ramblings 76

I didn’t sleep very well last night. I went to bed at 0430, slept for four hours and then was up nearly every hour after that. I was really agitated last night and couldn’t sleep. If you read my last blog that I wrote, that will clue you in why. I don’t care to talk about it again.

I had a plan to nap and then write but that didn’t happen. So I skipped to the next thing: blog. My father called me this morning asking when was I coming over and I told him tomorrow around noon, but it’s going to be more like 11 because I have therapy at 1230. I really don’t want to go over there tomorrow but I have to. I just hope I can wake up early enough and leave the house at 1030 to catch the bus. I definitely will need coffee!

My therapist received the letter I wrote about my abuse. She wanted to talk about it today but I was too foggy brained to really get into it. She wants me to write a follow up letter about no blaming myself. I was trying to hold on to the idea but it slipped away from me and I can’t seem to get it back. She said it didn’t have to be a long letter, but a short blog or bullet points. Something. I was like whatever. Fact is, you can’t unblame yourself when a parental figures tells you it is your fault. I remember the words as if it was yesterday. I thought there was going to be understanding but then there wasn’t. I then had to deny everything because of this. I had to lie essentially, to avoid talking about it to my family. The pedophile, that is what he is, turned my own family against me because he did it out of “love”. I hate my family for this. And then they wonder why I don’t ask support from them. I try to tell myself that it isn’t my fault but I am going against the grain. It doesn’t feel right. This is upsetting me so I am going to stop here.

I never worked on my book like I wanted to. I had a story I wanted to write but it faded away from me when I took the nap. I probably will write something tonight or maybe I won’t. Who knows. Who cares. Today when I went downstairs to make my coffee, my mother stopped me and said “miss, how many books have you written”? I wanted to vomit when she called me miss. I still do. I told her I just have one book published. She told me that my cousin said that I had “2-3” done. HA! I wish. Don’t know where the hell he goes off telling my mother this. I haven’t talked to him in weeks. I am very close to telling my mother that I am transgender. I can’t stand being called miss, it’s an attack on me and I hate it. Maybe I will write her a letter and leave it on the kitchen table so I don’t have to talk about it. If my father can call me sir, then my mother certainly can too. Granted, I don’t think he understands what he is saying but that isn’t the point. I’m never going to get them to call me their son. That is only in a dream world.

My therapist didn’t read the blog that I sent her last night, but she did read the abuse letter so I have to give her credit for that. I just wish I was up to dealing with it today. I am still licking my wounds from last night. It was such a horrific night. I don’t really know what set me off. I told my therapist that the date was back on the table. I am not taking it off this time. She asked me today if I had reasons to live. I told her I don’t. She then listed a few. I don’t care. I am tired of living MY life in pain all the time.