Since I last wrote, things have changed dramatically. I am going to start here and say that I now consider myself an anti-fascist freedom fighter and hope to take part in the upcoming fight as we expose tyranny, fascism and the oligarchy's unmasked face.
Since I last wrote, I have come out as Transgender- female to male. I have lived my entire life uncomfortably, miserable in my body as it is. I'd like to have a few years of feeling like I am in my the right body so I am headed to place where there are others like me who can help guide me. And once I have realized my goal I will be there to help others that are at this very moment beginning their journey.
Since I last wrote, I have decided to go low to no contact with family. They do not understand one single thing about me other than that I annoy and frustrate and, according to them, abuse them. I am setting off to make my own family. I believe that with the tools I have at my disposal now and the knowledge I have gained from recovery from C.P.T.S.D. -- Complex PTSD-- (there is no recovery actually, only mitigation and pro-activeness) I might be able to actually hold on to a precious connection with a human being that likes me back. MIGHT I say ! but might is better than what I used to believe: that it was not ever going to happen. I'd given up entirely in fact.
Since I last wrote: I shut down for the past 4 years. Living with my narcissist sister, I stayed in my room for 4 years, playing video games and reading about politics. Studying how the fascists took hold and how to root them out. I can only do what I can do and I plan on going the field medic.field journo route. But I think I gave myself diabetes from sitting around so much. Honestly, walking out of my room when my sister is home gives me the worst case of absolute dread. I can't even look at her anymore. To explain why is going to have to wait for another post. Suffice to say I have to get out from under her thumb; she wants to control everything from how I set my drapes to what I eat off of. This is not good for my free spirit . I broke under the weight of the yoke of perfection she tried to harness me with.
There was/is no love in this apartment, this city, this state. No love from any of my blood family. No friends to be made (I've tried so hard. And the couple of friends I did make, I just stopped hearing from them one day! ) No reason to stick around, truly. I haven't had a hug in over a year. Who lives like that!? Sure, sure. I should have gone outside more. But to go outside was to remember that I was in Alabama, living with my sister. I am weak, I let myself go. I gave up. Then I met someone who woke me up- I found a fire within. It was misdirected but it was a fire non the less. This fire burned brightly but had to be -- sorted out and moved to another passion, my passion for bringing the truth to the world. Spreading truth about what is going on in politics... what the oligarchy is really up to. So thank you, S, for waking me up. I think I was on my way out. I certainly did not care one bit about anyone else other than me and my ex.
Things pertaining to the move fell into place so fast one wonders if it's not destined. The plane ticket was bought for me by a fan, I found a place to live that I can afford and am on the lease already-- and awaiting my flight. My ex tells me not to mention any 'freedom fighter' stuff in my writing . I know that if the government brands Antifa terrorists I could go to prison if I was seen with or around them. It certainly sounds like it could be a possibility.
My entire life has been leading up to this. The military training, the off the grid living at my dad's homestead in Alaska, the first aid training, even knowledge of horses and motorbikes and cars and my charming wit and my love of writing, it's all going to go to good use. People see the underground of Portland through the media's eyes, they do not see the beauty of it. I'm talking about the normal everyday citizens that move about in the shadows and get things done despite red tape. (Get things done like helping the homeless, spreading awareness of injustice, etc. ) These are the people who, upon hearing that the city is going to raze a tent city, go to the tent city and start helping the people move. (If the homeless don't have the time / wherewithal to move their stuff in time, the stuff gets TRASHED). That kind of action. The kind of thing that gets shit on here in Alabama. Some would argue 'why not stay in Alabama where such actions would be even more appreciated and needed'. I say to that, I would, if I had the strength to live in Alabama as a trans person AND do that kind of action. But I'd be fighting on so many fronts in that case and I'm not THAT strong. I need the support of the PDX trans community. I know where to find them, they know me. I started some relationships in that group and they welcomed me and invited me to all the things and I did not go because of the situation with my ex. But this time I am unfettered and intend to go to all the things.
Walking around in the moment, in this body, accepting myself as human and not constantly beating myself up, that is the goal. Just to be. And to be WHO I am. Not what everyone else thinks I should be. Soon this body hopefully will reflect what I want it to reflect; the way I have always looked at myself in the mirror-- ever since I had that dream where I had grown a beard and for the duration of that dream I was happy, I felt right. I felt whole. I woke up and was so terribly depressed that the beard had left me. And that my breasts were still present. I have lugged these damn things around for far too long and have finally come to grips with the fact that I hate them and want them gone as gone can be. Burned in the ovens with the rest of the biohazards. These things that have made my entire life a living hell.
You cannot imagine what it is like, if you are a female who wears a bra every day, to hate bras more than you hate anything else in the world with perhaps the exception of eggplant. Firstly it has never happened in all my 56 years that I have found a bra that fits right, even having tried being measured by a pro. They irritate. They rub. They make me want to scream. But I have to wear them as my nipples are huge and always erect. Always. When then started I was mortified beyond belief. It happened because of nipple play one can only guess. Nipple play when I was doing S & M (or BDSM whatever you call it now) in San Fran and just trying to have a little bit of sexual fun and look what I got! I got the absolute need to wear a bra no matter what. Just my luck. So... to imagine myself waking up of a summer morning wearing nothing but boxers and walking outside in them to pick up the mail-- that is my dream. I have hated bras and women's underthings and women's clothing all my bloody life. HATED. I had always felt that I was a big, strong, and confident MAN-- despite being a 5'6'' 140 lb female type person. I played rugby (I was a prop! Why did they let me play at prop when I am so small, I do not understand) , I raced sled dogs, I broke horses. I worked construction. It wasn't until someone remarked on how hard I work for such a small woman (I have some really thin wrists and ankles. My default is skinny) that I realized... I'm not a huge man. It always confused me when I didn't fit into the XL size flannel shirts or the huge boots needed for logging. And yes I have done some logging too... in New Hampshire.
So I realized I was female and dialed it back a notch or two with the extreme sports and what not. But my consciousness has been growing since then, I have been learning and growing. Some major setbacks, sure. Recently, a setback so severe I plunged myself into an abyss but managed to climb out. A bit ragged but intact. Lonely though: I pushed some people away. Again. But then, that might be for the best. Probably is.
My therapist is backwoods, small town, doesn't even know what CPTSD is and certainly isn't qualified to counsel a budding trans man but she did give me one bit that I took away and carry with me: I can start my life over any time, and I'm doing that now, this is the second half of my life and there is NO REASON it cannot be way better, way more comfortable and way more productive than the first.
I believe the key is to find happiness in what I do produce. I will never be happy making burgers to line the pockets of a corporation , but I will be happy if I flip burgers on a grill to feed the Rose City Antifa folk. I have always feared dying by bullet. I had a dream once where I got shot in the neck and died. It terrified me. It was a recurring dream that had me walking around expecting to get shot at any time. Don't know where it came from, and don't know why I had it then and not now but I am no longer afraid of this. Death doesn't scare me anymore because I have accepted my station. I have also vowed to improve it; not with monetary wealth but with love and kindness and by surrounding myself with people who WANT me around. Not want me around to do their bidding.
There has always been a jackboot on my neck in one form or another. We all have jackboots on our necks. I just aim to slip out from under it for the second portion of my life. To the best of my ability. And help others that don't want to live that way. I see myself in my very old age with young radicals all around listening to me tell tales of the 2020 election and how we fought tyranny and fascism and (hopefully) won. Or, it could be we don't win (this is more likely) and we'll still be fighting -- and I will regale them with the old stories. The stories we are making right now.
So my newest thing is to tell the truth when and wherever possible. It's not going over so well here at home where my family is used to lying about everything... but it is going well within my own psyche. It has come to my attention I have some toxic traits I wasn't aware of. I have some work to do! I'd like to get out in the world and work on my skills.... with people who are also working on theirs. This total facade that people put up here in the south is really draining me. It's almost impossible to get past, except superficially. I crave depth!
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