What do you enjoy most about writing? #WPDP

What do you enjoy most about writing?

I love the catharsis and feeling on pen on paper when getting my feelings out. Half the time I forget what I write. Then when I read what I wrote, I am shocked. Sometimes I can’t believe what I wrote because it is awesome. My New York Times piece is that.

What do you love about where you live? #WPDP

What do you love about where you live?

I guess that it is so accessible by public transportation. I don’t have a car so it is easy to catch a bus to the train station to get to where I need to go.

Saturday Blog 19082023

Saturday Blog 19082023

I had another bad night sleeping so I wrote some stuff that was on my mind. I sent my psychiatrist my blog I wrote. I was going to send it to my therapist but she never reads what I send her so I didn’t. I am feeling really sad. I’ve been thinking about the last week my mother was alive. I was trying to take care of her while recovering from top surgery. It was hard to do. I had to empty drains and usually she would just be sleeping when I went downstairs. By the time the weekend rolled around, she was hitting the death phase and by Tues, a week after I had my surgery, she was gone.

I have no energy today to do anything. I made pancakes and then a roast beef sandwich. I am full now. My sister has been after me to clean the pan I made the pancakes on. I will do it once I get the energy.  It is soaking now so should be easy to clean afterwards. I had two cups of coffee but it didn’t do anything. Sox were already playing a day game. They won against the skankees. I hope they can continue to do well. There are only 40 games or so left in the season.

Monday I see my therapist and might share the blog in session with her. Depends if I feel like dealing with my feelings. Just is so hard to figure things out now that my mother is dead. I am tired but I am going to stay up for a couple of hours to read some. I sent my pcp this pic. I hope she can understand that even though I often don’t present in pain, I still hurt. It hurts walking most times as my legs feel like they are cement. I don’t know how she will take it but I don’t care. I put it out there so that there is a record of it. I hope she understands.

another broken night of sleep (TW abuse)

Another broken night of sleep (TW abuse)

I have been having broken sleep most of the night and finally gave up. So I decided to write as I have some things on my mind. This might be triggering for some people as I am going to talk about sexual abuse as well as neglect. It has to do with my mother. She was always interested in my genitals. I even have pediatric reports of how she brought me to the doctor because she thought my vagina was closing. It wasn’t. but it didn’t stop her from examining me. Then when I started developing she became interested in my breasts. She noticed that one was larger than the other so did her exam first before we went to the doctor. She would always stare at me when I got out of the shower. She even noticed when my labia was large. She touched it which lead to another “exam”. I didn’t bring it up to the doctors but my mother did. The doctor said it was fine. I don’t think she believed her. It was twisted. I felt so ashamed all the time with my body because I thought things were wrong with it. I hated the way my body was, especially when I started gaining weight.

I told one person about this and because at the time I was underage, she had to tell my mother what we talked about. I never talked about it again after that. My mother slapped my face, calling me a liar. I never spoke of it again. But the fact remains she did what she did. My mother never really showed love growing up. We had a violent father so it was hard because we had to “please” him so he wouldn’t lose his temper and start hitting us or my mother. Sometimes my mother would hit us when we did something wrong. I remember my middle sister did something bad and she got spanked by my mother. I don’t remember what she did but my mother was furious. I was afraid I was going to be next but I wasn’t.

My teenage years was rough. I was mostly depressed. I had few friends. I mostly kept to myself. I hated my mother’s side of the family because they didn’t challenge my father’s “don’t talk to us” stance. Only my aunt, my mother’s youngest sister did. I was grateful because she and her daughters were what I considered family.

I knew I was a boy but I could never say it. I was afraid of being laughed at or worse, beaten for my thoughts. I felt like my mother didn’t care about me most of the time. As long as I was going to school and making the grades was ok to her. I did my own thing. I created my own world until it fell all apart. I had to choose between lives and hoped I chose the “real” one.

I always thought I was a man growing up. I look at myself now and I don’t know how I was put in the wrong body. My pre t pic shows me as androgynous. I just became a man when hormones were added. I feel more like myself. Things are more congruent now since I have had top surgery. Now I just need to lose the belly fat and I think I can be more comfortable with myself. My mother has died so I will no longer be under her glare. She didn’t want me to have surgery. But if I was to live, I had to have it. I don’t like that one nipple is bigger than the other. That is my only complaint about it but I don’t care because they don’t function as nipples anyway. I have no feeling. It was aesthetic only. And they don’t even look like nipples. Just overgrown skin really, slightly bigger than I would have liked.