13 November 2015

Choose your Masques (String Quartet #2, Op. 15)

Another heavy, personal post.  Abandon hope, ye who enter here.

I want to write upbeat stuff here too.

It's just been difficult.

On one hand, I've been having a rough past almost 4 weeks.  I'm on an increased dose of lamictal and it's not really stabilising my mood.  There have been a lot of tears the past few days, there have been communication issues, and I've been struggling emotionally, though not to the point that I feel I am in any danger.  Nor do the people who know me.

I have said for a long time that I finally took off the last mask when I revealed myself as me, but I realise that's not entirely true.  I still carry a mask to fake being happy for people.  I am an empath, and I take care of people's problems...often before mine, or in lieu of mine.  It is how I am.  And I can be absolutely screaming in emotional pain inside, and I'll still help someone else first.

So I do happy things on Facebook.  I post memes.  I post music.  I post space stuff.  I post a lot of angry SJW stuff too, don't get me wrong, but it's becoming easier and easier to write at length here about myself without writing a note than maybe 2 or 3 people will read.  I know no one will comment here either, but that makes it more a secret diary that I can keep to myself.  I link it to places, like tweeter and G+ and FB sometimes, but it's variable.

I am large, I contain multitudes.  I have been through so much in my life.  My parents are divorced.  My grandfather passed away when I was young and I still don't feel I ever mourned his passing properly.  I've spent my whole life lying to people about who I am...which has led to depression since well before my teen years.  I'm withdrawn because I'm afraid to let people in.  I have communication issues because things I think are funny end up offending because tone doesn't translate to text.  I've had cancer.  I've had a heart attack.  I've had my heart stopped on an emergency room table (She said...I know what it's like to be dead...I know what it is to be sad).  And I'm trans, which adds its own set of...stuff...(I want hormones yesterday, I want my testosterone gone, I hate my body build, I hate my hair).

And I write about this here.

Because I'm pretty sure no one on Facebook wants to read my whinging.

Not with more important issues going on.


And I want to write geeky stuff here, because it is such a part of me.  And I do on occasion.  I do write about comic books, and Doctor Who.  I post some of my fic and my poetry.  I want to write about what I am writing about, tell you about this amazing OC named Tessa, and all of that.  Because she excites me and makes me want to write more about her and the things that happen to her and her platoon of Misfits,

It just seems I end up writing about heavy personal issues because it's really the only place I have to put this (I'd physically journal this but you do not want to see my handwriting).  So I am at a loss, really...and it's not a comfortable place for me to be.

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