Tag Archives: love

Have Mercy

The actress who plays Mercy Lewis on the TV show Salem looks an awful lot like my former pre-T lover.

Mercy Lewis:


K now:

kalib new crop

This makes me hunger and thirst at the same time.

I don’t miss him, except for the times that I do.

He was abusive, sometimes downright horrid, but he was also so amazing.

I’ve described my love for him before as such:

“You see a beautiful, exotic creature and yearn to get close to it.  Every moment spent with it, that it does not bite you, is precious and amazing in itself.  The pain becomes worth it.”

Those eyes, I say, those eyes.  He was so gorgeous (and I mean that in the most non-gender-specific way possible).

Listening to The Glitch Mob and feeling strangely nostalgic.  I was so beautiful and I didn’t even know it.  So strong, yet so weak.



Why am I only happy when it rains?

A chill wind caresses my cheek as the first few droplets of rain fall.  I breathe deeply, cleansing my lungs of the everyday sun-fried stinks.  

So, why?

Most of the time the sun bothers me tremendously.  I wear glasses and I currently cannot afford prescription sunglasses, so I have to wear these giant over-glass things that make me look like a freak (and not in the good way).  I’m extremely sensitive to sunlight, unless it’s cloudy.  White and gray skies = a smile.  I’m also not a fan of heat.  I’ve had heat-induced seizures before and even though I’ve been seizure-free for almost seven years, I still get an aura when I just can’t take it.  My husband lovingly tells me to “toughen up” when I just wasn’t made for this shit.  I’m Nordic/Germanic/Celtic.  I belong in a climate where the foliage is green (until autumn) and the skies tumultuous.  I even feel like I’m going to ‘faint’ when I take a hot shower, even if it’s not even that hot to other people.  

Living in Oklahoma is pretty hard for a girl like me.

But I know it’s harder still for many.

I had a conversation yesterday with someone who is now my friend.  She and I discussed gender issues, something that doesn’t come up often in day-to-day conversations, especially not with my husband.  Like many Oklahomans, he was convinced sexuality and gender orientation were both one-and-the-same and personal choices, until I came around.  I have since instilled in him a surety that this is not the case, based on my own experiences, along with several easy-to-grasp concepts, such as the question, “when did you choose to be straight”?  We don’t choose who we love or what we look like on the inside or out.  We can improve on things, like our social skills and heighten our compassion for others, but we can’t gut the system without leaving most of ourselves behind.  I dated a pre-transition FTM for about three years.  For many reasons it was the most difficult relationship of my life.  Due to his previous experiences and his underlying issues, he was very difficult to get along with.  He pushed, I pulled.  I was his prey.  I loved him.  He was a mess, but then, so was I.  I wouldn’t be where I am now if not for him, and while I might complain an awful lot about my life, it’s really not so bad.  He was abused verbally, physically, and sexually, from toddler-hood to adulthood, by everyone from his family to his friends.  He’s not alone.  Transgendered persons are even more frequently bullied than the other members of the LGBT community.  They are beaten, raped, and killed, simply because some dumbass intolerant fuck can’t seem to grasp the concept of ‘live and let live’.  They are misunderstood and mistreated, by almost the entire world.  So when I meet someone who knows someone in the LGBT community, especially someone who is trans, I jump with joy at the thought of having common ground.  I understand!  I may not be trans myself, but I went through a lot with him, and witnessed everything he had to go through, too.  I consider myself pansexual, because bi just doesn’t cut it.  I’m not gender-blind, but I am attracted to people who may not fit into a binary system, and who may not look a certain way.  This doesn’t negate my love for my hetero cis male husband, it just means I am more than the box in which I choose to be confined.  It’s nice in here.  It’s safe.  It makes me feel guilty for “passing” so well.  I get off easy, being able to play the part of a femme, while watching and empathizing hardcore with those who don’t.  I’m not so femme-y, but I’m not butch, either.  I’m just me.  I can’t give up this part of who I am, my past, without giving up a part of my self that I can’t bear to lose.  

Meeting New People

I find meeting new people to be exceptionally challenging.
I consider myself psychologically disabled, and there are many stigmas associated with mental illness.
I’m afraid of most people.
When I find someone I may have something in common with, I become fearful that I will fuck it up prior to anything actually happening. This holds me back in many ways. It’s only amplified when I find someone I know I have nothing in common with (re: most people in this state).

I found a girl/lady on Facebook through a Nerdy Girls group, with whom I may have something in common.  Her husband may or may not be transgendered.  (How dare you WordPress for telling me that is spelled incorrectly!  [But then again, it also considers its own name to be misspelled.])

I lived a wild life, chasing a trans heart breaker, for about three years.  We met online while I was in college at a progressive girls-only school.  It was fated from the start.  He made fun of me and I fell in love.  He was LJ friends with my fat slob of a roommate, a girl I still resent, as she stole several things from me and had nasty messy sex on my bed.  Anyway, I fell for him, and I guess I’ll never really know how he felt about me, because I’m forbidden to talk to him, for a good reason.

I always knew I was different in some way pertaining to my sexuality – I just didn’t have a label at the time: pansexual, or queer, until I went to that college and joined a ‘queer’ group, Out There.

Despite my being in a monogamous and heterosexual relationship right now, I still feel this is an important part of who I am.   My attraction to ‘other’ is unavoidable, and it’s not even sexual, it’s just an “ahh, someone else who understands what this is like”.  I know that I will never personally feel the amount of persecution that many other people feel, but I am an ally, through and through, and want to wear that proudly but am afraid to do so.  Having been in a long-term relationship with someone who struggled intensely with gender issues and societal constructs, I feel a definite sense of kinship with those who are part of a larger community with which I cannot retain membership at this time.  I feel like an outcast in both worlds: I’m not gay and I’m not straight.  I’m in a hetero relationship with a man who, while very loving and understanding, whose opinion I have influenced greatly regarding equality, will never understand how I feel on this, and will generally feel a bit of shame, because he thinks he can never be what I look for in a person.  Just because he is biologically one thing doesn’t mean that what he is as a whole isn’t good enough for me: it certainly is.

And here I have lost my original train of thought, as usual.

Well, I WANT to meet people like me, I’m just too frightened to put myself out there.  Frightened on several different levels.  I don’t want to make my husband feel alienated.  I don’t want to seem as though I am flirting with anyone.  I just want friends who understand me.

I love my friends, but most of them don’t understand me very much at all.

With one of my female friends I have a very distant relationship, despite us living geographically near each other, because we have very different lives and histories, and I’m always afraid of showing my hand.

And so, here I am, alone, at home, alone… in general I am quite tortured.  I do most of the torturing, of course, but that doesn’t make it any less real.