themisi-blog

[themisi-blog]

Trouble with failure

I was just told by my roommate that what I did, when i spoke my truth, was “really fucked up.” The way I did it at least. That serious moment of vulnerability that I let run out of me. I feel guilt and regret. I don’t feel good about it anymore. The fact that I asked someone out in a parking lot, underground with no cell service, was apparently the wrong move. I see the point. I really do see the point. And I don't actually know how She feels about what happened. She probably doesn’t feel/ think much about it and yea I probably maybe concerned her a bit. Im sorry for that. 

I just wish you saw how my brain works. I was panicking. Sick to my stomach. So jittery. So anxious. So much like this is the final possibility and it is going to be striped away from me. Now I feel like a child and a fool. But honestly, if I didn't say anything, i think id still have this idea in my head about something that isn't real. Something that doesn't exist. 

There was a moment when I popped. I just exploded. There was that heart heavy feel of extreme disappointment mixed with a bit of panic. Then I interpreted what They said as something that wasn't. Then again I can't be sure. But I was blinded by loneliness. Need for stability. Need for intimacy with someone who communicates and respects my body and who I am. Who could deal with all of the talking and all of the feelings. Someone who felt so similar yet so different at the same time. It doesn't hurt that you are beautiful. 

That dread moment was covered up with butterflies. Somehow I managed to convince myself that when she said, (not direct quotes) That she didn't think it was too soon to date. It was just that the person she wanted to be with, she couldn't be with. And all of her friends were telling her to just date other folks but she wanted to date that person she couldn't. Also, though out the day she was singing Ella Fitzgerald’s “Dream a Little Dream of Me” under her breath. There were other moments too. All these little moments. Did they compute? I have a history of this. Putting things together to try to make them fit. Everything is analyzed. Everything a sign. 

Also, god words hold onto me. “Thats really fucked up.” Like Jesus thats rough. Also, you don’t know what kind of relationship we had. You don’t know the dynamic. You’ve never seen it. I don’t think its fair to say i was threatening when you have no idea what the perspective of parties were. I’m not saying i’m right. Im just saying, thats like really harsh and unwarranted from someone who doesn't know and wasn't there. Ugh, I have to let that go. Your words are just sometimes so harsh and cutting and they hurt more than intended...? Like, sensitive and pretty gentle flower over here, honestly. 

[themisi-blog]

I try to write down that important pieces. The thoughts that I think, “I will never forget,” but know I actually will. I’ve lost a lot of time the last two years. Time to my good friend ethanol and a happy heaping of dissociation. Trauma will do that to you. So much will do that to you.

In the last two years I have moved three times in three different states. I’ve lived with strangers and no one within 1,000 miles of me whom I could call a family. In that time I realized one of the hardest realities for me. I have a scar on my arm from a brown out night on Halloween where I got lost without a phone or wallet in the middle of suburban Colorado in the back yard of someone with an above ground pool and a little tykes wagon. I climbed a fence that wasn't supposed to be climbed and my left forearm paid of it. The artificial wounds are nothing compared to my foggy memory. That night was one of many fogs but the worst of them all. 

In the last year I moved to a new city where I only knew my family. My twin had been here for 6 months and jumpstarted my relationships with late night dwellers who drink too much, smoke a pack a day, and accept me for who I am. Guess thats a habit. Finding those creatures who I see but don’t really identify with. Theres some sort of power in it. 

I broke up with my greatest love. She and I still speak. But it opened up a work hole for me. I lost a safety blanket I had kept for two years. Newly “moning” made it just as worse and I was sexually assaulted right before Chicago pride in a gay bar and I still think its my fault. Despite being a social worker and telling and believing that when it happens to others they are not to blame. But when its you, its you and its different. 

Since I have made more mistakes. I think the last year was one of the scariest. Battling depression with my good friend ethanol was not the best. I again got lost somewhere I barely knew. This time ass naked a block away from my house in an apartment building I thought was my own that I wandered naked from 11pm to 8am trying to find an open door. Im lucky I wasn't hurt or arrested. If i’d had found me I think I would have called the cops. Constantly knocking on doors and gently weeping. It was a shit show to say the least. 

It’s a lot of “trauma.” Trauma I put on myself to some degree. Trauma I don't necessarily understand. Was i on a mission to seek new experiences and did it the wrong way? Was I cowardly without some “liquid courage” so I dropped that low? Did the hormones fuck with me that much? How much did my loss of a love affect me? Without testosterone i may have been able to cry more and physically act out less. I still have never fully cried over that loss. Not like I used to. 

I’m better now. I am not in that place. I am in a transition place. I have found some truth and “healthy” feels. I know what is good for me and what will hurt me. DO I still make mistakes? Hell fuck yes I do. But i’m on my way to finding some grounding. These next few weeks are important. Transitionary. I may sound like a mess but only I know my insides. If you knew what was going on you may actually really get it. If you figure it out, let me know ok?

[themisi-blog]

To whom it concerns...

This is my attempt to create a new blog outside fauxhawklove, which is so old and angsty as fuck. I’m revamping. This is likely only random writing. But who knows. Now that grad school is pretty much over I have more time to focus on me and what I need/want. One of those things is to write more. My creativity has been stifled since Noho and It’s been waiting. So. This is my attempt to make something that is actually worth something to me on social media. Poetry, dreams, short stories, who knows...we’ll see what I crank out. Likely involving personal experiences, masculinity, trans identity, all things social justice related, rants, lists, etc.This is my new adopted outlet. Cross your fingers it does something good for me.