I Just Need to Talk

Other than during times when I’m feeling particularly dark, this is no longer a question I have, I know it to be a truth about myself, and while I can’t be sure, not really, I accept it, and honestly I love it. But it’s also something I know I can never have.
I first realized I was, at the time this word applied, possibly trans around six months ago, in mid-November. But in truth if you look at years of gender swap based media leaving me constantly wishing something like that could happen to me, I probably knew subconsciously for a hell of a lot longer. And it is something which I want more than anything I have ever wanted in all my twenty seven years, going on twenty eight in a few months.
Now more and more since then I have come to realize so many little things from throughout my life I honestly never thought on, make so much sense now. My always being open and comfortable online as a women, over my complete lack of confidence and ability to say more than two words most of the time in real life. My never once caring what I wore, yet spending hours trying to make female characters in games, like Sims for one, look absolutely perfect. Never caring about my appearance, because I always hated the way I look. Along with so many other things I’m not going to write as it would make this longer than it already will be. Oh, plus I found myself looking through women’s clothing the other day online, and for the first time ever I want so much of it so badly! I’ve never cared whatsoever about clothes. Though I guess that’s cause it was guy clothes.
When I first realized this, it was the result of a betrayal from a long time online friend, who betrayed my confidence and left me completely numb for the rest of the day. It was during this time that I began to realize for the first time, with any seriousness anyway, that the reason it destroyed me like it did was because I was indeed trans.
The next three months I did more research on it then I’d ever done for anything else, trying to work out if I really was or not, and the more I saw, or read, the more sure I was that it was true. And eventually I decided to tell someone.
Now, something you should know about me, I have anxiety problems, stress problems, depression, my nerves are basically always at oh my god no levels. So I’m pretty much left never being able to discuss, or even mention anything of importance to anyone I know in real life.
But, and it was the hardest thing I’d ever done, I pushed myself and told me dad I was feeling that way. He didn’t fully understand, I was basically mid panic attack the whole time, and the rest of the day, but I explained as best as my nerves would let me, which was in pretty simplistic terms. And without the wanting to transition portion, I honestly think I would have had another nervous breakdown had I.
Did I mention I had a nervous breakdown in middle school? Cause I did. Out of school the last four months of the year.
But I told him what I could, and though I’m not sure he fully understood, he showed no negative signs whatsoever. The convo lasted like five minutes, and other then his later on checking if despite that I still liked girls, which he always knew I had, and I confirmed I did, he didn’t broach the subject again, and everything was the same as always.
Personally I was glad he didn’t choose to ask me anything else that day, like I said, mid panic attack, but I knew he would bring it up again eventually, I didn’t think I could, so I just waited for him to do so.
And I ended up waiting almost two months. Finally, and like a kinda crappy detective, I questioned him if he remembered what I told him about that day in the kitchen, without really specifying what I was asking.
And he didn’t. He had absolutely no idea what I was asking about, and when asked, I just, I just said it didn’t really matter.
I just couldn’t understand how anyone, let alone my own father, could forget being told something like that, even if it wasn’t done so in the broadest, sit down for two hours terms, that shouldn’t be something you could completely forget.
Well he did, and since then things have really taken a turn for the worse. Particularly this past week.
The meds I’ve taken for years for my depression, and which have always worked fine, now seem like they’re not working at all, which I’m not sure, but I guess makes sense seeing as my depression has a very strong reason and isn’t just there for nothing like usual. I feel uncomfortable around my family, my anxiety and nervousness have skyrocketed along with my depression, and I find myself hating more and more things about myself, particularly my body. Today I kind of had a frantic episode regarding that, nothing major, but I couldn’t get comfortable in my pants.
And yesterday, I had what I’m guessing was a panic attack, not really sure, I know all the symptoms, and I had quite a few, trouble breathing, quickened heartbeat, tightness in throat, numbness in chest, tingling in skin, but I’ve never been good at self-diagnosing so who knows.
Really in all the past three days have not been good, at all.
I hardly feel like eating anything, I hate getting out of bed, I just have no interest in doing anything I usually love to do.
And I can’t do anything about any of it. After what happened with my dad, my fear was always high before, pretty much neck and neck with everything else, but now, now I so often want to just tell everyone so very badly, but that fear, that fear which reminds me each and every time that I can never do so, is now always several steps higher, always stopping me before my considering gets too far.
I have no idea how my family would react, no one ever does, but for all I know, they could be very supportive. My dad, like I said wasn’t exhibiting any signs of negativity. My sister has several gay friends who are basically family to her. My grandmother, she has said on a number of occasions how despite not understanding all of these things fully, she still gets upset whenever anyone says anything negative about it, especially her friends, because as she says, it’s a part of the world now, it may not of been when they were younger, but it’s normal now, and they should learn to accept it.
My mom’s the only wildcard, I have no idea how she’d react whatsoever.
Plus we’re not religious in the least. We celebrate the holidays, but really it’s just because of special dinners, I’m pretty sure not even my grandmother actually cares about the meaning anymore.
But despite all this, every time the possibility of saying something begins to rise up in my head, the fear just slams it back down telling me that I can never have it, that I can never go through everything around them. I just can’t.
So I try to push it down, try to ignore it as much as possible, but so far I can’t. There may be short periods of time where it doesn’t eat at me, but then eventually it pops into my head and nothing I do will push it down again.
I find myself imagining scenes from my life after transitioning, like I do when thinking things out for the various stories I write. And though you can never be sure how anything will turn out, I’m happy and open for once in my life in every one. And I just feel so very strongly, that I actually would be.
I’ve never been happy, not really, I get enjoyment out of things at times, but it’s not the same. People have very often commented on how I never smile. And that’s one of the things that’s causing this to slowly, quickly really, destroy me. Being so sure I would actually be happy, and yet knowing I can never have it, that as I keep repeating, stupid a saying as it is, that you don’t always get what you want. And that, even though I know I will be miserable my entire life, it’s all I’ll ever have. And I have to except that, even if it never stops hurting.
I tried, imaging scenes of myself living life as I am, like what just came to me on life as I want it to be. And nothing good, any scenes which were happy, played out like crappy fan films with horrible actors and just as horrible writing. The only ones that came out as realistic as the others, were ones in which I watched this girl I have a crush on announce some future engagement, and having to sit there and congratulate her, some point in the far future meeting my niece’s boyfriend for the first time, she’s several months old now so this is far off, and having him ask where my wife was, knowing she has an aunt, only for her to tell him that’s on her father’s side, I never got married.
And then even further to me as an old man, having dinner by myself before going to bed alone. And it may seem overly dreary, but really I’ve seen the possibility of growing old alone as very much a possibility for so long now.
As long as I’m around my family, I will never be able to live the life I actually want, and yet I can never leave. I’m tied in so many ropes regarding my life thus far with them that I just can’t. Even if I lived on my own eventually, it would never be able to be far from them. And that has me hating them so much at times.
How happy they all are, how my dad and sister especially get along so well, and how no matter how obvious it is they never seem to notice how badly I’m doing.
My dad asked today, why I’d stayed in my room all day, if anything was wrong, this was after eight hours of not even glancing into my room by the way, and I could of said something, if I wasn’t so crippled by that fear maybe. But all I said was “nothing”. I just wanted to be in my room, there was no reason.
I don’t know why I’m making this topic, not really. Nothing anyone says will be able to help, be able to strengthen my resolve and push me to come out. I’ve read so much that should do that, that has for others, and which makes me feel it so strongly, but none of it helps, the fear is just too powerful for me to overcome.
I guess I just want to talk, about what I’m going through. I once again don’t even know if that’ll do any good whatsoever, not only on the coming out part, but everything I’m feeling. All I know is I’m feeling worse every day, and I need some way to deal. Maybe talking will help me do that, I don’t know, but I don’t have anything else.