Fatigue de Bataille

Feeling an immense amount of grief this morning abt Marlena. I think what kills me the most is recognizing how much she disliked me by like...2014. I think doing FWT together was a really bad idea, and we trauma bonded in a really unhealthy way that winter, especially after I crashed the car. That term was rough, and she was so cruel to me, and we drank too much. If my dad had taken me home, or threatened to stop paying for my college if I went to live with Marlena, or anything like that, I think both our lives would’ve been so much different. I absolutely should not have gone to live with her that summer, and I think it’s so fucking nuts that no adult in either of our lives said anything. By the time school started back up for me, she HATED me. I think she did love me, too, but her hatred was palpable and vicious, and she was so cruel. I look back on it all and I really don’t blame her—it must be very scary to be in a relationship with someone who drank as much as I was at the time, and on top of that I was no longer attracted to her but was too repressed and confused to figure that out although it must have felt obvious to her. I would’ve abused me, too, in her position! I just...sometimes I get very very lost wondering what would be, had she kicked me out in 2015, instead of spending the next 13 months r*ping, h*tting, and screaming at me. You know? Like, she paid the bills, I called the cops on her TWICE, I don’t understand why she didn’t end it. I don’t understand why my dad didn’t stop me...I don’t understand why md+w didn’t stop her. And now, she has been dead for five years, and I miss her every day, and I feel so much despair wondering what could have been if only one of us could have escaped. I hope to never let myself be in a relationship of any caliber ever again where we dislike each other as much as Marlena and I did for most of our relationship.

I am so frustrated by how much Ian haunts me. It’s nothing to do w his inherent like goodness as a friend and had everything to do w our codependency. But I find myself pining for the type of relationship we had and I’m just never ever ever going to have that kind of friendship again and honestly I HOPE I never do! It was toxic and bad how much we complained to each other abt our lives. There was an unspoken sexual component to our friendship that was interpreted as chaste when it was legit anything but that. We would pull each other down if one of us was doing better than the other. I have a lot of anger around the fact if I had realized I wanted to fuck men sooner I probably could have worked my way thru our friendship more quickly and could have avoided a lot of heartache (or who knows? Maybe we would’ve dated, and could’ve had it end organically when our relationship ended). As it is our friendship ended tumultuously because I realized I like men and that meant I had feelings for him and he couldn’t handle it. And like...I don’t want it to seem like I think we were “end game” bc we obviously weren’t lol, although I wish we could’ve been in a better position to admit our feelings. As it is I feel left w a lot of grief and a lot of confused gender feelings and more than anything I miss my friend. I miss the person I would text minor inconveniences to. I miss the person who acted as my logic soundboard. I miss the person who helped me get into grad school the first time. And like a lot of the stuff we did together was terrible, he pushed me to drink, he assaulted me on camera, xyz. I’ll probably never have a close friend like him again though and that does really suck to realize. It’s lonely to realize, especially after 10 years w him. I don’t want to talk to him, but I wish I had a him-adjacent friend; I probably never will again. And that’s very lonely and very sad.

Feeling bitterly justified in being like 👀 at an old friend who viscerally despised c*ntra and ph*losophyt*be for vague accusations of antisemitim (this person????? Isn’t Jewish????????) meanwhile pt came out as trans and it is IMPOSSIBLE for me not to be like 👀👀👀 you just don’t like trans women who disagree w u huh lol

v n i are like officially starting the fertility process soon which is just terrifying. the goal right now is to find out if her equipment works and we will move forward from there once we have data. it has been really sweet and nice to talk to her abt how goddamn loved our kid will be

sometimes talking to fellow trans men about basic physiology (e.g., “testosterone won’t make you ejaculate”) feels like talking to cis ppl about gender at all, in that it literally feels like talking to a fucking baby and i’d rather talk to a horny man thinking w his dick than to a 20 year old trans boy daydreaming about his dick when it comes to these concerns tbh. like i am just so exhausted and am probably going to immediately leave these groups again bc it just iiiiiiisn’t worth it to me

i do not often regret how late i started T especially considering how early i knew i was trans, but the number one thing that makes me regret how late i started is that i really didn’t get to experience like........the adult-end of puberty. like holy shit, if i could’ve been 2.5 years on T in 2018, when i started T, i could have been out living my goddamn best transmasc hoe life at the time i was just really starting to accept i’m bi. all the dicks i coulda sucked....

God I saw this tag and it made me even sadder, bc part of what’s up is problems w me and v. I think and hope we will get over them but this week in particular has been really tough. I suck in this situation too. She is depressed, which can make her mean. And I’m shitty back. It’s the pandemic, almost certainly, and it’s not constant, but it’s sucked this week. I’m very sad

I’m stoned snd having a rough day and was thinking abt it & stuff that was brought up in class, which ultimately led me to thinking abt the jobs my mom worked when she could. The jobs I remember her having besides waitressing were when she worked at a day center for disabled adults, and when she worked as the secretary at a transitional corrections facility type place (halfway house is what she called it). And I was just kind of crushed w the realization my mom would probably be so fucking proud of me. Like she would probably think the things I’ve done snd studied are meaningful and important. I’m emotional about it. I am more similar to her than I care to admit and I am still so wounded by her death. I am very sad now

If things go according to plan, which is a huge if, v and I will be trying for a fucking baby this time next year