Howdy. Sorry it's been a while, I am simply the most infrequent blogger in the world... I've been buried under piles of work for what seems like forever, and in the moments I'm not working I've been partying verrrrrry hard. I have an essay in front of me that needs editing, but I'm a little hungover. Then something happened that made me think about my childhood. Then I got sad. Then I decided to write this somewhat meandering post. (Post is misleading, it's musings really).
Once my dysphoria's been triggered I often don't even remember what triggers it. It can be crippling though, and leave me curled up in a ball in tears all day long. These days I'm fairly happy with my body and my appearance, I'm always treated as a woman, basically most of my dysphoria areas are gone. It's just the childhood thing, and my God do I obsess about it. I picture what it could have been like, wearing pretty dresses and going to ballet (my god I so wanted to be a ballerina when I was little) and just getting to be seen as a girl, rather than bullied for being a girly boy. (On a side note I find it so weird how the same traits can get you completely ostracised from one gender, yet make everyone think you're like a paradigm of another. But I digress). I don't feel like I can talk to anyone about it - I'm very private about my gender stuff. I only talk about it to one friend really, but she's very busy and I think it makes her feel guilty for having had a happy cis life. Which is silly but sweet. I have another best friend and we are essentially mutual therapists for each other and talk all the time - she would be great, but she doesn't know I'm trans, and I want to keep it that way. I can't really explain why but I just do.
So yeah, my response has always been predictable - Obsess, cry, obsess, smoke, obsess, more than likely drink, cry, cry, cry. Not so helpful. But recently I've been getting better. I still get sad just as often and it still physically hurts to think about. So I'm trying out a different tactic. A kind of triumphant fuck you - it's not revolutionary, but I've just got to the point where I'm reacting like fuck this, I'm going to make sure I have the best god damn life because I will not let a childhood characterised by abandonment and boyhood ruin me.
Also I've realised that the way I look at it is not realistic. I imagine me being able to live as a girl from the first time I kinda expressed how unhappy I was (we're thinking 3 or 4) and okay it would be a lot better. But would I be a bouncy little blonde ballerina? Probs not. Mine were definitely not the kind of family that would send me to ballet. I'd surely still have a shit tonne of issues, and judging from my sister there's no guarantee that I would have had any better relationship with either of my parents. My family life would still have been shit, my sister would probably still have given me my first cigarette at twelve, my mum my first drink at the same age and I feel like my issues with them may be less pronounced but they'd probably still be there. Basically, looking around my family, I'd still be a mess. I wouldn't have had a horrible relationship with a certain girlfriend that left me fucked three ways from Sunday, but who knows, I may have had an equally damaging one with some boy. Knowing how reckless I was back then if I was the same maybe I would have had a baby (good lord)! Obviously all speculation, but I guess my point is that I romanticise what life would have been like and how today I could be just like a flawlessly beautiful, together, happy woman, but reality is always more complex than that.
And then I try to take the good from it, which leads me to my beliefs. These are another thing I'm extremely private about, and basically only discuss with my dad because, well, he's a massive stoner and is kinda just like 'whoa man oh my god.' Basically I believe that we're all souls who have lived a bunch of times, will live a bunch more, and each time we do it's to develop as people and learn some kind of lesson. Spiritualist new age shit, but it just makes sense to me. Oh, and before you start a life you like work it out and basically agree to come and undergo whatever you undergo for whatever purpose.
So that's comforting, because it makes me feel like there's a reason I've gone through this, and I often ponder what it might be. I feel like its given me incredible strength, determination and of course made me just like super accepting of anyone and anything (I mean within reason I'm not talking Nazis and rapists). And I think it's made me kind, like I genuinely am a nice person and I always want people to be happy because I know what is to be profoundly unhappy. I guess it's been a learning experience for everyone who knows me too. And like, every trans person who comes out contributes to the whole transgender experience becoming more and more visible and more cis people realise they know trans people and the whole thing has definitely become less taboo as a result. So am I here as a transwoman to encourage acceptance of being trans and ultimately souls to realise we should just love each other? Maybe. Maybe it's just for my own suffering to develop me. Maybe it's a whole load of bullshit. :')
But hey, that's how I see it and that's what helps me pull out of dysphoria. Number of days cried inconsolably about it in the past month: 3. Number of days powered through it and reminded myself of what I've got from it: 28. Not bad going really. To be fair it helps when you're working all day. So, dear reader, you may be asking yourself is there a point to this rambling hungover Hattie? Nah, not really. Getting my feelings down and just kind of expressing what helps me get through the big D. If anyone thinks it's really nice, great. If anyone thinks oh Christ I've stumbled on some hippie-ass bullshit I profusely apologise. If anyone takes this too seriously don't, you should never take a hungover woman seriously; she'll likely have forgotten all she said in two or three hours anyway.
Time to crack on with this essay. Here's hoping I don't vomit on the paper.