Not fair

I believe I’m in denial (partly, at least) about having to go to the gynecologist on Tuesday. I don’t think about it, and pretend it’s not going to happen. But whenever I consciously think about it, I get anxious and have the feeling of oncoming panic in my chest, throat and head. I really, really don’t want to go there. I don’t want anyone to touch my genitals – I got enough of that shit as a child! But I don’t have a choice. And that sucks! Big time!

I mean. why do I have to? Why do transguys have to visit the gynecologist, when other guys don’t have to? It should at least be optional – as it is for females! But no, we have to! At least where I live, I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but quite frankly, I don’t care about the rest of the world right now.

I’m panicking and just want it to be Wednesday now. That way, I’ll already be done with it, and hopefully will never have to do it again!

(originally posted at my old, and misbehaving, blog and was posted on May 16, 2015)


Dreaded appointment

May 19:th I’m having my first ever visit to a gynecologist. Yes, I’m still a man, but since I’m transgender and pre-op (I’m actually going through my gender investigation right now), I have to do this. It’s a part of the investigation before I’ll be permitted to rectify my gender. I’m nervous as hell. I get serious anxiety whenever I think about the upcoming visit there. And I’m hoping that writing it down, will settle the fear some.

The reason I’m terrified of this visit isn’t because I’m transgender. And it has nothing to do with me being asexual and having no interest with sex and never having been sexually active. It partly has to do with me not being comfortable being naked (or partly naked) around people, much less strangers.

It has pretty much everything to do with the fact that I was molested as a child. By my uncle. That I still have contact with and see a few times a year – though I’ve made it a habit to never be alone around him anymore.

I don’t remember the exact number of occasions, but it happened more than once, and at least three-four times over a span of a few years.

Sometimes he used to watch me and my siblings when my parents weren’t home, or be staying the night after a night of drinking, since we lived closer to the city centre than he did. It were mostly during these times that he came into my bedroom after I’d fallen asleep. The usual thing for him to do, was to pull out his own dick and put my hands on it – some time he put it against my lips. Some times he let his own hand travel into my underwear.

How do I know this?

I wasn’t always asleep. I sometimes woke up as he came into the room, or maybe I hadn’t even had time to fall asleep – I don’t remember exactly, I was after all only around 7-10 years old (making it around 20 years ago). I never made it clear that I was awake. I was too afraid, nervous, small…

I learned to “move around in my sleep” in a way that made it harder for him. I would curl into myself and turn around so my back was towards him. I didn’t know what else to do.

The only time (that I remember) he did something when I was awake, was when I visited him one day. I used to give him foot massages. This time he said he’d give me a body massage back. He started with my back, from top to bottom, or the other way around, I don’t remember. Then I was to turn around. And he did the same thing on my front. Including the breast area and the genitals. All outside the clothes. Afterwards, he gave me some money and told me that this was between us, that I’m not to tell anyone else. And I didn’t.

I didn’t tell anyone about any of it. Not until a few years back, when I couldn’t manage life without feeling bad all the time, or without reoccuring nightmares all the time.

It might not sound like much, might not seem like such a big deal – it’s not like I was raped or anything – but it affected my whole life. It still affects me, even though I’ve worked on it and actually can write/talk about it now.

Now I have to go to a gynecologist. For the first time. And hopefully the last. People have said that it’s not a big deal (they don’t know about my background). That it’s over quickly. This doesn’t help me. I’m still terrified. And I don’t even know the gender of my gynecologist – I believe I’ll have an easier time with a female one – because the name is foreign for me and I can’t tell from it. So I’ll have to wait until my appointment to find out. This does not help my anxiety over the matter.

I really would like to cancel the appointment, but I need to do it. And it’s better to get it over with, rather than prolonging the inevitable.

But I don’t know what to do, to make it as easy as possible for myself. If you have any advice, I’ll gladly listen. Most valued would be advice from people that’s been through similar situations, and really can understand my feelings.

So far it hasn’t really helped any to write this down. I think I need to talk (or chat) about it, for it to help. But the only persons I have that I could talk about this with, doesn’t know about the molestation – one of them probably have a general idea that I’ve been through something negative in the sexual sense, but I haven’t felt like telling them all of it. So I’m in a bind. I don’t want to tell any of them right now either. It’s enough to worry about the appointment, I don’t want to worry about how to tell someone the rest of it too.

I have nothing more to write right now. I might try to write more about this closer to the date, to see if it helps then.

(originally posted at my old, and misbehaving, blog and was posted on May 7, 2015)

Who’s the selfish one?

I’m writing this (on paper) as I’m sitting on the train to visit my family – they  live a few hours away from me (or technically I guess I’m living a few hours away from them). I barely have any Internet as I’m writing this, so I’ll just copv this onto the computer and to the blog when I have the opportunity… (This is being typed about a day and a half later.)

As I said, I’m sitting on the train. Just killing time by hand-sewing on something, and with plans to switch over to reading later on. It’s about two hours left of the train ride. Plenty of time to just relax and not care about other stuff (though I remembered that I forgot to buy a present for my newphew’s birthday tomorrow, so I’ll have to do that tomorrow). Two hours left, give or take a few minutes.  The train comes to a sudden stop. I don’t react at first. When I notice that we’re standing still, I’m thinking that we’re probably awaiting an oncoming train. Nope! I couldn’t be more wrong.

The train staff gives a sombre message through the speakers. It’s been an accident. A person has jumped in front of the train (or we’re in front of the train, can’t for sure say they jump, they might have been standing/sitting/lying on the track already for all I know). We can’t travel on for a while. We need to await the emergency services and the staff are awaiting more instructions on what to do. They warn that we’ll be standing here for quite some time. They warn that nobody can leave the train, since that’s very dangerous. On both sides of the train are steep hills. I don’t know if the train staff can even get out to look closer at the situation from the outside (if this is something they would do, if they could). I don’t know if the person that jumped in front of the train is even alive – though I doubt it, the odds probably isn’t in one’s favor here. But they could be alive, I guess.

Some of the emergency services has arrived (after about 30 minutes) and is taking a closer look, assessing the situation and state of the person. I don’t know if you should hope they are alive or not in this situation. If they are alive, they should be in great pain. I they’re dead, they’re free from pain. And should you take the person’s own feeling into account when hoping? If you should, then I probably should hope they died, right? For a person to jump in fron of a train, they probably really want to die. Maybe they have a hellish life and just can’t take it anymore. Maybe they just don’t want to live. Then they should get to make the decision to die, and for everyone to respect it – though I, personally, wouldn’t go out by train.

(Before the train could move on, a few hours later, I learned the last thing to do was that the firetruck needed to hose off the train – from this I can only speculate that the person got hit really badly and therefore didn’t survive. I’m guessing they weren’t even in one piece.)

People might complain that it’s weak and/or selfish of a person to take their own life – that they’re taking the easy way out, and by doing it they’re only hurting the people they leave behind. But isn’t it also selfish to demand of someone to continue to live, when they really don’t want to? To force them into an existence they want to get rid of?

Maybe they have tried everything else, maybe they don’t want to live for someone else. I don’t think it makes a person weak if they commit suicide. Quite the opposite. It’s not easy to do something like that, to leave everything behind. They’re strong for being able to do it for themselves. But the people that don’t succeed in taking their lives, they’re strong too – they often continue to live on and find other ways to make their life work. They might not have wanted to really end their life, they might just have wanted a way out of a situation. A failed suicide attempt can lead to that way – just as a successful suicide in the end leads to the way out the person might have wanted.

I’m not advocating suicide. Far from it. Try to live. Try every means necessary to make you life worth living. But live for yourself, not for someone else. As you should only die for yourself, not for someone else. And if you want to die, try to find I way where you don’t make someone else an “accomplish”, someone who then has to live with the guilt of having contributed to someone else’s death.

Some people that take their lives might have been better off alive, might have been able to turn the bad around. Just as some people alive, might be better off dead.

But nobody besides the persons themselves can decide this or know. It’s not up to me or anybody else to decide if a person should live or die.

Live for you.

Die for you.

(originally posted at my old, and misbehaving, blog and was posted on April 29, 2015)

Reality vs imaginary

It’s wonderful to be able to escape reality for a while. To create new worlds in my mind – no writing it down or voicing it out aloud, just in my mind. Not every world is a happy, problem-free world, but they’re still a way for me to get away from reality. The worlds let me focus on something beside life, they give me a place to not care about anything. I need this from time to time.

I love to read, have always loved to read. I read pretty much all the time, and basically everything. But books, even though they are wonderful and paints worlds with words that can take you away, are not always enough. When they’re not enough, then creating my own worlds is the perfect pastime.

Even a war-torn world can feel nicer than reality. No matter what kind of world it happens to be at the time – some times I go back to previously created worlds – it’s still an escape from the problems of reality. Even if the problems of reality is as small as a need to do the dishes, or worries about being able to pay the bills, it exist nothing better than being able to not care for a moment. The worlds in my mind gives me that ability, it gives me freedom to do whatever I want to, without a care in the world – or with other kinds of cares, that I know isn’t real and therefore can be easily solved or ignored.

It can be a great help when I’m trying to sleep too. Instead of worrying about the things I might need to do the next day, or the things I didn’t manage to do during that day, I can create a world – with or without myself in it – and follow the people in that world. It’s like a book and movie in my head, that I can change at will and/or jump forward or backward in.

It doesn’t always work, the escape to my worlds. Sometimes I’m forced back to reality before I’m ready, or reality exists beside my worlds, or I can’t really get into a world without reality putting up obstacles. But the times I do succeed in escaping, those times are invaluable for my sanity and stress levels.

Try it!

(originally posted at my old, and misbehaving, blog and was posted on April 27, 2015)

This is why

I’ve decided to create this blog for myself and not for anybody else. I have another blog already, but I have friends and family that know about that one, and sometimes I would like to be able to write stuff without feeling like I have to defend or explain myself to them afterwards. I would like to be able to write about my deepest secret, without having to censor myself because I don’t want my family in particular to know about it.

This the biggest reason for creating this blog. So I can write whatever I want, without worrying about if someone I know reads it. Because some things I just want to write down, without having to talk about it afterwards or without feeling like I let someone down or failed. Through this blog I can be anonymous, And if someone does realize who I am, then so be it – I’ll deal with that if the day ever comes.

I usually have one and the same username for all the different sites I’m a member on, but not for this one – it would be tough to be anonymous with a username that most of my friends and family knows that I use… It’ll probably feel weird using a different alias at first, but hopefully I’ll get used to it pretty quickly.

I can’t be sure how much I’ll actually use this site, but it feels good to have a place where I can write whatever I feel like – be it about the past, the future, my dreams or my fears. I’ll probably write about everything and nothing, and many times in the same post. I might not always make sense to you, but that’s not the important thing for me. But if a post would make you curious, you can always try to write to me and perhaps you’ll get answers to your questions.

The important thing for me, is that I have a place where I can write what’s in my head – where I can get my thoughts visible and hopefully let the thought go. And if you find your way here, maybe you even can help me let go of some things or solve other things.

I’m not the most social person and I suck (really, really suck) at idle small talk, but despite this I welcome new people to talk to, chat with, get to know or just exchanging a couple of sentences with. And I’m pretty good at listening to other people, so if you need a stranger to talk about stuff with (which sometimes can be easier than talking to those close to oneself) – feel free to drop me a line.

I might post some or most of this under About NotWeak too, but I’ve not decided about that yet.

The first “real” post might be written during the next couple of days. But they might as likely not.

(originally posted at my old, and misbehaving, blog and was posted on April 20, 2015)