October 25th, 2024
I spend enough time thinking that looking at the clock will surprise me as I struggle to remember what I spent that last half hour doing. It's time I could be spending here, if for nothing else, to record things I'd otherwise forget.
I probably could've seen earlier that my psychologist is an asshole. I was really counting on her to hear me out at every turn and then look for a common thread of why things happened the way they did. Instead I just remember her explaining why the way I felt about things were wrong.
I am in survival mode. It's why my capability is so limited. And no one's advocating for my survival except me.
It's easy to say I wish things were easier, but I'm not the wishing type. I just want to feel important and like what I think matters. But everything I think feels so lifeless. I'm avoiding a lot right now, so it's hard to decide what matters and what doesn't. All I know is that I feel very disposable.
Saw another Tumblr post about transmisogyny. This time it linked to an essay, and that essay linked to an essay. I read the whole first one, only got halfway through the second one because it was like 3am and decided I had to stop. It felt... so real. A black transfemme's personal account of how sexual assault accusations were weaponised against her in queer spaces. She said she considered herself lucky in the regard that when these happened to her, she was never fully isolated, she talks about how she had friends to talk to when she was looking back at all of her behaviour to try and figure out where the accusations against her were true.
I feel seen by her in two regards. She experienced transmisogyny just like I did, and she knows it's possible that I exist. And in that moment I do exist. But then I don't know what to do with that. It's very different to the nihilism I felt at 17, right after I had been abused being sure that I should just kill myself because I had lived a long life and seen everything. Now I feel like I know less than ever.