“The confusion we experience now will gradually slip behind us, and there will be a useful basis for joining colloquy with others like us, who are on the same journey that all life is on, towards ecstasy.”
My post for today, a follow-up on “breaking the fourth wall,” was pre-scheduled from last week; but I thought I would just follow up on my posts from yesterday.
I make no secret of my profound depression. I have been diagnosed in the past with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. When my insurance kicks in January 1, the first appointment I’m making is to get on anti-depressants. Not because I think these prescription drugs are so…what’s the word…ideal. But because I need a functional baseline from which to even move forward.
I do believe meds can shut down or dampen one’s more esoteric faculties. But there are some times when these faculties need to have the “volume” on them turned all the way the fuck down, at least for a while. I’ve seen this in myself, and I’ve seen it in other people.
I also believe that unless you have a good doctor and are very actively involved in the process, meds can have terrible side-effects that are overlooked. I’ve had shitty experiences on meds, and meh/okay experiences on meds. So I am holding confident that I can have another meh/okay experience, just to get the other medical and financial things I need done in the new year.
I’ve had incidents of violence and abuse happen to me literally since I was an infant. At the same time, in my life I have had great moments of ecstasy that I wouldn’t trade for the world. I believe that in life some people are “called”—and it doesn’t guarantee an easy or non-weird life.
To have occasional gender identity issues on top of that, and to have what I suspect (based on family history & my own symptoms) to be untreated Aspergers on top of it…it’s just a lot.
And it’s not like I didn’t accomplish anything in my life despite these challenges. I was on TV, I edited/wrote/produced a top 3 MTV.com website, I’ve had my work covered in the international media, and I’ve written (albeit briefly) top-tier comic book characters.
But it really is this sense of you’re only as worthy as your last big thing.
When I was in my early thirties, I got really really sick—and lost a LOT of weight. I went from a size 12 to a size 2 relatively quickly. This was seen by my family and peers as one of the biggest positive “accomplishments” of my life—being skinny. Certainly, it was of more importance than all my academic accomplishments put together.
And so I was down to a size 2, and I bought all these attractive girly stuff to wear. And everyone was SO HAPPY—not just for my thinness, which of course was WONDERFUL, but because it finally seemed I conformed to being a “pretty lady.”
At the same time this happened, I had just “broke out” with my online writing and was getting media attention for that. So it was perfect timing, my makeover.
But then the cracks start to show. And I got an eating disorder. I started fainting in the subway from malnutrition. And by the time I reached “double-small” on my clothing size, my mom had to drag me to the doctor. And she was crying: “I hope nothing I said gave you an eating disorder!”
Nowadays, I’m back around a size 10/12. And I feel like shit for it, and the pressure is there once again to lose weight.
The pressure is also there to start considering taking estrogen replacement therapy, as my whole “woman’s journey” thing is happening just a little quicker than normal. And with that suggestion comes: “maybe this estrogen is the MAGIC THING YOU NEEDED ALL ALONG to finally feel fully like a woman!”
As “tolerant” as part of society is, as my “peers” claim to be…there always seems like this little “hope” that I’ll just be “normal.” Maybe that’s not what is going on at all—maybe I’m just assuming things that aren’t there. But sometimes it really feels that way.
When you have sides of yourself that have been systematically overlooked and suppressed, they take on “lives” of their own. I mean, in the figurative sense. Like tulpas, thoughtforms—you know, in the metaphorical sense.
The problem is, like I mentioned before—your socially-conditioned side also has a life of its own. It’s not so easy to just say: oh well, I’ll just switch to “this” now and that will be the way things are for now on.
It becomes a type of duality—especially if you have been going through this for over 4 decades.
And both sides really are almost at war, fighting for the life and lifestyle they had always wanted. And it’s almost like…your consciousness sometimes becomes this “third party” sort of looking on at this war, and feeling helpless to make either side really happy; feeling like a “failed parent,” almost.
You know: metaphorically-speaking.
Have a good Friday.