I am broken

Merry Christmas!

You’ve read that right…I am broken.

I’ll keep it brief, but let’s delve a little further.

I can’t help but think that getting better seems hopeless. I feel like I’ve always been somewhat depressed, but these past few months have made my depression much worse.

All I want to do is stay inside. I can’t help but think about the way I look and how others perceive me – I feel like I look like a monster, that people should avoid my presence so I stay inside. Recently, I looked in the mirror and just wanted to die, it felt that bad.

This all goes back to my childhood and how much I had to suppress myself in order to move forward with my life. My biological family is not my family and they made it clear from early on that I would never be accepted for who I am. In fact, my natural mannerisms (aka perceived femininity) were ridiculed and policed to the point where I had to suppress every fiber of my being. Imagine not being able to truly be yourself for many years of your life? And then just expect things to somehow get better?

The aftermath of all of this still haunts me today. I wish I had a different upbringing and different circumstances. There are people who are able to start exploring who they are in a healthy way without judgment – I was never going to be one of those kids. I should have never went through male puberty. Male puberty poisoned me.

I even asked my mom recently, knowing all of the pain I was going through when I was young, would you have ever considered letting me live my life authentically from a young age? She said absolutely not and used religion as her reasoning. My mom has no empathy. Where is the unconditional love?

And don’t get me started with dating – that’s still a shit show. How do I date when I have no confidence and no way of ever achieving it?

It all feels so impossible. I’m so broken. I absolutely hate my life.

Reflecting

Hello my loves,

First off, I know some people give a shit about what I write, so I’m sorry for not posting in such a long time. Life happens.

So, I caved in yesterday and let social media lead me to the man I once had very strong feelings for. He was the married man I referenced in a previous post.

Isn’t it ironic how the ones that cause the most damage seem to live the happiest of lives? Like, just looking at his social media account immediately made me feel inadequate. He was surrounded by those I assume he’s closest to, lots of social situations, lots of love, lots of grand moments. It’s like damn, how can you just go on like nothing happened? How can you live with yourself knowing all the pain you’ve caused me? How can you go on knowing what you’re doing to your wife and just seemingly not give a fuck? Even though logically I know this is just an image, captured brief moments of a much bigger picture, it doesn’t tell the whole story. Deep down I know that to be true.

Also, it seems crazy to me that I could be looking him up on social media and his wife doesn’t even know I exist. Like, that shit seems so crazy to me. Your husband is living a life you know absolutely nothing about. That shit scares me to the core.

I can’t help compare myself to her sometimes though. I compare my body to hers. I compare the fact that she is legally bound to him and gets to spend her life with him. I often wonder if she could physically please him the way I did.

But, I take solace in the fact that I’ve seen one side of him he refuses to show to society, one mask he can’t unveil. My authenticity automatically means that these masks can come down. A part of me feels sorry for him because I know his outlet for his desires have to be hidden. I can’t relate, but I can sympathize to a certain extent.

It’s also like, damn I’m lonely. These happy moments just don’t happen to me. The moments of intimacy that I experience are only for a moment. No one really wants to stick around, you know? Then I go on a downward spiral of negative thinking that reinforces bad habits that I have. And then I blame myself. What is wrong with me?

But, I also feel a strange motivation when I look at these pictures. It makes me want to be my best self, so whenever I see him, I can pretend not to know him. Treat him like the non-factor he should be. I want my presence to scare the living shit out of him, because he knows I can reveal stuff about him he doesn’t want other people knowing.

And here I am, two years later and still thinking about him. Granted, it has gotten easier with time, but still, that shit hurts. As much as I can put on a brave face and be resilient, I just wish things were different. I guess this is when I have to forgive him, because I can’t keep holding on to these negative feelings. I have to let them go.

I want to start a dialogue. All comments are of course welcome, but I am specifically interested in hearing the perspectives of cisgender heterosexual men who are attracted to transgender women, married men who are currently cheating on their wives, and anyone who feels like they can’t lead honest lives for whatever reason. Your insight is truly appreciated.

<333

-Elle

Looking back (and forward)

Hey y’all. I stumbled upon this very old post of mine that I’m finding very relevant at the current moment. I’m very happy not to be in this place anymore, but it’s also a humbling reminder to really reflect when feelings of depression happen to resurface. I’ll elaborate more in another post, but for now, feel free to take a look into my past. 🙂

Verbal Portrait of 9/26/2015

I hide behind a smile.

So, hi everyone.

Depression is a motherfucker, and most of the times I try to put forth my best effort to combat the feeling.

One week of happiness can be brought down in an instant. Thoughts, words, texts, emails, videos, photos, and more can trigger the depression in the blink of an eye. And in the moment, it feels like there’s no going back.

I’ve hidden behind a smile my entire life. I’m sure many of us have. But, I’ve done a great deal of work on myself to unveil the masks that have once trapped me.

My gift for authentic expression means vulnerability, which can be quite bittersweet. At this point in my life, my authenticity means not being able to see my parents anymore. It means that for the very first time in my life, I may be spending the holidays alone.

Maybe I just need some time to adjust to the new circumstances of my life. Maybe the depression will eventually subside.

I just wish things were easier, you know?

The Unexpected Sleepover

Hey everyone! So, I had a stranger spend the night recently. It was unexpected, but I actually did end up enjoying myself.

Let me just give some background info on how the night ensued. So, I was supposed to go out with my closest friend, but she ended up cancelling last minute while I was out running a quick errand with another close friend of mine. As we were on our way to run our mutual errand, a pretty cute and seemingly respectful guy ended up asking for my number (more on him in another post). This made me feel confident – I was on cloud 9 and overcome with joy. As my friend and I made our way back home, I was feeling a bit frisky and I decided to hit up this guy I met online the week before. I really just wanted to make out and feel on an erect penis (lol), but when the guy made his way to my neighborhood, the vibe felt a little different. He seemed pretty chill and goofy, and I felt somewhat comfortable around him.

Anyway, time flew and before we knew it, it was 6am.  The dude asked if he could sleep over because he was tired, but I was super hesitant – my room was in the middle of being cleaned so there was shit all over the place, I hadn’t shaved my legs, and I just generally wasn’t as “on point” as I normally would’ve been had I had time to prepare. I guess I just didn’t feel prepared to have a guest over. Whatever. But I ended up agreeing to it anyway, no matter how vulnerable I felt.

I quickly cleaned my room and made space for him on my bed. He layed down on my bed and I made my way next to him. He then wrapped his arm around me and he ended up falling asleep pretty quickly. It was all just so cute. I, however, couldn’t get over the fact of what I’d just done – like, Elle, what the fuck are you doing? There’s a fucking stranger in your bed! I even hid my purse and some other valuables just in case this dude ended up being a fucking klepto. I was paranoid as fuck.

Anyway, he ended up leaving later om that afternoon. I walked him to the elevator of my building and we made out until it arrived. He kissed me goodbye and said he would text me when he got home. And I went back to my apartment to lay down on my bed and reflect  on what just happened lol.

Maybe I’ll see him again soon? 😉

 

 

 

I just had sex

Hey. I’m here to vent some more. I just had sex with a “DL” dude that I’ve known for quite some time now. Although the sex was good, I never feel fulfilled sexually when we’re done because his needs always seem to trump mine. I wonder when I’ll meet someone who will be just as attentive to my needs as I am with them. That’s all.

Girlhood

Hey y’all. I had a random memory of my childhood today and thought I would share it with whoever happens to read this post. Enjoy!

Picture this: an overcrowded classroom in East Harlem. It must have been the 2nd or 3rd grade. On this particular day, we had a substitute teacher, Mr. Leon de Peña. He was an interesting older gentleman with bouts of extremely boisterous energy. He also had a strong citrusy scent that permeated wherever he would walk. Mr. Leon de Peña was definitely a character. Anyway, he must have been teaching science or english because we were learning the differences between the words “female” and “male”. Everyone was being called on to participate and declare which word belonged to them. I pretty much zoned out the entire lesson and realized too late what was happening. As Mr. Leon de Peña inched closer to my desk, panic started to set in. “Which word should I say?” I thought to myself. “I know! I’ll just say female because that’s what sounds correct for me to say.” I felt validated and confident in my answer. As Mr. Leon de Peña approached my tiny desk, I bravely declared that I am female to the entire class. “No!” commanded Mr. Leon de Peña. “Are you a girl?” Mr. Leon de Peña asked me assertively. My many classmates’ eyes darted towards my direction. Ashamed, I answered no and looked down suddenly. This took me back to an unhappy place – yet another one of the many reminders that my feelings would never be validated. Mr. Leon de Peña was still looming over me and asked, “So, what are you?” “Male,” I replied bashfully. “I am male.” Mr. Leon de Peña had received the affirmation he needed and moved on to the next student. “Phew! What a relief,” I thought to myself. And for that moment, my misery was temporarily alleviated…

 

Motherhood

Hey my loves. I have so much on my mind as per usual but I’ve decided to focus on just one topic for today, and that’s motherhood.

As a transgender woman, motherhood seems unattainable for so many reasons, yet I’m kinda obsessed with it. Oftentimes I’ll reflect on what I’d like my future to look like and motherhood is frequently in the picture.

But, these thoughts often leave me depressed for a few reasons. As a transgender woman, I’m unable to experience pregnancy and all of the experiences that come with physically brining a life into this world. This makes me feel so inadequate to cis women. Also, in my experience, not being able to conceive tends to be a dealbreaker when it comes to dating cis men. This hurts, but hey that’s life, right? You win some, you lose some. Anyway, this usually leaves me with men that are mainly interested in only having a sexual relationship with me. More on that in another post.

To continue, adoption is certainly an option and one I’ll most likely choose when the time comes. I have so much love to give and I know I’ll make a good mother someday.

💕

Visual dreams

What do dreams mean to you? I keep having very visual dreams about my life and I’m really not sure what to think of them.

Below is an example of a dream I had recently. Would anyone be able to help me interpret this dream?

I had a very visual dream about him again.

I’m not completely sure how it all started, but I was chasing him down the streets of NYC to a restaurant that was hosting some sort of party that charged $1 admission fee to get in. I remember wanting to say that I wanted to see one of the employees but ended up paying the entrance fee anyway. Only thing was when I got in, it was as if I worked there. I was kind of lead into a dead end – either I could change and get ready for my shift, walk around where the employees and managers were waiting, or leave. That was it. No entrance to the actual restaurant from that area. Funny thing is that 3 of my roommates also worked there but were leaving. It seems as though I decided to stay.

Anyway, during the dream, I would see pictures of him via some social media platform. One was of him just sitting in a park with a baby carriage/shopping cart looking thingy with a small grey puppy in it. I remember my heart dropped when I saw it because I thought he had a baby.

There was this recurring theme of me “trying to figure him out” and also needing closure. I’m not sure how I knew this (I think either there were flashbacks of him saying this or something), but he kept saying or I was picturing him saying something about not feeling safe with his dad. I remember wanting to confront him with this newly found info and wanted him to know that I support him no matter what.

I never did make it to him in the dream, but I woke up with a strong urge to reach out to him and say something along the lines of “he doesn’t need to pretend with me”, to cut the bullshit and be honest for once. Let down your fucking wall.

And that’s that

Is there a deeper meaning to this dream that I’m missing?

I’m back?!

Hey y’all. I know it has been a long time since I last posted. I’m in a much different place than before.

I hope you’ve all been well!  🙂

Update

I’m not as strong as I may lead myself on to be.

Yes, I know this update is long overdue. A quick recap on what has been going on:

• I had major surgery.
• I (briefly) let him back into my life.
• I moved out of my parents’ house.

So, yes, a lot has been going on. However, there’s no excuse for neglecting my feelings. I should continue to acknowledge them through writing. Right now, it’s my best outlet.

Moving on: I’d like to keep this blog regularly updated. Weekly posts, maybe? Perhaps. More importantly, though, I just need to continue expressing how I feel through writing.

🙂