Every time I think I have made progress; I manage to screw up and put myself back at square one.
Yesterday's bit of self-sabotage came in the form of a police car stopping me and letting me know I had not renewed my license plates in July. To make things worse, my car insurance company no longer sends out paper versions of my coverage, and because I had never taken the time to go to the library and print out the information, all I had in the car was expired versions.
Due a scarcity of spoons I am just now sharing this for me very cathartic experience with you all, even though it happened late on Wednesday afternoon and into the late evening.
I've been out to my wife, kids and grandkids for a few years now, but my wife's extended family didn't know about my real self - until today. We went to my mother-in-law's for Thanksgiving, as she will probably not be around any more next year. It will be a blessing; she has dementia and is getting very near 100 years old. After talking with my niece, who lives with her and has known about me for a couple of years now, we felt that it would be OK to be me. With my wife's blessing, I went there as myself.
Ever since I realized that I can hurt myself during my manic phase and not know it, I have trying to think of ways I can counter this.
Right now, the only idea I have is to try and take a moment every so often and visually check for any new bruises, cuts, or scratches, as well as any signs of joint issues.
Not going to be easy, since one of the main signs of my manic phase is the difficulty of focusing, but I have to try.
All encouragement, hugs, and any suggestions, appreciated.
Since folks were asking about DarkKitten and me, I figured it was finally time that I broke my silence. I ask, as you read this, that you please bear in mind rule one. I firmly believe people are innocent until proven guilty, but, I also can't ignore the evidence, so, here goes.
many years ago, a man named Alvin Toffler wrote a book where he argued that the rate of technological change was going so fast, people could no longer adapt, and were suffering a form of culture shock, or as he put it Future Shock.
Since the book came out, the rate of technological change has only increased, and the effects have only gotten worse.
I believe this is one reason for the increase in popularity of movements that wish to slow, stop, or even reverse some of those changes.
so, I found out something interesting yesterday. I had spent a good part of the day walking, and to my delight my joints were not bothering me despite the cooling temperatures.
I assumed it was because of the weight I had lost, but last night, as my manic phase eased, the pain came back.
It makes sense, my manic phase is a lot like being drunk or being high, both known for blocking pain, I had just never made the connection before.
I will be at a conference all day tomorrow, I'm chairing one of the sessions and will be too tired to write, sorry for any inconvenience to my readers.
Okay, so last night I dreamed I was back in school, and we were going to be taught ballroom dancing.
But when it came time to partner up, I was left without one, and I got so angry at the realization I was never going to be anybody's choice, I yelled at the teacher, and then took a table that was bolted to the floor, ripped it out, and threw it, Hulk style.
Still accepting all hugs, prayers, and comments of support.
So today when my brother came over, he told us he has been dealing with serious blockage in his heart, to the point they have given him a nitro pen to inject himself with if needed.
so, two things happened to me last night. the first was I had a dream where I was trying to get back to my apartment, and somehow kept ending up on the wrong floor.
Second was I woke up, my clock said it was 8, and for a second, I couldn't figure out if it was 8 AM or PM.
It could be worse, but a little confusion isnt a fun way to start the day.
The Family Girl #098: Rambling About Dad - Bobbie Cabot
I've taken a few days to get back. Things are not yet right for me after my dad died. I think I will never be right. This is my first time to lose family. I don't know if things will ever be like it was again, but Mo said something: why did I expect it to, because it can't - the key is to learn to accept it, and move on. That's not easy, of course. But, nevertheless, one has to. I'm afraid I'm not as strong as others who are able to do that, but, as Mo said, I don't have to do it alone.
For now, it's about putting some distance, and living with it. And also taking joy from our time with our dad. That may take doing since all I can feel at the moment is the loss.
Anyway. This blog is about my dad, and the people I love.
The provincial government apparently announced that it will no longer cover SRS.
Now, this won't affect me directly, as my health isnt good enough for the surgery, but I feel for any Albertans who were hoping to get it.
But that's not the worst of it. The ruling party is having a convention right now, and one of the ideas being debated is bringing in a bathroom bill, basically banning someone like me from the using the lady's room.
So as the headline reads, we are still homeless and living in a 1 room hotel. For those that need a reminder, we prevailed in Family Court a few months back. The judge ruled that our beautiful child should remain in the custody and care of his Mothers.
Now for the latest update. My wife and I just accepted Pre Trial Intervention on a 4th degree (instead of 2nd degree) charge. I’m not going to put the details here but at the end of our probation we will be able to have all the records expunged.
Today, as I sat in my car after grocery shopping. It occurred to me that once again, I had an offer of assistance from a man as I was hoisting 40# box of kitty litter into my cart. I already had it lifted to the top of the basket so that it rested there as I braced to put inside. I said, "I've got the hard part done, but thank you anyway."
A thing happened today. After screwing, glueing, nailing my courage to the sticking place, and procrastinating like a pro, I came out to my wife of 40 years. She took it well. We still love each other, and she declared my feminine side irrelevant to our relationship, though she reserved the right to take the piss at any of my antics.
Hands still shaking.
Today one of the “Random Solo” recommendations was Touch Starved by Bailey Summers (her main story content page is here). We would all do well read this powerful, raw and painful story. Despite the “Adult Oriented” rating this story is absolutely NOT erotica, graphic sex or porn, but just pure emotional pain and desperation, that fortunately ends in a glimmer of hope.
Okay so for some reason I have noticed a change in my dreams, in terms of where they take place.
See a lot of my dreams have taken place at or near my old high school in Calgary, but lately, I have been having dreams set on my grandparent's farm, which was just north of a little town called Redwater, which was itself just north of Edmonton. I dont know if this means anything, but it is kind of interesting.
I grew up in the Imperial Valley, the southeast corner of California. Big farming area in a desert.
My dad worked for the Imperial Irrigation District as a zanjero, a ditch rider. Farmers and other water-users like cities and industries buy water, which is delivered through a series of canals, originating in the Colorado River 70 to 100 miles away. They have done this for about 100 years.
I was perusing some older stories this evening - as I often do. A comment by another reader at the end of a current story got me started looking at an older story I had not seen before, which in turn led me to going through an author’s previous works. As a coincidence, it was an author whose work I had read quite a lot of before, but I decided to go through some of her solo work I had not previously read. I tend to be attracted more to multi-part stories or serials rather than solo stories, and as such I had ignored her solo works for the most part, much to my loss.
Yeah, 39 years……… probably 38 more than I deserve, lol.
I fully expected that my marriage was over a decade ago when my spouse and I had our first discussion about my gender dysphoria. And then again multiple times after that, but especially when I told her I was going to transition.
We had gone through a lot, between my time in the service and the ensuing issues it left, to my civilian career which kept me away from home about 75 to 80% of the time, and then eventually due to my gender issues.
I have been struggling for a long time on how to formulate this post on a deeply personal issue. While sharing this personal struggle that is affecting my own mental health, it is also a request (maybe even a cry) for help to members of this community located towards the north-west of Germany.
Checks can be made out & sent to:
Joyce Melton
1001 Third St.
Space 80
Calimesa, CA 92320
USA
Note: $6000 is the operating, maintenance and upgrade budget. Amounts received in excess of the $6000 will be applied to long term debt accrued over the last 19 years.