#tgdov

25.2.18

I crash landed here two weeks ago. An entirely new reality. A seizmic shift in mood, attitude, perception. Two weeks is not a long time at all to adjust to an entirely foreign way of life. The thing is though, it has not been an effort. I haven’t had to convince myself in to or out of anything, I have simply accepted what has come my way. A safe, stable place to stay with family who want the best for me. When Bonmi offered this to me, along with a suggestion of what to study as part of the terms, I had no hesitation. I began thinking about where to put my furniture. A room of my own, again. A home, again. A chance to start, again. This won’t be a false one. I know, see, and feel that. So do others. It is different this time. I was tempted to drink at Dad’s when the presence of death lingered unacknowledged. The temptation left along with the acknowledgement. I know what you are. You are not welcome in me. The dead skin of a defunct personality has fallen away. Now is time for the new, and luckily, I have always existed somewhere deep inside every version of myself I have ever been. So, a new sense of self, but not a new self. A burgeoning understanding of who I really am. What remains when you no longer relate to the person you hated so much. That strange, sad, desperate creature. A you so burdened by layers of suffering you could no longer see yourself. Only what you so dutifully slathered on. There is a lightness now. I am not fighting anything. I am not my demons, it turns out. That voice I was so convinced was my own has disappeared. I know, because I am not even mad at myself for taking so long to get here. Time is irrelevant. This must be the place, because it’s a miracle to be alive, one more time. One chance is all you need if you actually take it. One afternoon, one week, one slap across the face. One thing at a time. I was worried I was playing a trick on myself, reigniting things with B. No. We get on like a house on fire. He has always seen me, somehow. He is already addicted to this pure version of myself, it must be intoxicating to see the person you knew was inside taking full advantage of their being. I am not afraid to say I love him. We illuminate things in each other. Being lame and boring is unbelievably fun and hot as fuck. He sucked me off yesterday. New.

28.2.18

“For example, today I: went to court fro attempted arson, got spanked, punched, cattle prodded, and fucked out of my mind by a lovely sadist, and ordered Indian food at 1am. It’s a bit Hyperparadise, sin’t it. It’s Do You Realise? It’s Heroes. It’s Queen. It’s You Only Get What You Give. The old ways of getting free are irrelevant. I don’t need proxies. Filters. Masks. I am working in cooperation with the universe. Everything I have learned has come together. I am by no means complete. But the foundation is. I have this vessel and this mind to take me through the rest of my life. Fucking glorious. These sheets smell like purple-hooded depravity with a sexy Viking. It’s a good smell. It’s free. I’m still the same adventurous slut I’ve always been, what a surprise! “I’m glad you finally get to meet you. Cos you’re a delight. Thank you so much for finding you. And thank you so much for making it here. I know I’m better for you doing so, and I know I’m not the only one.” Free isn’t elsewhere. It’s right here. If it starts to feel like it’s elsewhere, then you figure out what is wrong with here. There is no other place. It’s as clear as the light of another sober day. Flooding over me, meeting the light inside. It’s not even that I “could get used to this,” as though there’s an alternative. Altered reality is just that. It’s the same here. It contains the same information.

Son

Of a

Bitch,

Everything’s

Real.

All rituals are just symbolic actions. If the intended result occurs, who did that? Is it entering into an agreement with the universe, one as a transmitter? Conducting energy in or out of a soul? I am looking forward to studying psychological science. What do I already know, what has different names, where is the overlap between spiritual and scientific understanding. Swiss Army Therapist. My lived experience is so god damned valuable. I just need to tie it in with more formal knowledge. The abundance of potential + possibilities is not scary at all. It’s breathtaking. Subtly thrilling. Taking control is not the burden I imagined, quite the opposite. Real freedom comes when you stop avoiding the truth, the here, the now. The one ever-changing moment occurring over and over, the illumination of one axis of past and present, known and unknown, a fragment of time at a time. A blink can last years. My eyes are wide open.

1.3.18

A different, action, oriented approach to understanding myself. I didn’t plan to take things this way, but I think it is working. It’s different. Trialling this new version of myself in both familiar and unfamiliar scenarios. I had a fucking anxious meltdown after cooking dinner for B and his parents tonight. Somehow, that was a horrendous misstep and a selfish act. Because I did not have a firm grasp of the script I flipped out that I was playing a character that wasn’t even in it. Or wouldn’t be in a normal rendering of the events. Evidently new situations and not automatically being suspicious of good, innocuous things are still challenges. This in no way surprises me. Adjustment is a process. I’m probably too naturally cautious to go egregiously wrong, but my capacity to turn a drop of self doubt into a flood is still awfully formidable. I swam at the bottom of a 100m waterfall thisafternoon. I saw Say Anything lastnight. I saw fucking friends from high school there which tripped me out really hard. So much old and new colliding, all these experiences rushing toward me, going through them and revising what I think, where I stand. A baffling kind of clarity. The slow, sustained shock of the new. Reality, this reality, has always existed but I have not existed in it as such. It’s different when you see yourself in it. You do learn about it from the outside. It’s deceptively simple to apply that knowledge, what you know about living in a world and self that you’re actively avoiding, to being present in these things. They weren’t your enemies after all but your experiences in fighting them have given you a much deeper understanding of them than that possessed by those who have always been awake to the point of never dreaming of, let alone living in an alternative. Consensus reality can be a kind of heaven when you have the wit and cunning of someone who has generally only experienced it as hell. This isn’t going to be easy but it isn’t going to be an ourobouros of attrition either. Elsewhere isn’t a place. It’s a shitty self destructive mentality. Here, now, here, old, here, new. It doesn’t have to be such a fucking struggle.

4.3.18

It is infinitely easier to go with the stream of life rather than fight against it. For me, I think, the master key to unlocking this knowledge came in the form of accepting and affirming my gender. A rough start, for sure, but now all of the other attitudes and behaviours I had tied to ‘being female’ are gone, it is becoming increasingly clear. The last stronghold has fallen. The water of presence and clarity rushing over me swept away the last vestiges of self hatred. It wasn’t me I hated. It was who I pretended to be. The weight of lying to yourself is so enormous it becomes unrecognisable. And yet with such a simple click, the transformative power of its removal is so, so clear. Truth in the sober light of day. All of these things suddenly making so much sense. I wasted so much time trying to understand myself in the world with a broken set of ill-fitting lies. Exploring every possibility except the one sitting so plainly at the core of my psyche. Pretending to be a woman is killing you. You’re not an idiot or a fuck up. You’re a boy. What is wrong is not living that. I had no idea it could be this easy to simply exist. Or that the determining factor for change could be so blindingly simple. And yet! The dam is broken, the universe is flowing through me and I am starting to conceive how I flow through it. The warmth of self compassion. You made it kid, you found the key. And what a fuckin’ time you had along the way, a different lifetime existing as a square peg destroying itself trying to fit into a round hole. Now it all fits, the final piece revealing the meaning of the whole puzzle. Here’s your picture of Eden, now enjoy living in it. How boring it must be to be cis. No brutal war to feel comfortable in your body and mind, no reward from victory. “I’m not making empty flattery, I’m telling you what I find impressive about you. I don’t know that you’ve been hearing the truth about you, either because nobody has been saying it, or because you couldn’t receive it.” Revelation not as a bang, but a whimper. Oh, shit… yeah. Ay.

13.3.18

It’s like stabbing in the dark without the darkness. Pinning the tail on so many multifaceted donkeys simultaneously. It’s right there. That’s the spot. Where your lack of clit used to be. The part of your brain that is activated by a genuine touch. The lifting of the veil. It’s always been here, always underneath, always underway. In truth, in power. In trust. Behold, a monument to resilience. In it everything is relevant, everything is significant. All of these knowings. It really feels like the war is over. What was lost will not be retrieved. It has no place here in the now. Peace is a kind of reprieve unlike any I have truly known before. Different challenges arise. The reality that it may not always be safe to hold hands in public. That you can only meet others as deeply as you have met yourself - and this goes both ways. Truly seeing and being seen. Not everyone is going to like it. But the right ones will. Tomorrow when I wake up I will meet the man who will remove the remaining weight on my chest. [Note: surgeon to cut the tits off, if that wasn’t obvious] From there I can only assume the lightness will be unbearable in the most phenomenal way. Elliot was the indestructible core that refused. He was, I am, me now, the reason I held on. I am so fucking proud of myself.

17.3.18

Assisted self-immolation as a religious experience. Appearing before a magistrate as a ritual. Fucking as a means to enlightenment. Needles for four purposes [Note: play piercing, blood test, vaccination, testosterone injection]. Presence as a spiritual practice. Accepting positivity as just as meaningful, valid, and interesting as misery. Beginning to understand that you yourself are all these things too. Not letting this overwhelm you. A radically gentle approach to every person you have ever been. Put your defences down, there’s no need to fight. You are here. Stronger than ever, not despite it all, but as proof of the spirit that endures, experiences, transforms, reveals itself. A euphoric, triumphant strength. A mirror that knows. That which resembles the grave but ultimately never was. The unifying event. Your own personal singularity, your own personal Jesus. You’ve got to see the light to see the light. [Note: this is totally about orgasms] It’s here now, too.

25.2.18

I thought that perhaps the shape of my mouth had changed, but it’s more likely that my lips have always curled up slightly at the edges. Betraying that cheeky, confident side. It is late on a warm Sunday afternoon and tears are beginning to break out of the grey sky. B is cleaning, Crack-Up is playing. Two nights ago we binge watched Queer Eye and both cried. Lastnight The Shawshank Redemption with an extended interlude of personal political discussion. Today lunch in Kiama. Blowjobs and blowholes. Different ways of thinking. Cause and effect vs. what if? Realities and potentialities. What do you reckon? Being the master of my own reality is confronting and wonderful, baffling in its simplicity. It is what it is. I have a say in what’s to come. There doesn’t have to be a deeper meaning, but it’s fun to play around under the skin of things. Give them different shapes. Perfume Genius going on about shapes. A triangle or a 9. [Note: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIE4T4m9KGc] I just spent a moment regarding a horse. I think I made her self conscious. Do a horse thing like sniff the grass and look at your hooves, much like a person would look at their phone or out a nearby window. Constant assessment of stimuli, shuffling through possible reactions. How quick or slow this can be. The unnecessary filters of anxiety. B goes with what’s most plausible. Seems sensible. Where to settle on the spectrum of hope. Effort! Temperance? Wow. Temperance indeed. Something about all these one or two line phrases that get thrown around suddenly making a stupidly reasonable amount of sense. Seems as though everyone really is onto something. Everything in moderation, for example. Bonmi has always said I don’t need to reinvent the wheel. I mean yeah, but it is interesting to try. I think I want to try ballet as well. Ballet and guitar. If I can roll cigarettes there is a very real chance I can try other things. Mmm. The power of the startlingly obvious. Clear after the blood running down my face after I attempted a chin-up. Bright as the light of an orgasm appearing through the darkness. It’s different when you see it for yourself. The huh, the yeah, the here, the now. The hmm, the yes, the true!, the wow. Something about Nirvana. B is going through his wardrobe chucking out clothes and just carelessly, without presence of forethought, handed me a navy Ben Sherman polo shirt. I was in disbelief for a moment, unable to comprehend the casual bestowal of such a life changing gift. He did not seem to appreciate the significance of the gesture, the moment every teenage mod dreams of. I feel a sense of pride and awe, all of the history of my subcultural forebearers running through me. I feel legitimately blessed, a partaker in a thoughtless exchange that is actually a rite of passage.

27.3.18