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Damn
People love to stick things inside me and say insane shit to me.
It's always in those moments that people will say the most insane shit to you isn't it? During their most intimate intrusions into your body.
The phlebotomist at the Quest who drew my blood for what felt like an eternity and began what she thought was probably a "comical" rant against her cousin. "She says she's a man, when I know it's just cause she doesn't want to have her period." Not realizing she was literally taking my blood for the purpose of checking my hormone levels for HRT.
My endocrinologist who asked me questions about my dating life as she shoved her fingers into me for the purpose of checking for cervical cancer. After conducting a pap smear I DIDN'T SCHEDULE- and not even checking with me to see if it was ok at all before proceeding.
Medical manipulation and abuse is fucking real. And I know what I've experienced is hardly anything.
The phlebotomist was def just ignorant so I don't hold that against her, now I'm mostly talking about my endo. Seriously just, what the fuck. Idk I was gonna try and write something good or moving or whatever, but fuck that idk. What the hell. People are freaks.
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Testosterone
I feel like years and years of turmoil have stalled. I've hit a weird, purgatory-esque plateau in my development. I'm really happy with my transition. I like how I look. But I don't LOVE it. I don't take lots of selfies and get really excited to put on cool outfits or feel invigorated by shit anymore. Now I just wake up and do what I have to do. And I actually regard shaving as a hassle.
That's very new. Like it used to be this excitement about how much more my hair had grown every time I shaved- anxiously hoping each time that I'd get closer to a full beard- growing it out for as long as I could tolerate- then getting rid of it. Now, I know what's gonna happen. It'll grow out real fast. But not enough to reallyyyy be a full beard. There's no mystery anymore because I know it's gonna be a long time before it's actually a thick beard. So now, I don't shave it because I don't want to irritate my skin or get ingrown hairs or whatever, which is just dull- not so exciting. But also? Not bad!!!
I'm still super happy to even be having that experience. Just not in this insane euphoric way like when everything was completely new.
I'm experiencing this funny thing where like- I wake up and look in the mirror and I regard myself with this vague boredom. Like wow- I'm just some fucking dude. And I haven't been on a date in like 3 years. But now I live with my parents and I don't have a car, so like, when is that gonna change? Probably not soon. Does it have to change? Am I dying inside? No. Would it be nice to "get back out there" so to speak? Yes.
The fact that I talk about myself like a fucking middle-aged divorcee is part of the weird boredom thing. I think I'm starting to understand why a friend of mine told me I have "divorced man" energy.
I have gray hairs dude! I know I talk about that to an obnoxious degree and almost wear it as a badge of honor. But like wow. It's actually noticeable now. Like- it wasn't before, but now it is.
And I just look in the mirror and see this guy. With a little baby beard. And gray hairs. And like- who is that? Who is that guy?
I think part of the problem is transitioning actually made me overwhelmingly socially anxious. Like in my life I was always kind of like that, but it got so much worse. Not in a debilitating way where I can't go outside. Just in a lukewarm kind of overarching sense that I could definitely smile more, engage in more conversation etc. with people. The problem is just that I'm self-conscious and afraid to open my mouth in front of people that aren't also transmasc. Which is most people. So I just kinda go quiet.
Cause I'm afraid they're gonna like- think I'm gay or something? Which is hilarious, because I am. And I think about fucking men constantly.
But actually now that I think about it it's not just "not-transmasc" people, because now I'm in Florida and I have plenty of people who would like to hang out, but I am scared to initiate it!!!
I'm just so afraid that I'll ask someone to hang out and we'll have nothing to talk about! And if I'M the one to plan it, what do I even ask them to do? What if I pick the wrong activity and it's awkward or weird and they hate it? Or what if it's just a weird thing to ask someone to do to begin with??? What do we even do here? Go to the mall? Go see a movie? Take a walk? I wanna go to the beach, but a lot of the gay ppl I know here don't like the beach. But it's also stupid to assume that, because I haven't even asked!
A lot of these people knew me in high school. What if the person I am now is like- a weird dissapointment somehow. Or maybe in high school I was like- demure and quiet, and now I've changed, and they realize they actually don't like me.
Now that I'm typing this I hear how stupid it sounds.
Anyways, I also have to schedule around when I can borrow my mom's car here! It's demoralizing! But I'm not ashamed of my choices or anything I'm just kinda. In purgatory. But I'm really happy to be home for a lot of reasons. Like all the reasons I decided to come here still stand.
I'm just lonely.
And also living in a state of permanent repression of my desires. Despite the fact that I desire deeply.
This started out like I was gonna try and write something nice and poetic but I guess I'm not. Maybe I'll try another where I get explicit and then I can explore that part, bc I think this became something else.
#IM TRANS AND I WANNA FUCK#AND ALSO HANG OUT WITH PEOPLE#BUT I AM BUSY#AND SCARED#AND ALSO DONT HAVE A TON OF PERSONAL FREEDOM#OR LIKE- I DO#BUT I FEEL LIKE I DONT BC IM NERVOUS ABOUT MY FUTURE AND DONT FEEL LIKE I HAVE TIME TO BE UNEMPLOYED OR SOMETHING-#BC HOW IS THIS YEAR GONNA LOOK ON A RESUME... WENT HOME TO WRITE NOVEL...#HM AH...
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sorry for being a flirty little faggot I just wanna flirt around and fag out
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7/12/23
About Florida:
I don’t think about moving there very much right now. I guess I just can’t reckon with the weight of something until I’m right there in it. (Reading this entry back, this is normal I think. Why should I think about it so much. I think it’s healthy and a good indication of my neutrality on it that I’m not spending all my time here thinking about it. I’m being present. That’s good.)
But the other day I saw some photos and I got excited. Even though I’m afraid of so much.
I know it’s hot as balls in the summer, but there’s just something about home. You can’t stop loving your home. I love the rain. I love that everything there is constantly soaked with water. Water is life. You feel that deeply when you walk outside at night and hear all the frogs and the crickets chirping, and brush aside palm fronds to get to the trash cans in the back. The life is brimming up out of everything. The plants are so happy. The animals are happy.
It’s amazing to be away from it, and then come back, and just feel it in your body.
Everything is saturated. That’s the thing too. Yes, the heat is suffocating, but it’s also thick, all-consuming, blanketing. It surrounds you. So everything surrounds you like that. The smell of jasmine, or the smell after rain, or the smell of salt from the ocean- they drift through that humid air and fill your lungs and linger there.
And the water, it makes everything dark and bright. It makes the street lights bounce off the asphalt and blossom in your vision. In your car windows. It cleans everything. Walk anywhere barefoot. You’ll feel like you’re by the beach. It’s all been rinsed and dried by the sun.
The rain is a certainty, and when it rains it’s sweet and warm and cool at the same time. It catches you between the car and the front door, and when the AC hits you suddenly you’re shivering. And the rain pounds the roof. It pounds the roof and its vibrations hit the inside of your skull and tap on your throat and vibrate down to your chest and make you feel cavernous.
I’ll be working with Dad sometimes I’m sure. Which is gratifying for different reasons. Working with him is hard work, but it’s also serene work. It’s usually pretty quiet in the houses where we hang pictures. We haul stuff together. It’s a quiet kind of bonding too. I put in a good days work and feel stronger. I sweat a lot, and thank god for sweat.
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