed. Posting timelines and stories and other things, and I was extremely jealous of their progress.
One day, in a usual Help me come out thread, someone posted a short story of their life as most people did. But unlike the others, this person resonated with me, and said something I still remember, 4 years later: it's either the bullet or the pill. It's a twisted form of motivation, sure, but it worked. You get to a place where you're at rock bottom, nothing else matters. You move forward, or you just don't.
Offline, my life wasn't very good. I was depressed, and didn't know what to do. I had no motivation to do anything. I felt like I was just living for someone else, because this wasn't the life I wanted or cared about. Eventually, I settled on the fact that I was mostly numb. Sex didn't feel good. Getting drunk didn't do anything except make me sick the next day.
I was having an exceptionally bad day one day, I felt absolutely horrible about myself and everything, and looking back on it now, I went home from tafe that day knowing I would either be out to my mother by the end of the night, or I would kill myself. I told no one else this plan, though. Some people knew about me already, which was good, but wasn't enough. I needed to progress.
I had no safety net, though. No job, no money. I couldn't leave if she reacted badly, I couldn't call for help. I had nowhere to go. The only safety net I had in my mind was, essentially, suicide.
I felt Walled off that whole night, before I told her. I'd spent so long hiding any aspect of myself from her, more than just being trans, and I was about to expose everything. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, staring down it. She could tell something was on my mind, but I kept deflecting her questions. I wasn't ready.
I went into my room and got on the laptop to get my mind off it and maybe get some confidence up. Then out of the blue, it hit me. I told my friends what I was about to do, and I went to talk to my mother.
"I need to tell you something"
We sat down in the loungeroom, and I told her everything: I'm a girl, I like guys and girls, I've had sex with both and I'm really depressed.
She asked questions, I answered them. It was all over in less than an hour, but it felt like days. The chatroom I was in had exploded at the news of what I was doing, and then it exploded again when I said I was back, and that it went well. It was really comforting to see these people care about me so much. Then I told my best friend, and he was so excited for me. I was actually happy that night, for the first time in a long time. I felt like I could think again. I felt a massive weight lift off me. I... felt.
So what did coming out do for me? It let me move in a direction I actually wanted. It let me feel comfortable in my own house. It made me feel like I didn't have to hide myself from the world. It set me free.
Friday, 12 October 2012
The headaches have returned
In a mindframe similar to my new weekly ritual, I've started to lose weight. Or try to, anyway. I suppose this is just another aspect of me moving forward, since I've wanted to do this for a long time, but felt like the world didn't want me to.
So, the first thing I did was stopped drinking coke every day, a habit that creeped in again. Just like last time, I've started to get a headache at the loss of caffeine in my system. Also on the chopping block is chocolate, and most really sugary things in general. I've done this enough to know that the cravings are temporary, and today is one of the last days I should be feeling the intense cravings.
Since it's getting into warmer weather, I'm going to start going for walks and then move up from there. Hopefully I'll start feeling better about my body in a few months.
So, the first thing I did was stopped drinking coke every day, a habit that creeped in again. Just like last time, I've started to get a headache at the loss of caffeine in my system. Also on the chopping block is chocolate, and most really sugary things in general. I've done this enough to know that the cravings are temporary, and today is one of the last days I should be feeling the intense cravings.
Since it's getting into warmer weather, I'm going to start going for walks and then move up from there. Hopefully I'll start feeling better about my body in a few months.
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
An invitation
Well... shit.
I got invited to a kink event by a friend. I hate it when this happens, because I consider going, and remember how shit I feel in those places. I debate with myself, bargain, push, and none of it pays off because I know there's really only two conclusions: I go or I stay home.
The problem with the Going result is that, well, I probably won't have a good time. I've tried before, I put more effort in than most people would in my position I think, and it didn't pay off. The friend who invited me isn't really the babysitting type either, so I don't feel like I have much of a safety net.
The problem with the Not Going result is that I waste all this energy trying to get myself to go, and it just makes me feel worse. I've already started spiraling out thinking about this, which is insane.
Part of me thinks I should go, to really test The Pills. To see if I really have changed, or if I'm just testing myself against trivial things.
I want to go, I want to have fun at these places. On top of that, well... it would be nice to meet someone.
I got invited to a kink event by a friend. I hate it when this happens, because I consider going, and remember how shit I feel in those places. I debate with myself, bargain, push, and none of it pays off because I know there's really only two conclusions: I go or I stay home.
The problem with the Going result is that, well, I probably won't have a good time. I've tried before, I put more effort in than most people would in my position I think, and it didn't pay off. The friend who invited me isn't really the babysitting type either, so I don't feel like I have much of a safety net.
The problem with the Not Going result is that I waste all this energy trying to get myself to go, and it just makes me feel worse. I've already started spiraling out thinking about this, which is insane.
Part of me thinks I should go, to really test The Pills. To see if I really have changed, or if I'm just testing myself against trivial things.
I want to go, I want to have fun at these places. On top of that, well... it would be nice to meet someone.
Friday, 5 October 2012
Wanna go look at dildos?
Watching someone's reaction when they look through a sex shop can be very interesting. Which things attract their attention, and for what reason. How they walk. How they act.
I took her to my favourite adult store, and to my delight she reacted like a kid in a candy store. Browsing through all the things in excitement, picking up some things for further inspection. Not even a little bit intimidated, but infinitely curious.
How she reacted to the BDSM section was, of course, the most interesting to me. I let slip a my interest in this, and she didn't shy away, nor ask any questions. She looked at harnesses, and masks, and collars, and exclaimed with intense glee "oh wow, gagballs!".
After a lap, we left at just the perfect time: immediately before it got boring. Then we had a nice walk in the city at night, and then a sit on a patch of grass, and got to know each other. Hard questions became easy answers.
I dropped her off at the station, found out she liked it when people played with her hair, hugged her goodbye, and said "Call me". I hope she does.
I took her to my favourite adult store, and to my delight she reacted like a kid in a candy store. Browsing through all the things in excitement, picking up some things for further inspection. Not even a little bit intimidated, but infinitely curious.
How she reacted to the BDSM section was, of course, the most interesting to me. I let slip a my interest in this, and she didn't shy away, nor ask any questions. She looked at harnesses, and masks, and collars, and exclaimed with intense glee "oh wow, gagballs!".
After a lap, we left at just the perfect time: immediately before it got boring. Then we had a nice walk in the city at night, and then a sit on a patch of grass, and got to know each other. Hard questions became easy answers.
I dropped her off at the station, found out she liked it when people played with her hair, hugged her goodbye, and said "Call me". I hope she does.
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
... Sir?
I've been talking to someone lately, who I shall call Cookie. We've been talking in some form pretty much every day for... I don't really know how long, but I'm gonna say 2 weeks.
He's quite travelled, and very smart. Unlike most men I've met online, he's actually a decent human being. Actually, scratch that, he's quite wonderful. He makes me feel warm and fuzzy.
I can't really explain my feelings towards him. He's in America so it can't really go any further than friends, but I do respect him a great deal. We were talking, and something got me down for a minute, so he said "chin up now k", and just like that, it was up, and I said "its up" and was surprised when instinctively the next word out of me was "Sir".
What? Why? The last person I called Sir told me to call him that, isn't that how it goes? Doesn't this usually mean something big?
I was really embarrassed about it. He talked to me, about titles, and perspectives, and his stance... and suddenly, the embarrassment left. I feel smarter now. I feel like I understand an abstract puzzle piece of this world.
Though I probably won't call him Sir again... intentionally anyway.
He's quite travelled, and very smart. Unlike most men I've met online, he's actually a decent human being. Actually, scratch that, he's quite wonderful. He makes me feel warm and fuzzy.
I can't really explain my feelings towards him. He's in America so it can't really go any further than friends, but I do respect him a great deal. We were talking, and something got me down for a minute, so he said "chin up now k", and just like that, it was up, and I said "its up" and was surprised when instinctively the next word out of me was "Sir".
What? Why? The last person I called Sir told me to call him that, isn't that how it goes? Doesn't this usually mean something big?
I was really embarrassed about it. He talked to me, about titles, and perspectives, and his stance... and suddenly, the embarrassment left. I feel smarter now. I feel like I understand an abstract puzzle piece of this world.
Though I probably won't call him Sir again... intentionally anyway.
Monday, 1 October 2012
The cave gets an upgrade
I spent about 10 hours today cleaning my room and rearranging the furniture. It was a huge job, and I was surprised I didn't find anything completely disgusting in here.
I now have much more space to play with, and just a generally better looking room. Not it's not so cramped in here, nor embarrassing.
One thing that was a little strange was that since I was rearranging everything, I kept having to rehide my cane and paddle incase my mother walked by. I made sure to hide my bong in a very safe and secret place before I did anything else, so that wasn't a worry. It was kinda funny with the cane though, first it was behind my draws, then inside a curled up poster, then under my bed, then behind something else...
It's incredibly satisfying. I've wanted to do this for ages, but only recently found the motivation. It feels amazing. It looks amazing.
An interesting thing about cleaning up is that you find all these old things that remind you of people. I'm pretty used to my kink gear bring up memories, but I found some old cards from high school, and some things my friend from QLD made me, and it was really nice.
I even found some old drawings I did from 2003, and some of them are pretty good. In a way, it makes me sad that I never continued with it, but in another way, my style seems to have moved away from lifelike and realistic to more abstract interpretations. I've taken up drawing more lately, which is a really good thing for me. I'll post some here when I feel confident enough.
I now have much more space to play with, and just a generally better looking room. Not it's not so cramped in here, nor embarrassing.
One thing that was a little strange was that since I was rearranging everything, I kept having to rehide my cane and paddle incase my mother walked by. I made sure to hide my bong in a very safe and secret place before I did anything else, so that wasn't a worry. It was kinda funny with the cane though, first it was behind my draws, then inside a curled up poster, then under my bed, then behind something else...
It's incredibly satisfying. I've wanted to do this for ages, but only recently found the motivation. It feels amazing. It looks amazing.
An interesting thing about cleaning up is that you find all these old things that remind you of people. I'm pretty used to my kink gear bring up memories, but I found some old cards from high school, and some things my friend from QLD made me, and it was really nice.
I even found some old drawings I did from 2003, and some of them are pretty good. In a way, it makes me sad that I never continued with it, but in another way, my style seems to have moved away from lifelike and realistic to more abstract interpretations. I've taken up drawing more lately, which is a really good thing for me. I'll post some here when I feel confident enough.
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