Confessions. No-one’s ever gonna read it anyway...
I’m really feeling depressed at the moment. I know a lot of you also feel the same way and you don’t need that right now. Sorry. I can see many, if not most of you asking themselves why they don’t die today? How shitty our lives are. How so not adapted we are in this society. I’m gonna leave tumblr. By leaving, I do not mean I’ll suicide although I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. I won’t end up like Leelah Alcorn or other sisters and brothers who’re now gone, at least I hope not. Nobody would remember me anyway.
No, this is selfish, this is my last post. A bit like a last letter to the community. I really need to get out of this place. I will still be here but won’t be posting anything after this. I will still update my drawing blog every few months (lizdrawsgals.tumblr.com), but that’ll be it. No more posts, no more reblogs. Mutuals can still chat with me, but I won’t post anything anymore. Before I really begin to bore you out, I just wanted everyone to know they were really helpful and kind. I didn’t know what I would find here. Of course, it’s a hell of a website with so much conflicts and hatred. But I’ve found my people. I found you girls. Even if we didn’t become friends or talk on a daily basis, just knowing I wasn’t alone in the shit I have to put up with everyday, it selfishly but actually makes me feel better. And for that, I also hate myself. I hate myself for a big number of reasons, but among them is that I know I’m better off most of you girls and I still feel depressed. You all have to go through so much more than me, and look at me, I’m already whiny and pathetic. I really hate myself. And even more so because I know I’m better off.
Anyway, I just want to share my experience about many topics and I don’t want to do more than one post about it, so sorry if it’s long af. All of this is me. I’m not « cutable ». These topics are undissociable with me. On transness I discovered very late I was a trans girl. When I just came here, I didn’t know what dysphoria was, what terfs were, what any of this was. Everything I knew was that I was a lesbian, and not a boy. I’ve always hated being put in the « boy » box. The more I went into lesbianism, the more it made sense. Until a day, my girlfriend asked me « maybe you’re a girl inside » and that’s how everything began. And all of these anecdotes finally made sense in my life. Why as a very young child I seemed so happy on pictures my parents took of me with a dress to make fun of me later (they stopped it very soon). Why I was sometimes attracted to girls toys without fully assuming it and I would feign to reject them to be « normal ». Why I always picked female characters when we were pretending to be someone else just to play during breaks in primary school and why it felt so good. Why it even more felt right when I chose a female identity online since I was 11-12 years old. Why already at that time I felt dead inside and everyday I would just long for the moment I could get home and live that identity. Why I’ve always felt my sex was like a weird thing that doesn’t really belong in my body. Why I’ve often tugged it since I was a child without even knowing what tugging meant. Why I always felt so motherly towards my male friends but couldn’t explain why. Why I’ve always been drawn to lesbian stories without ever fetichizing them, just feeling pure softness and a completion. Why having sex with girls the « straight » way always felt so wrong although I was aroused. Why I never recognized myself in mirrors and it kept getting worse years after years. Why as the singer of a band I always wanted to sing high pitch and was euphoric when others would tell me I sang like a girl, meaning to criticize me.
There were many « why »s and I can’t list them all, these are the ones coming to my mind right now. I don’t want anybody to take this post and say « this is how a trans girl should be » to other trans girls, and don’t ever tell me « it’s not how a trans girl should be », because we are all different. There’s not one unique « way » to be cis, why should there be one for being trans? I understood I was a trans girl thanks to my very understanding and loving girlfriend. But I understood it very late. I understood it when I was 24 years old. I understood it late because I was misinformed. I grew up in a country and social environment that didn’t tell that me what I felt was normal, that I could transition, and heck, that even trans people existed. For most of my life, I thought trans folks were intersex and that trans girls would be physically born with a girl’s body but with a penis. Everything was just a blurry mess. And because I understood very late I was transgender, I grew more accustomed to my body than most of you girls. I hate it, but I came to live with it. I’ve been depressed during years without knowing why, but I’ve gone through that. Now I’m just exhausted. I’m waiting. Waiting for what? I don’t know. I can’t transition right now. I don’t know when I will be able to. But as opposed to most of you, one of the explanations I have for having discovered late what I really was, on top of what I already described, is the fact that my dysphoria is mild? I don’t know, when I saw some trans girls around couldn’t even get out of bed because of dysphoria or were sure they were girls in their early years (<10yo), I felt like a huge fake. I still feel like a huge fake everyday. Add to that the fact that I’m still closeted to most people and I can’t transition and you have me. What am I? When I see my reflection in the mirror, I see a dude that doesn’t feel like me at all. When I try on girls clothes and accessories, I feel I’m the grossest thing on earth (and this, ladies, is when dysphoria hits me the hardest: when I try more feminine things and I realize it only pushes the masculinity of my traits out; when I realize how much there is to be done to be read as female, that I will never ever manage to be). I avoid talking because the voice I hear is not the voice I have in my head and it scares me. I feel like I’m living the life of somebody else. In my best days I tell myself it’s like being a double agent, but in fact that’s not fancy at all.
And because I feel like a giant fake, I feel so grossed out by myself being drawn to lesbian or wlw things. I feel predatory. I feel like I’m one of those gross cis men fetichizing lesbians. Except I am not fantasizing about lesbians and sex at all. Anyway, this is hard to explain.
Coming back to the question of transness, knowing all of this, I can’t even transition. And this is mainly due to family reasons. Cultural reasons. I grew up in a very traditional vietnamese (confucean) family. And so far I haven’t met or discussed with any other trans girl in that situation. The closest cultural background I’ve encountered but only indirectly was a muslim trans boy. Many of you told me « you should just try to transition, don’t care about family/ditch it, etc. ». But I really can’t. See, this is when cultural background comes into play. This and ethnicity. See, the thing is, I grew up in a racist environment. Got « gently » bullied because although I pass as white, I have vietnamese middle and last names. Racism through micro-aggression everyday that made me feel like shit for years and years. And just like this « boy costume », I grew used to it and don’t care anymore (it’s so shitty that when I talk about that with people, some tell me « yeah but it’s good, you know, society’s shit anyways, so the earlier you get used to it, the better it is, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger » and shit, like NOOOOOOO? wtf. This is so typically of people who don’t experience racism or any kind of discrimination at all). Anyway, sorry for the digression. So growing up in that shitty environment, my only safe space was my family. It was a haven of peace for me. Every summer, I would go back to Vietnam, to my family, and feel complete there. I experienced racism and isolation since I was a kid (imagine whole years being on your own during lunch breaks that lasted like hours for a kid, seeing others playing together but not with her, etc.; that and all sorts of micro-aggressions). But funnily, in Vietnam, where I passed as a westerner, I didn’t experience racism at all. That was all the contrary. I was fully integrated. In France, I was completely rejected, although I passed as white. Just for a fucking family name. By kids. And don’t you say « these were just kids », these fucking kids never ever changed! They’re still the same racist bastards they were back then. So going back to my family was like paradise to me. The country back then was poor but it didn’t matter, I felt complete, I had my family loving me, I had friends there, even if it meant just for the summer. So, that being said. The vietnamese culture, especially in a traditionalist family (phong kien and all, if there are any viet reading this) is like, the elderly decide everything, they guide your life (and usually you don’t get to say shit) (and they have tons of other very old fashioned rules - funny because when I went to vietnam with my girlfriend, we stayed at my grandma’s flat, and had our own room, BUT, we had to invert bodies in bed (like, she’d see my feet and I saw hers - so that it wouldn’t « shock » my grandma) - and of course, during the night we’d change back to normal, - but that’s to say how shit traditionalist and stupid the rules are). Take european victorian period bourgeoisie and you’d have the same rules. Except it’s now for me. And it’s okay, most of the time I can deal with it, although it has created a lot of conflicts during my whole life - because outside the house was modern europe, and inside the house was old-fashioned confucean asia -, but you know what the culture of my family had in common with victorian era? BIGOTRY. And I can’t do anything about it. If my grandma (now chief of family since grandfather died) knew I was a girl, she’d probably die from a heart attack (not even kidding) and of course nobody wants that. But what’s more is that, I will experience severe ejection from everybody in the family. From the same haven of peace that saved me from my racist bullies in France. And still, that’d be okay. But what I cannot bear are the consequence for my mother. Because there’s just too much shit she’s been through. Because I love her. Because I know if something’s gonna happen with their beloved grandchild/nephew, etc. they’ll blame it on her, who’d have allowed it to happen. She’s already lived a life of isolation from the country, being in a country where she got no family, no friend, and nobody seems to understand how central family is in Vietnam. In the worst case, I could possibly imagine myself banished from my family, but I would never ever want that for her. See, I don’t know for other viets, but I’ve been raised to be selfless, especially for my family. So no. That won’t happen. And therefore, other than being materially unable to transition (no stable financial situation, no stable professional future), this is why I don’t see how I am ever to transition.
About the muslim trans boy, it’s just that: I went to a trans-center in Berlin. Explained them all of this, and even better (gosh, I’m writing to badly rn, it’s just a mess). And the guy told me « it’s totally your choice, nobody can push you to transition. We had a similar case recently. With a muslim trans boy. And he made the same choice as you, He chose family over himself ». Something many of my white friends wouldn’t understand at all.
So if there are any asian, at best confucean or having a culture greatly influenced by confucean values (viet, chinese, taiwanese, singaporian, and I’m missing a lot of them), but all kinds of asian, or even trans girls of different cultural background than western but having grown up in a western environment, PLEASE HIT ME UP. PLEASE COME AND TALK TO ME. AND OTHERS, PLEASE REBLOG THIS, YOU NEVER KNOW IF ANYBODY KNOWS SUCH A TRANS GIRL.
I got other questions for you folks. Anybody allo or demi in a relationship with an ace? I’m demi and with my girlfriend (and nobody else), I feel great sexual attraction. And again, I hate myself for that. I find myself completely disgusting and primitive. I wish I was like her. Because other than annoying her (although she does her best not to make me feel I’m any kind of disturbance), it also drains too much energy out of me, and once I have dirty fantasies, I just get locked up in them and loose too much time. Anybody got any advice to reduce libido?
On the question of sexuality, since we’re into questions. I identify completely as a lesbian. And when we have sex, the best is… well, not really describable in other words than ‘lesbiany’. It’d be too easy to say it’s mainly oral and manual sex. This is not it. It misses the whole sensual side, showing love rather than lust, but still lust, but not in an extreme way, all these sensual coming and going, etc. It’s made of soft kisses and caresses rather than just the dumb « boom boom » I notice with straight couples. I remember this post about the graph of lesbian sex
and it’s totally it. And it feels good. It feels right, at least to me. To us.
So how come I also fantasize about guys, and when I’m in front of a guy, I’m completely disgusted? When I fantasize about guys, it’s always about body, never about faces. Like I can’t stand guys. They also gotta shut up their mouths. And I don’t like their faces at all. So why fantasize about them? Maybe because of cis-heteronormativity? See, this is some kind of bullshit at a very high level again. This is the bullshit of society that tells my unconscious self that only a man can make me feel like a woman. And I know this is bullshit. But it’s still there. Thanks, fucking society. Thank you for messing with my head. Again. Now I deal with a lot of self-hatred, and this is probably why I’m writing this damn long post. And this is because of many many things. Not only my gender identity. Not only my sexuality. But plenty of things I regret in my life and that haunt me day after day. Recently, I’ve had worse and worse experiences with ADHD. I just hate it when people say people having ADHD are just lazy, don’t want to work or anything. And it’s so hard to describe. You can only describe what happens, but not what it feels like. And in a society that tells you you gotta work, get less clumsy, think thoughtfully, etc. Well, you’re just so not adapted. You’re like, misplaced. And you hate yourself so much for that. You hate yourself so much for being not what society expects you to be.
You plan a day, you tell yourself « today I’m gonna do this and that » and then, before you know it, day has passed and you don’t know what happened. Nothing has been done, and you cry yourself to bed, because you hate yourself for being unable to do anything, because you can’t concentrate on anything. Any source of distraction, even not meant as being a source of distraction takes your mind away. And you can’t do anything about that. And you hate yourself. I’ve been trying to write a page since 2 weeks. I haven’t been able to write a sentence. And it’s really the hugest drawback in my work as it involves writing and reading a lot. Reading is the same. Like, I come for one information and when I got it, I automatically forget about the rest of what I was reading, as if it didn’t matter. But then when it matters, I’m in deep shit, because it backlashes. Imagine reading instructions for medication and read until « use orally » but then not until « isn’t fit for people having allergies » and you got one. How fucked up is that? Well it’s exactly that kind of situation I have (except it’s just a parallel, I’m not in the med area). Thing is, my brain demands novelty ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Just, as if it was addicted to novelty. Really addicted to it. Can’t stand boring stuff. Can’t slow down even just a bit. I’m always having thousands of ideas at the same time. While it comes in very handy when I need to create (therefore, I have a lot of creational hobbies: compose music, draw, write, create games, etc.) It’s really a burden for the rest of my life. I can’t get anything done at all. When having an idea or a project, as soon as I have the general concept done, it’s like marked as if the whole thing was ‘done’, so I move on to something else because my mind needs novelty. And there’s nothing I can do to go back to that idea. Because it’s not novel anymore, it bores me out, and I really gotta fight my guts out if I want even 1/10 of that project to get done. As soon as I have a thought, I already have another one. If I don’t write down anything, I forget it in a second. And it’s automatic. A bit like zapping television, but the remote control does it on its own, and even when you try to stop it, it won’t, and even when you try to shut down the tv, it doesn’t, it continues, just like the VHS in 'The Ring'. Creepy uh? That’s your whole life. And you see it pass away and can’t stop it. Can’t take your time. Days pass in one hour. You don’t even remember what you did. You just know nothing has been done, and you just hate yourself for that. Because everything tells you work needs to get done.
And I need to get work done, if not, I feel I’m gonna die. Not because I’m gonna starve or anything, but because I’m already not able to live with myself. I hate myself, just so much, and again, I know I’m so much better off than most of us. I hate myself for that. I can’t bear being with my disgusting self anymore. Because of all these things said above. I’m leaving tumblr. My account will still be active for you to come and talk to me if you want. But I won’t be posting anymore. Everyday I’m on my dash and because my brain needs ‘novelty' this is where I spend most time. Scrolling down my dash. It’s like instant brain reward. I know it won’t cure ADHD or anything, but if I don’t do that, I’ll hate myself to death, really. I already hate myself so much. Because of all these things. I’m leaving, but before, I wanted everyone to know everything that’s going through my mind. And I’m sorry it’s selfish. And I’m sorry the post’s too long. I love you all. Gosh I explain myself so badly...
