Just needing to vent

You may recall me previously mentioning a friend I had made via this blog. I haven’t talked about this in detail previously because this person was reading my blog. However, now they have asked that I no longer read theirs, I therefore assume they will respectfully reciprocate and no longer read this and so I can openly discuss.

This person was a transgender female struggling with anxiety and depression among other mental /physical issues. I had never known anyone transgender before, but I saw her as a female from day one. I wanted to be a friend, I felt we had things in common as we both struggled in the world.

We communicated via email and then Facebook and WhatsApp. Initially she came across quite rational and polite and we did have things in common.

Then we started chatting on the phone. These became 2-3 hour conversations during which I tried to do some talking but on the whole I listened to her talking about herself. When I did talk it was usually trying to help her and offering advice, but occasionally I squeezed a few things in about my own life. Rarely did she ask how my dad was or any questions about my life. I understood she was lonely and so was OK with this. But I came to realise how bitter and angry she was. She hated any couple because they were happy and she was not. She even hated people for having other friends. She hated the people she lived with for having lives, then she hated them for leaving even though they gave her a month’s notice. She hated her own siblings.. She just seemed to hate everyone for breathing.

Suddenly she would for no apparent reason block me on WhatsApp. I would write messages on her blog saying I didn’t know what I did but was still there and I still cared. And she would decide to talk to me again. I began to feel like a dispensable object for her to drop and pick up as she chose.

In March she visited her family in the UK and came to see me. I thought we got on well, and I did my best by going out (which I wasn’t used to) driving her around and trying to come up with places she would be comfortable with. I ended up spending a lot of money, but I didn’t mind because I only wanted to make sure she had a good visit. I enjoyed her company, and I enjoyed our chats.

But then she went back to the USA and I was struggling with my depression, stuff with my dad and some of my own health issues. We did speak a couple of times on the phone.. But then I think about 6-8 weeks passed. I kept sending her messages apologising we hadn’t spoken in so long but that i was not in a good place, that it wasn’t her, it was me.. And promising we would speak soon. She said she understood. In fact she had always said she would understand if my depression was bad and I wasn’t up to chatting.

The next thing I knew I got a message telling me to get lost and i was blocked. Once again I went to her blog and asked what I had done, saying I still cared and was still there. She spouted off that I was fake and just like everyone else.

After a few days she said sorry. Everyone here told me I should not talk with her anymore, but I ignored them and we started chatting again. All was well, or so I thought!

Finally, a few weeks ago I was with my brother watching England in the world cup when she sent me a picture of her watching the game. I sent her a pic back and we chatted about football. The following came as a shock to me.. (she is Pansexual but she has always known I’m completely straight)..

She has threatened to quit transition numerous times before. I don’t really understand what is going on.. Its a whole new world for me. But normally she then goes back to wanting to be female again..so I’m really just confused by this. That was the last conversation we had.

Then two weeks later I receive an email..

To which I reply..

Then..

I was discussing it all with a friend on Sunday and saying I was possibly going to forgive again, because I felt I did understand her and that she was struggling and needed a friend, and I still cared. This friend advised that I think about myself and move on.

Then I wrote on here that I had a date arranged.. I figure that she read it and that the envy of which triggered the following..

It’s really so sad. To think that the mere thought of someone going on a date causes such a reaction. She had been on several dates whilst we were friends and I encouraged her to go, and then encouraged her to not be so negative about the people she met. A real friend wants to see their friends happy. She was obsessed that if I ever met someone I would no longer be her friend. She obviously doesn’t understand what real friends are, because whilst it may be harder in a relationship, you will always find time for a good friend. That’s my motto and belief anyway.

I see now why she is so alone in the world. And I see what a walkover I was. She thought she could block me again and again and I would just come running back (well I guess I did). She has zero consideration for what I might be going through in my own life, and literally is so self obsessed and bitter it is incredible.

I am not entirely sure why I am writing all this. I think I feel like i just need to vent and couldn’t to her, because she would not listen or care.

I will NOT be treated badly again, people prey on my kind nature, but I am going to be tougher in future for sure.

As for the date.. It went OK but I do not think the chemistry is there. He likes me and I feel I should not dismiss people too quickly without giving them a chance. Apparently chemistry can come later? So it’s unlikely but who knows. He’s a really nice guy.

These Skin and Bones – poem

I could write a million poems
Crafted carefully of words so old
Speak softly in the voice God gave
But still my truth would not be told

Some things we simply can’t convey
That dwell within our heart and soul
Pushed in this world, alone we bow
With endless longing to be whole

I heard her say that happiness
Is waking joyful to exist
Oh love – the only key to this
My eyes are shut when I am kissed

We’re people made of candle wax
Though light I shine is wasted here
I long to just be noticed too
I dance around but hide in fear

Let’s sing a pretty song to end
Sad notes and painful undertones
Hope someday through the mist of time
You’ll understand these skin and bones

The sleep clinic

So tonight I have to sleep with this thing on my wrist and finger, and then I have to return it to the hospital tomorrow morning. I also have to keep a sleep diary.

If this test doesn’t show anything up, apparently I will have to do a second test wearing something which resembles a suicide bomb. Yikes.

The reason is that they suspect I have sleep apnea, which to the heart is apparently the equivalent of running a marathon every night (without the fitness to go with it).

I don’t know if I have it, or some other sleep disorder. I just hope they find out what goes on in my sleep because waking up gasping for air every night is scary and I feel so tired and drained every day.

After an upsetting yesterday, which I won’t go into, today was so good. My mum was too unwell to celebrate mothers day until now, so finally we got out for a meal. It was a beautiful day and we were all enjoying it..

Out of the blue my brother said he had a ticket to go and see the ladyboys of bankok. I came up with every excuse, but they persuaded me to go. It was amazing and I had the best night I’d had in years. It was the first time I had danced and felt free in years. It a amazing

The Journey

The train left without me, I’m not sure where it was headed exactly.. but it seemed to be where everyone else wanted to go, so I tried to get on board. It was just too full and I couldn’t fit in. I found myself battered, bruised and thrown back out.

So there I stood confused amongst the dust that rose in its wake, abandoned on the empty platform as the train sped away. I stared briefly before composing myself and dusting myself down. That was when I could see that my destiny was to walk a slow and lonely journey without fellow travellers.

It dawned on me that although my way would be different from theirs – less certain and often quite exhausting – it may be that I was the lucky one. I would have time to see things of beauty that would whizz past their windows. I would be able to spare time to stop and help other lone travellers, and perhaps hear their unique stories. I would have time to love in a different way. And as I set off on my journey, I realised that my baggage would only hinder me, so I threw it away and travelled empty handed.. stripped back down to how I once had arrived. FREE