I had therapy today and in the middle of it, my power goes out. I had to use my hotspot to connect but because I was in the dark, I didn’t turn the camera on. UGH. We were talking about trauma and specifically my mother’s abuse towards me. She sexually abused me from the time I was young, like age 2 to 13. She always had to look at my genitals or breasts. Now that I have been cathing for a while, I still have flashbacks to when she touches me when I touch myself. In my pediatric records, the doctor notes that my “vagina was closing” according to my mother but I wonder if it was really my urethra as it is in my vaginal opening. I’ve had a few UTI’s growing up and I wonder if it is because my mother stuck things in there. I also had a trauma medical procedure done to me when I was five. I had to be restrained physically and chemically for the doctor to do the procedure. All I remember is that I was screaming for my mother to get me, to comfort me, and when she didn’t come, I felt abandoned. I hated my mother for not being there. It was then that I started hearing voices.
Today’s WordPrompt from WordPress is transition. I was talking about my transition today with my therapist as my mother misgendered me, again. It invalidates me and makes me think my transition is not worth it. As I will always be seen as a “daughter” to her rather than a son. She thinks she owns me. I haven’t told her that I will be having top surgery yet. I want to make sure the insurance is going to cover it. I don’t want to tell her and then it not happen. It is five months away anyways. I am hoping that I can have it sooner but I got to know insurance will cover it first.
I am going for blood work this week so asked my pcp if they also need a urine sample because my test strip for home testing tested positive for white cells. I don’t know if my bladder is still inflamed or what. It still hurts though and even though I am starting the estrogen cream tonight, it could be a month before it has an effect. I was going to start last night but I got too tired to put it on. I was going to put it on after my last cath for the night but I didn’t want to get out of bed. I was comfy.
I woke up a couple of time during the night to pee and I was on the same schedule as my mother as every time I had to go pee so did she. I might have to hide the benzoyl peroxide I bought as I found it on the sink rather than in the cabinet. The last tube I bought was used by family members. I never had a chance to use it because it was used up before I could or it went missing on me. I have a breakout of zits right now and need to use it. For fuck’s sake, I bought it with my money and the shit is not cheap. Pisses me off that someone keeps using my acne products.
I wanted to make a zucchini chicken stir fry for supper but my ankle and foot are hurting me too much. My mother is just going to make the chicken with salt and pepper for me. I just realized I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast this morning. I never made lunch like I had wanted to. Therapy just got me so upset.
I love the song Black by Pearl Jam so the Word Prompt was perfect.
I woke up early after going to bed late due to pain. I slept until around 2 when I went back to sleep. I didn’t feel like going out to do one errand. I’ll do it tomorrow. I thought I had PT but it’s not on my appointment list. No point in showing up just for them to tell me to go home. I cancelled next week because I got to go to the Registry to renew my license and change my gender. I’ll write up a letter and send it to my psychiatrist for her to sign. I’ll bring a copy of it just in case it gets lost in her email. I’ve been getting conflicting information so I’ll have both with me plus the legal document for the name change. I don’t have my gender changed on my birth certificate. That you can only do once you are surgically altered to be the sex you want to be. It also cost money, which I don’t have. When I have the top surgery, then I will worry about it.
I got a call from radiology for my bone scan. It was to remind me I have an appointment Thursday and also that the test takes fricken 5 hours. I’ll be bringing my Kindle and maybe a book. Hopefully I can go to Starbucks for coffee. It’s going to be a long day. I then have to see my psychiatrist the next day, early in the morning. I will have everything in my bag so I don’t forget anything as I won’t be coherent enough to remember shit at that hour.
Foot is acting up. I hate it when my bones hurt. That is worse than my “regular” pain. It’s harder to treat because it is so severe. Luckily, I am due for my pain meds so I just took them. If not, I will take the strong pain pill. Juggling these meds is a joke. Last night my foot and ankle were lighting up like a Christmas tree so I was up half the night. Going to be interesting to see when I have the sleep study if I will be able to sleep and if not, take my pain meds if I am in a flare. I’ll bring them with me, just in case. Night time is always bad for me. I just hope I can get a ride there so I don’t have to walk from the T station. It’s farther walk than the hospital I get my care at.
My UK royalties came in today, after waiting all year. A whopping $9. I can get a sandwich and a coffee at Starbucks, lol. I like that I am an international author but the payments for royalties other than USD takes forever to process because they have to be in USD or the bank rejects the deposit. There is nothing I can do about it as it is a foreign currency issue.
Tomorrow I need to go to the grocery store as fresh cranberries are on sale. I want to make my Nantucket cranberry cake for Thanksgiving next week. I want to make a gluten free one for my sister’s mother in law as she has celiac. Hopefully it will come out okay. I’ll use the throw away pans that I bought. My mother wants me to buy some bacon as well as it is on sale. That is the only time my mother buys bacon. She likes the hickory smoked kind and I like the maple, though I really don’t care. Bacon is bacon. She will eat it as well.
Last night I was scrolling through Instagram and an ad popped up for some weight loss thing. It was a free trial so I am going to try it and see if I can lose some weight. You take it once a day, though I am not sure if it is a powder or a pill. I’m kind of stuck in that I can’t exercise so if this works and I lose at least 20 pounds or more, I will be happy. I just hope I don’t lose my kidneys or liver in the process. That is always my fear with these diet things. They say that it was on Dr. Oz so I am going with that.
I saw this word and immediately thought of my deceased father. I never thought I would be missing him, but I am. I miss his stupid phone calls. I miss taking him to doctor appointments. I miss the chaos he used to cause whenever I had to drive him somewhere. While I was driving, he loved to pinch my arm that was on the steering wheel. It would make me jump and freaked me out because wtf. I didn’t want to get into an accident and here this asshole is making me uncomfortable driving. He would always laugh when I told him to stop. And the endless directions of where to go. Go down this way, no go this way. I know a short cut. Take this right/left. I actually listened to him one night while driving home from his sister’s and we got lost. Never again will I listen to him. And now I will never again hear him give directions on how to get somewhere.
It’s been seven months since he has passed. It still feel like yesterday. I am glad the intrusive thoughts of his death have passed. I think I have been traumatized by his death because I never seen a human being die before. It wasn’t pleasant. I am grateful that when we brought him to his apartment, he died within a few hours and wasn’t a long drawn out affair.
I remember the whole day that he died, from the moment we came and saw him to the transport of bringing him home, to his final breath. I still feel anger for some reason. I don’t know if it is because of the way I felt towards him or because of the stages of grief. I feel stuck in it and I can’t get unstuck. Not that I am an angry person. I am not, least I don’t think I am. My father was. He was also very vengeful. It really pissed me off that things that had nothing to do with him, pissed him off. He would tell stories and I couldn’t help to think that this man was nuts with anger. Oh how he hated my grandmother (mother’s mother).
But despite all these wicked stories and aggravations, I miss seeing and hearing from him nearly every day. Every time I get notification of the bus line that brought me to his door, I think of him. Every time I see the bus, which is frequently, I think of him. He hated me taking the bus over going to the train station, because it was “easier and faster”. It really was the same time as taking the bus to his house. His sense of time was different than other peoples. And he hated waiting. The man had nothing better to do yet he would have a damn fit if the doctors were late seeing him. One time the doc was almost an hour late and he wanted to leave. I told him we couldn’t or we wouldn’t be able to get his medication refilled. He hated that I had an evening appointment with this doc but I didn’t. It was the first one available and I took it because I didn’t want my father to run out of his medication and then have the hassle of not getting it because he hasn’t been seen. He doctor was an asshole. But he provided care to my father and I was grateful for that.
It is tough around the holidays and birthdays. Not seeing him at these parties is a heartbreaker. This will be the first Christmas without him and it will mark his eighth month of his passing so it will be a difficult day. My sister was crying at Thanksgiving and I think she will cry again on Christmas. She was closer to my father than I was. I had to distance myself from him because he loved to torture me so much. But I would give anything to hear him make fun of me again.
Today’s Daily Word Prompt is Tiny. I have been thinking of what to write for this. This is a side of me that I am embarrassed to share so please bare with me.
For the longest time, I felt like I was a tiny person. I know my outward appearance is nothing but tiny, especially since I have gained significant weight over the last twenty years. But inside, I felt small, like I didn’t matter because I was so tiny. I don’t know when this happened and I certainly don’t know when that has changed.
I remember when I was in therapy in the early years with my current therapist, I wanted to explain to her how small I felt inside, that I didn’t matter because I wasn’t big enough to handle things. We never did talk about it because I was afraid she would laugh at me or give me some other condescending talk. I never felt valued, that I was disposable. I still sort of feel this way at times, especially when my family wants to just dispose of my things that I cherish because they think it is “junk”. My middle sister often calls me a hoarder, though I am not. I just have clothes and papers everywhere because I have no place to put them or I am too lazy to actually put them somewhere other than the floor of my room.
If anything, I am a hoarder of books and research articles/journals. But being called that makes me shrink. It makes me feel alone and not being able to talk to my family about what is troubling me. Hell, my youngest sister thinks all I need is a clean rug to make me feel better. WTF. I do have a collection of boxes from Amazon. I don’t know how it accumulated. I have been lazy to put them in the recycle bin. Even though they are near my door, I never grab them as I am leaving to throw them away. It’s like I have just one thing on my mind and that is to leave to where I am going, which is usually to catch the bus. Therefore, I can’t be bothered to dump things in the recycle bin. When I do, it’s usually when the bin has been cleared by the recycling people that come and empty it.
It gives me a certain comfort to be surrounded by my things. It might make me feel insignificant, but I feel a kind of comfort in that place. It still makes me feel small, though. It’s like I have these huge piles of things surrounding me and I am in the middle of it. Sometimes it is suffocating because I have so much space to get around but it’s not enough to get by. I feel miniscule when that suffocation hits. It doesn’t happen all the time but it does happen.
The person that most made me feel tiny was my father. He would say things that would make me shrink away. There was no way to stop his abusive ways. For years he would make me feel insignificant and small. Like I was a tiny bug that should be stepped on. That is when he would feel his best and I would feel the worst. When I was older, I realized that whenever I would climb the ladder to get out of the pit I was in, he would take the ladder away and I would fall back into the pit. There was no way out. I guess that is why my suicidality is so strong. I still feel like whenever I am in that pit, I feel hopeless about getting out because someone is going to take away that ladder. It never fails. And you can only fall so many times before you realize why bother getting up one more time. You are after all a tiny thing that doesn’t deserve it.