"The growth of understanding follows an ascending spiral rather than a straight line." ~Joanna Field

Friday, May 25, 2012

Some thoughts on Gender

I don't know what I am.
People seem to expect me to. People seem to want me to.
Because that is one of the first things we learn in life.

We learn who our parents are, we learn what we look like. We learn that we are a girl. Or a boy.
And those are our two options.

We aren't expected to change that fact, but if we do we are expected to flip the switch and go the other way entirely.

And I thought I could deal with that, when this all started.
I was confused. I was scared. So I kept the switch on. I taped it that way.  Heck, tried to glue the damn thing in position. And I did pretty well. Nearly seven years I ignored the damn thing.
I was a girl. For every necessary idea, for every purpose, every extent.

Then this whole thing started up again.
So many things had started to settle down, so I guess my brain decided it was a good time to remind me.
I was settling so many lies within myself that I guess I had to settle this, a major one.

But the options available don't work for me.

I am not a girl. I do not like the social context that girls are given. I do not like being seen as a girl. I don't like girl clothes, girl talk, make up, the ideal "female image". I don't want to have breasts, or to have kids.

And I know I am not a boy.
I don't like boy hobbies. I don't want a penis, I don't want to to hide my feelings or to feel unable to cry.
But I know I don't have to be a macho-man. But I know I don't have to be a girly-girl.

I know I don't have to like dresses, or doing my hair. Nor do I have to want to have DD-cup breasts and an eighteen inch waist. I don't have to have seventeen kids, or marry a man.
I don't have to drive a motorcycle. I don't have to sleep with everything in sight. I don't have to bottle everything up inside.
I can ask for directions, I can keep a level head-- not go all emotional at the slightest provocation.

So I don't know what I am.
I know I am not a boy, I know I am not a girl.
But those are the options given.

So I try to pretend that I am okay with this middle ground. Genderqueer. Genderfluid. GenderFUCKED.
I try to pretend that it is okay.

But it isn't, not really.
It matters to me, no matter how much I want it not to. I need the labels. I don't want the labels, but I need them.

I can't be a female bodied man, even if that works for other people.
I can't be a male bodied woman, even if the surgeon people would allow that.
I can't be a MAN, I can't be a WOMAN.

The only thing that I can think I want is to be seen as a man-- male pronouns, male name, male expectations-- but to be a woman-- female body, female feelings, female hobbies.

All I can do is think of the things I want. Because anything more than that, I am incapable of.

Unfortunately the things I want are twisty inside, so I am still trying to figure them out.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Another response post...

Hey there. It's 4:30 on a Monday morning, and I haven't gone to bed yet. And I'm not entirely sure when I woke up. Oh well.

Another blog I read posted something interesting that I wanted to reply to. But once again, I am too verbose and would feel like I am stealing the comments with my big response.
The blog, Raptitude, posts some really thought provoking things reasonably frequently.
And I encourage you to check it out. Here, however, is the specific post I am replying to: It's another Monday morning, do you know where you are?

“Here” is on my bed, in my room in my mother’s house. My hide-y hole, the only place in this house I really feel any semblance of safe, free, true. The only place I can do what I want, say what I want, look at what I want… but I still have to be careful.
Even here I feel bound and constricted.
I am here, with the most bluntness, because I failed in a suicide attempt a bit more than a week ago.
On a more general level, I am here because I have no where better to be, nowhere else that wants me, because college ended a bit more than a week ago, because I don’t yet have a job.

How did I get to this point, of a recovering suicidal, depressive, lovesick, feel-for-nothing genderqueer? 
That is a very long story, and most of it is irrelevant to this specific post, but I think I am going to explore it after this.

Today feels unimpressive to me. 
It feels about the same as yesterday and only marginally better than a week ago. Worse than a year ago, okay enough compared to a month ago.
I have a girl on my mind, nearly constantly; and it is pissing me off. The things I feel for her are more than either of us want from our relationship, at this point.
At the same time my brain is being pulled about by the need to find a job, by the depressing facts of my past and a person I saw from it recently; by the seemingly quietly hostile environment I am in.

Returning to my thoughts? 
The nothingness of my existence. My lack of control in all things my life.
The fact that if I let myself, I would have an eating disorder. That I fuck with my sleep patterns in order to control something, the same way as an anorexic controls food.
That even that doesn’t offer me any real control over my life.
The fact I that I haven’t cut myself for exactly five months.
But if I could, I would.
The fact that I don’t want to be in love, at the very least ever again.
That I can’t let myself feel things, because it ends in pain.
The insanity and obvious depressive elements to how I think.

My life, at this precise moment, is heading nowhere. I have no prospects for change. All I keep thinking is “If you change nothing, nothing will change.”. And yet it feels like I have no choice in my inactivity. That I have no option but to do the same things “If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always gotten.” And that’s all I’ll ever get.

Coming up? 
Eventually I’ll have to find a job that’ll take me. I’ll probably hate it—majority of the world hates their job. Maybe I’ll actually find a girl who will look past how broken I am and try to love me—I’ll probably fuck it up, as I have told myself I am not allowed to love again. That, and I am never enough, or the right thing for anyone. And that cycle will continue. New girls, new jobs. Eventually I might come across some I don’t hate, and can allow myself to love. Then I mess with that until I time out. Until life finally f’ing ends, and I finally get what I want. For what will feel like the first time.
What seems to be exiting my life… Relationships, a whole lot of them. Some not so important, some so crucially important I felt like they were tearing me to pieces to leave them. But now I have killed that feeling. Put it away somewhere dark and quiet. Maybe I’ll take this box out again someday and actually feel the emotions. But until then, I am as close to happy as I am capable of. So I’ll keep shoving it aside because I have cried too many tears.

So in the end, right now I am coasting. I am doing whatever makes sense at the time with the hope that it’ll all turn out. Because in the most fucked up way possible, I am one of the most hopeful people in the world.
I wield my hope like a sharpened boomerang. 

Did I chose to be here?
No. On even the most basic level, no.
I chose death over everything that I currently have.
And if I thought I could pull it off, I'd still chose it. 
If I had anywhere better to be, I would be.
So everything just sort of settled this way.

I am waiting to hear back from a job that I am hoping against hope I will be called to an interview for. That I want more than nearly anything else at this point to get.
I am avoiding a great number of things.
I am not really excited for anything, because nothing really feels worth getting excited about.

And finally:
Do I feel like I am where I am supposed to be?

I feel like I am in the only place I can be. Which is very close, but not at all the same thing.

That feels like a good snapshot of where I am. Depressing, hopeful, apathetic, over emotional. 

That said I do like the exercise, because I am a big fan of self-reflection. I hope others will participate as well.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Another post...

There were so many titles that could work here, but considering some of the circumstances, were entirely inappropriate >.>

So, first of all, Blogger has finally switched over to its new format.
Which I'm sure I'll get used to, and is much better and whatevs, but I'm in that transition stage. So bear with me.

Now, onto some other stuff.

Yes, I missed the entirety of April on here. And I have good reasons.
There isn't much more to say, for that. The people who need to know, know. If you think you are one of those people and you don't know, hey, it never hurts to ask. And I'll tell you whatever I think you need to know~

Despite this, I am now numbered in the prestigious ranks of Algonquin College graduates!
How exciting~! 

I am no longer living in Ottawa, I am back home for the time being.
This kinda sucks, but it'll all work out.
It just has to.

So I guess the next important thing to bring up is the absolute crappiness of the Queer community here!
Wow, that was harsher than I meant it to be, sorry!

But what I mean to say is that there appears to be almost nothing in the area to do/go to. There seem to be some things sometimes once in a while.
And a lot of radio shows, for whatever reason.
But there is nothing obvious that has consistent and relatively frequent meet times (that isn't volleyball.)

Oh well.

Oh, mang. There feels like so much to say (and I've got about twenty books I should review), and I actually have the time now to talk, but I have no idea how to start.

So for now, I'm going to let this dwindle, and maybe soon I'll have some crafty things to show~