Anxiety Self Help

DATE: Jul 24 2007, 8:18 pm / MOOD: Other

GIZMO

 

she watches me. i sit there looking at a drawing i am working on. she wants my attention but i haven't yet given it to her. She start to meow. little cries. "oh, you want my attention!" i say, and she sticks her ass in my face with her tail up and walks away. she walks around the whole apartment, looking at me, making sure i am watching her. but she is playing hard to get.

i pick up a pen and start to write about her behavior, but within seconds, she is standing on top of my paper tring to force the pen out of my hand. PAY ATTENTION TO ME! she seems to cry. So i pat her. she gets into that relaxed, purring position she likes to be patted in, and i take my hand and rub behind her ears. She purrs and purrs, and i pat pat pat, and then she gets up, and walks over to a corner of the room. She sits for a minute and then walks over to her treats. She didn't want them when i offered them before, because she hasdn't been pet yet.

she eats her treats and when she is done, she looks at me, as if to thank me. "good kitty" i say, and she walks away, eager, as if on a mission... and she is. she's on a mission to find me a gift like no other gift. she wants to bring me a dead animal. i don't really want a dead animal, but her intentions are good.

fortunately the "dead animal" she brings me is a toy mouse. i think she really thinks its alive, because the day before i bought her the mouse, i found a baby bird lying in the parking lot for my building. i picked it up to try to help it, but it had broken its neck in the fall and within a minute or two, the bird died in my hands. it was very sad. i was going to burry it outside , but i thought, no, that will attract all kinds of gross animals and stuff. so i brought it inside to put it in a box or a bag, but Gizmo had her eyes on the bird from the second i took it in. she watches the birds in the window and jumps like a maniac thinking she will catch one, and here one was, in her living room.

it was difficult for me, but i put the bird down on some papers and let gizmo play with it for a few minutes. she had the happiest look on her face, like "thank you jymi! this is the best gift ever!!!!" so i smiled and told her good job, but it was hard to watch because i tred to help that bird.

but the bird had died, my cat is alive, and i gave her a fun time... and yeah, i think she thinks that the fur covered mouse is another dead animal. she's funny.

 

oh yeah, and she is such a brat. when i annoy her, i can tell by the look on her face, that she is going to pay me back for hurting her feelings. she doesn't actually attack me, but she will run up in my face from out of nowhere and scare the sh*t out of me, knock things over, or my favorite... when i am in the bathroom having a smoke, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she sneaks behind the curtain, and then all of a sudden, she starts hitting me from behind the shower curtain. like oh my god... you little brat. heh heh.

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DATE: Jul 24 2007, 12:38 am / MOOD: Other

It's a cool summer night. Late August 1991. I've been swimming in the pool for a couple of hours, dodging the swooping bats and mosqitos. I hear crickets chirp unseperate to the volume of my double decked boom box. I pull myself up onto the cement and I am startled by a giant June bug. I tiptoe over to a beach chair where my beer logoed towel is lying in a heap. I shake it off and then wrap it around myself, thinking about the next beer I'M going to drink.
Suspiciously, i walk indoors and head straight up to my room. I lock the door behind me and open my pin-up covered closet door. I dig through some boxes until i find an old t-shirt wrapped around a pint of Spearmint Snapps, hiding it from my mother or anyone else who might go snooping through my closet. I put the bottle between my towel and my body, and I head into the hall bathroom.
Once the door is securely locked, I run some water in the sink to cover any noise that the bottle might make as i open it. Once it is open, I gulp down the minty pint and feel it burn in my throat. Although it hurts and tastes like I am drinking Listereen, it comforts me in a way that nothing else in the world does.
When I finish the pint, i run hot water in the tub, rinse out the bottle and climb into a steaming hot shower. I oversoap myself to try to cover up the smell, and when I get out of the shower i brush my teeth severely.
Returning to my room, I keep the bottle hidden again. My mother is coming up the stairs as I pass them and she asked what I'm up to. "Nothing" I tell her calmly as I can, and add, "I'm just goona listen to some music and try to write." She looks at me with question in her eyes, but she never asks the question, so I slip safely into my room and lock the door behind again.
I open my sock drawer immidiately after locking the door and set the empty bottle into it where i hope it will go unnoticed until I can dispose of it later. I close the drawer and press the power button on my dusty black stereo. The radio is set to 107.3, and Liz Wild the Cream Cheese Bitch DJ is counting down the top nine at nine.
I throw a giant red Mickey Mouse shirt over my body, quietly open my bedroom window, and climb out onto my roof. From there I watch across the yard where I see my elderly neighbors inside their house, flipping through the channels on their TV. Further behind my house I can hear my teenaged neighbors throwing a summer kegger and their radio is blasting the same station as mine, creating an interesting stereo like sound.
I reach back into my room, for the little jewlery box where I keep 3 cigarettes lined up in a row. I take one and light it with a wooden match. With my other hand I reach in and grab my Swatch Twin Phone to dial a 900 chat number. I put the phone to my ear and listen to strangers talk to one another, looking up at the stars and enjoying one of the last great nights of the summer, before school starts back up. All that is left of the summer is a trip to Marshalls for back to school clothes and CVS for notebooks, pens and planners I never use. I know that the 8th grade is important academically, so I tell myself I'll try to quit drinking and do my homework. Maybe I'll even join a sports team. I look back up at the stars as I blow out the last drag off my stolen cigarette, and for one of the last times ever, I really believe that change is possible, and that will-power is real.

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DATE: Jul 24 2007, 12:36 am / MOOD: Don't know

YOU DONT FOOL ME
I’m not normal and i’m not the same…when i think something sucks i don’t call it lame.
i don’t call people retards, that just ain’t my game. Making fun of others won’t pave my way to fame. I’m insane and not cuz i think it’s cool to claim. I got a long list of diagnoses and been places that attempt to tame the brain damage of those of us who came too late--or too soon…. We’re just awkward dudes like Benny and Joon, people givin’ us nicknames like “Jymi the Loon”- tellin’ us to go back to the moon cuz they just can’t understand why we don’t play the hand that we were dealt. But if only they knew what if felt like to have a couple of twos, a three and a five,…a daily battle to try and survive--- a place where we just don’t fit in, and when the day begins at high noon, we’re still lyin’ in bed just wishin’ we were dead …instead of the pain we endure with everybody slammin’ the door in our face every day cuz we’re different, we’re gay. People say that we’re ugly or fat or see us chat to invisible men, who just may or may not exist- but that’s not for you to say, just cuz you don’t see it, don’t mean it’s not there. Scientific explanation’s not usually fair to those of us who dare to do what we need to do, unlike some of you we choose love over greed, takin’ only what we need out of life…a pair of clean jeans, a pocket knife some good music and a wife. I don’t ask for much, but some say i do just cuz they’re not used to people like me who will be exactly who we are- I’ll drive an old car just as long as it gets me as far as i need to go. I’ll take it slow and tiptoe. I’ve been patient. I’ve even been IN-patient at the local ER for twelve hours just to find out they wanna send me home to where i’ll be alone, they’ll called on the phone they say, every hospital in town and all the other towns around, and nobody’s got beds, so i shiver in the gown they forced me to wear the moment i got there cuz God forbid i had a razor in my pocket or a sharp piece of metal to stick in a light socket…all this stupid bullsh*t they dream up so they can come up with a plan to strip me of my comfort and have me sit there, shaking and scared, just scratching my beard til eventually i feel so weird that i run out of tears. The doctor comes in sayin’ “Jym, you’ll be fine, these nurses of mine have watched you for a bit, you didn’t throw a fit and you’re no danger so you are fit to go. Just take it slow. Don’t snort blow, be careful drivin’ in the snow. Go to church, don’t be a ho. Obey the law or you may end up on death row- learn how to sew, wear dresses, smile pretty and whadaya know? Pretty soon you’ll be all better, you’ll be writing love letters and knitting winter sweaters. You’ll be happy, you’ll be fixed, you’ll be dancing with chicks and looking at dicks instead of wishin’ you had one one, thinking you’re a son and not a daughter, not much in life is odder than a person confused about the body they use and have used for years. I’m sick of you Queers comin’ in here complaining people stare when you share a kiss with your lovers, Go home! Go indoors and under your covers if that’s what you’re gonna do, I’m discharging you!
There are people who deserve a bed more than you. These people can afford to pay room and board, and praise the only Lord. They don’t question the rules cuz the rules were made for them, normal white men, not weirdo’s like you. Goodbye now, I’ll have my nurse give you back your shoes.
You can go home, turn on your TV, watch some shows and learn to be a rose, not a thorn. Stop blowing your horn. It makes too much noise, You’ll wake up the boys- the boys who need to rest to become the best this world has ever seen, Republicans, not green, Hell Yeah! They’ll be mean, beating women till they’re lean, f@ckin’ with the minds of pre-teens till everyone believes what we say. You believe me, right KERI?
Go home, you’ll be fine. I’ll drop you a line to make sure you’re doing good… stay out of the hood. The people there bite. You’re lucky you’re white. If you weren’t you just might not survive and stay alive. You just need a little strive.
Hey nurse, KERI’s ready, SHE’s stable and steady.
“Umm, no” I explain, lookin’ out the window as it rains.
“If there’s an emergency just call us” they lie and try to assure me that it’ll all be okay. But i just spent my whole day on this emergency call, and i was sent away, so i walk down the hall into the day...or night whatever time it might be, i dunno, i’m CRAZY cuz i’ve done this more than once. I must be a dunce to put myself through it, but there’s really nothing to it. I’m used to being told i’m not wanted- wherever i go, i seem to be haunted by the same few words…
“you’re not like us”
“go away”… “stop making such a fuss”
But i won’t stop until somebody stops me, and even then i’ll keep going
like the energizer bunny, not cuz it’s cliché and unfunny, but because i’m really here,
I wanna live my life without the fear of being hurt for who i am. If i say that i’m a man, don’t call me ma’am. I wanna be respected,
not hunted down and inspected cuz some assholes detected that i was different than they were. I do not deserve murder cuz you decide i’m a her or a she who just wants to be a he .
Brandon Teena was like me and many others… all sisters and brothers. So much the same, with so many names and so many shames from playing their games.
But i won’t anymore. I live to restore everything that i broke,
people i hurt when i spoke out of my ass, when i thought all i was doing was making a joke…before i awoke from the haze of my last toke when i was using. Sometimes i'm using, sometimes i'm not. Right now i am, I smoke my pot like a ham.
I’m not perfect, i admit it. I f@ck up all the time. When i walk in the park
i’m tempted by the guy selling drugs by the dime. I just wanna buy the drugs and escape this ugly place, but my job is to live the best that i can and i will face the future with you if you’re willing to do what i do and be true to what you knew when you were two, before they had you caring bout the brands you were wearing.
before they had you hearing only the news they were sharing,
sitting on your couch, eating Olestra and fearing what will happen if you don’t buy their bullsh*t, but you think that it’s real, cuz you’re brainwashed and feel like you’ll never be as good as they want you to be. You join their Army’s to be all you can be but you already were and they fooled you but they WON’T FOOL ME

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DATE: May 28 2007, 1:26 am / MOOD: Other

so in my gallery i now have a series of photos that i took of graffiti. the graffiti is not by me,i just take the pictures. it is some sweet stuff though. And the second update i did was of some (most) of my records. I am talking about vinyl records. some were passed on to me from my parents (well, technically i took them when i was 13, from the boxes in the basement, and my parents were kinda anal about it at first cuz i was a kid and they didnt want me to wreck all their old records, but eventually they would have been thrown away or ruined in the basement floods like the records i didnt take.

Some of them my grandmother gave me when she was moving that were my uncle's once.

the rest i have gathered over the years from yard sales, thrift stores, record stores, trashpicked or got from free piles, etc.

i love my records. i have at least 10x that many CD's.

i spent my life collecting music and now everything is mp3. But there is something special about putting on an old record and lighting a candle that you will never find in an mp3

i have a creative zen mp3 player. its true there is no more convienient and portable source of music than mp3 and if you have good headphones it'll sound good too.

i still love records.

i went to a wedding tonight. it was scary. i was totally anxious cuz i only know the bride, and it was at a castle estate in ipswitch mass.. i was wearing a shirt from Marshalls, George Foreman pants, a black tie from somewhere, doc martens and trash picked socks. i looked okay but i felt very insecure at first cuz this was like RICH people... really rich. i've never been to such a fancy event except for when i used to work as a gaurd at an art museum, i saw fancy events, but i was working, not a guest.

i found a few people to talk to though and i had a nice time. a pair of 5 year old boy twins and their 6 year old sister found me interesting and came and sat with me for a while. We talked about sledding. it was 80 degrees out, but the hills that this castle was on would be sweeeet for sledding. they told me they lived in new jersey and i asked if they drove here or took a plane and one of the twins said "well, we're lucky cuz our dad has his own plane, so we took that" and i was just like "WOW" heh. i kind of wish i couldve talked to the kids all night. i would not have been so anxious. i'm actually really good with kids. maybe cuz they dont make me as nervous. if they wanna know something, they will ask, and while they can be blunt like "why are you fat?" at least you know that in their head they aren't saying "eww, who is this fat person? he's gross. i wish i didn't have to look at him."  so kids cause less anxiety for me.

but yeah, i had fun at the wedding. i'm putting up pictures soon

 

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DATE: May 26 2007, 11:24 pm / MOOD: High

I was always friends with boys and liked boys activities and i expected to be treated as a boy. But this expectation was trampled on in school. I had to be a girl all day long. I played with the boys during recess up through 2nd grade, but in 3rd grade i got boobs and only a couple of boys remained my friend after that, and they only did so because one was 3 years younger than me and the other went to a different school. When i got to middle school all the boys wanted to be my friend and i thought that was awesome until i realized it meant i was expected to fool around with them. Which i did, all the time, because it meant i got to spend time with them. I got in a lot of trouble as a kid to prove that i was as tough as any guy. So i've definately always had this in me, but the concept that a person could change their gender simply did not exist to me. Kind of like the story about the Native Americans and the boats sailing in with the very first immagrants. The story is that the natives could not see the boats, even when they were in sight, and it took convincing from a respected spiritual person who could see them, that they existed. When he described the boat using images they could understand, they were finally able to see them.
Even with my strong, strong desire to be male, i had to give that up early on, or so i thought because no other option existed that i was aware of. Even when i got older and i first heard about transsexuals, it was always MTF. Plus transexuals were so weird. I wasn't a transexual, i was a boy in a girl's body who had better get used to it cuz the only way out of the situation i knew of was to die. And i've faught suicidal ideations most of my life. And i gave up on my goals when i was little, because i could never be what i really wanted which included being a boy. Other little kids had kind of far fetched dreams like being a famous actor or baseball player or ballerina or whatever... hard to obtain, yet not completely impossible. My goals over the years included growing up to be a monster, a dinosoar, Chinese, Ethiopian, a Pilgram, a Viking. My first obtainable goal was to grow up to be a writer. I've stuck with that one, as well as the secret part of the goal that went along with it, to be a writer "who loves to be intoxicated."

Anyway, i first figured out that i was trans/and needed to transition in the early 2000's.
By the year i graduated high school (1996) my boobs had grown to a very not cool size... cool for touching...maybe on some other body. They were far too big. Let me explain my boob-age...
AGE 8- they sprout
AGE 11- C cup
AGE 14- DD cup
AGE 17- F cup
AGE 23- JJ cup have to special order bras online they are so damn big.
i started begging for a breast reduction when i was 10 or 11. By the time i was 23 i could almost no longer walk and was in very severe back pain.
I still had to pay out of my pocket for my masectamy. If i lost 70 pounds (which i could not do because i could not exorsize due to the fact that i could barely move cuz my boobs were so huge) my insurance would have considered paying for a reduction, but every surgeon i talked to looked at me like i had 10 heads when i asked if they could reduce me to a flat chest. They said i was crazy and that i would regret that decision and no surgeon in their right mind would do that, but they could make me a nice D cup, possibly a C if i lost more than 70 pounds.
I was very irritated and looked up on line to see if surgeons would do masectamys on non cancer patients. I even prayed for breast cancer. i also took a knife to my chest on many many occaisions. The only thing i found on line matching my searches were sites about FTM trans-guys. (Female To Male). When i was a "lesbian" i was not very active in lesbian activities in the area, because i prefered hanging with my guy friends as i always have. This is not meant to be disrespectful to women, and in fact, many of my best friends are women. But in general, when i wanna hang out and feel like myself, i feel most comfortable with guys and girls who are one of the guys kind of girls. Anyway, i was just starting to date Lia and she lived with a couple of MTF (trans-women) who occaisionally had FTM friends over and between the exposure to that, and seeing that trannies aren't AS weird as i thought (although we are weird. thats a fact, but weird does not mean bad. in fact i usually mean good when i say weird)plus reading all the FTM sites and relating to people on a level i have never been to before.
I didn't jump right into it. I started out as a genderqueer. A non-gendered person...which i still am in a way, only i realized that i wanted to start using my then pen-name, Jymi as my actual name (my old name was keri. legally it still is but please dont call me that cuz its not MY name anymore) So i was going by Jymi and during this time i was also waiting 4 years to be approved for SSI. They denied me the first 2 times because they randomly deny people without lawyers all the time, so eventually i got a free lawyer appointed from DMH he was very good and he made sure they noted i was disabled from the first application for disability, so they owed me 4 years back-pay (minus 300 a month for a year and a half of the time because i got welfare) and i was finally able to afford surgery. I almost lost my appointment that i waited so so so long for (like, most of my life) as well as a $650 deposit due to a lying therapist. She actually told me she was a gender specialist, and i believed her and she promised me the letter i needed, but later when she got mad at me, only 2 months before my surgery, she punished me by refusing to write the letter and telling me i misunderstood when she said she was a specialist. (there is a lot more to the story of this therapist, including the fact that i pretty much acted as HER therapist in each session which i delt with in order to get the letter from her and then i was gonna switch out, during which time she told me that she had boderline personality disorder, she was extremely lonely and depressed and that she was part of the trans community because she dated a trans person once. Also she claimed to be really close friends with all these people i knew but most of them did not know her. It was shady.
So yeah, i had the masectamy in january of 2005. At first i did not plan to go on hormones because i already have some testosterone as is, but after the chest surgery, i was ready to start hormones. i get shots of Testosterone (T) from a nurse every 3 weeks. I have been seeing the same gender specialist off and on since before my surgery. I first saw her right after the sucky therapist went crazy-bitch on me.
I am seeing Diane again now. We have had ups and downs but she has not been sucky. Usually i only had issues with Diane because i was impatient and also i cried in her office a bunch of times and i was very uncomfortable about that. i dont like people to see me cry.
So yeah. And i knew from the beginning that having penis surgery is extremely unpredictable, extremely costly and not garenteed to work, so i did not want bottom surgery going into all of this, but after over a year on testosterone i really want a penis... but i will wait...i'd rather keep the feeling i have down there now, and since it is a risk that i could lose that, i wont have the surgery until it is no olonger a risk or a very very tiny one.
Anyway. the end for now. nighty

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DATE: May 23 2007, 7:28 pm / MOOD: Lonely

this site is annoying to navigate.

i am not a scorpio. why does it say i am? i am a virgo.

bleh. whateverrrrr

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