So, I'm going to join on the sadface bandwagon today.
I have been literally flipping out lately. As in, I accidentally flipped while having a demonic, unsightly, and unmanly tantrum over my bed.
Why, you may ask, would a person ever do such a thing?
Well, my mother is pushing me to sign up for several science programs.
For girls.
I love science to death, but there is no way that I am going to just swallow my feelings that I have expressed to her repeatedly and do this. It's bad enough that she seems to insist on talking about me unnecessarily and making sure to use the "right" pronouns over and over again to strangers who I had been hoping would actually see me as the boy I am inside. But no, she does this, and then screams at me because I'm upset. I don't ever want to see "Ms" or "Miss" or "F" with my name, and I don't want to be called a "her" anymore. It's really too much to ask from her, but she could at least be understanding as to how pissed off I get and not go off on me every time.
My dad is barely around, and was drunk Christmas Eve when we went out to a restaurant, and kept saying that I looked cute in a coat and that I was pretty. I seriously wanted to slap some sense into him, and when I asked him to stop, he asked me why I had to be crazy. He's supposed to be the understanding one.
They both promised to take me to therapy starting over the break, but I don't see that happening at all. My dysphoria has me restraining a fire-breathing dragon from going on a rampage every time I have to look at my chest. Thankfully, the offending parts aren't large, but to my eye they are obscenely huge, and I don't have a binder (or a way to get one). I would like to attempt making one, but I can't do anything so much as buy velcro without raising suspicion from my mother. She seems to be wearing down at times, but it's really unhelpful because then she seems to fall right back into her instinctual knowledge "deep within her bones" that I was not meant to be a boy.
Why is it that people can say the most illogical things when you need them to be rational?
On top of this, my teacher wants me to drag myself out into the city tomorrow in all the slush and terrible weather to do a music lesson, just because he decided he wants to take a vacation when I go back to school. I look over to my left, and I see a wall covered in black mold, that still hasn't been ripped out. My bones ache like an old, arthritic persons'- they said I have inflammation, but every test in the book has come back negative. All these problems and no one can give a diagnosis.
Maybe my chest wouldn't be such a terrible issue if I could actually grow to be 5 feet tall.
On a positive note, I got flannel sheets and they look awesome. My first pair of completely masculine sheets, as well as the first Christmas in which relatives gave me awesome shirts (but still made sure to write Ms on the box- can't have everything, I guess).
Edit: Raaaaaaaagh, everything hurts. I know this could be a lot worse, but it seems so unfair that everything feels like going wrong all at once.
