It’s 3:12 am right now, and I am awake again. I haven’t been able to sleep much since a day or two before Thanksgiving. I lie awake in bed every night, my mind all abuzz, and I can’t calm down enough to sleep until it’s like six a.m. or later. Then I pass out for a while, wake up at noon, and start the whole bullshit cycle over again.
I’m exhausted all day, every day. It’s a fucking nightmare trying to get my work done when I can barely concentrate long enough to put a coherent sentence together. I just lie here watching the clock tick later, and later, and later, and there’s nothing I can do.
Immense stress + Major Depressive Disorder + Anxiety does not a healthy mixture make.
I recently saw that Joel posted on his Facebook a picture of himself with that girl he said he was seeing. I remember when I talked to him on the phone a couple months ago after my dad died that he told me he had been seeing her. I wonder what kind of person she is.
I feel kind of bad about saying this, particularly without evening knowing her, but I sincerely doubt she’s anywhere near the level Jenna was. Joel really fucked up when he abused the shit out of her and drove her away. I’m glad she had the strength to go through with it though, not all women do. Battered girlfriends become battered wives.
I remember when I was out there in Hawaii some years back. The best six or so months of my life, if you take into account the constant presence of soul-crushing depression and nauseating anxiety. Still, it was a beautiful place and I loved being there with Joel and Jenna.
When I was initially going to move out, Joel had mentioned going into business together. Opening a taco truck was, I think, what he had in mind. Of course, when I was out there he made no effort whatsoever to do anything about it, then made jokes and laughed about how it wasn’t his intention to start a business with me, even though before I moved out there I asked him if he was still interested in doing it, and he said yes. I sure don’t know what the fuck thatbullshit was about… doesn’t matter anymore though.
I also spoke about opening a bar when I was out there. It wasn’t really so much because I want to own and run a bar as it was the fact that I wanted to be able to see my friends every day. I envisioned it being sort of like how it was on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Sure, we may live in different homes, but every day we wake up and come to work and I get to hang out all day with my friends, and make a decent living off it too. Sounds like heaven to me, particularly since I have been so lonely for so long. Being able to see them every day… would be absolute heaven. They’re the only friends I have. But, to be honest, they’re the also the only ones I need.
Of course, it didn’t last in Hawaii. Slowly but surely my anxiety caught up with me and I had freaked out and moved away. It started with the $5k I had saved up to move with. My dad was getting sicker and so I gave my mom all the money I had, so I ended up going out there with only $200 to my name, instead of the five grand I had expected. THEN I couldn’t open up a bank account because I neeeded a Hawaii ID, but I couldn’t get a HAwaii ID without some sort of proof of residence, and I had none. THEN I tried to go to school there and paid the admisssionf ee to enroll in the Junior college and they fucking lost the fee and tried to get me to pay again.
THEN, somehow, Joel’s dad got mad at me about something having to do with groceries or whatever. I’m still not sure what it was that happened, but I literally offered every day to buy food from the store and they always told me no. I tried to give the dad money and he wouldn’t take it either. I don’t know.
Once that happened, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I freaked out and bought a plane ticket and left. I’m still not sure if it was a good decision or a bad one. Leaving began the chain of events that would lead me to find out I had a girl’s brain. Had I stayed, I don’t know what would have happened… not just because Joel and Jenna ended up breaking up, but because I was so sick inside. I was too anxious to even be able to think straight or do the things I needed to do. I would run around the block at night because my anxiety made me not want to be seen by people. Ugh.
Anyhow, speaking of them breaking up, I fucking knew that was going to happen. I knew it from the start for a couple of reasons. First, there was the nature of their interactions. I’ve always been very sensitive when it comes to the feelings of others, and I could tell something was off when they would speak. She’d say something and he would get irritated over it, but I could tell he was trying to sort of cover up his irritation.
Plus, I mean… god. I don’t know. I think Joel has many good qualities, but the more I got to know Jenna, the more confused I was as to how the hell he possibly hooked up with her. She was so… I don’t know. The things she was interested in and the way she was about them. She has tremendous depth and it seemed like such a fucking waste for her to be dating Joel, because, god knows I love him, but I don’t think he has the kind of awareness and depth of thought to realize and appreciate the qualities that make her such a wonderful woman. As a matter of fact, I *know* he lacked that, because he had her and he fucking fucked it up by treating her badly. Dude, you struck fucking gold, and you blew it off like it wasn’t even shit. Good luck… lightning never strikes the same place twice… He will never, ever find her like again.
It’s weird. In all our years as friends I saw Joel hook up with plenty of girls. He would either date them, or some were girlfriends, some he would just screw, and it never really made a difference to me. I used to get jealous of the relative ease with which he seemed to be able to interact with people, But she was the only person I was ever, ever jealous of him about. He had her mind, her heart, and those two precious little girls (who are rad, even when Jade played that god damn fucking gangnam style song over and over and over again that one day) and he was too fucking blind to even know it.
What I wouldn’t give to have been able to be in his position. Have her to sit and talk to, explore her mind, her thoughts, opinions, beliefs, feelings. Hang out all day. Do stupid shit like get drunk or do drugs, or do smart things like watch documentaries about aliens and spirits. and also boring adult crap like paying the water bill or whatever.
Clearly, I went and caught the feelings for my friend, but it wasn’t right away. It wasn’t until way later when I started talking to her again last year after Joel told her I was transgender (thanks, ass). We were talking on the phone and then all of the sudden it hit me like a punch in the gut. It’s rare that I ever catch feelings for anyone, and knowing what I know about her (which isn’t nearly as much as I’d like, but c’est la vie) I’m not surprised that it happened.
Oh, and just for the record, I would have spoiled the fuck out of her kids, they’re great.
Thanks for the memories, guys, and thanks for being my friends for a while. You were the best of them, and I wanted my last post to be about you.
Oh well. I guess I’m out, kids. My music isn’t doing it for me, and I’m just so god damn tired.
It’s funny. Ever since I was little I always assumed I’d die an old man in the hospital, not a middle-aged woman on the floor of my apartment.
He taught me so much. There’s precious little of me that’s really of any worth, but what there is I learned from him. I learned you can be a parent in every sense, regardless of whether or not that kid is yours biologically or not. He also is the only one of my two parents who totally 100% without question accepted this transgender bullshit about me when I told him. Even my mom has her problems with it, and seems to think its somehow harder on her that I’m the way I am than it is on me.
Not my dad though, and now he’s gone forever.
I hope there’s an afterlife. Not so much for myself, but for my dad. He deserves it, to see his family again and live forever in paradise. He was so good on earth. Better than I could ever be.
I remember back when I was young, 2nd or third grade or so. My friend John used to make fun of the way I spoke because it was so girly, and my friend Eric told me I shifted my hips when I walked. It was somewhere around this time that I started watching myself, worried about how I would come off to other people. Afraid if I seemed too effeminate that people would continue to make fun of me.
They did, of course. In sixth grade I was terrorized daily by Burgess Brooks, Josh Gill, and Kyle Gallagher. I still remember their names, their faces, their voices. Moving to California half way through sixth grade, as hard as it was to leave my family in Michigan, was the only thing that saved me from their daily attacks. Still, moving took its toll. My uncle George died 6 months after we moved, and he was more or less like a grandfather to me. And Sito, who helped raise me, had already started to suffer dementia. Uncle Victor had died a few years prior..
I don’t know. I lost so many people so young, and I don’t think I ever really got over it. Now that Frank died, my step-dad on paper but real dad in every other sense, I just can’t handle this any more. He died in July and I haven’t been right since. If I see anything that reminds me of him I break out crying. I wake up in the middle of the night crying. I’m crying right now. I miss you and I want to go home.
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I think it was during that early point in my life, when my friends were making fun of me, that my anxiety began. I definitely know I had an anxious attachment to my mother for as long as I can remember. I used to have nightmares every single night about being kidnapped, or her being arrested and taken to jail forever by the cops.
I never felt much anxiety beyond my anxious attachment to my mother until my friends started pointing out all that stuff about me. It was then that I started… watching myself. How I spoke, how I moved, etc. I don’tknow. Maybe it isn’t. Fuck. I can’t think for shit.
I’ve been losing interest in things over the past several months. And as time goes on, one by one, things I used to enjoy just… don’t matter anymore. This is the first time, though, that listening to by two favorite bands: The Scorpions and Bad Religion, have ceased to make me feel better – especially Bad Religion. 21st Century Digital Boy, the version on the All Ages comp., was my favorite song at the time from them.
That was the first punk rock band I ever heard, way back when I was 13 at the neighbor Dustin’s house. Dustin and I went to the same school. He was in the popular group, and I was… well, I wasn’t in any group and I didn’t have any friends except this one kid named Josh who was a huge asshole. I took it, though. Better to be stuck hanging out with some asshole than with nobody all. I know what that’s like all too fucking well at this point in my life, and I knew it back then, too.
I remember I used to like hanging out with Dustin and his friend Patrick. It was with them that I first smoked weed.
The thing is, I didn’t realize until much later that Dustin never actually invited me over for anything, and never, ever spoke to me at school. Sometimes I would go over by Dustin and Patrick’s group of friends but people would just give me weird looks. I remember this one ugly girl was like “what the fuck are YOU doing here?” Jeff was nice though. He was in my PE class. He would talk to me sometimes at lunch when I wandered over to Dustin and Patrick’s group. He was also one of the only ones who signed my yearbook. Thanks for all of that, Jeff. I really hope you’re doing well out there, wherever you are.
Sometimes I would ask if they wanted to come out and skate, and Dustin would come out and skate sometimes. I think I was tolerated more than liked, and that’s why neither of them ever specifically asked me to hang out with their group of people or do things with them. It was that period that I started staying home instead of going with my parents out to eat or to wherever they were going. I would stay home and sit on the living room couch with the front door open in case one of my friends came over and wanted to hang out. Nobody ever did.
Once Dustin came to the door and I was so, so excited. But, he had just come over to borrow syrup.
Ugh. Life during those days in Carlsbad was fucking awful. Valley Jr. High, those Southern California kids used to tease me all the time, sometimes play tricks on me too. This one person told me some girl liked me, so I went around for like.. months trying to get up the urge to talk to her and later I found out it was only a joke and she said I was gross.
Well, back on The Scorpions now after spending the afternoon listening to Bad Religion.
You know, I feel like there’s something else that needs to be said aside from all this doom and gloom stuff.
I’ve always hated afternoons.
It’s like, okay, the morning is cool because it’s the beginning of the day and nothing fucked up has happened yet (aside from waking up, of course) and i get to drink delicious coffee, read the news, look at memes, etc.
And then you have the night. The night is awesome and magical. It’s dark – which is always, always a plus – and all the best things happen at night: sex, shows, nights out with friends, meteor showers, I get to see the beautiful, glorious stars and think about the universe and just how connected everything is like how all the elements besides hydrogen were made in the heart of stars and during supernovae, so we’re made of particles forged within exploding and dying stars.
That’s rad.
But then there’s the afternoon, and what the fuck ever happens then? Not lunch, that’s at noon. Not dinner, that’s in the evening. In the afternoon you’re just in this horrible purgatory of the day. Too far from night to anticipate the fun you may have in the evening, and too far from the morning to have the newness and shine of the day carry you forward.
It’s just this weird time where nothing happens. I wish I could sleep through all afternoons. Like from 12 noon to… 6 pm. That wouldn’t be bad.
Well, I just got back from the grocery store. Ugh. I did not want to have to leave my house.
I used to really like going to the grocery store with my mom, and as I got older I couldn’t wait to go to the grocery store by myself, for myself. Then, over the past few years, after I found out I was a girl, I wanted more than anything to be going to the grocery store to shop for my family. Buying things I knew my wife liked so I could cook them for her. The kids too. Reading off the things they put on the list and getting that stuff for them.
I’m 36. I would have thought that by now I would have had a family. But, as fate would have it, not only am I unmarried, I haven’t even been in that many relationships thanks to the crippling anxiety I experienced for the past 20 years, and the transsexualism I now get to deal with.
I wonder what having a family is like. You meet someone, fall in love, and then I becomes we, becomes us.
How I wish I was part of an us. Just me and her, best friends and lovers… my partner in crime. Two against the world.
I wonder what it’s like, coming home to someone who was waiting for you. A smile spreading across her lips when I open the door, there she is… actually happy to see me.
We’d talk about our days, then I could cook something for dinner for us all; me and her and the kids. I’m a pretty good cook, you know. I could make us delicious, wholesome Lebanese food. Hommous, maybe hushwee (my absolute favorite), or good old fashioned toasted white rice with olive oil. Tawook, or baked chicken – I don’t know. And Lebanese salad.
Oh! And Arrak. The arrak would flow freely in my house.
Everything would taste so good, we’d all be so happy. Then I’d send the children to wash the dishes (because I fucking hate doing dishes) and me and the (other) misses could go fuck off to the living room with our wine. Ksara of course; good Lebanese wine. We could watch shows we like on Netflix or something. I don’t know.
I don’t know when it all started. Was it my “friends” turning against me in elementary school and making fun of the way I walked and talked, or was it how when I was little everyone used to tell me I looked like a chimpanzee? Who can say.
I remember getting a birthday card once when I was four years old. Maybe 5 – I don’t quite remember – from my mom and her boyfriend (at the time) Bernie. It had a chimpanzee on the inside. Maybe both, it was a long time ago and I don’t remember it exactly. What I do remember though is that my mom used to tell me I looked like a chimp, and it used to make me feel bad, and when I got the birthday card it made me so upset when I opened it and there was this picture of a chimp staring back at me. They laughed, trying to say it was a joke or something, but it really hurt me. I don’t remember much from those days my mom was dating Bernie, but I do remember this.
I remember another birthday from when I was really little… at John Ball Park. I think I was between 3 and 6 maybe? I don’t quite remember, but it was pre-Bernie. My mom made rice crispy treats with seashell-shaped chocolates on them. They weren’t brown chocolates though, they were white chocolate dyed with other colors like light pink and blue.
Anyhow, she made these for my birthday party instead of a cake and I remember asking her for one when they were being served, but she said I had to make sure there were enough for everyone else first. I remember coming back to the container they were in a few minutes later so I could get mine and they were all gone. Everyone around me was eating them and enjoying the party, but I didn’t get any.
Had I known the way I felt when that happened would become a recurring theme in my life, I’d have probably ran to the little pond at the park, dunked my head under the water, and taken a deep, deep breath.
Yesterday wasn’t as good as I had expected it to be. Now that I’ve come to my final decision, I decided that before I do it I want to spend the weekend doing things I love: watching horror movies/shows and listening to my favorite band: Bad Religion. I’ve also been on a Scorpions kick lately, so I’ll jam that too. Fuck it, why not? Unfortunately, yesterday I was too tired to really enjoy it all day, so I will continue doing that today.
I’ve begun with Love at First Sting, a great album, especially the final song: Still Loving You. Oh my god can Klaus sing it… I used to listen to this song all the time, imagining myself singing it to someone that I loved, maybe at a show with my band, or maybe at a karaoke bar when we were out for a night on the town, just the two of us. Others in the bar would see, sure, but they wouldn’t know. She’d know, though, because I’d glance at her out of the side of my eye during the chorus, and she’d smile and know I wasn’t just singing a song that I liked… I was telling her I loved her.
Of course, that’s just the unrealistic fantasy of a damaged mind, of course. Like so many others, it’s a dream that would never, ever come true. For whatever reason, I have been destined for neither love, nor happiness in this life. Day, after day, after day. Year after year after year, I watched as everyone else goes on with their lives, moving forward, forging relationships – whether platonic or romantic – while I sat, mired in a quagmire of mental illness, wondering what it was about me that I never garnered that kind of attention from others.
A Lion's Roar 