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[prismaticbleed]

 
Continuing from last night.
I went over my mom's boyfriend's house around 6PM to talk with the SLC post office and file a lost package claim with USPS, as their phone service can handle the cost of long distance calls. On the way up though, all that blood and nausea took its toll and I could not function in the body without wanting to die. I don't know if it was tar or splinters or what, but I was literally begging God to just kill me because I could not deal with it anymore. So how did I drive to their house? I didn't. Julie did.
Dead serious. She was our last resort; we figured that since she got the least dysphoria she was the safest bet. She comes through very clearly-- not too surprising considering the tar had her demanding "this body was hers" for years-- but since I've de-feminized it as much as I possibly can, now she's getting dysphoria from it, albeit in a non-traumatic way (thank God). But I might have to let her drive more often, on bad days... I don't know, for a long time now I've actually given serious thought to buying wigs, makeup, and clothing to fit anyone in headspace that needs to drive on any given day, with the obvious exception of being able to change our body type. I doubt I'd ever be able to fully explain it to my family if I tried, but if things continue in this manner, I might be forced to teach other people to front on a daily basis...

Anyway. Got to the house, did the phone stuff, and then went on Youtube and brought up some Nujabes for my mom (she's a fan, it's adorable). It was nice to chill out with her for a bit. However then I let her know I was still badly confused about Utah, because I felt I had been a negative influence on Mel and Jacob and I couldn't figure out how. I was scared that I was unconsciously poisoning people. Then my mom gave me a surprising perspective: maybe they said I was "destructive" because my very presence threw off their life schedules, so to speak? Maybe I wasn't "harming" them, but the fact that I was now in their apartment was "destroying" the way they had lived up to that point. She said that if they did want me to stay with them, but couldn't handle the consequences of that, then their frustration over that unconscious conflict was probably coming up as "you were destructive." I don't know, we're both just guessing, but it makes sense to me. I just feel bad, that maybe it's impossible for me to live with other people at this point. I want to be able to support myself, but I'm understandably worried about what I'd do to myself if I were alone.
Lou said I should take small steps though. Don't get a full-out job yet, if I can't handle one-- instead, do something like babysitting or cleaning for the elderly, one or two days a week. Just to gauge my stability, and to get me used to that.
I'm just frustrated myself, with how I psychologically deal with jobs. My mother thinks I have OCD, in that my brain thinks in absolutes: "all or nothing," or either situation can't exist. If I have a job, I can't have a family life, and vice versa. I remember my old supermarket job: for four years, I'd want to sleep as soon as I came home from work, and go back to work immediately upon waking... despite feeling so drained and empty upon returning home (therefore entering a non-work situation), that I'd often have emotional breakdowns prior to my shifts that left me too sick to go in. I was a disaster back then, but my stint with WHF in Utah got me worried that maybe I'm still pretty fractured in this respect.
Around 9PM I tried to leave, but since we had just been discussing Utah and jobs, I unfortunately left on a sour note as I felt I had tainted the atmosphere with complaints again. Upon closing the front door, though, another wave of thanatos slammed into me, and I dragged myself over the car only to collapse at the steering wheel (I had seriously contemplated just aimlessly walking off into the night, but the possibility of human contact cancelled that out). About ten minutes later my mom came outside, and upon assessing my current state, she told me a few things: one, I had all the symptoms of severe depression (which I honestly never would have guessed). Two, I am obviously under a ton of stress, whether or not I'm consciously "feeling" it. Three, my brothers are worried sick about me (they've talked to her about this apparently), and four, if I want to come over later tonight and talk, I can. Unfortunately I have violin practice at church around 6PM, and choir is on Thursday, but I'll try to figure something out, even if it means sleeping over their house tonight (at least it'll keep me away from food and knives).
I just feel dead. My mom is thinking of sending me to a major hospital for an assessment, as none of my past therapists have been able to treat me for long, let alone with any positive results. If worse comes to worse, that might be our only option. I just fervently hope it's not. I just want to heal whatever the heck in me is causing this uproar of old pain. I want this to STOP. I don't want to die at the end of this month.
...I keep thinking of Leon though. He came back to life two years ago, and had to suffer through quite a few disasters before he settled into the system. Maybe that's similar to what I'm going through? Maybe I need to face all this old stuff once more, before I can move into a new role. I'm just so tired. This is all illusory anyway. Why does it feel so real? It's ridiculous.
But I can't seem to handle being physically awake anymore. I just want to sleep, to shut down, to sink into the void. In a good way, mind. That's the only thing that makes me 'happy' anymore... I keep trying to simulate that same emptiness. There are just too many things around me that make me think. Maybe that's why I'm scared of a job, even. I don't want to go back to acting and thinking for eight hours a day again, not like this. I used to use jobs as an escape, to go into autopilot, to shut down and just go through the motions. But it was exhausting, and it devastated my sense of self-awareness, for lack of a better term. I don't want to wear masks anymore.
Speaking of masks, I just want to mention that my mother knows about how bad my dysphoria is and wants to help. Problem is I don't remember if I ever discussed how that ties into my PTSD with her. It just hurts, because I thought I let this go back in October, and then Mel updated and now I can't remember what I said or didn't say and it's really quite frightening. All I know for sure, is that if there are any trust issues, it's with myself. I don't trust myself around people with feminine appearances (body-wise or not), because of the reactions that go off in my brain as a result. I'm afraid of what that brings out in me. We see in others what we hold in ourselves... whether or not you identify as a woman had nothing to do with it. I didn't feel safe around you because of what you reminded me of, what I couldn't seem to escape from, what haunted me day and night. I am so, so sorry for that, but it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry that I apparently failed at communication enough to make you perceive it that way.
I'm tired of thinking about this, my head hurts and I'm still nauseous. I just want to erase all of that from my life, forget it ever happened, ignore it. But that won't solve anything.


...Laurie decided to drive home last night.
For some reason, that was the single most beautifully tragic thing that could have happened at that hour.
Everyone in town had Christmas lights up, and Laurie was just really moved by it? Instead of just taking them for granted, she was really seeing them, and kept incredulously telling me that "aren't things like this worth living for?" Just lights, and colors, and snow, and things like that. Little things. The fact that we were alive and COULD see those things was reason enough to keep going. I don't know, it was just... deeply inspiring, to me, looking back on it. Laurie shoved Julie out to try and get her to understand it, but Julie was only getting bits and pieces, here and there: she was mostly "okay, there's lights, that's nice," with only flashes of "oh.. I see what you mean." Laurie got frustrated at this and went back to driving, telling both her and I this time that we had everything to live for, we just needed to open our eyes and SEE that.
...Then she said the same exact thing Chaos did, back in October.
"Yeah, I know it'd be really weird to have a physical body, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if it meant I could see things like this... if it meant I could be with you, y'know?"
God, that just hurt. Here we have the two people I love more than anything else in the world, telling me that they'd actually risk feeling completely out of place here, not just for the sake of being here, but also for the sake of being here with me. That cuts like a knife to the heart and I don't know how to react to it.
I don't want them to go through that. Selfishly, I don't know if I could psychologically handle it, all of us being so out of place. But... I don't know. I really don't. I treasure my interactions with them upstairs because we can transcend this. I can actually BE who I am in entirety with them, form and all, upstairs. If they came down here, I'd lose that. The thought is just existentially horrific, for me. Could I sacrifice that for their sake? Should I? I have no idea... I'm so confused. I mean, Laurie told me that fronting doesn't bother her anymore because she knows that the physical body doesn't change who she actually is. I KNOW that's true. It's true for me, too. So why do I keep letting the past drag me down?

The past has no power over the present moment. Why do I keep forgetting that? Better yet, why the hell do I keep focusing on the negative?
I need to stop updating like this. It's not helping anyone.
Suicide is only the desire to destroy a false self. All 'selves' we build are false. I know this. But I can't seem to reconcile that with having a life, here. That's why what Laurie and Chaos said to me is so baffling.
I need to remember what Ryou told me... I need to remember all those things. This "personality" thing is so confusing though. Is it weird that I'm tired of being a "person" in that sense? I just want to sit and watch everything. I have no desire to interact anymore. I can't tell if that's depression or the opposite of it, because it's actually peaceful.
Is it even possible to live like this? To be this empty, and not want anything?


It's hilarious how I need to keep reading and re-reading things I've already read a hundred times, to remember them.
“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.”
That's one.
“The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but thought about it. Be aware of the thoughts you are thinking. Separate them from the situation, which is always neutral. It is as it is.”
That's another.
“Living up to an image that you have of yourself or that other people have of you is inauthentic living.”
Another,
“Can you look without the voice in your head commenting, drawing conclusions, comparing, or trying to figure something out?”
One more.
“The most common ego identifications have to do with possessions, the work you do, social status and recognition, knowledge and education, physical appearance, special abilities, relationships, person and family history, belief systems, and often nationalistic, racial, religious, and other collective identifications. None of these is you.”

It seems I'm way too concerned about "being the right person" at this point. It's getting me so trapped in thought that I can't see straight.
Maybe that's why none of my names or faces fit anymore. Maybe I'm not supposed to have any.
I'm just going to stop thinking for a while.