I am sitting here laughing at how RIDICULOUS everything in my life is right now.
It's New Years' Day. I want to start over, and who's stopping me? My LOVING family.
The one my father so maliciously said treats me so horribly, with a voice just dripping with sarcasm. Yeah Dad, they do. And you're in that lovely number.
So where do I even start?
Perhaps with the extended family, all those aunts and uncles and cousins who hate me. What did I do to you? Did I upset you because my mommy and daddy aren't married? Great reason to abandon me when none of you give a damn about religion.
Or my grandmother, the one who has tried to manipulate me into being a pawn in the three-way war between her and my parents.
What would *you* say if you knew that I was a boy, Grandma? How many hours would you scramble to convince me to become a pretty dress-wearing girl who does nothing but obsess over appearance and men? Oh, wait...you already do that. Never mind.
Or the Floridian ones, the grandfather and step-grandmother who have good intentions but call me a young lady at any chance. I lean against a pole and get told that someday that will be the man of my dreams. I don't see you doing this to my cousins...is that because they are cis boys? Does that mean they get to live with no judgment of their lives, while I silently scream as you lecture me on manners?!
Maybe my dear old dad...trigger warning on this one, folks.
Did you really think that anything and everything you do will just disappear? Forgive and forget? NO.
You almost killed me while we were on vacation, and back when I was a toddler, and when I was 14. Even then, you were still twice my size...but you didn't think twice about hitting me in the head, full force, and dropping me in the street to die. Maybe you hoped I would, just like you hoped hurting my mother enough would cause her to miscarry. I know you didn't want me- everyone has said it, including you. And don't think I'm oblivious to your other vices. You dated children, fresh out of high school...you've been lewdly leering at my older cousin since she turned 16. Even now, she is still a BABY. How DARE you look at her that way.
And yet I'm supposed to love you. I'm supposed to be okay with being close to you, dealing with your drunken rage, opening my arms and heart to you. I shared a bed with your alcohol-saturated breath and heavy snores to give you one to sleep in when your home was destroyed, as I prayed for it to stop so I could get some work done. I consider myself lucky you've never so much as looked at me in a perverted manner- maybe our blood ties are too close for even you, or you don't quite see me as a girl, even though you don't as a boy either despite your joking around with my uncle about having a son before I came out to you.
Or am I not good enough for you, just like you told my mother? You made fun of me as a toddler for having puppy fat, so much that I hated myself. I've always tried so hard just to have you notice me for something I've done well. But I'm done.
You said, "You're telling me you don't want to have a father-daughter relationship?". You gave me an arrogant sneer as you did it.
I told you no. And I wouldn't even want a father-son relationship with you either, the one I've so desperately craved for years. I want nothing to do with you.
And you know what, Mom? That goes for you too. More potential triggers.
I'm sorry for ruining your life by making you single-handedly raise me. I'm sorry that I have so many medical issues. I'm sorry I have internal scars and festering wounds. I'm sorry my biggest issue is one you refuse to believe in. I'm sorry I can't be the daughter you want to give you the grandkids you want.
What are you sorry for? How about Dad? At least you apologize before doing the same hurtful things. Dad has never said those words to me.
But I've dealt out a share of rage to my dear old daddy. Now it's your turn, Mother Dearest.
Yes, you were abused as a child and I feel horrible about that. But it's no excuse to inflict pain on me. You know damned well that words can cut deeper than a knife, and can be just as deadly.
You love me one second, and scream at me in the blink of an eye, always starting off with your timeless phrase: "YOU LITTLE C**T! YOU SON OF A B**CH!"
When I was 8, I asked you what "that c word" meant. When you explained, I asked you why you call me that all the time. You denied it.
You denied it like you deny any memories I share pointing out that I am and have been trans, like you twist scenarios and cry to my father how I abuse you. I have hit you, scratched you, kicked you, not as a violent human being, but as a caged animal in psychological agony. Do you think I'm proud of it? Do you think it makes me happy to admit that your mental abuse has pushed me to that point before? I'm not always quiet and shy, but I don't go around hitting even the most obnoxious of people. It takes a hell of a lot to push me over the edge, so congratulations on making it seem like an easy feat.
You always want to put me away. You're the one who needs help, taking out your anger on me, imposing your beliefs on me. I am NOT a psychotic freak. I am a young MAN who turned to you for guidance and was turned away. Remember that when you ask yourself why I want to leave my family behind.
But who can I leave them for at this tender age?
Perhaps the boyfriend who would like to take advantage of my emotional state for his sexual desires.
I loved your humor and wit, your geekiness, your awkward smile and and ice-blue eyes, clear as crystal, set in a snowy pale face framed with golden hair. I loved that you had this lovely body that was androgynous, beautiful and delicate without being ridiculously curvy. I loved your family, who treated me as one of their own, their acceptance and your acceptance of who I really was. And I still love you...just the way I said, no matter if we were together or worlds apart.
What happened to you? Where did everything go wrong?
Writing this is nearly bringing me to tears. The beautiful boy I fell in love with, my shoulder to cry on and confidant, the one who looked to me for support all the times he needed security or a good cry, my best friend, is gone. The one I know now is a hollow monster, a cruel mockery of the angel that once occupied that body. All I want is your happiness, but you're making everything so impossible. I'm not having that much of a physically intimate relationship...you said you understood. You promised you'd wait for me when we went to college, regardless of that. Now all you want is for me to trek all the way to your house, because you have needs. You tell me how all these girls suddenly want you ever since we started dating. Well, you know what?
HAVE THEM. HAVE ALL OF THEM. I DON'T CARE.
JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY.
If you want to break up with me, then just do it. Or at least let me do it so you can be pathetic and cry to your friends about the horrible ->-bleeped-<- it-monster that broke your heart. But don't push me away and then cling to me when I try to end things cleanly. You want drama? You're going to get it if you keep this up, and I assure you, it won't be pretty.
I come visit you as a surprise because you're crying about how you miss me on a daily basis, and you act happy. Two weeks later, am I really supposed to believe you when you say you were over me and I ruined that? Tough luck.
And then you have the nerve to tell me your house is empty on New Year's Eve, as if I should make that journey in the cold while you sit on your rear end. Meanwhile, I don't mean enough to you for you to remember promising to see an awesome movie with me. Swore you wouldn't forget. I believed you, like an idiot.
Nothing here is sunshine and roses. Nothing.
I have a brain tumor. It's benign, but it's there.
Now there are signs of other things amiss in my colon, possibly lymphoma.
I haven't grown an inch in over 6 years. They tell me I never fully hit puberty- but if I do, it'd better not be female puberty. I had that start when I was 10, and it was a literal nightmare for me. But nothing has changed about my body since then, except increasing hair growth. I don't have PCOS or even high T levels, but I'd love to. Then maybe I'd be seen as the boy I am.
I have nowhere to turn to for support except one, maybe two people at school, and that won't get me very far. I've been forbidden from transitioning until I am on my own, but my mother is kidding herself if she thinks I'm going to spend much longer living a lie. My mind cries out for the childhood I never had, the one in which I was a little boy with loving parents and a bunch of friends to play with. And consoling myself is draining all the strength from me. I tell myself I can do this, but I can't do it forever.
So excuse me if I look pissed, random stranger on the street. Excuse me if I sound pissed, guys.
Because I am PISSED.
"Thank you to all the people that have pushed me down, stepped on me, hurt me, turned their back on me or broke my heart.... It has just made me stronger than you." (I don't know who said that.)
From one survivor to another, I'm proud of you and very much impressed by your power. Not that that means much since you don't know me. You are a force to be reckoned with. You put the responsibility squarely where it belongs and can see them for what they are. You can see yourself for who you are. It hurts now and it will for a long time, but they cannot stop you.
Reading that actually helped me. I have a similar relationship with my family and it's hard to get away from it because of feeling of guilt like I'm doing something wrong by calling them abusive. It made me feel more confident about my observations in my own family.
Thank you.
Edge, I may not have ever seen you in real life, but I can say the same to you. You obviously haven't had it easy, and I doubt that too many of us have- but I feel sorry for the ones who don't have some hard knocks when they're young and then get hurt later, because the pain is unnecessarily terrible. I wish you the best of luck, though your strength alone should carry you through.
And Emily? I've been there, and I'm still struggling, but know this-
It is not your fault. They are the only ones to blame here.
I'm glad that my own frustrations funneled into this outlet were actually of help. That feeling of guilt over calling them abusive is a crushing weight of uncertainty and a blow to self-esteem, but in the end, you can rise above this. Confidence is the first step to success and freedom, and I believe in you whole-heartedly.
I just happen to still be climbing, but no boulder is going to dare and push me back down that hill again.
Quote from: Liminal Stranger on January 01, 2013, 12:15:05 PM
I just happen to still be climbing, but no boulder is going to dare and push me back down that hill again.
I like that. Mind if I quote it?
Quote from: Edge on January 01, 2013, 01:43:45 PM
I like that. Mind if I quote it?
'Course not, go right ahead! They tell me I'm good with making inspirational quotes. I just say what's on my mind.