Ramblings 3
Nothing new, same issues . I miss the people here. I have been really struggling the last few months. I have been really trying and it seems like I am going back instead of forward.
I say it a lot but I hate my body. Between the pains minor and major, the anxieties, the brain issues the fat , ok I will stop there. I just hate my body.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami why people try to be happy and love others. Well I was in the dark, like you (sort of) for 18 years, living in fear, from the age of 11 my mind and body turned numb. Then it took a good year or so, to realise I was now in the human world. It's like I'd been given another chance, a chance at a real life. I know I'm not brave enough to do some things I really want to. But I have seen the kindness in people know, ice learned so much and I have everything I could ever of imagined. I'm not gonna waste a single second. I'm gonna be the best me. People choose happiness, cause it gives them a warmth inside, a good feeling, and then you realise you can be and spread that love into the hearts of others ❤
And yeah! I hate my body too, so it's all good we can be ugly together ❤
Trigger warning for gender related talk, possibly childhood trauma and abuse. Sexual thoughts, depends on where my mind takes this right now.
Things are looking up, never mind, I am just looking at the ceiling. Sorry more sarcasm
This fog my mind is usually in seems to be moving around in my head along with my thoughts.
I try to grasp onto one and I can’t even see what it is.
One thing I don’t think I talk about here very much if at all is something that definitely doesn’t matter but it is something that has been a string of thoughts that I have grasped onto periodically lately.
I hope my friends here won’t shun me for the following talk. It only relates to me and my issues .
Strap yourself in if you are brave enough to continue reading, this may be my longest rambling segment yet if I can stay focused.
I am what the world calls a trans woman (regrettably only on the inside). For the majority of my life I had no ideas what that was, or even that it existed at all. I just knew I was different. Even now I don’t fully understand my part in that identity that describes me. Once I realized this epiphany, I tried to get as much information on this as I could. I tried reaching out to centers and groups for people like me, however other than some helpful information and a few possible contacts. Not much available. Supposedly there was a group or two in the town I will be going to meet the surgeon for my back. Upon checking into that, they no longer exist. I even reached out to ones in other states and they were nice enough and offered to let me reconnect with them to chat if I wanted to. I wanted to but my anxieties were working against me. If I was going to be able to get information from a place like that I would have to do it person to person, even as difficult as that would be for me, the fear of some unkind person on the other end of the phone or computer screen that actually hates people like me ranks higher on the fear list.
I had never explored the full appearance makeover until this time in my life.
For reference this was not that long before my complete breakdown a few years back. Actually it may have been a year or two before that.
I eventually got brave enough to schedule and keep an appointment with a place in a town not that far away for an extremely discrete lesson in makeup application. They were wonderful about it, while I was a complete wreck. I did buy some things there and afterwards bought some online. Plus of course clothes etc. when I had my breakdown it all went in the trash.
Now to backtrack to around the beginning of this part of my miserable journey.
I was molested by the sperm donor of a father . Full transparency, I had always suspected as much , even as a young child, but it was never truly verified until one of the couple of times I made the mistake of looking back and trying to reconnect with my mother and sisters that I had walked away from so long ago. In those short conversations I was made aware that my suspicions were true.
At the young age of five or six I remember exploring myself in a sexual way, and having thoughts of that ….that thing. Thoughts involving him. I knew that I was not normal because of that and it was a very shameful and wrong thing to do or even think . I knew I couldn’t speak about it to anyone.
I did over the years of my youth explore those same types of things with other boys. I think I was always the instigator. However, nobody knew I preferred girls clothes over boys, not even my mother, she probably did and just never broached the topic. Like everything else, unless I was being punished, her lips were mostly sealed. After school was over, I explored and dressed behind closed doors. The shame would get to be too much and I would trash all of it pretty regularly.
I ended up marrying a woman that I never should have married. Not because of the topic I am trying to write about but for deeper more meaningful reasons that relate to the meaning of marriage.
Maybe another time for that discussion.
I was able to keep it quiet from hrr for mosf of the marriage, but she eventually found out , our marriage went downhill for a long time before that and the distrust began and embedded deep inside her, she insisted that I was cheating on her, accusing me of doing so for years and I never did cheat on her. I did come extremely close to doing just that with someone, and this was several years into being accused of it and literally no relationship of any kind with my wife fot several years. It was not right of me to do so but I was beyond desperate to be with someone who wanted to be with me.
She never believed me, which eventually searching through everything I put anywhere and she found my stash of clothes, etc., her first words yelling at me were accusing me of being a perverted child molester because I liked women’s clothes.
That was like stabbing me repeatedly. I finally was able to get her to listen to me and understand that wasn’t remotely true. I explained these things in a very vague way to make her think I was just a crossdresser nothing more. Even though our marriage was truly only there on paper only. I didn’t want to admit it was completely over and get a divorce. After my parents divorced and everything that happened within the confines of that sick mess. I swore to myself if I got married I wouldn’t get divorced. I also swore that I would be a better parent than either of my so called ones, and I ended up being the worst at it.
If she knew my true desires and thoughts and the main reason for the clothes, it would have been over on the spot and she would have yelled it from the highest towers, rented highway signs, whatever she could to condemn the person I was.
After several years, she left along with her adult kids.
about 10 years after she left I had my latest breakdown.
That part of me which is the real me at least in form . That part of me will no longer be any part of the outside me. The chance for that to ever happen has long since passed. My health conditions keep piling up and are all headed downhill not anywhere else.
So with all the regrets in my life, this would have to be the biggest regret. If I would’ve had the strength and courage to discuss my issues honestly and completely as a child and a teenager, in a time when those things were definitely not discussed openly, that true root part of me might’ve had a chance to be watered and nurtured and allowed yo blossom. Instead I kept it hidden inside all my other baggage forever.
There is a lot more details that I remember at the moment however the rating for admission would drastically change. Besides my focus is definitely slipping away.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami
- Friend. There are other persons here that feel that their inside feels like a woman and they have a body like a man.
- So you learned to put on makeup.
- I guess the molesting caused by your father was sexual - and if it was it was terrible wrong of him to do that. About sexual fantasies of small boys I don't know - but I guess it is natural.
- So you liked the clothing of women - and tried for yourself. So what - nothing wrong with that.
- Yes - you have been married. It's very sad that she said that you had been cheating on her when you had not done that. Very bad.
- So she found out about the clothes. I guess she didn't know anyone who did the same as you and therefore could not react in a more mature way. I'm very sad for the hurt you may have felt.
- So you have children. Are they yours or hers from another marriage? Can I ask why you feel you were not a good parent? (You don't have to answer if it's too hard for you).
These sentences I don't understand: Or - I understand it this way: To live out (dress like a woman etc) you will not do anymore because of your health condition.
"That part of me which is the real me at least in form . That part of me will no longer be any part of the outside me. The chance for that to ever happen has long since passed. My health conditions keep piling up and are all headed downhill not anywhere else."
@Helgafy
Yes the molesting was sexual.
The children were hers from a previous marriage.
I tried in the beginning to be what I didn’t know how to be… a good parent. Once my wife and started drifting apart, we started arguing about everything, she was one that needed to continue an argument from start to finish with no breaks, she was extremely vocal and if wanted to walk away to cool down she followed still vocalizing the whole time, if I locked a door behind me she would break the door open. I had even tried driving away and she would follow me to continue the argument. About the time this arguing began, in her eyes no matter what I expected of the children mattered. She would not support me in any way in front of them. She constantly berated me to them . I ended up turning back to drinking to numb or dull the sound of her voice in my ears.
There are a lot of negativity that reflected on the children. I didn’t handle myself like I should have. Her son when he became a teenager became physically violent with me and then the arguments escalated a lot because now there are 3 involved, then her daughter joined into berating me . I ended up backed into a corner and not handling things well at all. I didn’t treat them the way they should have been treated. There was so much hate being spread and I gave up trying to be a proper parent. I lost myself in the drink. Alcohol.
Her boy was a mess for quite awhile. Many years after they left I heard that he killed himself.
There are a lot more details I did leave out. But the basics are here. The worst battles were with him . He was very much attached to his mother, he was born extremely premature, she became extremely attached to him because of this. So as time progressed he contacted child welfare and told lots of outrageous stories like how I threw him out of the house through a second story window. I am not going to rattle off any more of his stories. He is no longer alive to defend himself.
I strongly hold onto the belief that I played a very big role in his decision to end his life.
To live out as a woman , in my mind means going through the hormone replacement process, surgeries to add and remove body parts. The whole transformation. Which from what I understand goes against God.
At my age to go through that it is not a realistic option, especially with my health and mental conditions.
The only possible scenario of that part of me being able to step forward would be if I found a partner/relationship that supported and encouraged that part of me to come forward.
I don’t think a relationship is going to happen for me,so that part of me doesn’t exist in the real world for me.
Hopefully I answered your questions well enough. If not please ask again, or if I missed something, point it out to me and I will address it for you.
Thank you for asking me abut these things.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami it's not fair 🙁 you should be allowed to be whoever you are without any fear of judgement. I bet your a very beautiful lady and a very handsome prince ❤ how would you like me to address you?? My sweet prince/princess? Or just my angel?? You know my name I think🤔🤔 well i.I'm Lola😁 well actually ...
Princess Lola unicorn tiny smurf the third😎
So after reading that my friends, are you still truly with me?
@Iamwhoiamwhoami always and forever ❤❤❤ hugs you tightly ❤❤❤
I glanced back at that last bit of rambling and I don’t remember writing it. Not the first time that has happened, however that was a bit of information that maybe wasn’t suited for this area. I probably should’ve put that in with the lgbt community. I have tried to keep any writings regarding that part of me in the section it belongs. So if I offended anyone I am sorry.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami never be sorry for showing your true coulours ❤
I just noticed when I add to this section of writings, my latest ramblings, I of course tap reply and it pops up under the original segment. And those words are the epitome of all my writings. How much of my writings, of my life is just a repeat of prior days?
@Iamwhoiamwhoami you never repeat yourself, cause everything you write comes from your heart and mind, so your words are never repeated ❤ and if they are I still want to read it over agsin ❤
Most of the time at least since this latest fiasco with the back and leg pain, I try to not look back over any writings, at least when I am going to try and write from the mind. Not sure now how effective this actually is, it seems I am writing on repeat. What am I accomplishing with this.
I should just go back through and list out my thoughts and save a lot of time and effort. I could just number each different segment and just come here and say for example just put a number 1, 2, or 3 referencing the segment of the moment, I could keep a cheat sheet by the bed and it would make for simple reading.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami nah, don't do that. I want to hear the way your heart and mind feels about it at the time ❤
Right now I’m grasping on something between a 6 and a 3.
ok, that idea might not work out to well.
I am getting a lot of flashes of ?memories? right now.
I remember snippets of different times of me riding a bicycle, well, riding a bicycle in each snippet, but multiple different bicycles. So I suppose I might’ve liked that at one point in time, or it was my only means of transportation. Who knows.
I am now getting a memory of what must have been me in school. I can’t tell how old I was, but it seems that I was being prodded by others around me to pick on another person then, I am getting paid back for my stupidity by getting beat up by that person .
I am also getting images of me working in a fast food restaurant late at night, it seems like it was closing time. Leaving with other employees and going to their house and then going to school. . Also an image of me driving and delivering pizzas. It must be my car , because I’m then getting out of that car in school parking lot.
Another brief image is of me sleeping under abandoned train cars.
Why am I getting all these images apparently of me in my youth?
@Iamwhoiamwhoami
It's sad that you was beatened up in school. It's also sad if you didn't always have a place to stay and slept under abandoned train cars.
@Helgafy
I had a place with my mother, I just didn’t want to be there.
so it was by my choice.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami to understand our past we have to remember it. Your getting flashes now, cause you pushed all of your memories out. Bike riding sounds fun🙂 maybe theese falshes of your youth is a step forward ❤
@Iamwhoiamwhoami
I guess that must have been because your father was still in the house. So, so sorry about that. The child welfare should have helped you. (If they're good in the US).
It’s hard to explain, partly because I don’t remember what was going through my mind at the time, and partly because I was as wrapped up in my head as I am now and I felt I didn’t belong anywhere because of my thoughts and behaviors.
I didn’t feel loved I suppose.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami
Can we - your writers here at your thread - put cotton all over you. I wish love for you. Maybe you can inhale that from us.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami
I think it is not so often a person is not in contact with her/his mother as I understand is how it is in your life. It is difficult to understand why it is like that, also your sisters - that you're not in contact with them. It must be very traumatic for you and my heart is really bleeding for you why it is like that.
I, still to this day have not found an easy way to explain this.
Let me see if I can round up some memories.
My sisters and I were all sexually molested by our “father “
my father spent a lot of money trying to buy forgiveness from the sister who was abused the worst. In the meantime my mother started really pushing the psychiatrists and therapists on me around the time they finally started going through divorce. The last time she attempted that was when she committed me to a hospital, and it was I don’t remember how many months I was there a nurse started talking to me and was hinting about the sexual abuse I experienced as a child and that if I explained everything I remembered about it I would be released. . I knew then that something was not right about that . But I told a detailed partly true mostly exaggerated story. I was then discharged a day or so later. My mother picked me up and took me directly to a psychiatrist that was in a building in the same lot as the hospital. He proceeded to question me about my story and up until that point I stood by it as all true, then he asked me to sign a legal document stating it was all factual so they could use it against my”father “ in the divorce. I got up and told him off and did the childish storm out to moms car. After that day she didn’t take me to another counselor or anything. After the divorce, my sister forgave my “father “ and holidays became a battle over where my sisters and I went on holidays, we never spent the night at his place but I was always pressured by my sisters to go with them because they didn’t want to be there alone. After a few years of this I reached the point of having enough. My “father “ never bought gifts he just gave money, reinforcing how important money was to him. That final day he handed me a cheesy card with a good amount of money in it, I looked at the money then at him put everything back in the envelope and handed it to him and said have a nice life. My sisters started voicing their shock or whatever but nobody followed me out the door. I drove back to mothers house and later on when my sisters got there I was berated for leaving, for how I left and what I said, nobody was concerned about my feelings in the matter. So needless to say the first opportunity to come up I left and that was basically that.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami
Thank you for writing - so hard, hard memories.
I am getting multiple images of me getting beat up and I appear to be keeping my hands in my pockets. One of these images involves literally getting karate kicked multiple times as I seem to be walking out the doors of what appears to be a school, I again have my hands in my pockets and am casually walking towards a lot of kids in different groups and a basketball court or something in the distance. I just seem to casually keep walking as this person continues to keep kicking me. When this person stops and walks away I turn around and start walking towards the school. The next image is of me in a ?doctors office? My arm being hung above me by some contraption. The doctor is explaining something about a boxers break and that they need to spin the bone back in its correct orientation, which involves rotating it 180 degrees. That seems to be it on that one.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami
Again - it's very sad that you were beaten. Did not the teachers look after the children in the school-yard?
I don’t fully remember, but I am sure they did.
@Iamwhoiamwhoami remembering is not always easy, especially ones of bullying and abuse🙁 hugs you tightly ❤
Your flashes seem to be getting mixed up, like casually walking whilst being beaten. Maybe the more you remember the more it will make sense. You are truly amazing ❤
@Tinywhisper11
Beautiful written Tiny.
@Tinywhisper11
I am hoping you’re ok
💕💕💕Soft warm hugs, I love you 💕💕💕
