I was planning on not posting until I had a few pics of the vacation, but I guess that can wait.
because, while I've been feeling rather up recently, things're still tough. Especially when it's late at night and I'm tired and weird.
I love my family, but it's hard being home. They're good people, I'm just not...out here. They don't know about the whole winter quarter girlfriend thing, they don't know about my ongoing "gender identity issues" (as I referred to the business the two or three times I mentioned it to Dr C). But they see stuff. I mean, who doesn't. All of a sudden I've got no boobs (I wish), no girl's clothes, and hair shorter and more masculine than my brother's. So of course they're noticing. And joking about it. I thought maybe they understood somehow, even though I never mentioned anything.
Being in Yellowstone was hard, mainly because of public restrooms. Aside from that the trip went great. Public restrooms are the bane of my existance. Exaggeration. But being with folks it was a constant women's restroom trip, and hence I spooked quite a few women, and recieved a threat or two from little girls (going to "tell on me" you see).
Today I went shopping with my brother, he's going to high school on tuesday, so he needed new clothes (the whole puberty thing's finally caught up with him). I bought a pair of pants, too. From, of course, the boys' section. When I came back from trying them on, my mom asked if I'd ever tried out getting clothes in the "petite" section. She said I might find clothes that fit me there. Does she honestly think I buy boys'/men's clothing because I'm looking for a better fit? If she'd noticed how long all my pants are, maybe she'd get rid of that notion. But then, that's always been her response to me buying male clothing "Oh, when I was younger I would sometimes buy boys' pants when nothing fit me in the girls' section."
Then we went to REI so mom could check her schedule (she starts up there again next week) and James and I roamed the store and started goofing off in the sleeping bag section. One of the employees (who knows my mum) walked past and asked about the age difference, if it was one year. I kind of paused and said "actually it's five years." fuck me, so fucking young. erg. testosterone. which means, erg, new therapist, blood tests, letters, prescriptions and worst of all parents. fuck that. damnit. fuck. parents.
"dear mom and dad: surprise I'm a guy. regards, your 3rd kid."
I can never tell if my mom's jokes about me are because she's scared or just actually amused.
while I was on vacation I was passing left and right. waiters calling me sir (and when they didn't, they just avoided gender-specific language), creeped out women in the restrooms, and, I don't know, I just felt it, most of the time, in the way people treated me, looked at me, smiled or didn't at me. which of course "amused" the hell out of my parents. weirded James out a bit, but I talked with him some, not really about being ts, just about me, I guess. I think I've made it clear that it doesn't bother me to be "mistaken" for a guy.
I came out to my ex yesterday, and that went over really well. She's always teased me about looking like a really young guy (exactly how young got progressively more insulting, we're down to, I think, 10 years old now), and she asked if I still look 10. Which I guess kind of hurts. I don't really like being reminded how short, round-faced, and not masculine-looking I am. And yet everyone gets a kick out of reminding me.
I guess I'm in another one of my gender dysphoria slumps right now. Which is to say, it's always there in the "fuck I'm a guy, what? body's not?" kind of way, but usually I just work my way around that and live just fine. And then every once in a while, everything's wrong about my body, where I can't look in the mirror without thinking how much I just look like a butch lesbian, and a pretty fey one at that, where I'm fat because the weights in all the wrong places, where I'm deficient because I'm not out to everyone in my life and I'm not passing with everyone else. and it gets me down. I've been saying how great I'm doing to everyone around me, and it's true, I have been doing well, with everything else, I guess this has just been building, starting with, oh fuck, forever ago.
because it's always there. Rebecca calling me by my birth name all summer, calling me the "bamboo princess" when I'm sweating like a pig trimming her bamboo, swearing she'll always call me by my given name. David being the sexist jerk he can be sometimes while simultaneously jabbing at me "It's because she's a girl" "But you're a girl" etc. Fucking asshole. With those two I was on edge all summer. Now I'm back here and no one calls me Elliot, I'm always "she," and backpacking I can't bind, because, let's face it I can hardly breathe binding like I do.
My hair's getting too long, I look shabby. But I don't want to get it cut here, because my folks would drive me, and goddamn that's too much stress.
like I said, I'm too fucking tired. My right eyelid's all swollen, it's gotten worse through the day, my mum says it might be infected or something like that. that sucks.
on a better note, I might be getting contacts before I go down south. I have an appointment with the eye doctor on tuesday at 5 pm. He's going to try to fit in both the checking and the fitting, so hopefully I can get that all squared away before I go back to school. He asked where I study and when I told him he laughed and said "Oh I didn't know they did any studying there." I'm glad my education is such a joke to the rest of the world. But seriously, I like myself better without glasses. Even though contacts will probably make me look 9 years old, I don't give a fuck.
heh, yeah, here's to bad nights *clinks glass*
which is silly because I don't drink