It would have been better if you had died. Really, it would have. I would be able to live with myself if you had killed yourself or if you had died in an accident or something. I would probably still love you if you had died all those years ago.
Before you showed yourself to be the liar you are.
Before you blamed my mother (your wife) for your adulterous ways because *gasp* she had the audacity to have brain cancer.
Before you left your wife after she had her left frontal lobe removed and dumped her on your 16 year old who had to bathe, feed, clean, and teach her how to do normal things again.
Before you threatened me. Before you beat me.
Before you threatened my sister, my dog, my friends. Before you tried to kill my dog.
Before I found out how much you hate me for just being alive. It's not my fault I'm alive at all. Technically, it's almost all your fault.

I'm so jealous of people who had their dad's die when they still loved them. I'll never love you again. Never. I'll never want *you* ever again. I'll want the dad I deserved to have, the one you never were and never will be.

It's not fair. All I wanted was love. All I wanted was to spend time with you. Why do you think I bought you those bottle rockets? (*hint* it's because I got such a kick when my friends and I played with one I wanted to share that experience with you) And what did you do? You put them in the back of your closet and never looked at them again.
But I did.

I remember the rockets. I remember the fishing rod that I have yet to ever use because I was waiting to go fishing with you. I've been waiting 13 years now. That's all you were ever good for. Teaching me patience. Because someone has to have a lot of patience to wait for something that isn't coming but chooses to believe differently. If you had died I could probably still look at the model plane set I wanted to do with you, and never opened because it was going to be "our" thing with a little bit of happiness and think, "Oh man, he would have loved this."

But the truth is, you wouldn't have. You never enjoyed anything with me even after I tried my best to do anything that might interest you.
Softball
Basketball
I did those things because I saw your high school pictures, and I wanted to be just like you, even though I had been born with girl parts.

It hurts to know that every, "I love you" was a lie. That all those years I waited just to get a few minutes with you once you were back for a few hours before work pulled you away again. All that wasted time. All that heartache wasted on you.

You remember that time my sister and I came out running and screaming and jumping up and down in our flannel PJ's when we saw your truck pull up a few days early?
No, you don't, because it wasn't you, it was just the bug man. That was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life at that time (I mean, I was only 7).

But you didn't come home. And you never will.

It's not fair. I never wanted to hate you, but who could love you after all those years of abuse and misery? How do you even live with yourself? I couldn't if I were you. I would have killed myself a long time ago before anyone had the chance to hate me like you're hated now.

And I don't know why you think it's worth it. I don't know how you see any outcome other than more pain. More lost time. I've wasted so much of your time already. I'm just waiting for you to wake up out of your fugue and realize what you're doing. What you're asking. Who you are asking it of. I just let people down. I can't change even to spite my own self. I'm afraid of what we'll find. I'm afraid that I'll get a label I can't live with. I'm afraid that I'll be merciful, and spare you all.

Or would it be just me?

Wednesday night I went and saw the Deftones with my ex-fiance's sister. It's funny because ever since her brother and I broke up, we still go see concerts together at least once a year. We went and saw Chevelle a few months after I got dumped, then I took her to see Mute Math, and then the next year we saw Chevelle again (her all time favourite band). We have a lot of fun together but I haven't really kept in much contact with anyone in E's family since we broke up. I didn't know what the proper protocol was for an ex who was engaged to be married. Did his family still want me around? I didn't know so I assumed they didn't. If their son didn't want me around, then it figures that they might not as well. L (his sister) and I got a little drunk before the concert (pregamed in the parking garage because we're classy as fuck like that). The concert was amazing. I got to rub Chino's head when he jumped down in the crowd (I have to say for being an hour and a half late to get to the show we got an amazing spot with a great view). I felt like such a creeper just gently rubbing his head but his hair felt so nice! Since the concert was about 2 hours out of town I decided to get a hotel room (I've made that drive many times after a concert and every time I regretted it because I would almost all asleep at the wheel or get home and not get enough rest before work/class). To my amazement the concert was over before 11 (I think the opening band didn't play at all because Deftones went on at 8:45 and the show started at 8. I've never heard of a 2 band show's opener playing for only 20min so we figured they were no-show).

It was really great getting to spend time with L. I told her that I just wanted her to know I didn't harbor any ill feelings towards her and her family and brother. Quite the opposite. I really miss his mom (although R's mom is just the bomb. I am so happy that hopefully one day she will be my real legal mother-in-law, because she treats me like a daughter already and it's just awesome). I missed hanging out with L too. She and I were pals. She hated my guts at first because I was E's first relationship so she thought I was stealing him away but then she realized I was awesome (I mean come on, I am awesome!). She started to tear up when I told her that and asked if she could pass that along to E. Apparently he is still torn up about dumping me (I did tell her that he broke off our engagement and dumped me in a Target parking lot, she got pissed, I laughed). I will admit, for a while I was COMPLETELY devastated that he dumped me, and for a couple of years afterwards I would've been lying if I said I wouldn't take him back in a heart beat. Now it doesn't bother me. I am ultimately so much more happy and free with Reid. He has shown me happiness in ways that I would have NEVER had with E. I just wouldn't. He wasn't capable of it, and that's okay. He's not a bad guy. Even Reid has gotten over his hatred of him (he realized that maybe he wasn't a monster but just made a lot of mistakes).
Like I said, I was E's first girlfriend, much less fiance. He made a lot of mistakes because he didn't know better. And I didn't know enough to realize that I honestly deserved better. But I do now. I have what I deserve. I have everything I wanted and more.

There was a funny bit, L came out and said that she hates E's new girlfriend. I confessed to her that through some stealthy stalking I was able to track this girl down and since everything of hers is public on Facebook I saw pics, read status' and immediately thought, "Man, if E still had his Facebook he would realize that this girl is EVERYTHING he has said he did not want in a girl." L said that exact same thing before I even told her I knew E had a girlfriend, much less had found her profile and thought the EXACT same thing as her. I even told Reid about her. She's definitely a Klingon (and sort of looks like one too). L said that E told her the only reason he could see himself marrying her is that she would make him mad enough one day to just do it to shut her up.

I'm so glad I'm not with him anymore.

The last picture is my favourite. That one was taken during Change in the House of Flies. They also played Digital Bath, You've Seen the Butcher, Rocket Skates, Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away), and My Own Summer (Shove It). In short, it was one of the most fun and satisfying shows I have been to in a long time. They played most of my favourites. I will definitely see them again if I get the opportunity.

I made a pulse this morning about how I sometimes forget how bad my gender dysmorphia is, and by that I mean, I'm always forgetting that I am, biologically and anatomically female.

You see, I've never, ever thought of myself as female. In fact, some of my first thoughts I remember having were how I wish I had been born a boy. If I had been born a boy then it would be okay for me to play with G.I. Joe's over Barbies and play sports instead of having tea parties. As I have mentioned numerous times before, I was raised in a cult. A reformed evangelical christian cult, but a cult all the same. I was raised to believe that men were superior to women, and that a patriarchal/complementarian society is what God really intended for his people. Girls were expected to dress modestly so as not to cause men to stumble (because controlling a man's lustful thoughts is totally our responsibility as females...), girls cooked and cleaned and learned how to run a home but not much else besides that.
Girls didn't go to college.
Girls didn't have careers or jobs, their career was motherhood, their workplace the home.
Girls stayed at home until a man came along and married them. Then their submission was to the husband where up until you said, "I do" you submitted to your father.
But even before my family got sucked into this subculture I still struggled with my gender. Even when I was in public school (for all of 2 years, then I was home schooled until I graduated) I still wished I could be on the boy's team instead of the girls. My best friend was a boy (he even ended up being my first boyfriend when we got back in touch during senior year of high school after losing touch for 10 years. He never knew about any of these feelings).

All these things made me really depressed. I wanted to do all the things the boys could do. The boys got to go out on father/son camping trips. There was nothing like that for girls. Boys got to play sports (I was forbidden more than once from coming near other people's children for fear my "rebellion" towards my assigned gender roles might rub off on them). I was accused of being a homosexual when I was 12. I didn't know what homosexuality was until much much later. When I was 12 I donated my hair. I had 17 inches cut off at the ponytail, and then more shorn off until I had a nice pixie cut. That was the happiest I ever was with myself. I looked like how I felt. I looked like a boy. I was mistaken for a boy more times than I can count. My parents and grandparents on more than one occasion had to explain that I was a girl, not a boy even though I wore overalls and hiking boots ever day. Even though I was starting pitcher for the boys softball team. Even though I did all the things girls weren't supposed to want to do in God's so-called perfect world. I didn't start developing at all in a biological sense until I was 17 (I stopped playing sports when my mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor. After I stopped playing I finally put on enough body fat to have a period and start developing breasts.) I was 85lbs when I was 17 years old even though I ate like the world was ending, my metabolism was just that high. I thought of myself (and still do sometimes) in male pronouns he/his/him. I wanted to change my name for the longest time to Aryn because it was more male sounding but also a girl's name sometimes. I liked names that could go both ways because I could go both ways. In my mind's eye, I still think of myself as looking more masculine. It still catches me off guard when people say I look pretty or beautiful because I don't think of myself that way. I always thought people saw me the way I see myself in my mind.

I loved being androgynous, I miss it sometimes. It's hard to hide the fact that I don't feel comfortable looking feminine when you have longish hair (it's down between my shoulder blades right now and I hate it. The ONLY reason my hair isn't just a few inches long anymore is because I've been growing it out for when I get married. Whenever that may be. I just want to be able to do my hair nicely for my wedding and then afterwards I'm going straight back to shorn. Hell, I might even pull a Sinead O'Connor).

This is the first time I've ever openly spoken about this to anyone other than my boyfriend. He has known me since my "butch" days (I put italics because I don't really like that word to describe myself but oh well it's the only word people know).

So how do I deal with it?

Most times I don't actively think about it unless I'm shopping for clothes. I still feel out of place in the women's aisles. I'd rather shop in the men's section. I even lamented such to Reid the other day who said he would be happy to buy me "boy clothes" if that would make me feel better. I'm more or less okay with my gender at this point but I still struggle with feeling like I'm in the wrong body sometimes. Reid teased me a few years ago that the only reason I am not transitioning to male is because I have like the perfect female body (105lbs, 32D boobs, hourglass figure, flat stomach, etc) and that the man inside of me knows this and is content (that would explain why I am constantly groping myself so I think he has a good point). I've never been attracted to females (well not until recently. I consider myself "heteroflexible"; I'm straight with exceptions) and I don't think I would be even if I did transition, I would still want to be with another male. I'm learning not to be ashamed of my body like I was raised to be. Reid is supportive either way. He loves it when I dress to the nines in heels makeup and all (which usually only happens once or twice a year). And he loves me when I'm in my men's cargo shorts, flip flops and baggy shirt. He said he would support me if I decided I did want to transition (which I don't really want to anymore, I did when I was a teen I just didn't know it was possible). He loves me for me, and not because of my gender. Sometimes I enjoy being a female because that means I can get away with murder (like telling my managers to suck my balls. Not funny coming from a dude, hilarious when coming from a petite female). I'll never be a girly girl. I do have some "girly" interests (knitting, baking, reading Wincest fan fiction... just google it) but I don't think that I like them because I am biologically female, I just like them because I do and there's nothing wrong with that.

This is something I've been wanting to write about for years but only found the courage to do so today (started with just a pulse and that just wasn't enough; I wanted to get this out, all of it). I've always wondered how it might change how people perceive me, if they would think any less of me. But at this point, I really don't care what or how people think of me or if this shatters all their pre-conceived notions of me. That's really their problem and not mine.

I realize that this could make some people who really, REALLY struggle with gender dysmorphia mad or tell me that I don't really have it. Just because I don't want to transition doesn't mean I don't struggle with my gender identity. I am just content at this point with what I was born with instead of pursuing changing my body on the outside to how I feel on the inside. Doesn't mean that some days I'm not tempted to throw down the money for chest binders and packers and an entirely new wardrobe and haircut/glasses/top surgery/ bottom surgery/thewholeshebang.

I'm just learning to be content. In all things. At all times. Even in this.

Tonight, I will be out of town for the Deftones concert. I asked Reid to leave a note to remind me to bring my lunch and a change of clothes since I will be spending the night in a hotel and coming home tomorrow morning.
This is what I found on the door.

*Reid discovers he can search Internet Explorer using the speech interface with Kinect*

R: "Xbox, Bing, 'boobs.'"

*boobs appear all over TV*

Me: "You know I love you, but sometimes, I think you're a pervert."

*Reid places hand on my shoulder with a sincere concerned look in his eyes*

R: "Well, if it helps, I think you're a pervert all of the time."

Burn!

I'm trying to do something productive with my day instead of just spending the whole day crying.
To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. I ran out of my migraine preventative medicine Thursday night. I have to take it every night and if I miss a dose it takes about 12hrs for the withdrawals to kick in. Saturday (the one day R and I got to ourselves for the past month) I woke up feeling atrocious since it had been over 32hrs since i had my last dose. R took me to the pharmacy so I could pick up my refill. Normally I only take the meds at night because they make me tired but since I was already feeling withdrawals I went ahead and took them as soon as I got them.

And slept all day. Effectively wasting all the time we had together. Managed to wake up enough to go out and get a burger at our favourite burger place.
And then slept some more.

I hate wasting time sleeping when I'm supposed to be enjoying real quality time with my boyfriend that I barely ever get to see even though we live together.

I'm so mad at myself for wasting the entire day. I waited a MONTH to get that one day and I ruined it.

It will be at least another 3 weeks before we even come close to maybe getting to spend that much time together again, probably longer.

Maybe then I'll be able to manage not fucking things up.

I don't know about anyone else, but I seem to have this huge disconnect between my mind and body. What do I mean by this? Let me try to explain as best I can since this is something I am still trying to grasp, much less communicate.

See, my "fight or flight" response is kinda screwed up. My flight responses will kick in hard core for absolutely no reason at all, whatsoever. I can just be sitting at my desk doing my usual thang when all of a sudden I feel the overwhelming urge to GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! PANIC! IT'S TIME TO PANIC!!!

It's extremely irritating because it makes it impossible for me to focus on whatever I need to focus on. This has been a problem for as long as I can remember. I can remember being a kid waking up in the middle of the night feeling like this. Most of the time it happens when I'm drifting off to sleep. It used to be much worse when I was taking medication for sleep like Lunesta. One time I apparently called Reid in the middle of the night (before we moved in together) and told him he needed to get our hedgehog and himself out of the house and run for it, didn't matter where, he just needed to leave.

Yeah.

I *know* there is nothing to be afraid of. I *know* that everything is fine, and that my wellbeing is not currently being threatened. But my body doesn't know this. My body goes through the motions of a panic attack even when logically I know it's a waste of time and just plain silly.

Sometimes though, there are little stupid things that trigger this response. The past few days have been excruciating because of this. There is a meeting tonight with our "poly-pod" (since it's not a triad or a quad considering there are 8 of us) and even though I know it's just going to be an evening of relaxed conversation and check-in's to make sure everyone is okay and we're all on the same page and happy and what our expectations are moving forward yadda yadda yadda, my body has been freaking out over it. This time because it was triggered by 4 little words, "We need to talk."
Nothing will make me blanch faster than those words. They send me into full blown panic mode. Logically, I know that this isn't something to dread. Everyone else keeps going on about how much fun it will be and stuff but I'm completely miserable and I have no idea why other than the fact that we need to talk.

I don't know what my subconscious is so afraid of to trigger these responses, either over nothing at all or something that is logically stupid.

Anybody else ever feel this way? Like you have a major disconnect between your logical, thinking mind and your automatic physiological responses? If so, how do you deal with it?

@DougX831