Thursday, October 28, 2010

Yanked

Yanked from one psychotropic drug to another, never feeling well, and sometimes going out of my mind with pain and drug induced, autistic psychosis (unable to bear any kind of reality stimuli at all). My gym membership is up for renewable, and I am debating whether to pay the upfront annual fee to keep my membership at my current gym, which is fine for me, if all I will do is work out once a week on the weight machines, in a losing effort to keep my muscle tone. Mentally, I am feeling better, and the desire to do yoga (which I haven't done in over 3 months), is strong, so I think of rejoining my old gym, but that is much more expensive, so I want to be sure. Every time I try to do a yoga move, energy just starts shaking my body like a rag doll, and I become so weak I want to faint. But the energy is trapped. I can't experience or release it, as I used to do routinely, and in the last year or so, through shaking. Maybe all that trapped energy is why I feel so depressed. I don't like who I am or the way I feel in my own body. I have been especially depressed all day after reading the story of a Chinese eunuch who recently passed--horribly tragic. I would rather be a slave than a eunuch, for at least a slave can know moments of pleasure in love and the fruitful achievement of labor. This poor guy was castrated, penis and balls, when he was 9 years old. He was physically weak for the rest of his life, and never really found a life or family (the emperor's reign crumbled, and with it, all demand for eunuchs). I seriously wonder if I am going to be physically weak and energetically enervated (can't even ride a bike for more than a mile) for the rest of my life. I now find it difficult to lift a desktop computer from a desk, something that before, never even gave me pause. When the viral downloads hit, I can feel my muscles become so weak that I can barely drag myself to walk or move my arms. I find myself weakly clenching my fists over and over to assure myself that I am not paralyzed. The negative emotional repercussions continue as well, I put on street clothes to go grocery shopping yesterday, as I am so tired of the constant negative reinforcement and hateful (at worst), and pitying (at best) stares I get directed at the manboobs on my chest. I used to deal with occasional hate stares from immature men who assummed that I was a gay woman. Now it's worse. People literally can't tell if I am a gay woman, or a hypogonadic gay man, and the looks of hate, dismay, and pity comes from both genders, all ages, and all stations of life. I think it is worse when I am high testosterone, because when I have enough testosterone, I actually am more engaging in life; when I am low testosterone I am severely depressed and barely able to get through it. I guess the majority of people prefer their freaks and pathetic handicappeds to be depressed, rather than happy and outgoing. I know that I just need to make a decision to be me, and fuck whatever anybody else thinks. The truth is that I don't feel like either a man or a woman; most days like today, when I am so drugged up that I am barely functional, I don't even feel human. But I have always been a go with the flow pragmatist. I like as little fuss and drama as possible. I just need to choose and go with it. I need to decide whether to hope for a masectomy or some kind of non silicon "boob job" that gives me a bustline back. It makes a big difference. Alll my life I have had to work at being female, at being receptive, quiet, and gentle. It really is a big help to look down and see a bosom. Without it, I just feel more aggressive and jutting. But that really is who I am. I can see now that the reason I had so much trouble getting along with conservative Christians (who have very traditional and rigid gender role stereotypes) is that they felt the neurotic disconnect in my personality. I was trying to be feminine by being emotionally hyperactive, but it was all a learned behavior, and a big act. I'm a much better actress than people know--but now, I have lost my biggest and best prop. So now, I get to deal with people's discomfort at encountering such a strong and sssertive personality in a freakish (is it man or woman?) body. No win situation. Halloween is coming closer. My legs are hairy. Will they really get off raping a eunuch? That is small potatoes compared to what they have already done to me via the castration and breast and rib cage mutilation. I don't know. I just try to be prepared for anything--just wish I could figure out whether to identify more as male or female. I dreamed last night of being in the batter's box, and I didn't know how to treat these undesirable pitches coming in at me. I said, "well, if I am a man, I should swing at it,even if the swing is a little wild and even if I strike out; but if I'm a woman, I should just stand here, and hope I get lucky and get four balls and a walk. Of course, no decision reverts to the default--the feminine, but because I am paralyzed and not making the decision, it doesn't feel like an authentic response. I know a real woman would take ownership of the decision, but I am not a real woman, or a real man...so that's the dilemma...

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