Random Thoughts!

Hi all! This is just some random thoughts that I have been writing for a few days now. Some of it some people already know and the rest will be knew to everyone! This has been what I have been typing the last few days. This blog will have some very harsh language, I don't pull punches. I use this as away to get shit out and work it out too. ENJOY!

04/11/2010

People say the past is the past and that you should let go. Well I’m here to tell you, its not thaeasy. Letting certain things go is not the same as letting go some stupid argument you had with your best friend over whatever stupid issue. No, letting certain things go is a lot more complicated than that. My past is full of things that I would rather forget as opposed to let go.

Things that other people would hear and go “WTF? Why would you want to forget that?” or they would give me a funny look and walk off I want to forget. I want to forget that my name use to be Jared Arthur Marty and that I was born with a cock. I want to forget the first time that ugly, hideous thing ever got hard. I want to forget that I have never and will never have a period. I want to forget that I was ever male, erase every sign of that existence and get rid of it and start over

People say: “But Mad Womyn, you were never a boy! You were always Mad Womyn!” Its not that simple. True, that other life was an act that was forced upon me, but there where things about it that I deeply enjoyed. The late nights with my two best male friends playing games, watching wrestling and generally goofing off are memories I treasure. I feel deep shame in looking on these memories fondly. I know I shouldn’t. I know should be able to just take the fun times and move on, but I can’t. Those memories feel strange and foreign to me, as if they happened to someone else. That world, that person feels like a total other, it doesn’t even feel like my body.

I can’t think of him as myself. He is NOT me and yet he was. Like it or not I lived that life. I wish I could forget. I wish that none of it had ever happened. Why couldn’t have I just started out life as a girl like I am today? It wasn’t all bad living that male lie. I guess that is what I can’t accept. I can’t accept that any part of it was enjoyable. Why not? My friends don’t care. My dad has accepted me ever since I came out. Why can’t I accept it? Why do I hate myself so much?? I did this to feel better and it has helped, but something is still missing

I acknowledge that I am bit crazy. Acknowledge that I am a bit sick. I have never denied these facts. I’m just trying to figure out where all the pieces that are apart of me go and how they fit to make up me. I have been through all kinds of changes, as everyone does, in my short 21 years on this Earth and I am just trying to figure it all out. How do I reconcile my past with my present? How do I stop hating the fact that I have a cock? How do I stop feeling like there is a disconnect between mind and body? Questions, questions that’s all I have. I know one thing, those issues are a lot harder than to just simply let go. I don’t understand, I really don’t.

I just want to be me. Want to be happy going in the world and knowing that I can survive. Knowing that when I step out into the big bad world I am showing who I am at my core. Not excusing myself for being who I am for anyone. Yelling loudly and proudly “This is who I am, you don’t like it FUCK YOU!” with no exceptions. Having the confidence to stand tall no matter what. I don’t have any of these. Yet to some I put on the appearance that I am well put together.

If they only knew how hard I struggle everyday to not stay in my room and hide. If they only knew how much of the time I feel numb to the world and just want to breakdown. If they only knew how many nights I hope I fall asleep and NOT wake up the next morning. If they only knew how much I hope the world would turn to shit, just so things would be simpler. If they only knew how much my own thoughts scared me and how much I hate myself. If they knew all that maybe they would understand why I do the things I do or say the things I say.

I have internalized everything that society says about trans people. I realize that now. Everything I feel about being trans, comes from the fact that I know how society sees people like me. I know they see us as hookers, shemales, porn stars, and anything else that is considered “other.” We are NOT considered women. Most of the time we aren’t even considered half women at least as far as the media goes. When a trans person is killed, most of the time, they are called either gay men or lesbians regardless how they lived. Brendan Teena is very often called a lesbian by those in the LG communities despite the fact that HE lived his life as a man and identified as man.

Since trans people are hated and/or disrespected in the mainstream community and the “LGBT” community, it is very easy for someone to internalize the shit they are told. I have internalized most of that stuff. I look in the mirror and see less than a woman. I call myself a transwoman and the word tastes dirty and wrong as if I am dirty and wrong. The world is screaming at me to get into that woman gender box despite the fact that I have no interest in going into that box.

04/12/2010

I did not transition to go from one box to the other. Even in the trans community there is pressure to conform to the ideal or social standards what being a man or a woman is. Look on the message boards and you will see a sea of posts about how the goal of transitioning is to pass rather than be happy with who you are. Safety is the number one reason why. Obviously people want to feel safe, but at what point does safety concerns no longer apply? Where is the line drawn between the need to be safe and the need to just be the real you? Perhaps that line is different for everyone. I don’t know. I don’t have answers, just a lot of questions. Where does transitioning end? Does it end the day you get the surgery and become fully a legal woman? Does it end when someone fully integrates and goes “stealth” into the other gender? Or does it end when someone is finally comfortable with who they are?

I don’t have answers to these questions I do however have theories and beliefs about these issues. I am of the belief that transition ends whenever that person decides that they are done, the rest of the world be damned! I also believe that the idea of “transitioning” isn’t purely something that only people who are transsexual go through. Everyone goes through changes in their lives. Granted transsexuals have a more extreme road to go on, but still the feeling is universal. People go through different stages in their lives no matter what is going on. We all go through journeys that involve figuring who and what we are. Through all my sadness and hardships I have faced in my journey of self discovery, I have come to the conclusion that the meaning of life is be able to grow into who YOU really are, no matter what society says. As long as you aren’t hurting yourself or others then fuck society BE that person. That is easier said than done, I know that all to well. I am very much in the stage of letting society control who and what I am.

Conflict happens so much within myself. My past haunts me daily, it doesn't help that my cock serves as a consent reminder of that past, so I can’t really ignore it. I remember that scared little boy that thought the only way to prove his manhood was to be fairly sexiest and homophobic even though it tore him up inside to say and do those things. I remember him and I hate him. He used and abused my body and my mind for 16 years. He died the day I came out to myself. He’s gone now, but his ghost still lingers, haunting me. Looking at him in a positive light is difficult. I don’t know how to get to that point. Maybe I should start by looking at the positives of that time I lived as him.

I had a good childhood. Aside from my mother’s emotional abuse (abandoning me and my brother and not telling us and saying she was going to pick me up and then NOT showing up) and my brothers typical older sibling actions my childhood wasn’t bad. No physical or sexual abuse of any kind. My dad loves me and cares for me deeply and has never laid a hand on me. My house was always one where women were respected and thought as equals to men in every way. I was well feed, clothed, and had a good education. I had good friends who stood by me and cared for me and the ones that didn’t I found out about and cut out of my life quickly. I had a home where I could go and feel loved, that is more than I can say for most of my friends. Starting at around middle school, my dad and I really started to get to know each other as people.

We would talk long into the night about the most random of topics and very often jump into others when we ran out of things to say about the last one. We talked about everything from the simplest stuff like how each other’s day was to the more complex stuff about religion and how life works. We really got to know each other. I treasure those memories too. Those moments were the ones where I was most honest. I never talked about my gender issues and how I felt like I was a girl during those times, but I was still the real me more so then than at any other time when I was living that lie. I don’t have any shame towards those moments with my dad. In a lot of ways the person I have become IS that person from those nights only more so. The memories that I feel shame about treasuring are ones where I was having fun being a boy.

I used to roughhouse all the time with my male friends and would very often win these matches as we called them. When I was in middle school I was a member of weight lifting club, which was made up of mostly males, and had genuine fun with boys that today I would be annoyed with. I was apart of track and field in middle school as well and had a fun cracking jokes with my male friends on the team. There are other memories that are similar to those that I treasure and feel shame about. All of them are examples of me doing stereotypical boy things and that I actually enjoyed. I hate that I enjoyed them!

Finding any enjoyment in that life feels like the biggest hypocrisy ever. That life was a lie and not the real me, so finding any enjoyment in that life doesn’t make sense. The things I said and did at those times were all about showing my manhood, so why do I treasure them? Yes, they where fun, but it was an act and not who I am. I just wish they'd go away and stop haunting me!