So, today I'm exactly 24 and a half, which seemed a satisfyingly arbitrary number in its weirdness to start a proper blog on. I'm assuming anyone reading this knows me at least in broad strokes already, so I'm not really going to do an introduction right now. If you aren't, then I'm not sure how you're reading this, but some things will become evident fairly quickly.
Recent experiences have not been so good, they include yet again being denied hormones and testosterone blockers from the Gender Identity Clinic, as part of what seemed like a day seemingly deliberately designed to cascade misery on me in a singular attempt to prove that Friday the 13th is actually a Thing. In that same session, it was also heavily implied that I needed to come off the hormones I'd been on (and very reluctantly have) or they wouldn't continue working with me which is just a torrent of bullshit (and it did not help to learn someone else who went to the same clinic as me a year after I first did has already had her hormones for 3 months). It's not surprising that I spent quite a bit of this week crying, trying to make sense of everything and dragging my fingernails across my wrist as a concession to cutting it.
It was against that backdrop that on this Friday I was also diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder called pernicious anaemia, which may mean regular injections for life and told that it might not be the only one that I had. While I was initially kind of shaken up and initially upset, I pulled myself together quite quickly and surprisingly easily.
The previous' Friday's bad news reminded me vividly of both:
10 years ago; where I used to dream of being a girl and wake up crying and not knowing why I felt crushed when I found the dream and the reality didn't correspond.
3 years ago (almost to the date); where having repressed the feelings for years to the point of forgetting they began to make their way back to the surface and resulted in a serious breakdown where nothing felt real; and ending up cutting for the first time just to feel anything.
I think perhaps between this Friday's bad news and the inauguration of a tangerine fascist something just snapped into place in my head and gave me an emotional clarity I'd been lacking.
I am not the me of 10 years ago. I still wake up crying sometimes, but at least I understand why, unlike my 14 year old self who had no frame of reference for anything she was feeling and thought she was going mad. It's certain that I eventually did, but those feelings had nothing to do with the reasons (though denying them may have contributed). In any case; sanity is, to paraphrase something released on Friday; a refuge for cowards.
I am also not the me of 3 years ago, then with dawning understanding of what I was feeling fighting against furious denial and several years of repression. I have accepted myself, I know who I am, I am not running away from that any more. I chose a name, and I feel like chosen names have their own power. I know that repeating it to myself is a comfort, at least.
There's two reasons why this post is called what it is, and it's not because I'm trying to be pretentious,. The first (and most obvious) is that the next lyric is 'I wake up crying'. The second is that the (true) story of Organon (the subject of Cloudbusting) has been a fascination ever since I became aware of it. The idealised childhood of the subject of the song cannot be returned to. I feel similarly about mine, which I barely remember and feel like it belong to what I like refer to (as a method of processing certain feelings) as my imaginary dead twin brother (a concept I may talk about more in future).
My Organon is the dreams I had when I was 14. The reality will not be the same as the dreams. I know that, but it will be a reality a lot closer to the dream than the reality of then. And, as hard as the setbacks are, by the end every one I've experienced to get here will be worth it. That doesn't mean I'm not afraid or angry any more, because I am. I feel that a lot, but there's no point in letting setbacks dictate your life. That doesn't mean with my mental health I won't struggle, it's just that this post is a statement of intent to claw back everything I can.
If there's one thing I've ever learned from these 10 years for anyone reading this and struggling with anything about themselves, it's this: do not run away and hide from yourself to the point you forget who you are, as I did for several years. Be yourself, even it's only safe to be yourself within your own mind. Do not build your fortresses on quicksand, no matter how strong and tall you make them, the foundations will sink and your towers will fall. It will take a long time to crawl out from under the rubble, let alone rebuild. Conscious repression is not a viable tactic for dealing with anything, except in the short term. In the long term, it will harm your mental health.
I don't know what I intend to do with this blog, but I'm leaning towards primarily media analysis, which I want to do more of. I think a Patreon may be coming at some point down the line, and/or a GoFundMe/Paypal tips jar because I'm definitely going to be short of rent and I could really do with not being kicked out.
But that's the future. The point of this is, this is my life, and I'm not fucking going anywhere.
[PS: I'd change the poster's name so it's not a handle, but at the moment I can't be bothered.]
