On Choice, pt. 2

This post was originally written and uploaded the night before leaving for the trip written about in my “On My BFF” posts, the night before I finally came out to Naomi. It is, to date, the only post of mine that I ever unpublished. I present it here, in its original form, despite the fact that it is about as low a point as I ever reached. I’m glad I’m not there anymore, and it’s hard to look back now, but I guess it’s pretty important, so here it is.

Also, just try and shove more conjunctions into a single sentence. I dare you.


Originally Posted 6/08/2018

This will be my last update for tonight. Perhaps it will be my last for a while.

I have spent the last hour or two sitting in my computer chair, blankly scrolling through Facebook, not stopping on anything long enough to read it. At times, I have curled up, and put my head between my legs.

When it comes to it, I really don’t know how to cope with this life I’ve been given. I read, and read, and read about others who have gone through what I am going through, and I’ve read the perspectives of their spouses, family, and friends.

I am no less lost now than I was before.

Truly, this condition that I have–the dysphoria, the self-loathing, the depression–is not a choice. No one would choose to feel this way, to deal with such horrible emotions, every single day of their existence. Every single hour. Every single minute.

My inner self is not a choice. Whether or not I accept it is.

I want to accept it. I really, really do. I want to put this all behind me. To exorcise myself of these demons that I have held within me for so, so long. To really, truly, actually love myself.

But there is nothing for me out there if I do. I will destroy the one person in this world that I love more than any other. The woman I know is truly my soulmate. The answer to my prayers, the light of my world.

And that is who this post is about. That is why I want it to be my last one for now. Because I want her to know the truth about me. A truth she already knows, which we both know, but we both refuse to accept or speak about openly.

You called me as I was typing that last line. I answered like there was absolutely nothing wrong. The same way I always answer. But there was something wrong. I am in a darker place than I have been in, well…a year or so.

And so now here I am, an hour later, finishing this post in the bathroom on my phone. My resolve weakened, my darkness somewhat abated. But I can’t let myself do that. I have to finish this.

You asked me last weekend if I had ever thought about being a woman. I evaded the question, and you knew. I think you still know. But it became such a terrible issue, that by the end of the day, I lied to you, emphatically, that I had not thought about that. I even added, voluntarily, that I did not think I was trans. That I had no interest in transitioning.

It was a lie, all of it, as this blog no doubt confirms. I did not mean to base our relationship on a lie. Unfortunately, it was one that I believed myself, that I made myself believe.

I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I loathe the thought of ever hurting you at all, but this goes beyond hurt. It’s murder.

And so yes, I do have suicidal thoughts all the time. I have them because I can’t help but think of how much easier for everybody, for you, my family, and everyone I’ve known, if I was dead. Because that is a sudden shock that will eventually fade. Revealing myself to you and them? That is a terrible burn that I will curse you with for the rest of your days.

So I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. For whatever reason, this is who I am. I’m not strong enough, nor mean enough, to keep this hidden any longer. And I’m sorry I have let it go on for along as I have.

In my first post, I said no one could hate me as much as I do. I still mean that, now more than ever.

3 Replies to “On Choice, pt. 2”

  1. So much of what you say sounds like it came from my mouth – at one time. I tried suicide twice. I had to open up and freely tell her who I am and what I need. No surprise, it wasn’t easy for either of us. Until I was brave, honest and shed my fear that she took me as I am. Be honest with her. Be honest with yourself. Hiding solves nothing.

    Find help. You will never know how many people care about you. How many people you influence every day. If I can help, let me know. Any path is better than death.

    Like

    1. Opening up is the hardest step any of us take on this insane journey, or at least, it’s the hardest I’ve taken yet (actually, I had to do it twice with her!). Sure, it’s been far from sunshine and roses 24/7 since, but it has been *much* better by nearly every metric. It takes a truck load of courage to do it, but we end up much stronger for it.

      As for my suicidality (is that a word? it is now), that thankfully went into a hard remission once I started transitioning, nearly 9 months ago now 🙂 I’m glad you failed in your own attempts, and it sounds like you are much better now, too. Be strong, friend.

      Like

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