Willpower is Finite

I remember listening to a StuffYouShouldKnow podcast the other day on willpower – that it’s finite. Resist one thing and it’ll get harder to resist something else.

My mother called me twice in concern over my shoulder. At first I resisted contacting her back – saying to myself ‘I’m not falling for that again’.. (she’s a narcissist)

But ultimately I fell for that again and responded to her facebook message, poured my heart out on how much my shoulder hurts (injured it a few days ago) and got four words in response ‘hang in. How’s work’ and then nothing after that even telling her how work was, she ghosted.

People ghost a lot.

I tend to say to my shrink ‘no one cares about me’. Which is draining to her because she cares, I know.

I think what I mean by care is.. empathy. Sympathy.. I don’t know. I don’t feel that many people care about me in any good strong way. No one hates or loves me very much. I have two cousins who do love me, a cat at my parents house who does, a sister who does *sometimes*..  and all of these have a huge caveat, as you know.


So for family I know the ‘dance man’ rule well, and can tell exactly when and how I break it. I don’t know how to fix it when I break it… I think what happens is they see something interesting on the edge of the radar of ignoring me and come back for another show, and I’ll exhaustedly put on the monkey suit and dance again, because what else can I do?

I don’t know what the answer is at all when it comes to friends or lovers, because I don’t have any and I don’t know why, and no one will tell me.

So.. with no empathy towards me, I feel like I have no choice but to drink the poison of self pity, which makes me feel worse. I don’t know how to cope with nothing in the ‘belonging’ jar. I’m exhausted, I feel like I’ve tried everything. I am empty.

I am.

But honestly.. I am not.



Recipe for Happiness

Happiness is the most organic of emotions.

I mean, I disagree with my parents’ philosophy of how you can ‘choose to be happy’. I think happiness comes up naturally, I can’t chose it one way or another.

But I can choose to try to get there.

Your first step is gratitude. I think gratitude isn’t always organic. You can also choose to reach for gratitude for something. Gratitude is the fuel to the fire, the firewood.

Pile up gratitude high enough, and it’ll become easier to catch a spark of hope.

That spark of hope will start a fire. And sometimes, the warmth from that fire?

That’s happiness.

What is self pity and what is grief?

I am suffering from sob constipation. I’m holding so much in, but there’s not a safe place to let it go. I let one tear out today, but I have nowhere to put it entirely. I’ve been wanting to call my sister for weeks and try there, (fat chance) but keep making excuses to not to do it, so I don’t.

I don’t know what is self pity, and what is grief.

I constantly grieve the loss of my family. Sometimes that coagulates into self pity, but mostly it’s a constant stream of grief. There are people who have done stupid things, and their families held onto them, and were there and didn’t let them go. I did NOTHING. I transitioned. And they let me go.

The rest of this is probably only self pity:

At BEST I am in a laundry at the fountain square scenario, one of the girls in their gossip circle, and I have to suffer in silence.

That’s at best.

With family all I’m seeing it as, is I’m a thirsty man, but am drinking poison. Is that really any better?

I don’t have any friends to move forwards to instead. There, I am a starving man. With any interaction at all, I can’t handle too much of it. I sip at it. And that water turns sour because of a nonexistent reaction time. I am looking through a rolodex to find something to say or share, and by the time I think of something, it’s too late. If I try to say anything at all, it’s a naked dumbledore move. If I do hit on something, The inability to keep up causes overstimulation and then it crumbles. And if the overstimulation occurs, my hackles are up and I’m useless after that.

Always the satellite, never the planet

So things suck with my family, but nothing is new there. I have never ever ever ever been a planet for anyone, people on the same planet, who are cool with the other people on their planet. I’m the satellite, far away. Sometimes I’m not even allowed in their orbit.

The girl I’m seeing doesn’t want to be planets either.

I’m a bit tipsy, and maudlin. I never want to drink again.

I am so, so tired of never having my feet on the ground with anyone. People need some gravity.. some place to have their feet on the ground. No one wants me on their ground, and I am ensconced in self hatred right now, because my ‘feet’ must be dirty and stupid to never be worth anyone else’s energy or time.

My sister is kind of a kindred spirit, but she doesn’t give a shit either. I have cousins who do care, but their mom is like Mrs. Coulter. I can only tell them with my eyes that I’m there.

That aunt used to be my favorite aunt, but now she flips on a dime to that awful metallic mode. She cut me off for a year recently. I’m only semi allowed to exist in her orbit now.

I can tell I’m losing my cousins too. I’m losing them.

I’ve lost my ‘family of origin’. Going back to the house for holidays is hell. You know that feeling of when it’s really really cold out, and you come inside your house, but your muscles and bones still hold the memory of the intense cold for awhile? I’m doing that. I don’t know what’ll help. I fucking hate drinking, but I did it anyway, and also did it nearly every night at my parents’ house to try killing the parts of me that cared, at least for a time.

Now.. is not a good time. I want to curl up and freeze to death, because nothing is warm.

…you take him.

I’m trying to read Bear’s new book. (I have Johnny Cash’s biography too, both from the library.. oh I wish I could still read!!)

But the point is family. I wish I had one of my own, a chosen family. I hope it’s just the depression talking, but I echo so much that I doubt I ever did.

I don’t know where I fit. I’m a four years transitioned transsexual (dude). To my bio family I’m a cousin, (that one’s weird since no one’s near me in age anyway) a brother (Bueller..?) a son (you’re joking) and a nephew (to whom?). They’re a bit of a traditional gender divided bunch of irish catholic kind of thing. On thanksgiving the ladies are in the kitchen, the lads are watching football, and no one blinks. But that’s just barely looking at it. In the middle of it, it’s like, ‘you take him’. I’ve crossed the line and am not part of the girl circle anymore, and I can see that. I’m not a girl, but I don’t know that block very well yet. But the guys don’t want a thing to do with me either.

Can I at least get a good ball to bounce around in here?

mcqueen cooler

I can’t… do anything. My neurons won’t let me. I know what I should be doing for my bad shoulder, for example, my physical therapy exercises, which I’ve been slacking on, but I don’t know what to do about a broken brain. Depression, PTSD, anxiety, I know these things, and I know when they come up, they pass in time. I’ve got a few tricks here and there to cope with them, and sometimes they even work =)

But I don’t know what to do about a broken brain. I don’t mean it in a mood like way. I mean that, for example, I can’t read anything for more than ten minutes, for the most part, and that’s generally if I know it well and I read it many times before my neurons were shot to pieces. If that’s not the case, I’m lucky if I can absorb a few pages. It takes me a full day to watch a movie. I just rediscovered subtitles, and now I can understand what they’re saying, mostly, even if I can’t connect the pieces of what’s happening sometimes. (As I said, it takes me all day to get through it. My queue on netflix is becoming more and more of a wreck. I hope the rest of my family doesn’t look on my page).

I went to see the new Marvel movie in theaters when it came out. I love superhero movies. I barely understood any of it. I wanted to cry.

I can’t hold a conversation with people either, really. I don’t sound very intelligent, in speaking. I repeat myself, I can’t hold a debate, and I can’t hold one thought through to the end. Most people I know have run out of patience and stopped listening. I’ve fallen back on my old habit, of middle school, of trying to be as invisible as possible.

The therapist says to take a nonjudgmental stance, but it’s hard to do when in a mental sense of it, I can’t even hold a stupid spoon.

I’ve been slacking on everything else, like the physical therapy and whatnot, because I want to hold that spoon. But as I said, I don’t know how to fix it.

And of course, I have to be very careful not to mention anything of this to family. Not only is appearing weak a bad idea in front of my aunt, who is the mother of my cousins, (they’re the only people who look at me with anything resembling unconditional love, though I have to censor myself because of that aunt. The only time I didn’t, in trying to explain to the younger one why I changed my name, the oldest said ‘can we not talk about it anymore?’) That aunt will cut me off (again) if I am slightly left of normal. Showing any of them, aunt, immediate family, in general anything other than their dancing monkey, their eyes. go. dark.

Leave me Alone

I’ve mentioned to my parents to go move where one of my sisters lives. She’s far more attached than I am (I didn’t tell them that part), and I think they would like it there, besides.

My aunt said that she thinks that the umbilical cord between her and her mother (my gram, who passed away a few years ago) is still attached.

For me and my parents, it is not.

It burned off.

I love my family, I do, but I am no longer attached to them at all. Every time I try to be it never works, I run into a wall of flame. The fire comes from me, the ice comes from them, so I put up that wall, again and again. Something more gets burned away, every time, and I am left hollow.

This last altercation has left me in bed for two days.

I called out for help, to my mother, about someone who’s been taking advantage of my sympathy for a long time, and I was scared, and not feeling safe. My mother bulldozed over that, only seeing ‘friends! company!’ as she always does, and not seeing me. I have always been her ‘project’. When my life sucks it is automatically her fault, and I have to reassure her.

I really like where I live, but at two hours away from my parents it’s still too close. If they won’t go away and leave me alone, maybe I will.

I am living in three layers right now. At the core my brain is clear and I am passionate and true. However, the other two layers cause me difficulty. There is my depression, one, and my body itself. The improvement in my depression over the recent past, however, is that I am acutely aware of it, that it is not a part of me, that it is a disease. Before I started weaning off the medication it was a murky mess and it was all my fault and I was stuck in muck and mire.

The second thing I am running into is my body, which is decrepit and decayed from years of nonuse. I am fat, (I honestly was okay with this until quasi recently, when new med experiments, before I started going off of them, caused me to explode) and my muscles are constantly in pain. The transgender thing does not help with the body thing either, with feeling detached for both reasons. The trans thing, and the ‘body/depression, what are you doing? move!’ thing. The depression and the body thing are a deadly combination. It is like I have a pile of homework, with no idea where to start, and so I don’t start at all, and don’t move towards fixing the situation. So really still in a state of useless muckness but now I’m pissed about it.