Category Archives: Thoughts

Crush

I have a crush.

I’ve had it for quite some time now, but didn’t become fully aware of it until a few months back.

I won’t be doing anything with or about it. I won’t try to persue anything, won’t tell them or anybody else about it. I won’t deny it either, try to eliminate the feelings or dwell on it really. It won’t affect my behaviour against them, and I’m not disillusioned into reading stuff into their behaviour against me.

I won’t even waste time daydreaming about what won’t happen anyway.

And I know nothing will come of the crush, not only because I’m sure they do not see me as more than I friend – which I’m totally fine with, I’ll gladly stay their friend forever, no expectations, demands, bad feelings or buts around it.

No, I know nothing will come of it because I have no real desire for there to be anything else between us than friendship.

They’re hurting and going through a rough time right now, and I’ve never really allowed myself to dig deep enough in my own mind to heal from my past.

I doubt I’ll make a good partner – a lot because of my “refusal” to heal properly. I don’t know if I’d be able to give the positive, the realness, the love, a lasting relationship needs. I have trouble feeling if I actually, really even feel love for my cats – and if I logically “feel” that I do, I still don’t feel it in my heart. As far as I can tell.

I’m not sure I know how love feels.

And I do not listen to my heart – every emotion has their origin in the brain anyway.

And this mentality wouldn’t be fair to a potential partner.

No, I think I’ll keep my crush to myself. It’s a nice feeling to have for a wonderful person, anyway, no need to make a big thing out of it ❤

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Tired, but not

I’m constantly tired, but seldom feel like sleeping.

I almost always out of energy, but can’t stand not doing anything.

I’m constantly doing stuff, but feel like I never get anything done.

A lot of my time I long to spend time with people, want to have them around me, but I don’t want my space to be invaded.

I wish I could be two of me at once, but I can hardly handle being one.

It wasn’t love

Read a post from a friend just a moment ago – read plenty around the same subject these weeks – that brought me closer to an anxiety/panic attack than I’ve been for a long time.

“No. You never loved me. Not even a little. Love is meant to stop everything you did.” (somewhat paraphrased)

It hit really close to home. It made me think. Made me aware of my every breath, every blink of the eye, every heartbeat. It made me think.

I’ve questioned my own ability to love, to really feel and live my emotions. I’ve questioned how a person can do what he did, and if I’ll ever truly, deeply will trust someone close to me again. But I’ve never thought about his feelings for me…

I still have the “knowledge” etched in my brain that close family loves you – I don’t trust their love, I can’t really feel it, but of course that’s true, everybody knows that. Right?

But that can’t be true. Can it?

My friend’s correct; you don’t really love the ones you do this, or other shit, to. And if you still insist you do, your idea of love is too warped for this world.
How the hell can you destroy a person; their soul, the very core of their being; and still love them? It speaks about the opposite of love. It speaks of disregard, of your pleasure over their, our, my life!

I admire my friend, for their strenght and courage to be open about their past, their struggles and hopefully their recovery. I wish I had the courage to be completely open about mine, the strenght to perhaps confront him about it – but I don’t. I’m still more stuck in the damage it might cause those around me, than the damage it has and does cause me not to tell.

Most of all though, I think I wish it never happened. Or at least that I was still suppressing it. But it scares me to think about what kind of person I would be today without the background I have. Or just what kind of person (or mess really) I would be if I never recovered any memory of the abuse.

(And I think that’s the first time I’ve ever used the word abuse for it – but I guess it actually is a kind of abuse I’ve been through. Though I do not want to write more about that right now, because my heart gets stuck in my throat with that word.)

I guess he didn’t really love me. Not the way love is supposed to be, at least. But if he didn’t love me, what emotion made him act like he did? What emotions possessed him during those moments? What did he really feel for me? For his brother’s child?
Makes me wonder what he feels about me today, 20+ years later. Though I shouldn’t wonder about that. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is how I feel about him. And about me.

I have no clear idea about the first part of that. It’s muddled. Mixed. Complicated.

The second part I only get more and more sure about over time. And I like me, even most of my flaws.

Indifference

My main feeling is indifference. I’m just very good at faking everything else – I even fool myself.

So, if you think my feelings of, for example, gratefulness doesn’t feel quite right, it’s because they aren’t. If you’ve done something for me or given me a gift, I’m grateful. I really am. I just have trouble sincerely showing the actual feelings, even for myself. They’re hiding in the far back of my mind – along with most of my other feelings – I know they’re there; I can feel the shadow of their existence. I just can’t get them out.

So I fake it.

And when it gets too crowded amongst the real feelings, they push out – mostly in the form of tears and sadness. Even in situations that should elicit positive feelings.

It’s like all the things I should feel for real at all times gets crammed into a small storage in the far back, constantly building up over time. Cramming ontop of the feelings already residing there, pressing them together. Until the once on the bottom, the once farthest back, gets crammed into an unrecognisable mush. And as yet another feeling tries to hide itself away and fit into the storage , the mush gets pushed further down; leaking, seeping out through cracks on the floor – leading to them getting forcibly leaked to the front of my mind.
And since it’s just a mush of who-knows-what, my brain interpret it as sadness and tears.

All this – the faking and the mush – makes it hard to know what’s real and what’s not sometimes.

This is not to say I don’t feel things like real happiness. I just believe I don’t feel the full aspect of those feelings – if the original feeling is strong enough, not all of it tries to hide away. Some of it actually takes a peak at the front, while the rest presses onto the mush. Which ends up me feeling sad and tears streaming, even when I feel happy.

It gets quite confusing some moments. Other times, I do not feel like caring. I go back to my default. Indifference.

Am I allowed?

Am I allowed to be not completely satisfied?

I finally had my mastectomy – just a week and a half ago – and I oscillate between being thrilled and being not-quite-satisfied. And the second feeling usually leads to feelings of guilt and anxiety.

I couldn’t be happier about having had my mastectomy – and I’ll get another visit with my surgeon in a few months, during which we’ll see if there’s anything more that needs to be done, like e. g. liposuction. But I can’t help not being completely satisfied yet, even though I know I should give it more time before I make a final judgement. I’m still healing – my chest is yellow and blue, and it’s still a bit swollen. I’m not sure how much is swelling that will go down as the healing proceeds.

But.

As it looks right now, I’m not completely satisfied. I still have boobs. They may be tiny, especially compared to before, but it’s still boobs. I don’t want boobs. Not even small ones. I want to be able to wear a tight shirt, or no shirt, without feeling self-concious about boobs I shouldn’t have.

And yes, I know. Not all guys have flat chests. Most people have some padding (or whatever you want to call it). But trust me, this is not padding. This is boobs. And I’m skinny. I’m the underweight kind of skinny. So even small boobs – that might be small enough to just be natural padding on some people – will not feel, or look, like padding on me. It will look like small boobs. I’m feminine-looking enough that people won’t even question it. They’ll probably just see a regular girl with small boobs.

“Why care what other people think?”

I try not to. And a lot of times, I don’t. But it’s not only about what other people thinks. It’s about what I think and, more importantly, what I feel. And if I don’t feel right, if I feel that my chest is more boobs than just a chest, that will affect my confidence around other people. And when your confidence is playing against you, it’s hard as hell not caring what other people think.

It’s hard going against the norm when it comes to a thing like gender – most people grow up with the notion that you don’t need more than to look at a person to know their gender. And it’s exhausting to find the courage to correct people all the time – most exhausting is to correct those you see on regular basis, like co-workers. It’s not easier if you’re not satisfied with your own body, on top of that.

If your body doesn’t conform to the norm and you’re satisfied and happy with that, I couldn’t be happier for you!

I don’t care how somebody else’s body looks, no matter gender or non-gender. But I care about how my body looks in relation to how I feel it should look. And I’m not talking about whether it’s fit, healthy and with good skin, and the like – believe me, I couldn’t care less about calories, lotions etc – I’m talking about body parts.

I need my body parts to make sense to me. And boobs does not make sense on me, they’re unnecessary, in the way and just useless blobs of fat. I’m in no hurry to even make a decision regarding whether or not I want genital surgery – that’s not an area anybody else has any business being – but my boobs I’ve wanted to get rid of since my teens. (I’m close to 30 now, so it’s been a while.)

But I’m seriously nor sure I’m actually allowed to feel not-quite-satisfied-yet – I’m not unsatisfied, far from it, and I definitely don’t regret anything, and I know it might look different in a few weeks time. Not everyone gets the opportunity to even do a mastectomy, despite wanting to. And I’ve gotten no negative comments on my decision to do it, not from friends, family or work. I’ve been away from my work almost two weeks now, without problems, because of the surgery. I’ve gotten a lot of positive words and feelings from friends, family and work, during and after the surgery. A friend travelled to me and helped around my place the first few days after the surgery. Everything’s gone pretty smoothly over-all during and since the surgery.

So I should be satisfied.

I should feel satisfied just with having had it done.

I should at least feel satisfied with all this until the healing is done, and then see if I’m not-quite-satisfied.

But I can’t put the feelings off. I can’t help feeling them. I don’t want to feel anything but happy and satisfied right now. But I can’t help it.

It’s hard to have patience and not feel too much too soon, when it comes to major points in your life.

Hopefully it becomes less and less boobs as the swelling goes down. The dream is that it won’t look at all like boobs, and just like a chest, when the swelling’s disappeared – but I’m not counting on it. I don’t believe in that kind of luck.

Well, I’ll stop complaining now and go back to trying to stay on the happy side of things.

Have a nice weekend, everyone!

We’re all individuals!

I think there’s a huge misconception about trans* and ace people (including, but not limited to, asexuals, aromantics, demisexuals…) out in the world – despite more and more people trying to educate the masses, and more people being willing to listen. There’s still too many out there that think they know more than they do about individual, or all, trans* and/or ace persons. They know the “reason” behind why trans* and/or ace people are the way they are. It’s obviously because they’ve been raped or sexually assaulted in some way earlier in life…

I’m a transguy. I’m also ace, asexual to be exact. And I actually suffer from childhood trauma of the sexual kind – I wasn’t raped, but I was used in ways a child never should be used. It happened on several occassions, over a span of a few years, more exactly from around my seventh living year until I was around ten years old. I’ve written shortly about it in an earlier post (Dreaded appointment) and I have plans to write at least one other entry focused on it, when I feel mentally strong enough.

So, I have the kind of background that many believe is the norm for trans* and/or ace persons: sexual trauma.

But just because I am a transguy with trauma, doesn’t mean every other trans*person has a similar background!

But just because I am ace with trauma. doesn’t mean every other ace person has a similar background!

And my trauma isn't the reason for my gender or my sexual orientation!

Sure my childhood, and therein the unwanted sexual attention, has a lot to do with who I am today as a person. The trauma is probably the biggest reason for my social anxiety and my near-fear of body contact with other people.

And I can’t know if it’s had any impact on my feelings when it comes to gender and sexuality – but I know it’s not the reason behind my gender or my sexuality! Even if I can’t prove it or be sure of what kind of person I would be today without my experiences.

And if I can’t know for sure which impact the trauma has had on me, then you as an outsider sure as hell can’t know either. And this applies for every other trans* and/or ace person out there too – as an outsider you can’t possibly know more about them, their gender or their sexuality than they do themselves.

So just stop assuming things. Not everybody has the same kind of background. And one’s background – trauma or no trauma – isn’t up for discussion or there to be used to “explain” or “excuse” a trait of a person that differs from your norm.

I’m done for now. Have a nice weekend everyone!

Boring life?

I live a pretty boring life. Most of my life I live through reading. I read almost all the time. It’s a great way to experience different things, without having to do anything. Without having to spend money I don’t have. Without becoming a victim for my social anxiety. Without having to really live.

But it’s a terrible way to live life. Because I don’t really experience anything. I don’t do anything. I don’t live. I hide away and ignore.

I don’t want to live a boring life. I have a lot of things I want to do. The thing I want to do soon, is travel to London and stay there 3-4 weeks. And I want to do this alone – or at least mostly alone, wouldn’t complain if someone I know is there only a few days too – because I want to enjoy it my way. By walking around and do nothing. By being able to make up my mind as I go. And at the same time, live, experience and make to most out of the trip. If possible I’d like to do this next year. But I don’t really think I’ll be able to do that, since I don’t have an income that allows for me to save money.

So, I live a boring life. But my life hasn’t really been boring, if you see to things I’ve been through (though I haven’t been through anything if you compare to others, but I try to not compare myself or my life with others). I’ve lived through being bullied, being sexually taken advantage of by my uncle, depression, moving far away by myself several times, being practically homeless, lost one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, coming out as transgender, and in over the years I’ve found a great community, rekindled a dwindled friendship, made great new friends, become stronger and developed as a person. And I’m currently working on my transition.

I might not have lived through big events or changes, or had an eventful life if you compare to some or if you look at the lives people live in books and movies. But I’ve been through both good and bad stuff, and if I were to write it all down, I might see that I’ve had an eventful life – even if it’s been smaller events. And I’m young still. So I’ll probably live through a lot more good and bad stuff.

My life feels boring, it feels like nothing ever happens and like I don’t even live sometimes, but if I really think about it? My life’s not really boring, it might be in a slump at the moment, but that’ll change. I’ll just have to do my best and work through it in the meantime. And look forward to the time when I actually can do the things I really want to do.

Until then, I need to learn to enjoy the lazy days and to let go of the pressure to find a job and to do this and that. Even as unemployed, I have the right to not think about it all the time. I have the right to do things, no matter how small, without feeling guilty or stressed over it. And it’s also alright for me not to have the energy to do things, or to not have the money to do things. I have my reading. And I have friends who understand my situation. I can live a boring life at the moment.

I just need to understand that boring isn’t necessary bad. And a day spent reading, doesn’t equal boring either. It is what I make it. And if I want to make my boring life less boring through reading, then that is what I’ll do.

Plans to move?

I feel like moving again. And I’m only lived in this apartment for a little over a year (moved here last Mars), and I already want to move again. I’ve lived in and around this town for close to six years and I like it. But the people I treasure the most don’t live here. They don’t even live close to this town. Well, I guess that’s a matter of perspective, really. But when I don’t have money or opportunity to visit them often, or for them to visit me, then it’s the same as they not living close by. And really. The closest one lives about two hours away – maybe not that far, if I had a car and/or money to visit.

I’m thinking about moving about 3-4 hours away from here. I’ll get further away from some friends and from my family and closer to a few other friends. It would be nice to try at least. And it would mean moving to a big city, which definitely would be an experiemce since I’m from the countryside. Though I plan to find a place that isn’t in the centre of the city, but more on the outside where it gives more of an illusion of not being a big city.

I probably won’t move soon – you need money and planning when moving – but I’m hoping to maybe move in about a year or so. Well, the future will show what happens!

All body sizes can come with troubles!

It’s hard to stop your thoughts as they appear, and not all thoughts are good or kind in nature. And some thoughts are of course about other people.

It’s hard not to look at people as they pass, or you pass them. And while looking, you might find thoughts popping into your head – thoughts about these people. I get thoughts like “Look at how thin/skinny/fat s/he is”. “Look at those tattoos/piercings/clothes/that hair” etc. I don’t really think it’s anything wrong about these thoughts, whether they’re of the positive or negative kind. It’s just thoughts, and most people gets them. And I don’t follow up these thoughts with things like “S/he should build some muschles/eat something/gain weight/lose weight” or things like that – but even if I would think like that, it’s still just thoughts.

But I know how it feels when people complain about your body – I’m skinny and weak. I’ve grown up hearing about how I should eat more and gain weight, how I’m anorexic (which I’m not and never have been – and if you want me really pissed at you, this is the insult to use) and how I’m too weak for this and that. I have had (still somewhat have) trouble with food. But the kind of trouble that comes from me being picky and not really liking to eat – and I really don’t like to cook, escpecially for just me. But I do eat, and I can eat a lot if I feel like it. I also eat a lot of snacks, drink soda and eat junk food. Sure, I can go days without really eating mroe than a sandwich or something, but I also have days when I nibble at snacks or other stuff all day. I can have periods where I only eat junk food or fatty foods (I really don’t care about calories, fat and the likes in food, by the way), but this doesn’t necessary mean I get any closer to gaining weight. I have a hard time gaining weight, no matter what I eat or how much of it. I went a few weeks (a few years ago) eating nothing but candy and junk food, and I lost weight.

Today I fluctuate between 51-55 kilos (and I’m 175 cm tall), so I’m definitely underweight. But I don’t dislike my weight or my looks, and I think that’s what’s most important – no matter what you weight or how you look. Sure, your health’s important too, but it’s not up to other people to decide when your weight’s affecting your health, they don’t know your body as well as you do.

But as I said, I fluctuate between 51–55 kilos today. This is underweight and it’s not unusual for me to hear about how I should gain more weight. What people don’t seem to understand is that it’s easier said than done. People always complain about how hard it is to lose weight, while it’s so easy to gain it. They talk about how easy it is for thin people and how hard it is for fat people. Well, thin people have there problems too. It’s not a picnic to be underweight either, and it’s not fun to have to listen to people talk and “joke” about my body size or how I should eat butter to gain weight. Like it’s that easy.

It might not be easy for fat people to lose weight, and they might have a health issue that makes it harder and whatever. I don’t really care about the reasons. I don’t care if they’re fat, thin or something between, it’s up to every individual to decide for themselves how they want to look and if they’re happy or not with their looks. This includes me!

And it’s not easy to gain weight, I can’t gain weight by “eating butter” or something like that. For me, it is hard to gain weight. It’s far easier to lose weight, even if I eat all the time and if I just sit on my ass all day, just as it is when I eat and train, don’t eat and train, don’t eat and just sit around, you name it. It’s taken me about 15 years to gain 10 kilos – and the last 4-5 kilos I mostly gained because of my anti-depressive medication. When I was 14 years old, I weighed about 45 kilos, today I’m 28 years old.

It’s not necessarily easy to gain weight. It can be a damn hard struggle, and not only to gain it, but also to keep it!

That’s all from me today. Now I’m gonna go eat some cake and be lazy in front of my TV.

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)