Neue

I felt that high school feeling today. I read the myspace of your_an_ass. She's this powerfully beautiful t-girl who hangs around the imageboards. I wanted to wince, to look away when I saw it. I felt this huge thing just crushing me. I felt supremely ugly and fat and awful. There's this grief that I get, when I fear I'm just too late to pass without surgery. This time I didn't look away from it, I stared right at it. That feeling and her face. God, I've spent so much time reassuring myself that I can't change the past and there's no point to regretting it, but this I can't help but feel awful about.

I've done many subtle and not so subtle self destructive things in my life. Driving, drugs, eating. A lot of that came from my addiction, and some from the inextricable depression. But for the first time in my life, I wanted to cut myself, to bring the pain fresh and bloody to the surface. I never got the idea behind it before, but I do now. I want to swing my eating disorder from obesity to anorexia. Lose all the muscle and fat and health and sanity to get that much closer to beautiful. It's just so powerful, so big, and I'm so small before it.

In going through the whole Marijuana Anonymous model, I've had to try humbling myself before what I for lack of more concise words call God. My Higher Power. I'm an atheist by birth and experience, but the only method I can see to survive is to give up to something bigger than me, something infinite. It's enough to get me through the day without smoking, but I don't know if I feel that I can't or won't ask God to help me with this. I don't have the Judeo-Christian baggage about a trans- or homophobic god, although I have my own guilt. I have the notion that what I want and what I need are mutually exclusive. I think it's kind of a Calvinist parenting thing.

It's just, this anguish just won't go away. I realize that nearly every barrier to my transition is in my head if I'm of the proper mindset. But this is too much, too much for me. Maybe I can overcome it, but I can't. I fear going mad in the dark, like many of my sisters. I have no one to talk about this with, so I don't. Part of me wants to delete everything I am writing, have written, because it's the same self-pitying twaddle that tires me out when written by others. I made a point of staring straight at myself while I looked at her face, because I wanted to be in the moment and feel that weird, horrible exanimate feeling of having my soul separate from my body. Is it the hormones, or lack thereof? This feeling wasn't so strong when I had 2.5mg Premarin bid flowing through my veins. Is it the lack of exposure? The girl on the web, she talked about not judging herself by how she looked. But I'm so far from that. It's like I can't even do that until I have that one day where I just feel good and beautiful and free. Like that's the day that I let go of my pain, and not the other way around. Like there's some hole in me, beyond the gaping dopamine pit in my stomach where the drugs and food go. My experience of being TG is like walking around every day with that hole getting bigger and bigger and bigger, and eventually some day down the line I'm just the hole. That omnipresent feeling, the reason we supposedly believe we're going to die young: someday, left untreated, we just stop existing, and that part of ourselves devoted to being alive stops existing too.

I don't want to feel this way. What's changed, though, is that now I'm afraid of not feeling this way, because it resembles oblivion too closely. I can't bury it under something else, but I have no idea how to address the pain's source. The anorexia thing sounds really good, and that's frightening, but I'm just ready to sacrifice anything to approach my own facsimile of perfection.