Quote from: Maggie Kay on August 04, 2008, 07:16:44 PM
I am aware of the danger and I have decided that with no better option, I have to risk it. I am prepared should the unthinkable happen.
Nope, you are not aware of it. You would like to be and so imagine that saying she will kill me will make it not happen.
No one is ever "aware of the danger." We always truly believe it will pass us by; avert it's course before we meet it head-on. Like the Shahs of Khwarezm we believe our empire will easily defeat the Golden Horde. We think that even as we die: "This cannot be the end."
QuoteShe has now forced me to agree that I will only see my therapist once a month and that will only be until January when it must stop. I was forced to agree that the orchi is the only trans expense I will ever have. NO FFS, NO facial hair removal, no vaginoplasty. Nothing.
Well, that sounds like a compromise. Doesn't it?
QuoteSomething is better than nothing. She is behaving strangely. She got up at 4:50 and had a shower making soft banging sounds in there. She has a strange look on her face, too very strained and penetrating looks. I did actually worry that I might get it psycho style in the shower this morning. It didn't happen, I was overreacting. Still, I know it is worrisome.
Your complete subjugation is something. Soon she will tire of playing. You're simply going to be too passive to amuse her and her anger will lash at you for it.
QuoteThere are people that I can call, my doctor said I could call her anytime as she is aware of the circumstances and is a colleague of my therapist. I also have Sheena in Santa Cruz who calls me every day so I am not completely alone. Thankfully, I am alone here in the house and I have the family vehicle. I don't have to worry about being ambushed by my wife coming home early.
Those people will arrive in time to protect you? Seldom does anyone get a chance to call anyone when the tsunami comes, Maggie.
QuoteHopefully, there will be a way out of this dark forest. I'm looking.
There is. You simply do not care for what you see as the choices you can still make. The light isn't in the dark forest. It's outside it. The way is whatever way brings you through the trees. Anyway but dying, luv. Dying neither in body nor soul.
QuoteI have spent the weekend typing like mad. I lost myself in writing my novel. It was a great diversion. However, I felt that there was a demon lurking over my shoulder every second. The specter of the life I must lead haunts me. It hovers over me like a shrouded figure promising doom and destruction.
Yes. Typing. Being in the world of your novel and that wonderful alcohol drug that bites you the next day. Oblivion, sweet release!
Oblivion is no answer for the living, luv.
QuoteMy novel allows me to escape this creature and to peer into the screen instead of looking into the darkness of the house. I cling to the memories and the made up world that I created for the story that I am creating. It sustains me, protects me and shields me from the despair of reality. I wrote over 10000 words over the weekend and it was marvelous.
Your novel doesn't protect you, no more so than not seeing horror makes it disappear. The Nazis discovered that it's much easier to make bodies than to dispose of them without a trace. They rise up through the earth after the rain and make a great stench throughout the landscape.
Ya know, I am truly hating myself for writing this to you. You are so nice and delicate and just plain wonderful. It's a horrid chore that I feel I must see through. But I shall surely hate myself for doing it. *sigh*
Yes, reality. But what do you know of that? You've made reality out to be living in a prison abuse horror or living in a homeless shelter and being abused by its inmates and other street people.
Abuse everywhere you turn. That's always what the victim sees: their own abuse everywhere written into the hearts of everyone.
There are other avenues. You simply cannot grasp that there are. No matter who points out to you that other possibilities exist.
QuoteStill, my nights are filled with nightmares and waking up every hour. My mornings are full of dread as I know it is required that I have coffee with Jane. I cannot dare to skip this hollow ritual or there are consequences. I tried to write today but could only manage to edit a few passages. Finally, in desperation, I re-discovered a long lost remedy and one that I used for years before the turn of the century. ALCOHOL.
So you dread, you are troubled by horrid dreams -- what are they, Maggie, those dreams? What monsters lurk in your sleep? They are dreams of escaping this aren't they? Imagining what terrible horrors lie outside the prison of your protection.
Not much different than the institutionally trained prisoner contemplating release and his or her own inability to cope with "life on the outside." No difference at all. You are a prisoner.
QuoteOh, yes, my wife saw her gender therapist yesterday and this morning she tells me "I am sorry for how I treated you, what you did was not intentional" She wouldn't go into it further but I assume that she meant being trans is not my fault now. I'll take that.
Another apology? Gotta hold onto you, ya know? Make sure the thing that keeps her knowing that she is not the most miserable soul on the planet is still available: you, luv. She wants to keep you. So she'll cajole and apologize. But she'll tire of that too, as soon as she's mollified you enough to keep you in place.
The more sure she becomes that you'll never, ever, never leave the more she'll go back to the old ways. But their force will escalate: just like her father escalated. You've been in recovery. You know what happens when the addiction is fed, doncha? It doesn't get better, love. It just won't. It will only grow.
She'll follow the program to keep you, keep you chained. And you will sit there, bleak and troubled, still in fear, waiting for the knell to sound and the executioner to sing his song.
O, Maggie, you've given up! On yourself. You've given up. Please don't, don't give up. Don't die.
Dammit, now I truly hate myself. I've made you cry.
Make it worth the effort and the loathing, my dear.
Embrace the truth that you are neither alone, unloved nor incapable of making the break. Please do it before you are broken.
Nichole
