The Blogtastic Blogfest That Is Getmeoutofthis.net!

Today is the first day of school.

Fuck.

In Brer’s words, I have been “seriously depressed” all summer, and I’d mostly agree with that. As a result I don’t feel completely prepared for the semester to come. I feel like I’m stumbling forward into it.

Then again, I always feel that way when I haven’t done anything for a long while. I always feel lost until I’m in the thick of it, because it’s then that it’s not longer an unknown.

This semester should be less stressful in some ways. School should be less of a problem than it was last time. Much easier classes, and hopefully a much easier time. It should be way more stressful in others, though. Things are going to change. They’re really going to change.

They’re really going to change.

Looking at it, as always… scary as fuck. How many times have I written these words?

But I can do this. It begins. Life moves forward, and for the first fucking time, I am going to move forward. And at the end is my brother’s wedding, and all that jazz, and a visit from Brer.

I can do this. Just watch me.

I’m on the verge.

It’s all coming to a head.

More overused metaphors.

I’m seriously so close. So very close.

Fuck.

The moment before is always the worst, you know? Once you get on stage, then it’s easy. Once things are out in the open, there’s no longer any problem. But until then, until you make that step… it’s painful. It’s crazy. It’s tough.

It’s very tough.

I’m going to make it through this, and I am going to be the better for it. Sometimes, I just need to tell myself that. Sometimes I need to keep myself going. Keep myself from running away. Locking myself in here, with this computer, and never coming out. But no, I don’t need to do that. I’m going to make it through this.

Fuck.

When I dream, which doesn’t happen often, it’s normally narrative.

What I mean by that is, oftentimes when I dream I understand that I am the narrator of a story, and I keep the story going in a way that makes sense for the characters, whether it be people I know, or some random shit my brain puked out. I often don’t remember all of the actual dream, or even much of it. What will happen, though, is that I will wake up, slightly, and continue the story as I have been. Without even thinking about it, my mind keeps going and narrating. Until I get fully awake, it can be hard to stop this. I get some kind of drowsy need to reach a stopping point in the story.

That’s all well and good when they’re good dreams. I could keep telling those for awhile, no problem. Lately, they haven’t been, though.

I’ve been having near-constant dreams about bad things happening to me in some regard. I lose someone. I scream at someone and get really mad. I lose something and go berserk. The other night, the dream was that I got my car stolen, right before some sort of fancy concert that Jonathan and Shauna were going to that I really wanted to attend. I was dealing with something with my parents up until the very last moment before I had to leave, and then I noticed my car wasn’t there. I had to work on getting it back, and I never got to go to the show. I was so angry.

And I woke up so angry.

Dreams are just too real sometimes… I don’t know, my mood is fragile enough these days. It annoys me that my subconscious is making me wake up feeling like shit again and again. It just makes me feel stupid and weak to be so upset by such things. Then again, I guess in a lot of ways I am. I crumble and crack and fall apart again and again. It’s silly.

I mean, I’ll survive. I have so far, somehow. I’ll make it. I guess I just wish it would be easier. And that something as simple as my dreams would co-operate with my plans.

I walked downstairs, and my mother was crying. I, of course, asked her what was wrong. It turned out that she was looking at music for the Mother/Son dance at Jonathan’s wedding, and thinking about it made her cry. A good cry, certainly. The idea that her youngest son was getting married, though, was pretty overwhelming. It’s a crazy thought.

It’s a crazy thought.

I responded by jokingly saying that it was all his fault for growing up.

But you can’t stop that.

I’ve tried to stall my life for years. Hold back things that I knew I should be doing because they were so stressful. Even now, now that I’m in the thick of them, they’re so stressful that I can barely get out of bed in the morning. Yet, times goes on, my life goes on, and I have to move on. Just like Jonathan has to move on with his life, I have to move on with mine. It’s exciting, and scary, and sad, and wonderful, but it is. It’s something that is inevitable.

More and more, when I think about Jonathan and his wedding, I tend to think of more domestic things. Wanting to settle down, find a steady job I won’t have to leave, have a certain boyfriend there. I think domestic. I think future. I think it’s good, because before, it was always just about transitioning. Now I am on the cusp, it’s nearly here, and I find my mind moving to other things. The sort of things I’m sure my parents would have rather me have been thinking about the whole time. It’s nice. It’s also a totally new feeling. One I worry about having. But that’s probably normal. That’s more normal than I’ve been in a long while.

I admitted the other day that “I’m rarely fine.” Brer said that that was shockingly honest. I am rarely fine. I’m depressed all the time. But things are moving forward. Things are happening. I need to remind myself that things are in motion (I freudianed “emotional” there first) that are going to help. Things are going to get better.

Time will move forward, and things will get better. Different, yes. But sometimes that isn’t so bad. Sometimes you have to cry about your son getting married to enjoy the cool stuff that brings.

I am so tired.

I don’t mean physically, though I suppose I am pretty tired physically as well. I’m just tired of being depressed, and tired of feeling like my family is against me. I’m tired of not feeling safe, I suppose. I’m tired of having to force myself to buy that I can do this. I’m tired.

I’m tired.

I guess it’s not too surprising. I get this way every once and awhile. I just want to hide in bed and never come out for a few weeks or months, so maybe I could feel better. I can’t, of course. Way, way too much to do. Always too much to do. But it would be nice, wouldn’t it? A bit of vacation. A bit of rest. It would be nice.

In the back of my mind, I know I’m things the right way. I know I’m getting closer. I know I will survive this and be happier for it. I know that many, many things are happening that I never would have imagined happening before, and that I am so damn close I should be able to taste it. It’s just so hard for information like that to make it through all that tired. I’ve been waiting for this stuff for way, way too long.

Sorry… I just needed to complain a little, I guess… things will soon be back in full swing. I’ll be working at school so much I won’t have any free time at all… but I know I’ll make it. I just wish I could convince myself of that sometimes.

I got some pretty bad news the other day.

It seems that all mental heath issues are all one illness, even when they aren’t. This is fantastic news. It basically means I’m totally screwed. My insurance won’t continue to pay for my therapy, and I can’t really afford to go every week without it. I’ve been dipping into my savings constantly to cover these costs as is. On top of that, Kohl’s has been having wonderful budgeting issues, which means I haven’t been working enough and earning enough money, either. I can’t afford to keep going and seeing my doctor about my gender identity disorder. I need better health insurance, but I don’t have anywhere to get it from. I feel completely fucked.

Needless to say this upset me greatly. There were tears. It was really frustrating. I’m getting so fucking close. I really am, and then this. Really, really frustrating.

I have plans and schemes. I should be able to afford it better if I go every other week, instead of every week. Hopefully that won’t slow me down… at least not too much. At least then I can keep going. Once school starts up again, and I’m getting paid more, things will go a little better too. I’m also, as I’m writing this, about to leave to go see the doctor, so hopefully she’ll have some ideas as to what I can do to make this work out.

I’m not going to give up. But fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I am tired of this bullshit. I just want to be me.

Some days I just don’t know what to write.

This is one of those days.

I mean, I have things to write. I watched The Road, so I could write my impressions of that, and I have IoTMs to review and all kinds of stuff I could be writing about. But I’ve been staring at the post screen for awhile now, and I can’t write about those things right now. I’m just kind of held back. So I’m writing this instead.

There are so many things I could be doing. Games I could be playing through. Let’s Plays I could be doing (Unless my mood changes a lot soon, I just don’t see it happening, which frustrates me. I hate that… but I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried and tried to force myself to do it, but I’m in such a horrible mood, and it’s not really a priority… bleh). So much I could be working on, but I’m not.

I am so tired of being depressed.

I’ve been in an awful mood for weeks now, and it’s, frankly, getting to be really fucking annoying. Mostly because I haven’t been able to hide it well. I’ve been doing things like writing “Symptoms of Depression” on my list of things I brought into work in the thief book, and not being able to answer people when they ask me how I am. I hate bothering people with my shit. If I could, I’d just handle everything without involving them at all.

But they are involved with my life, completely involved. That’s both a blessing and a curse. I’m glad people are worrying about me, but I also wish I was in a state where they wouldn’t have to. I want to be a positive force, not a stupid bitch.

So… yeah… I don’t think I have it in me to write a good post today (Not that I ever do that, really). This is the only time I have left to write this, so I felt I had to write something, but this is… not what I wanted to write. I wanted to write happy things.

I want to be happy.

I’m working on it, I suppose.

Come back tomorrow, I’ll try to have something better.

I bought a dog toy because I had to save it.

This was, of course, while I was out running around with Cara. We were in Best Buy, and I turn and I catch sight of a fox tail out of the corner of my eye, so I have to go see what it is. It turns out it’s a dog toy that is basically a plushie, only without stuffing, so the dog can really rip it up and not make a mess. The pictures on the packaging showed many dogs holding this poor fox in their mouths and looking so happy, while the fox looked so sad, defeated, and resigned to fate.

I couldn’t let him sit there and go through that. I had picked one up to look at him, and I seriously couldn’t put him back. Cara probably thought I was weird. I got in the way of a woman carrying a large box. It was kind of silly.

Honestly, I feel kind of silly. This really would make a great dog toy. I bet Molly would love something like this. But she’s not going to get this one. I’m going to keep him safe. She’s not going to touch him. He’s mine.

Brer mentioned that I’ve been worked up, which I have, and the fact that it’s a fox probably triggered something for me, which it did. Maybe I feel like I’m in the jaws of a happy, nice, but destructive animal, and I’ve given up. Maybe I wish someone would draw me out of this stuff, and keep me safe. I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I had been feeling like I didn’t know exactly what was going on with my transitioning. I didn’t know what I should be doing, and when I wanted to start doing all those things was lingering. What did I still need to get done? What was I even supposed to be working on? What was there left to do?

So when I saw Dr. Friedman next, I asked.

And through all the discussion, it really seems like there’s just no way it’s going to happen when it was supposed to. It’s now another semester away, probably.

It’s just not fair. I’m ready, you know? It’s all about my family and such, and while yes, I want things to go well for them so that there is the least amount of friction, dammit… I want to get started. I want to live my life the way I want it to. I want to have control over myself for the first fucking time in my life. I want to start transitioning. I want to be me.

It also just brings up all kinds of issues. I’d be transitioning around Jonathan’s wedding, and around Christmas, and it just… man, it seems like a great way to make those situations shitty, doesn’t it? That’s why I wanted a buffer zone, so I’d be fully into things so that there wouldn’t be any argument at these situations. Now, I guess I put it off past that too?

More and more. Always something else, isn’t there?

I’m discouraged. I know what I need to do now, and I’ll do it. There are benefits too. My face stuff will be done by the time I start then, which is probably a much better situation, for example. And I’m closer than I’ve ever been, and I am making progress.
But fuck.

Just… fuck.

Since last Friday, say, I’ve been in a horrible depressive funk. It’s kind of shitty. I’ve been working on Assassin’s Creed 2 and hiding to attempt to combat this, but I don’t know how well it’s gone. I’ve basically been lashing out at Brer and being pretty stupid and secluded. Cara said I was “absent.” I guess that works.

I really wish I had a handle for why I get like this. I mean, I have theories. I’m burning all my social energy and I’m running out, or my body just decides it’s not going to take any more and needs a break. I don’t know. I just hate how awful I am. I hate not really understanding why I feel so horrible, and I hate that these situations have come back. I used to be able to ignore them, or at least keep them to one evening, but this shit has gone on for like 4 days and may still continue. I don’t know.

Anyway, moodiness sucks and I hate it, the end.

Still, I guess it’s nice to have a little time to indulge it. And I survived the semester with a 4.0, even with everything I was fighting with the whole time.

I have it together. Kind of. Even if I am completely broken sometimes.

Yep.