Diary.

stay quiet,

pledge with no sound.

Stagger your wary breathes.

Step forward hand in hand,

gently and unwaveringly quiet.

let only your heart dominate the harsh pitter-patter as you march on.

Brethren guarded against the odds.

When the beasts expect riot,

let each step bellow in your honor.

Live on earnestly. And know that I’ll be forever grateful.

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Working harder this week! I’m trying my best, my body is sore!

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Today I feel a bit down about the fact that when I was younger I got sad and my brains only logical response was to do nothing for a really really long time about it.

Thankfully I’ve gotten more comfortable with it over time. Always grateful that the ones I visit are pretty respectful. They usually get the gist of what I am and avoid the subject all together, and just try to offer a solution as quick as possible.

Currently feeling like someone threw a cinder block at my groin, so hopefully the trip was worth it.

I’ve gone years dealing with pain and constant discomfort that’s lost me so many opportunities.

As shocking as it may be, waiting out the pain of potentially serious medical issues for weeks, or months isn’t healthy for me.

Awful as it is, this is the body I’m stuck with. I’ve got to care for it.

These things may be embarrassing, and isolating - but I’m insanely proud of myself and grateful for overcoming it and seeking care.

Some things that’s been helpful is remembering that these things do not define me. That I know my truth. That I’m just taking care of the body I’m in. Sometimes it makes me feel like a parasite taking care of my host. But the whole idea is that at least for medical stuff, treating my body as a whole separate entity helps me cope.

Reassuring myself that I’m doing nothing wrong and that nine times out of ten the doctor will be way less phased than I am helps with the embarrassment.

I feel loved and appreciated today. I cleaned, I cleaned, I helped, I cleaned.

Burgers and veggie fries for dinner, I’m too full for all the desserts we took home.

I’m not making progress that anyone can really see, but I feel it. I feel it.

My first thought of the day isn’t “God dammit.”

In fact, I look forward to waking up so I can have coffee.

Sitting idle is slightly more boring than it was before.

I’m looking forward to things, getting up and doing tasks, extending my energy to things I’d have none for any other time. I don’t get so sick.

I need to take my iron better, I’ve been dizzy. But all my other meds I take on time.

I think I’ve brushed my teeth, or at least used mouthwash, every day last month. I didn’t today, admittedly, I will tonight.

Isn’t that amazing?

I still feel this sadness, I still feel unearned, guilty, but it’s faded. I’m sad, but not enough.

It’s so nice to not just be constantly either anxious, angry, or sad all day. I’m smiling and laughing more. Conversation feels less like a chore, despite the struggle.

I’m less irritated. I still get overwhelmed. I still think about all the horrible things that could happen if I step outside. But I’m less scared.

I’m scared, but not scared enough!

I really hope this continues. I have a busy summer to look forward to. I have so many goals. There’s so much.

At the grocery store, a woman talking to my mother about medicine and Jesus, asked her if I was her son. She took “yes” without a second thought, and carried on about how grateful she was about being baptized.

After, we stopped at a general store for some cheaper items. I held open the door for a man who said “thank you young lady.”

A couple very obvious observations from this:

Standing next to my mother, I can very easily pass as a little boy running errands with her.

On my own, I am just a young looking girl.

Either way, I’ll never get treated my own age.

When I visit a smoke shop, the book store, or walk through town I’m always gendered correctly.

However, when I travel via the bus to my appointments the driver always calls me “young lady,” or “ma’am.”

No observations from those, it never makes sense.

I have figured out though, that sadly, having visible facial hair, or hairy legs does not change a thing. People just decide what they want when they see me and go with it!

All I can do is be a little more cautious.

The only complaint about these new meds so far is I have an odd sour taste in my mouth all the time. Nearly metallic, and sick. Not miserable, but hard to ignore.

I seem to struggle a lot with wanting to relapse when I’m making progress. Still clean, still nice to be. I’m just uncomfortable with being comfortable.

There’s probably a lot of pretty, or smart sounding metaphors for it. There’s one about shoes that’s similar.

Theres lots of darker things I’m refusing to let myself write in ink tonight. I think that gives the feelings too much power sometimes.

The real facts are that today was a decent day, I was just mostly irritated. I expected to be, but it definitely leaves you feeling drained at the end, doesn’t it?

I can’t let that cloud my mind.

It’s the first that hasn’t made me sick, and surprisingly - the stars are a little less cruel to me now.

My head is a bit quieter. The dreams are less exciting.

But I feel quite dull, and dysphoric.

Another T anniversary is coming. I always get in my head around this time. I wish it was more of a celebration.

I often avoid mirrors, unless I’m shaving - or fixing my eyebrows with a comb to look more masculine.

There’s periods where I avoid looking for so long that I forget exactly what I look like. How off I look from how I perceive myself.

I take a look, and I’m met with dread. Heart sinking disappointment.

I don’t find myself all that unappealing, practically speaking. Also most days, I still see a guy in the reflection.

But when I look, I can see exactly why I don’t pass to other people. Even though it’s inconsistent when I do and don’t pass, and doesn’t always make sense.

There’s things in life you just don’t have control over, and it’s truly awful.

It’s exhausting to ruminate on it. But I think it’s healthy to allow yourself to be angry at the world at times.

I’m angry, I’m devastated when I look at my own face. I feel constantly askew in my own skin.

That’s okay.

It’s okay that I’m angry, it’s okay that it’s unfair. I. Accept I can’t change it, and I accept that I can only hope for the best.

I accept that I’m managing the best I can with what I was given.

I know the truth.

I keep hearing birds outside my house that sound like stray cats. Apparently they’re actually called Gray Catbirds! How silly is that?

I love the sound of it, a bit startling, but pretty!

A 20 minute walk,

a 15 minute ride.

30 minutes of teary-eyed confessions, followed by apologies, and talking about the weather.

30 more to calm myself,

45 til’ the inbound bus arrived.

15 minutes back.

20 minutes to walk again.

5 to dress myself in pajamas.

10 for coffee, and a snack.

10 to realize I was safe, in my home again.

Alone, again. Reflecting. Bargaining.

The only advice was to do hobbies,

and be kinder to myself.

The same as last time.

The same as every other time.

I got my hair cut anyway. They styled it weird.

That’s fine.

But if you’re getting short hair cut even shorter, what difference does it make if you’re a boy or a girl?

I doubt there’s a real price difference, they just wanted to know.

When I’m in a good mood, I think it’s funny how people justify not knowing what I am.

“You just have such a small stature.”

Isn’t that silly?

Just say I look like a lady.

You didn’t read my name as the feminine version of it until you looked me in the eye.

You knew how to say it the first time.

Any way,

no matter how long I’m on hormones for, I’m stuck like this.

It’s hard to live with some days. I can’t stand my reflection.

But I’m here. I’m hairy.

Speaking of, a few times now I’ve seen cis men my exact same height with full beards.

Makes me feel nice.

I’ve been playing a girl character on an old MMO from my childhood. It feels like healing a little bit.

I am a meaningless, vague figure in their peripheral vision.

Yet I feel their glances.

I’m bombarded by their internal complaints,

and their disgust for me aches my ears.

All voiced by me,

make believe,

all true.

My heart still pounds in rooms filled with others I see as more normal than I’d ever be.

I feel faint, and nauseas when others treat me like real human being.

When acknowledged, I feel the most fake.

I feel indecipherable.

My thoughts become empty, aside from the blaring sound of how they must think of me.

I embody their disgust, and I hide.

Make myself needlessly smaller,

hold myself tight,

and wait for to be over.

They pay me no mind.

My constant apologies are wasted on them.

But it’s my nature to be wrong.

To not know what for.

I am nothing to anyone, I will never be anything;

but the spotlight stays on.

I feel disgusting for using others to perpetuate my own self loathing. But I know nothing more.

I simply wanted an appointment.

-

This week I made an absolutely horrific casserole. With hamburger, egg noodles, velvetta cheese, spaghetti sauce, cream cheese, sour cream, and a lot of garlic.

It’s very good, but I don’t recommend it.

I haven’t drank alone in 3 months.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been harm free again, but longer than that.

I’m grateful everyday. But I feel so low. So stuck.

Of the long, never ending rooms. Of the world ending. Nuclear warheads. Cthulhu.

The other night was horrific.

I dreamt, I know I did, that I was in a violent crash with my mother. In a black car, which we’ve never owned.

Since I’ve never experienced a car wreck like that, I saw it from outside the car, but I was physically inside. From outside I saw the car spin out of control, and roll. It stayed in perfect condition. We were coming out of a comically bad tunnel, or a massive divide in the road made out of plywood with a cartoonish hole in it. We swerved. We went out of control. I don’t know if I died. After the crash stopped, I felt myself float back into the inside of the car, upside down. I was alone in the back seat, no one had ever been driving.

I didn’t go outside again until today, and driving with my parents was scary. I kept expecting it to happen. I’m afraid my parents will buy a black car.

Nightmares I can deal with. But the dreams that are this vivid, the ones that feel the same as real life, are haunting. It’s like experiencing a 3rd life. I don’t believe they’re some sort of magical warning I’m burdened with. But it definitely puts those thoughts in your head.

It’s me, it’s real, but it’s happening somewhere completely unimaginable, and nonexistent to us.

Consciousness is an enigma. The concept of dreaming is entirely absurd.

I do like these dreams sometimes, I just wish good things could happen in them.

I wake up thinking it was real. It takes me several minutes to realize it wasn’t.

The Cthulhu dream, last year on my birthday, I woke up terrified! I thought somehow, everyone on earth had the same dream as me. Everyone had gotten that message. That it was a warning I had burdened the whole world with. I checked the news tab on my phone to see if anyone had reported it yet. If everyone on earth had that dream, they would, maybe. I messaged several of my friends asking if they had saw it. I wasn’t relieved when they said no, I thought they were lying to me. Keeping something from me. It took almost two hours to calm down. To stop shaking and over analyzing. Then I moved on.

The worst part about the dreams sometimes is I can’t always have a reaction to them like that. I can’t show how scared I am. I have to just move on and never speak of it, while it’s looping in my head. That made the car ride so much worse! I couldn’t tell my parents to be careful while driving. I couldn’t ask them to look out. What good would that have done? I just had to sit silence and hope it didn’t happen. It didn’t!

I’m seeing a therapist again; and thinking of you less.

I’m still the same as I was, just much duller.

The stars thank you for the life lesson, and hope to grace you with their shimmer. Please look out for them.

I’m not apologizing as much anymore. I know you wronged me. I know I was naive, pathetic. You weren’t any of those things you said.

You were just an asshole.

I’m okay with it. It’s warm in my heart.

Because I wasn’t all there. I was sick. I’m doing better. I’m still sick.

The leaves are starting to wilt. It takes me back.

I don’t want to remember anything. I’ve been telling myself I made the whole thing up.

The ceiling, the walls. My imagination.

I wish I could go back, and tell myself I was right. Tell myself it’s okay that I was.

I was sick. I tried. I’m still sick, I’m still trying.

I’m better. I’m not great, but I’m better.

As I said, the stars have something in mind for you. Keep an eye out. Keep your head up.

Listen to them. Whatever they say.

You earned it.

Do better.

-

I really want to bake again. The kitchen is too small!

It’s Fall soon, so I’m craving potato candy. Its delicious.

These are the ingredients:

1 small russet potato, , peeled and chopped

6-7 cups powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2/3 cup creamy peanut butter, , almond butter, cookie butter, or nutella

Or you’re afraid of most things.

Is benevolence stemmed from fear still real?

Is questioned morality still praise?

Does an unclench fist denounce your anger?

Are you who you want to be,

always wish you were,

and still feeling alone?

Unrequited growth keeps your strength at bay.

If you remain still, you remain uncertain.

Who are you protecting?

You can stay soft,

You can stay afraid, if that’s the case.

But you’ve got to carry on.

I’ve met people and made connections I never thought I would! There’s so many wonderful human beings here.

As passionless as I feel doing art lately, I love it. Without it, I wouldn’t have become as strong as I am today.

It got me out into the world; made me experience new things.

It makes me look back. I’m shocked that I spent so long scared, and afraid of putting myself out there. But I’m not ashamed of it! I grew. I’m still growing, learning, and trying as hard as I can every day.

I keep feeling like it’s too late for me. But it’s not. It’s not “too late” for anyone. Why would I be any different? It’s insane how much mental illness clouds your brain.

The world is still scary, even more so now. But this is the time I was given. This is the time I get. I think I’m okay with that!

I’ve spent too long of a time, and wasted too much energy waiting. Hiding. I’m sick of it! Maybe I’m not entirely better. But the younger me wouldn’t believe me if I told him the things I’m capable of now.

No sad poems in my head today.

My binder for swimming came! Sock Drawer Heroes!

I made pork chops! Ate cauliflower rice!

Mowed my neighbors yard!

I feel so much better when I do things. I’ve despised doing nothing all day. I just didn’t have another option.

I feel accomplished and the day goes by so much faster.

I still feel tired, and grumpy throughout. I had a burst of anxiety earlier. Shaking. Vertigo. Nausea. I got through it! By slowly down, catching my breath, and continuing to chop peppers. But I still don’t know what caused it.

I’ve improved, but panic has changed. It sneaks up now; where it used to be my norm. It’s upsetting, but feels like progress.

I feel better! I feel accomplished, I feel calm, I feel tired.

It’s going to be awful hot soon. And it’s still so rainy!

I did not know, and did not enjoy it.

It was also my first time eating a burger that had a stick in the middle. Are you supposed to eat around it like I did, or do you take it out first?

I'm obviously overthinking this. I overthought it while I was doing it. But I did it!

A few years ago I would've completely avoided the whole situation, and even wasted the entire meal because I'd be worried about doing it wrong. Insane!

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