It hurts the most to feel good

Months ago, I lost the control I’ve had over my emotions, the control I’ve had over my emotions for years, and it feels like being hit head on by a freight train. Everything hurts, everything, good things, bad things, just being around people right now, hurts. About a year ago now, my happiness built up, and weakened my self control, and I can’t shutout everything like I’d had to, for most of my life. Happiness, became the steel knife in my windpipe, I function, but everyday hurts like hell. Happiness cut me open, it cut me out of my cocoon, and now I can’t stop feeling. Happiness feels like a virus, it festers in me, it helps to draw in all the pain, I’ve always been able to shut out, it wraps itself in it. For most of my life, every time I hurt, every time I felt alone, every time I wanted to cry, every time I wanted to reach out, every time I wanted to even feel, I was able to cancel it out with my internalized anger. But still, my mind struggles in vein to shutout feeling. It truly hurts the worst, to feel good.

You need to smile more

I woke up Friday morning, early like 9am, anywhere on the clock from 5am to 9am just should not exist. The whole reason for getting out of bed early, after an already long week, was to humor one of my therapists, and speak to the psych nurse, about being put on meds. I make it to my appointment, she starts out by asking what gets in the way of my being able to enjoy life. So I tell, I deal with crap on a constant basis, I’m still waiting for my surgery, I have problems opening up to people because I have a really hard time excepting how bad I really feel, I’d rather go on pretending I don’t feel at all, and when I’m around people it usually goes poorly, like being abandoned by a so called friend, when she was afraid something was going to happen to us, and I just feel like no one’s really there, I’m surrounded by people that tell me I need to go to the hospital, or just can’t take it when I try to open up to them, and I’m even trying still to get over bad therapists.

She just kept going on about how the pills would help. I said I know plenty of people in the same situation, who pills do absolutely nothing for, they may make your body feel more relaxed, but do nothing for your mind, when you’re dealing with real crap. She had nothing to say to that, but they can help carry you through. I’ve had no problem carrying myself through. After her talk about pills, she asks me if I was looking for medical intervention for my transition, if I’m transitioning.(she had my whole bleeping file sitting next to her) But I tell her, I’ve been on estrogen for 2 years, 2 months and 2 days, and I don’t call it transitioning, other than my voice and surgery, which would be nice, I’m already myself, and my voice doesn’t really bother me that much. I could not believe she couldn’t tell I was already on estrogen. She asked a couple more stupid questions, before asking how I’d like to be seen. I stared at her. So she goes “I mean some people like to be seen a certain way, do you see yourself as a woman or someplace in between. You seem very much like a woman your mannerisms are very feminine, I just want to make sure” My only answer was I see myself as a woman.

A good bit of the rest of the visit, she went over how I should go to Ingersoll, how I should see Dr. Gromko, blah blah blah. She even brought up how she didn’t agree with the standards. But then told me that in the DSM they’re changing it from G.I.D, to gender dysphoria. Doesn’t that make you feel better? So I tell her no, it just gives it a new name, for something that shouldn’t be in the DSM to begin with. So there was some trans this, and cis that, filler from her, and more blah blah. (I hate gender therapists.) Before I left, she made on last hard sell about the meds. She told me, I was so anxious, even a blind man could see that.

Later that afternoon, I asked my mom, when she was going to go visit my grandma, because she had just had mastectomy done, to remove a large tumor the day before. And my mom had planned to go that day, I just really wanted to know when “I don’t know when I’m going. When are you going? Don’t ask stupid questions.” are you still going today? “I DON‘T KNOW!!!”*super bitch mode activated* I might go today I might go tomorrow when are you going? don't ask stupid questions" I say when are you going to stop being a bitch? She got really upset at that point and mumbled about being called a bitch. Hahahahahaahha

Later we’re finally at my grandma’s, we go out to dinner at five guys, on the drive over, I’m already near crying because I’d been feeling really crappy recently. When we finally make it there, I’m the first to walk up to the doors. And I’m reaching for the handle, and out the other door, comes this group of girls, so one of the girls held the door, for the rest. As I walk through the other door, my grandma followed behind me, and she points to me and says to the girls, he should have held the door for you. I yelled at her, who the hell are you talking to? She didn’t say anything, but everyone was staring at me. We ordered and sat down, I didn’t get anything because everything had beef in it. At the table I ask her, why should I have held the door for her? She has two hands. “I don’t know” ughhhh I really wanted her to stop, and think about it. Did she really expect me to gentleman, when I’m not a man?

When we left and I got back in my mom’s Jeep, I put on my sunglasses, and tear’d up for a few seconds. But mostly, I just enjoyed the crappy ride back to my grandparents. I sat there on the floor, for a while then I started to cry. My grandma says “he looks tried” I stopped crying, a few minutes later she says “you need to smile more” I went into the bathroom and bawled. I was in the for a while, when I got out, and sat back on the floor, and started at the wall, my grandma says “he looks like he’s already falling asleep.” “You really need to smile more” (I hate it when people say I need to smile.) The whole time back at my grandma’s, I wanted to cut myself so bad. At one point I even thought about reaching into the box of tools, that my grandpa had sitting there on the front room floor, and grabbing anything sharp, and doing it right there, in front of them. On the ride back home, my heart was beating like crazy, I was crying with my glasses on. And even with all the crying I did that evening, no one noticed. hurrrrrrrrrrr