Today, I f*cked up. Let's not talk about the powercut that forced me to spend most of the day reading, let alone starting yet another book that I have on my shelf, unread (thanks, dice), or even the lack of time to even start editing and writing my stuff. It has been a busy day, and most of it were distractions that I couldn't escape. At least we have the cylinders, which is a good thing, but history just repeated itself. So, storytime.
It was eight years ago when the penny finally dropped. It was around this time of the year too, at the height of summer. I am transgender, and there was nothing I could do about it. The biggest feeling I recall is being lost, with no one to ask for help. After all, in Venezuela, especially in this region, there's no one to help with. Anyone who belongs to one of the LGBT letters is not welcome, which also, sadly, includes, my family. It took me a long time, but during autumn, about a week and a couple of days after my birthday, is when I started to write up a diary that, so far, it has expanded onto three giant notebooks, with some attached files, like unsent letters, and newspaper articles about how this country is not safe for the likes of us.
It was a time of a lot of experimentation and a friend that I thought I could count on, but after many years, they outed themselves as someone untrustworthy. Needless to say that I also lost friends, as I struggled to find allies. Many supported me, and none were near me. The closest one was in a completely different city from a much different state. Still western Venezuela, but further west than where I am from. It was a time where the brother I could count on about this was still alive, but I didn't dare to talk to him just yet. In fact, my family were the last people I wanted to talk about. I can see that I wrote that, more than once... even putting myself a deadline to deliver a letter...
...a letter that fell to blind eyes...
Do you know what it's like being gaslighted into thinking that you don't know yourself better than anyone else? I'm the first to admit that there are things that surprise me the most, but, after all these years, I have concluded that no one knows me better than I do. I've always heard my mom being supportive towards trans folks, so I thought she would be with me. Turns out, she became one of these that, indeed, supports trans folks, as long as they aren't family. She is the type of person that, even if I get every single exam in the world that proves that I have gender dysphoria, she would deny it.
Well, after eight years, and after realizing how everything has been going on the wrong side lately, up to the point that it has been a problem for so long that I got the "speech" about not having ambitions with being almost 30 (yeah, like I could do something in a country where nepotism and comraderie reign supreme). She calmed down after realizing that the Ministry never paid me when I got a job that I loved, but the feeling of being a failure never stopped. Every single day, I am bombared with reminders that someone else is doing more than I have, and I can't stop comparing myself to them. I can't help it. It undermines my successes, because I have to be honest, I don't see myself as a successful person at all. Even if my resumé says so, I really don't. What's the point on amassing knowledge when you don't know how to apply it? Or even worst, you can't apply it because you always see the end, but are either too lazy to even get started. Or always make the extra effort to start, and always, always, find yourself looking into shinier things, always getting sidetracked by the shiny sidequest instead of focusing upon the main quest, for a more gaming perspective.
And now, once again, I am being gaslighted into going through the same method that I went through since I was in high school, which only worked because there was people behind me at all time. Damn, even in university, I managed to get through with it because of my classmates on the first half, and because of my teachers on the second half. Being disciplined is not my problem. Lacking opportunities might be, but I always said that I can make my own opportunities, and now that's true, more than ever. I have the tools for it; it's just that I don't really use them, because either I don't know how to use them, or because I spend more time daydreaming about it than actually using them. Remember Obsidian? Remember how excited I was to write with it? I was excited because it had everything that I needed: organization, distraction... and even if I needed to take a note from worldbulding, or look for a reference, I would just load the markdown file that had it, or create it on a single click, make a note, check the reference, and go back to it without getting out of the app. Without it, I have to minimize, look for the other markdown file, open Firefox, start doing research, find myself on a rabbit hole, and... what the hell was I doing in the first place? Did I have to write something?
That's not what's hurting me right now, though. What's hurting me is that she brought that letter back from the grave, and used it as a weapon against me. I didn't allow it, though. She thought that those feelings went away, but I dropped the bomb: they never did go away. They only worsened. I didn't tell her this, but the only reason I keep them under control is because I am living under this semblance of a double life, and I can't stand it. I don't like this... masquerade that I have to put on every single day to keep going. I don't want my face to be plastered on Facebook accounts. I hate being the one taking group selfies on Qi Gong because I have the photography background, and I hate people telling me that they've seen me in social media during some event, or something. I can't stand it. I always tell people to not do that, yet it's a requirement for everything. It's not paranoia, it's that I don't want this man that I pretend to be keep living when he is already dead. I killed that man eight years ago, and I'm still carrying with his dead corpse.
This is why I like to hide my face. Because this face belonged to a man that once was, and never is no more.
No one can help me but myself. I learned that lesson a while ago. But this isn't me looking for her help, but support. I know I need help, and I'll get it, with her or not. The lesson that I learned is that I can't trust her anymore. At least, for things that matter with mental health, I cannot trust her.
Everything that we discussed about in Qi Gong went straight out the window the moment she started gaslighting me.
August 10th, 2023
Kickboxing: Day 128
Morning Routine:
The Right Side + 10 Decline Push-ups
Sól Salutation - LVL I +EC
Daily Dare: 30 Seconds Toe Tap Hops +EC
Count: 1200 - 1196 +EC
Night Routine:
Mani Salutation - 1 Set
Five Rites
Virasana Meditation
Daily Gratitude
Counting Victories
Programs:
Break from Programs for a while. Switching to Valkyrie TP.
Bucket List:
Shadebound
Workouts:
100 Burpees +EC
Ba Han Sheng Qi Gong: Restoration, Regeneration, Renovation
DAREdice: 12 Push-ups
1 minute
Uttanasana w/Toe Reach
Hamstring Stretch - 1 minute each stretch (+1 minute per side)
1-Minute Elbow Plank
Daily Walk
Shuffle Dance! (
#1,
#2,
#3,
H.A.T.E.R.)
Belly Dance
Dancing Days: 13
Challenges:
Push-up Ladder: Day 10
Bucket List:
Warrior Arms
Writing progress:
Nope
1500 Get!
Reading progress:
Ringworld - 40%
The Colour of Magic - 48%
Amadís de Gaula - 53%
Shadowhunters: The Mortal Instruments - City of Bones - 5%
Other Victories:
from
Bavaria, Germany
from
from
