Start on writing, but also reorganize everything
This commit is contained in:
Madison Scott-Clary
@ -39,4 +39,4 @@ I *will* talk about it. It's not off the table. I just need something not that f
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> To poly?
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To poly.
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<a class="pulse" href="/poly">To poly</a>.
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@ -1,72 +1,13 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-12
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date: 2019-08-14
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weight: 11
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tags:
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- snarky
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- demanding
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categories:
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- polyamory
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- mom
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- dad
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- jay
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- julie
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- mania
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- mental health
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---
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My parents put me through three divorces. My mother and father divorced when I was very young. Young to the point where I don't remember them being married. I remember finding a picture of them walking with their arms around each other's backs. Dad was shirtless and chestnut brown, hair a near-black 'fro. Mom was in a white blouse, blonde hair in a perm. It seemed so alien to me.
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> Let's talk about mania.
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Mom and Jay got divorced when I was in my freshman year of high school. I remember being taken to a family therapy session for Jay's lingering divorce with his previous wife, but no such luck with his divorce with my mom. I just remember things getting bad after I came out, and then my mom coming downstairs to wake me one morning and inform me that we were moving out. Today. Now.
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I don't remember ever seeing Jay again after that, though I surely must have.
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> But you heard about him.
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Mom said he called Erin, my ex-step-sister a "witch". I don't think that's the word he used. A decade and a half later, she'd suggest that I go visit him.
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<a href="/jay" class="pulse">I turned her down</a>.
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> A sub-story. Do I sense conflict?
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Of course.
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> You may be made of star-stuff, but conflict seems to be what holds you together.
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Stop trying to get me to talk about mania.
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At first, I was proud of my relationships. Then I was embarrassed. There were so many, all in a line. One would trickle into existence with, as I put it, `light, in through the head, out through the heart`. We'd be perfect, until we weren't. Everything would be delightful, until it wasn't. It's the way of early relationships, I suppose. You fall for someone, and you can't quite pick apart the difference between love and lust.
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I just went through so many that I started feeling a bit weird about it. How do I talk about the Danny-Marek-Merlin-Andrew-Michael-Andy-Rikky-Kayla-Tyson-Andrew(again) progression? And how do I talk about Lon? Or what JD and I were at the beginning?
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> Doubtless with the same lilac-scented words you talk about everything.
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I guess.
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Early on, I promised myself that I would do anything to not become my dad, in so many ways. One of those was to not run my relationships like him. Some bits were easy, of course. I could start by being queer. That's glib, of course, but at the time I started dating, being queer required more discretion, more discussion than I saw in my dad's relationships.
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Some bits weren't so easy, though. The overlap between the discussion that's involved the mechanics of simply having a queer relationship and the discussion that's involved in having a healthy relationship, queer or not, is not non-existent, but neither is it large.
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> Are you going to provide us with a Venn Diagram? In hand-coded SVG, perhaps?
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[](/healthy-sound.svg)
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Happy?
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> Very. I just wanted to ensure that you were at your very Maddy-est about this.
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When my dad divorced Julie, he told her he hadn't loved her in ten years. He told her he married her because she was easy to deal with. Quiet. Compliant. Not as smart as him. He could be right around her, which wasn't always guaranteed with mom.
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Julie's friends gave her a rubber rat afterward. They had scribbled his name on it. The rat was sitting on a plaque that said `Rat Bastard`. The last time I saw her, she was very drunk, sagged against my side, sobbing and beating that rat against the nightstand.
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> And you didn't want to be like him when you grew up? Color me surprised.
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You *would* say that.
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He had started dating well before divorcing her. I don't know if he and Maurine are married now. When I told mom, she shrugged and said that he had started dating Julie before their own divorce.
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> You dovetailed relationships. You were dating Andrew well before you and Tyson fell away from each other.
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Hey, I said some bits weren't as easy. He left me with a lot of him in me.
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> Like the anger. He gave you that. The anger and the pride.
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I pay for his past as well as mine.
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So, when Michael mentioned that he wanted to go on a date with someone else while we were together, well, it touched a nerve.
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<a class="pulse" href="/from-within">Fine</a>.
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@ -1,85 +1,10 @@
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---
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date: 2018-08-13
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date: 2019-08-14
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weight: 12
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tags:
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- snarky
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- humor
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- demanding
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- questions
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- earnest
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categories:
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- polyamory
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- nostalgia
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- Ship of Theseus
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- thank you
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---
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> I suppose you also searched your archives for poly.
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You know me so well.
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> Of course.
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The first mention on LiveJournal was April 6th, 2004.
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```
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Of the interesting topics that popped up, that of polygamy stuck with me the most. Michael has a date with another on Thursday and, while this brought up issues with Merlin and Atrius, all I can say right now to Michael is that I wish him the best of luck. It just feels like it would actually /work/ in his case. As to how it pertains to me, I'm not sure if my mind could handle having two mates. Granted I still have a thing for Kory (hah, good luck with that) and a few others, I just don't think I could find another who a) would be willing to have that sort of relationship with me and b) I could have that sort of relationship with. Ah well. Something to think about.
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```
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> Never one to have a high opinion of yourself.
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That's hindsight talking.
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> You literally just got out of a therapy session where you talked about how you don't believe you deserve a better job.
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Touché.
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Michael and I's relationship was rocky, tumultuous. We met through a queer group and from there wound up in a weird, heated romance that danced around sex, gender, mental health, everything. We fought, we made up. We got annoying. We made out a lot, we had sex, though with each of our individual hangups around sex, it was rarely penetrative.
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> It was penetrative once.
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That's rare, isn't it?
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> Vanishingly.
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Listen, we were both trans. The subject was complex.
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> You were a cis gay guy. You told me that. You were unsure of vaginas.
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It started that way, I suppose. I learned.
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> Then you bought one for yourself.
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Listen.
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> Yes?
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There were bits of sexuality that didn't work for me when I was bepenised. A lot of those make sense in a transgender context. Matthew was still a gay guy, but the Ship-of-Theseusizing was already beginning.
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> 'Bepenised'? 'Ship-of-Theseusizing'?
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You verbed it first.
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> We've gotten off track.
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Right.
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In two previous relationships, poly had come up, and neither time, it had worked. With Merlin and Atrius, I had immediately jumped to jealousy. I felt as though I was being set aside.
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> Never one to have a high opinion of yourself.
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It didn't last. That was part of the breaking point. Similarly with Andrew and Ryn. I've heard it said that jealousy is a sign that one's needs are not being met.
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> What did you need that you weren't getting?
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I thought it was someone to myself.
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> You couldn't own yourself, maybe you could own someone else.
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That hurts to hear.
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> Is it wrong?
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I don't know. Maybe it isn't. Maybe I wanted to keep someone. To possess them. Maybe it was a reaction to being owned.
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> Let's talk about kink.
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Let's fucking not.
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> Thank you.
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@ -1,56 +1,10 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-13
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date: 2019-08-28
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weight: 13
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tags:
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- snarky
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- earnest
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- questions
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categories:
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- polyamory
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- nostalgia
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- Ship of Theseus
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- dead years
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- Matthew
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- mom
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- dad
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---
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I won't repost them, because they're direct logs, shortly after the conversation mentioned before, the issue of Michael bringing another partner to the queer group we were a part of came up. How would we work a situation where I, coming from a monogamous point of view, would be in the same room with my partner and metamour? Would we split our time? Would one of us get ignored while the other got attention? Would we both get attention? Would we just plain avoid it?
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Can we talk about something else? Please?
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> It's surreal, even for me, to hear you talk about this today, given your current situation.
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> Something lighter?
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<iframe src="https://polycul.es/embed/102761753ef05939b07477ceb25ef9df09db894f" width="980" height="520" style="border:0;"></iframe>
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Suppose that the young man, Matthew, is in a monogamous relationship with someone. As the years go by the relationship begins to change, fades, and is replaced by a new one, more open than the last. After a decade or so, all of the parts have been replaced and Matthew, now Madison, is in a polycule the size of Rhode Island. Is Madison still the same person as Matthew?
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> That's a bit heavy-handed.
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You can't start the metaphor train a-rollin' and then expect it to stop on a dime.
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> I'll own that.
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I met JD in 2005, and met Robin in 2012. By 2013, I was in a relationship with both, and we were sharing dinner, along with Robin's partner, at a convention. It was natural. Comfortable. It was fun.
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And now, I'm in relationships of various sorts with a half dozen people. The changes between then were so incremental, and discussed so thoroughly, that it really does feel Ship of Theseish.
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> Stop.
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Never.
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The other consequence of that is that, along the way, I sufficiently distanced myself from the mechanics of my parents' relationships that I finally felt comfortable in calling that dream fulfilled. The turning point was my mom, during one of her visits back to Colorado, mentioned my relationship with Robin as something she could never do.
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> Are you sure it wasn't writing a Python/Javascript/SVG web app to map polycules using force-directed layouts?
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Okay, maybe it was before then.
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> And score a point to the ally.
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I didn't feel better than my mom when she said that, of course. Her relationships matured well over time, I think. She and Bob got better at communicating and expressing their needs. And even if they hadn't, the love she had for all of her partners was no less valid for being monogamous.
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> Could you say the same of your dad, had he said that to you?
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I don't know.
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> Probably not.
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Yeah, probably not.
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<a class="pulse" href="/furry">Something softer</a>.
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@ -1,6 +1,6 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-19
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weight: 29
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weight: 14
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---
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<pre>
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@ -1,13 +0,0 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-14
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weight: 14
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tags:
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- demanding
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categories:
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- mania
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- mental health
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---
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> Let's talk about mania.
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<a class="pulse" href="/from-within">Fine</a>.
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@ -1,10 +1,10 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-14
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date: 2019-08-22
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weight: 15
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tags:
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- earnest
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categories:
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- thank you
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---
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> Thank you.
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> Do you feel better, now?
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Not really. Just a <a class="pulse" href="/poet-and-mystic">different kind of melancholy</a>.
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> Ain't that just the way of things?
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@ -1,23 +1,14 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-14
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date: 2019-08-25
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weight: 16
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tags:
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- questions
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- snarky
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categories:
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- furry
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---
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A lot of times, when furries talk, they talk about their fursoñas as their ideal selves. I've found that it's more likely that their fursoñas are them at their most normal, most natural, most earnest.
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Let's talk about writing.
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It's strange that this venue seen as escapist by even its own members is basically just a means of exploring what it means to be earnest in an ironic world.
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> If you'd like. We still have a few others on the list, don't forget.
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> Is it?
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Would you let me?
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Every time I think we're living in a post-ironic world, the Internet proves me wrong.
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> Of course not.
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> I wouldn't know.
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Do you not experience irony?
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> <a class="pulse" href="/koan">A friend asks Maddy: what is irony?</a>
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<a class="pulse" href="/writing">Upwards and inwards</a>.
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@ -1,56 +0,0 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-14
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weight: 17
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---
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I talk up my style as frumpcore. *It's the synthesis of momcore and downtempo librarian,* I say. In reality, It's an intentionally garbage-y, thrown-together look designed to, I hope, lead onlookers' eyes to slide right off of me as unremarkable.
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> Ah yes, the invisible six-foot-one trans woman with purple hair. That tired old trope.
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While I've had <a class="pulse" href="/fursona">fursoñas</a> that were intended to be something better than myself --- Makyo, for a while, was dressed in a nice suit --- more often than not, they've played along similar lines.
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Ranna was a gay fox, a bit pudgy, with two tails he readily admitted were an early affectation to differentiate himself from countless other foxes.
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Makyo was intentionally a transfeminine vixen who didn't pass.
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Maddy's a dumpy, nerdy cis girl who dresses to hide her weight.
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> And Madison's a dumpy, nerdy transfeminine girl who doesn't pass and dresses to hide her weight?
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I suppose.
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> You don't give yourself enough credit.
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Is that your department, now? Cheering me on?
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> I'm your ally.
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But not my friend.
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> No, but I am your ally.
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Fine. How do I not give myself enough credit?
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> Firstly, you're not as invisible as you seem and frumpcore isn't seen as that cohesive from the outside. Secondly, you pass better than you imagine. Everyone tells you that, you just can't yet hear it. Finally, you just got done writing some heavy shit after a day of worrying about work, so of course you're down on yourself. You don't want to pass, remember? You want to be visibly trans. You want to be seen as the trans psychopomp you strive to be.
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...Wow.
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> Your very words set lie to your insecurities. Your fursoñas are yourself expressed more earnestly than you can manage in person.
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Thank you.
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> If you could become Maddy, would you?
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Yeah, in a heartbeat.
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> Why?
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You said it as well as I could. She's the front-stage persona I wish were also my back-stage persona.
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> And she's pretty.
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I mean, she's still a dumpy fat nerd.
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> Let's talk about kink.
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Oh for Christ's sake.
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@ -1,54 +0,0 @@
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---
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date: 2019-08-15
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weight: 18
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---
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When I hit puberty, I wound up doing a good bit of digging to try and figure out just what it was that was going on. I mean, obviously, there was sex ed and stuff, but it's not like that's super comprehensive in the states.
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> In fifth grade, the teachers gathered the four classes together in one spot to show a video and give a short lecture on sex. That was the extent of it, before and at the beginning of puberty.
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Yeah, the video kept going on about how embarrassing puberty was. Boys getting erections and everyone laughing at them. Girls getting their period and everyone noticing. There was so much mortification built into the process. So much repression. The teachers hated it, the students picked up on it. The one woman teacher was asked if she could feel a man orgasm inside of her during sex. She haltingly said, "It's not like a fire hose or anything, but I guess so."
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> You memorized that. You thought about that forever.
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Yeah, maybe some genderful stuff going on there.
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> Let's talk about kink.
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Fuck *off*.
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> If were corporeal, I'd be be smirking.
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I'll just have to imagine it.
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|
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So I turned to the internet to learn more, as one does. I found the delightfully-named Puberty101. Forums, chat, articles, stories...
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> And pedophiles?
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I'm sure of it.
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I met my first boyfriend there. Danny. He was wickedly smart. We started moderating a subforum on long distance relationships in the LGBT section. I think. Something like that.
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> Did you dig for that, too?
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|
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Not this time. Or, well, not in months. Not since I found out he died. ODed? Not sure. I did dig it up it then, on Wayback. I saw us talking together.
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No.
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I saw Matthew and a dead guy talking together. I saw two kids in love. I saw too many names.
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> Did you learn about sex?
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I suppose. I learned about phone sex with Danny, at least. I miss that, actually. The tense silences, the little gasp, the embarrassed giggling that followed. I learned the theory if not the practice.
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I learned about the theory of sex, embedded deep within puberty, and then I learned about furry.
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> You learned about typefucking
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Boy howdy did I.
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||||
[](/ts-graph.png)
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> You are a parody of yourself.
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|
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And proud of it.
|
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@ -1,60 +0,0 @@
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---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-15
|
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weight: 19
|
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---
|
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|
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So, I think the order of my entry to furry was as follows:
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|
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1. Find a furcode in someone's forum sig.
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|
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> Oh my aching bones.
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|
||||
Shut up, you're not that old, the internet just moves *really* fast. Besides, you don't have bones.
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2. Find a furcode decoder.
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3. Find Captain Packrat's page on furry.
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4. Find Yerf!.
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5. Make a dragon character.
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6. This lasts three days. No one pays attention to me. Make a fox character.
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7. Meet some furries on GovTeen (née Puberty101).
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8. Start talking with furries on AIM.
|
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9. Join FluffMUCK.
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> Ah yes, Fluff. May she rest in eternal solitude.
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||||
|
||||
She's not totally gone. I don't think. I actually haven't checked in a while.
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|
||||
> I'm starting to doubt your commitment to nostalgia, here.
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|
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What would I gain from such?
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|
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> You could go look in the park. You could go ride around in the Universe-in-a-Box. You could `laston` some folks, maybe.
|
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|
||||
Weirdly enough, of the people I would `laston`, I was finally reintroduced to a few not too long ago by, of all people, Zorin, head wiz of Fluff. Rela and GC. I was glad to see them doing well.
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|
||||
> You were glad to see they were alive.
|
||||
|
||||
I was glad to see they were alive, yes. That was around the time I had found the obituary for Danny.
|
||||
|
||||
> You could `laston` Marek.
|
||||
|
||||
I'm not sure I could take that.
|
||||
|
||||
> Is that why you don't want to connect?
|
||||
|
||||
It's one reason. Nostalgia is only so much fun. It's fun up until a certain extent, and then it becomes painful.
|
||||
|
||||
> It's fun up until you're confronted with mortality and uncertainty. Danny died, and you don't know if Marek's alive.
|
||||
|
||||
Yeah.
|
||||
|
||||
It's no longer fun, but it's no less important.
|
||||
|
||||
> Let's talk about Margaras.
|
||||
|
||||
Not yet.
|
||||
|
||||
> Danny's passing was an abstract thing. Maragaras' was much more immediate. Much more concrete and real.
|
||||
|
||||
Please.
|
||||
|
||||
> Take your time.
|
||||
@ -1,52 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-15
|
||||
weight: 20
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
The first furry I met, aside from Ash, was Osric. We went to see a movie. We were so painfully shy.
|
||||
|
||||
> After seeing the movie, you drove him back to where he had parked, and you sat for a few moments in pained silence, then hugged and went your separate ways.
|
||||
|
||||
Years later, I'd take a picture of him and his husband after his graduation that I think they still have. Years after that, his husband would officiate JD and I's wedding.
|
||||
|
||||
> When was the last time you talked with either of them?
|
||||
|
||||
Bel favorited a tweet of mine not too long ago.
|
||||
|
||||
> You grew up.
|
||||
|
||||
Yeah, we all grew up. We bought houses. We got jobs.
|
||||
|
||||
JD and Os dated for a little, and Bel and I nearly did. Even up until when I was working on polycul.es, we had dashed lines between us. I loved them.
|
||||
|
||||
> 'Loved'?
|
||||
|
||||
I still do. Very much so. But every year, that love gets more abstract. More academic.
|
||||
|
||||
Bel and I clicked on a sexual and nerdy level on which Os and I seemed to miss each other. I wasn't toppy enough for Os, and the nerdery --- minus, briefly, EVE --- was work, for him.
|
||||
|
||||
> Eventually, it got that way with you, too. And then you started feeling uncomfortable with sex.
|
||||
|
||||
Our relationships were organic. We met randomly. We drifted closer, orbited each other, and then we drifted apart. The same happened with friends from high school and university. The same happened with friends from the PN on FurryMUCK.
|
||||
|
||||
From those first, halting meetings, I wound up slowly working my way into meeting furries in person. First, there were the few at school. Then the few at the queer group. Then, in university, Os dragged me to Fort Fur Friday, which I attended basically until they moved out of Fort Collins. That's where I met JD.
|
||||
|
||||
Then I managed to make it to Anthrocon 2005. Then Further Confusion 2007. I was sold.
|
||||
|
||||
There's this trope that pokes its head up every now and then, that there is an age-out date for furry. A time when you realize you're too old for this shit and peace.
|
||||
|
||||
> When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.
|
||||
|
||||
There is some of that, yes, but I like Qoheleth more than Paul. I like Ecclesiastes better than the epistles.
|
||||
|
||||
> When you graduated high school, you stamped I Cor. 13 in your friends' yearbooks.
|
||||
|
||||
When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.
|
||||
|
||||
> Well played.
|
||||
|
||||
There is a time for reaping and a time for sowing; there is a time for being a hardcore nutjob furry and a time for taking a break and just being a human for a while.
|
||||
|
||||
> This, too, is meaningless.
|
||||
|
||||
Well played.
|
||||
@ -1,50 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-16
|
||||
weight: 21
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up.
|
||||
|
||||
My interest in furry wound down a bit in university. I'd burned myself a bit too hard, hurt too many people, grew too jaded to take part. I still prowled around the usual haunts on the MUCKs, still poked my head in FFF, still looked at all the art, [but my heart wasn't in it anymore](https://adjectivespecies.com/2012/03/21/makyos-kaddish/).
|
||||
|
||||
> There was a reason behind this. There were people behind this.
|
||||
|
||||
Well, true. I don't know how to square that with...well, a lot of things.
|
||||
|
||||
> You don't know how to square that with how you felt about those people at the time.
|
||||
|
||||
That's one aspect, yes. I also don't know how to square that with the fact that I was growing too jaded in a lot more than just furry. I grew jaded at school. I grew jaded at work. I struggled with my relationships. I struggled.
|
||||
|
||||
> You struggled with gender.
|
||||
|
||||
Well, yes, but I wasn't quite ready to admit that, yet.
|
||||
|
||||
> You struggled with self harm.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes.
|
||||
|
||||
> You struggled with the intersections, the interstices, and the liminal spaces.
|
||||
|
||||
I was going to write about [a][s]. Where are you taking me?
|
||||
|
||||
> Straight homeward to your symbol-essences.
|
||||
|
||||
Shall I not die, then?
|
||||
|
||||
> Isn't that the point of writing?
|
||||
|
||||
I'm pretty sure all our names are writ on water at this point.
|
||||
|
||||
> Come now. You wanted to be Keats when you grew up.
|
||||
|
||||
You're in a mood.
|
||||
|
||||
> You're in a mood.
|
||||
|
||||
Fine.
|
||||
|
||||
Where are you taking me?
|
||||
|
||||
> Let [a][s] speak for [a][s]. Let yourself speak for yourself.
|
||||
|
||||
<a class="pulse" href="/margaras">Okay</a>.
|
||||
@ -1,30 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-16
|
||||
weight: 22
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
> Who are you?
|
||||
|
||||
I'm Madison Jesse Scott-Clary.
|
||||
|
||||
> What are you?
|
||||
|
||||
I...what?
|
||||
|
||||
> Who are you?
|
||||
|
||||
I answered you.
|
||||
|
||||
> Tell me your names.
|
||||
|
||||
I am Madison. I am Maddy. I am Makyo.
|
||||
|
||||
> No Sarai? No Happenstance, or Younes?
|
||||
|
||||
Sarai could die. I couldn't be her. Happenstance was a coping mechanism for gender. Younes was...
|
||||
|
||||
> Tell me about Younes, then. That's where you started going before, right?
|
||||
|
||||
Yeah, though you've certainly changed the tenor of it. The mood.
|
||||
|
||||
> No one said this project would be easy.
|
||||
@ -1,48 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-17
|
||||
weight: 23
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
Back in 2011 and 2012, I started to really loathe being me.
|
||||
|
||||
> 'Started'?
|
||||
|
||||
Well, okay, in a very specific way. I started hating the anger. I started hating the expectations. I starting hating the toxicity.
|
||||
|
||||
> You started hating a lot more than that.
|
||||
|
||||
I started hating my brain and my body. I started hating the coarseness of me. I started hating all my angles. I started hating my hair and my face and my genitals and my lies.
|
||||
|
||||
I was lying to JD. I was lying to work. I was lying to Tyson. I was lying to everyone who saw me online as a girl, and I was lying to everyone who saw me online as a boy. I was in a liminal place where I could tell no one the truth.
|
||||
|
||||
> Not even yourself.
|
||||
|
||||
Not yet, at least.
|
||||
|
||||
There were a few easy steps to take, of course. I saw a doctor who got me on meds.
|
||||
|
||||
> Tell me about suicide.
|
||||
|
||||
Not yet. Don't derail me for a bit. I need some breathing room after yesterday.
|
||||
|
||||
> Tell me about Younes, then.
|
||||
|
||||
I'm getting there.
|
||||
|
||||
I started taking my own meds alongside those the doctor gave me. I started the slow process of ridding myself of testosterone. I hated my body so much, I did my best to camp out up in my head, to remove at least one means of having to interact with it: sex.
|
||||
|
||||
> Go back. Before that.
|
||||
|
||||
Before that, I changed how I presented. I changed Makyo to be genderless. Started going by 'it' pronouns. And I made Younes.
|
||||
|
||||
Younes was a means for me to no longer lie. Or at least knock the severity of the lies down a few notches.
|
||||
|
||||
Younes was like me. He looked like a guy, but had something decidedly feminine about him.
|
||||
|
||||
> Don't be coy: he had a vagina.
|
||||
|
||||
Well, yes, but he wasn't simply male in all his interactions. He was effeminate, without being flamey. He could be both more and less than a guy.
|
||||
|
||||
> Let's talk about kink.
|
||||
|
||||
Soon, soon.
|
||||
@ -1,72 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-18
|
||||
weight: 24
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
There's a few things that I did wrong, here.
|
||||
|
||||
> Objectively?
|
||||
|
||||
Yes. Or maybe, wrong by consensus. Wrong subjectively, and also wrong by the standards of many of those around me.
|
||||
|
||||
> Did they feel wrong at the time?
|
||||
|
||||
They felt shameful.
|
||||
|
||||
> Is shame wrong?
|
||||
|
||||
Not always. It can be an indicator, I suppose.
|
||||
|
||||
> It's a tool. It's a tool to tell you when you're being vulnerable. In this case, vulnerable in your uncertainty.
|
||||
|
||||
I suppose.
|
||||
|
||||
I handled this in a way that made me feel a lot of shame. I was uncertain about a lot.
|
||||
|
||||
> If you had done so unabashedly, would that have made it any better?
|
||||
|
||||
I don't know, honestly.
|
||||
|
||||
> What were you uncertain about?
|
||||
|
||||
I was uncertain about the approach. I was uncertain about the terminology. I was uncertain about how it made me feel. That last most of all, probably.
|
||||
|
||||
I approached Younes as a primarily sexual facet of myself. After all, what's the point of making a character with both a penis and a vagina, I thought, if there isn't going to be some aspect of sexuality to it?
|
||||
|
||||
> There may be a great many points besides that.
|
||||
|
||||
Yeah, I know that now. Uncertain, remember?
|
||||
|
||||
> Always.
|
||||
|
||||
So I made an altersex character that was primarily sexual in nature. that was the approach. And then I called him a 'male-herm'.
|
||||
|
||||
> Ouch.
|
||||
|
||||
Yeah, ouch. The term does not fit so well these days. Some folks own it, and I'm happy for them, but even then, the term rankled. It took a lot of history and turned it, for a lot of folks, into a fetish. A lot of intersex folks are really unhappy with it being used. Ditto 'futanari'.
|
||||
|
||||
It's understandable, too. Like, I've dealt with chasers. Folks who fetishize my gender, my presentation, my body.
|
||||
|
||||
> It's understandable now.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes. Uncertainty.
|
||||
|
||||
It made me feel almost right. It made me feel like I was on the edge of something. It made me feel just around the corner from a revelation. It made me doubt myself. It made me doubt my place in the world. It was both a symptom and the cause of my hatred for body.
|
||||
|
||||
> For your body, or for yourself?
|
||||
|
||||
Both, I suppose. It was a symptom of this growing unease, this feeling of being just a few millimeters to the left of myself. This feeling of being just slightly out of focus.
|
||||
|
||||
A rangefinder camera uses a ghostly yellow image overlaid atop the real image when you look through the viewfinder. When you turn the ring of the lens to focus, that ghost slowly shifts to align with the object you want to be in focus.
|
||||
|
||||
> Your view of yourself was slowly slipping from focus. Matthew was starting to lose coherency.
|
||||
|
||||
And Younes was one of the means of slowly dragging that back into focus.
|
||||
|
||||
It doesn't matter how right or wrong it was of me to use this tool. It does matter how wrong I was in the mechanics of the scenario.
|
||||
|
||||
> You hid him. You covered him up and kept him from the world. You interacted with a completely different crowd, as Younes than you did as Makyo or Macchi. When that overlapped with Rikky, it was awkward.
|
||||
|
||||
It was, and not because of the altersex part. We interacted that way with Makyo as altersex, too, amd that didn't feel awkward at all. It felt like cheating to engage with the world as Younes. It felt shameful.
|
||||
|
||||
> The thing that you did wrong was to lie.
|
||||
@ -1,30 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-18
|
||||
weight: 25
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
Growing up, I had a real problem with lying.
|
||||
|
||||
> There were reasons.
|
||||
|
||||
That doesn't mean it wasn't a problem. That doesn't make it right.
|
||||
|
||||
> It shifts more into the gray area.
|
||||
|
||||
Let's talk about dad later. Life began at high school, remember? We can talk about the kid who grew up to be born freshman year some other time.
|
||||
|
||||
> The problem with lying is often the problem of secrets. The only secret that can be kept is when only one person knows it, and even then it's not guaranteed.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes.
|
||||
|
||||
> And you got found out.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes.
|
||||
|
||||
> And it cost you.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes. It cost me friends. It cost me sanity. It made me jerk away from the path I'd started down. Made me jerk out of focus again.
|
||||
|
||||
> Let's talk about TIASAP.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes.
|
||||
@ -1,70 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-18
|
||||
weight: 26
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="cw">Self harm</div>
|
||||
|
||||
Self harm is a recurring theme within my life.
|
||||
|
||||
It takes so many forms, too. The cutting and burning, sure, but also the self-sabotage. Dropping my testosterone to zero. If approaching this in a sexual fashion was wrong, then remove the sexuality.
|
||||
|
||||
> An obvious solution.
|
||||
|
||||
I punished myself for what I did. If was fetishizing, if I was causing harm, then I deserved to suffer for it. I removed my sexuality from the picture. Cyproterone acetate twice a day and medroxyprogesterone every two weeks does a really good job of that.
|
||||
|
||||
I tell myself now that if I belive something to be true when I'm depressed as well as when I'm hypomanic, it's more likely to be right.
|
||||
|
||||
> One of us only tells the truth, and one of us only lies.
|
||||
|
||||
Perhaps if I still felt like I existed a few millimeters to the left of my body when sex wasn't a part of the equation, I was more likely to be right in pursuing the path of gender exploration.
|
||||
|
||||
I talked with JD about this, he helped me out, but I told basically no one else. I tanked my T and attempted to learn from my punishment.
|
||||
|
||||
> Now now, what did we say about secrets?
|
||||
|
||||
And then I let it slip on FurryMUCK, yes.
|
||||
|
||||
> You spilled the beans.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes. Then I admitted it. I talked about it.
|
||||
|
||||
> You spoiled the surprise.
|
||||
|
||||
Everyone was so confused.
|
||||
|
||||
> Lapsus linguae.
|
||||
|
||||
I was so ashamed.
|
||||
|
||||
> You spoke too soon.
|
||||
|
||||
Even my punishment was wrong.
|
||||
|
||||
> It was the last thing Margaras heard from you.
|
||||
|
||||
Never mind stopping myself from creating Younes, nevermind stopping myself from chemical castration; if I could go back in time, I would stop myself from saying anything for just a few more days.
|
||||
|
||||
> He died knowing that about you.
|
||||
|
||||
If Margaras had to die, I would that he not die with that being the last he heard from me.
|
||||
|
||||
> You cannot take that back.
|
||||
|
||||
If Younes, chemcast, and Margs' death are immutable, if losing my friends was inevitable, at least let me delay the hour of my mistake.
|
||||
|
||||
> You cannot.
|
||||
|
||||
Please.
|
||||
|
||||
> You cannot.
|
||||
|
||||
Oh god.
|
||||
|
||||
> It was the last thing he heard from you.
|
||||
|
||||
Merciful god, please take me away.
|
||||
|
||||
> You never spoke to him again.
|
||||
|
||||
I will close my eyes and my heart and become a stone.
|
||||
@ -1,45 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-18
|
||||
weight: 27
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="cw">Self harm</div>
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">There is too much fire in me
|
||||
to be described by the soldering iron's tip.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> I must not fear.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">Were I to draw it across my skin,
|
||||
it would all spill out at once.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> Fear is the mind-killer.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">I'd melt, eaten whole by flames,
|
||||
and flow into a pool of molten glass.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">Sublimation would claim me,
|
||||
atoms would scatter, diffuse.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> I will face my fear.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">I would be borne up through the clouds,
|
||||
and grow lighter by the second.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">All that energy poured to the air around me,
|
||||
an imperceptible increase in temperature.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">Particle would excite particle
|
||||
until I'm felt only as warmth on your face.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">But even that would not be enough.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
> Only I will remain.
|
||||
@ -1,24 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-18
|
||||
weight: 28
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
TIASAP stands for *The Ill-Advised Self-Administration Period*.
|
||||
|
||||
This is why.
|
||||
|
||||
I was unsafe about it.
|
||||
|
||||
I lost my sexuality for years.
|
||||
|
||||
I turned the need for change into punishment.
|
||||
|
||||
The color drained from my universe. The flavor was gone from food. I could not smell.
|
||||
|
||||
> And when you added in a bit of estrogen, you wept at the return of sensation.
|
||||
|
||||
I tell myself now that if I belive something to be true when I'm depressed as well as when I'm hypomanic, it's more likely to be right.
|
||||
|
||||
And, well.
|
||||
|
||||
Now I knew it was right.
|
||||
@ -1,48 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-19
|
||||
weight: 30
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
> If Matthew died on September 6th, 2012, was Madison born then?
|
||||
|
||||
No, I don't think so. Madison was born some years later. Maybe at some point in 2014. The years in between were a sort of liminal time.
|
||||
|
||||
> You found yourself in a place between.
|
||||
|
||||
I did. There was this time in my life when I was figuring out gender. I was figuring out poly. I was figuring out working. I was figuring out not being at school and moving away from music and learning to write and all the interstices of alcoholism. Those little nooks and crannies you never know about until you start drinking in earnest.
|
||||
|
||||
It was like a second period of growing up. Something more refined than a rebirth. Something less grand. Something subtler.
|
||||
|
||||
> You also learned the term 'hendiatris'.
|
||||
|
||||
I have a style, alright?
|
||||
|
||||
> Right.
|
||||
|
||||
It's the time when I started [a][s], the time when I started to look at my life in earnest, to give thought to the fact that one might actually enjoy things, have opinions. It was the time I started to let go of irony, bit by bit.
|
||||
|
||||
> It was the time you started to own yourself.
|
||||
|
||||
Maybe. Maybe not. I'm still working on that one. It feels like an ongoing struggle.
|
||||
|
||||
> What's the old saw? You'll finally perfect it six months after death?
|
||||
|
||||
I think that was about when men leave puberty.
|
||||
|
||||
> Let's talk about TIASAP.
|
||||
|
||||
No more, please.
|
||||
|
||||
> Let's talk about puberty.
|
||||
|
||||
That first exploration? I don't know if I'm ready for that, yet.
|
||||
|
||||
> So what **are** you talking about?
|
||||
|
||||
Well, I was going to talk about that liminal phase, but you seem to have other ideas.
|
||||
|
||||
> That just means you're unfocused.
|
||||
|
||||
Well, yes.
|
||||
|
||||
> Tell me about that place in between, then.
|
||||
@ -1,55 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-19
|
||||
weight: 31
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
Shortly after we learned that Margaras died--
|
||||
|
||||
> Less than twenty-four hours. That's pretty short.
|
||||
|
||||
--I wound up in Montreal on the first of many work 'sprints'. These were to become a common fixture for the next six years. After all, working from home only gets you so far. Gotta get together, actually learn how the others on your team work. Meet.
|
||||
|
||||
> You had just started at Canonical. Are you sure that wasn't the death of Matthew? Or maybe it was getting married? Creating Younes?
|
||||
|
||||
Matthew was sick for a while. Can we put it that way? He was struggling to hold on, his time was at an end, he was looking rather pale.
|
||||
|
||||
> He was fading.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes.
|
||||
|
||||
> And Madison faded in in 2014.
|
||||
|
||||
I was a transparent person. I was less than real. I was empty, unable to contain an identity. I was a fetch. I was held together with Blu-Tack and paperclips. I was not myself.
|
||||
|
||||
> Are you now?
|
||||
|
||||
Held together with Blu-Tack? I like to think I'm moderately better put together these days.
|
||||
|
||||
> No, yourself. Are you yourself yet?
|
||||
|
||||
Six months after death, remember?
|
||||
|
||||
> Fair. What did you do during your two years as a half-entity?
|
||||
|
||||
Failed. Like, a lot. I failed like it was my job. I failed friends when we moved to Loveland and effectively disappeared from their lives. I failed work when I burned so hard that I burnt out. I failed at communicating. I failed in a lot of ways.
|
||||
|
||||
I drank, too. I stopped composing.
|
||||
|
||||
> Was it so negative a time?
|
||||
|
||||
No, of course not. I'm still here. A lot of that failure was the valuable sort. I failed my years at university when I stopped composing, but found that I could still be creative when writing. I failed work when I burned out, but I also learned how to pace myself better (something I definitely hadn't learned up until that point). I learned how to talk, how to listen. At least, how to listen better, how to express myself better.
|
||||
|
||||
There's a lot of folks to whom I could credit those being successful failures, if there is such a thing. In a round about way, my boss from the job prior kicking my ass and making me go to therapy, even if not to the ideal therapist, set me on the path to learning how to slow down when I needed to and speed up when that was called for. Writing got me better at putting my ideas --- and, at times, emotions --- into words. Friends, countless friends, helped me become who I am.
|
||||
|
||||
> What's that I'm tasting? Sweet'n Low?
|
||||
|
||||
Is it really that saccharine to be able to look back and say that you sucked, and that you're getting better?
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">She wears a pendant of stamped brass
|
||||
Saying "Non sum qualis eram."</div>
|
||||
|
||||
Like, obviously, it sucks to get that regretrospect feeling of looking back and realizing that you were a terrible person, but it's also a good sign that you've improved. If you don't like who you were, at least it's good that you're not that, now.
|
||||
|
||||
> Unless you don't like who you are now.
|
||||
|
||||
That's a different problem. Same class of problem, maybe, but a different problem.
|
||||
@ -1,42 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-20
|
||||
weight: 32
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
> Was it really so bad to be in this liminal space?
|
||||
|
||||
Of course not. I just got done saying how much I learned during that time.
|
||||
|
||||
> You don't make it sound pleasant.
|
||||
|
||||
It wasn't, I suppose. I mean, obviously there was a lot of good going on in my life. I started a few relationships that are still going strong to this day. I solidified my place in the industry. [a][s] took off. Good stuff came of it. A better me came of it.
|
||||
|
||||
> At what cost?
|
||||
|
||||
Well.
|
||||
|
||||
Okay. A lot of that time was bound up in recovery. There was the suicide attempt in March that ate up a lot of my emotional bandwidth on a daily basis for quite a while.
|
||||
|
||||
There are a lot of cute metaphors for how pain and grief work on a daily basis. Spoon theory is great and all, but it's starting to lose its luster for me. I like the idea of spell slots. It was like the number of spell slots I had to work with before needing a long rest was reduced by half after that, and it took me two years at least to bring it back up.
|
||||
|
||||
> You remain a parody of yourself.
|
||||
|
||||
It's only been a few days since you reminded me of that.
|
||||
|
||||
> I will never cease to do so.
|
||||
|
||||
Fine.
|
||||
|
||||
Another metaphor is that you have a box with a ball in it. On the wall of the box is a button that causes pain, exhaustion, anxiety, your choice. When it starts out, the ball is big and with basically every movement, it bumps up against the button and activates it. Over time, the ball gets smaller and bumps up against the switch less often.
|
||||
|
||||
Or maybe you could think of it as endurance. You can hold a glass of water for a few minutes, but after a bit, it becomes painful, and after along time, your arm can start to feel paralyzed. Over time and with training, you might be able to endure that longer and longer.
|
||||
|
||||
The last two, in particular, are used often with the idea of grief in mind, which, I suppose, is fitting given how much I still bear over Margaras.
|
||||
|
||||
> Do you feel any for Matthew?
|
||||
|
||||
Less, perhaps.
|
||||
|
||||
> Was it that easy to let go?
|
||||
|
||||
I don't know. Maybe.
|
||||
@ -1,42 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-20
|
||||
weight: 33
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
<pre>
|
||||
( <a class="pulse huh" href="/aside/2">...</a> )
|
||||
O
|
||||
o
|
||||
.
|
||||
_____,,,_^..^_,,,_____
|
||||
__|____|____|____|____
|
||||
____|____|____|____|__
|
||||
</pre>
|
||||
|
||||
<script type="text/javascript">
|
||||
/*
|
||||
Arrows this time?
|
||||
|
||||
I like arrow symbols. There's just so much weird little things you'd never think of that someone said, "Wait, hold on, we *definitely* need that in unicode."
|
||||
|
||||
Besides, some of them are pointing at me.
|
||||
*/
|
||||
|
||||
const grawlix = '←↑→↓↔↕↖↗↘↙↚↛↜↝↞↟↠↡↢↣↤↥↦↧↨↩↪↫↬↭↮↯↰↱↲↳↴↵↶↷↸↹↺↻↼↽↾↿⇀⇁⇂⇃⇄⇅⇆⇇⇈⇉⇊⇋⇌⇍⇎⇏⇐⇑⇒⇓⇔⇕⇖⇗⇘⇙⇚⇛⇜⇝⇞⇟⇠⇡⇢⇣⇤⇥⇦⇧⇨⇩⇪⇫⇬⇭⇮⇯⇰⇱⇲⇳⇴⇵⇶⇷⇸⇹⇺⇻⇼⇽⇾⇿'.split('');
|
||||
let el = document.querySelector('.huh');
|
||||
el.innerHTML = '';
|
||||
el.insertAdjacentHTML('beforeend', '<span class="i1"></span><span class="i2"></span><span class="i3"></span><span class="i4"></span><span class="i5"></span><span class="i6"></span><span class="i7"></span><span class="i8"></span><span class="i9"></span><span class="i10"></span>');
|
||||
let filled = 0;
|
||||
window.setInterval(() => {
|
||||
let inner = document.querySelector('.huh .i' + (Math.floor(Math.random() * 10) + 1));
|
||||
if (Math.floor(Math.random() * 10) % 3 == 0 && filled > 3) {
|
||||
inner.textContent = '';
|
||||
filled--;
|
||||
} else {
|
||||
if (inner.textContent == '') {
|
||||
filled++;
|
||||
}
|
||||
inner.textContent = grawlix[Math.floor(Math.random() * grawlix.length)] + ' ';
|
||||
}
|
||||
}, 250);
|
||||
</script>
|
||||
@ -1,80 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-20
|
||||
weight: 34
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
> And so when was Madison born?
|
||||
|
||||
On, September 2, 2014, I got this email:
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
I recently discovered your Twitter page and I wasn't sure if I should say something or not. When I saw that you are stressing out about telling me about your name change I thought I'd better 'fess up.
|
||||
|
||||
I love the name "Madison". It may take me a while to get used to calling you by your new name so forgive me if I make a mistake. Madison, whatever direction your life takes you, I'll accept you, support you and love you unconditionally. Please don't stress out about my reaction.
|
||||
|
||||
See you Friday.
|
||||
|
||||
Hugs,
|
||||
Mom
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
And, two days later:
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
Hey Madison,
|
||||
|
||||
Maybe I shouldn't have opened up to you about seeing your Twitter thingy. I felt like I was being dishonest by not saying anything but it looks like you are really, really anxious about knowing that I've seen it. Yikes!
|
||||
|
||||
Are you OK with me visiting tomorrow? I'd love to see you but I don't want to add to your anxiety any more than I already have. Let me know if you have enough spoons.
|
||||
|
||||
Love,
|
||||
Mom
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
> Did you not want her to come up?
|
||||
|
||||
No, I did. I told her:
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
Mom,
|
||||
|
||||
I'm anxious, but please come up tomorrow. I think I need that more than anything right now.
|
||||
|
||||
~M
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
That's when I was born. September 4, 2014 at 3:18 PM. Madison Scott-Clary, 230 pounds, 73 inches.
|
||||
|
||||
> You were born when you could own yourself.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes. I was born when I could share that with my mom. It was all well and good for me to be out on Twitter and what not, and it was great that JD could accept me, but the fact that I could start to regain my biological family without any lies in the way was when I opened my eyes for the first time.
|
||||
|
||||
> How was the visit?
|
||||
|
||||
I don't know. I don't remember. I think it was fine. We talked about me starting hormones--
|
||||
|
||||
> Did you talk about TIASAP?
|
||||
|
||||
*No.*
|
||||
|
||||
No, we did not. If she's reading this, which she may very well be, this will be how she learns about that.
|
||||
|
||||
How could I possibly talk to my mom about something like that? I hid my arms and legs from her for years before, and it wouldn't be for another year before I could even bring up the concept of self-harm.
|
||||
|
||||
> That's not true.
|
||||
|
||||
I...well, no, it's not.
|
||||
|
||||
> Let's talk about suicide.
|
||||
|
||||
Not yet.
|
||||
|
||||
Please.
|
||||
|
||||
> Why not?
|
||||
|
||||
I'd like it to be a cohesive thing. I'd like to be able to think about it on its own, none of this coming at it sideways. I'd like to be deliberate about it.
|
||||
|
||||
> Soon.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes, soon.
|
||||
@ -1,40 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-20
|
||||
weight: 35
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
Telling dad was the second time I came out to family deliberately.
|
||||
|
||||
> The third.
|
||||
|
||||
Third?
|
||||
|
||||
> You told Aunt Patty that you were gay back before high school.
|
||||
|
||||
I...did not remember that.
|
||||
|
||||
> Not until just now, apparently.
|
||||
|
||||
Apparently. I have no recollection of what I said. I have no recollection of what *she* said.
|
||||
|
||||
I have no recollection of her.
|
||||
|
||||
> Hazy images at grandma's.
|
||||
|
||||
I guess.
|
||||
|
||||
> Memories surrounding her.
|
||||
|
||||
Lots of those.
|
||||
|
||||
> Memories of when she and her family got stranded on a sailboat between Cuba and Florida and rescued by a cruise ship. Grandma and dad smug in their assessment that she was stupid and irresponsible.
|
||||
|
||||
A vague, heavily pixelated picture shot by one of the cruise boat attendants.
|
||||
|
||||
> "She's crazy," they said. "She has too many kids. They draw all over the walls. Her house is wild. She's crazy."
|
||||
|
||||
And me, with with my secret. My little pet lie I kept hidden from them.
|
||||
|
||||
> Tell me about coming out to dad.
|
||||
|
||||
I will.
|
||||
@ -1,62 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-20
|
||||
weight: 36
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
Coming out to myself and JD was more gradual. A sea-change.
|
||||
|
||||
> Maybe that's what those two years were between Matthew and Madison were.
|
||||
|
||||
<div class="verse">Nothing of him that doth fade,
|
||||
but doth suffer a sea-change
|
||||
into something rich and strange.</div>
|
||||
|
||||
I suppose so. I explored around the edges of it. I touched it tentatively. I lived my life in widening circles.
|
||||
|
||||
> Surely you mean narrowing.
|
||||
|
||||
Okay, yes. It was too good a line to pass up, though. Shakespeare *and* Rilke in one go?
|
||||
|
||||
> There is nothing new under the sun.
|
||||
|
||||
Ooh, and Ecclasiastes, you spoil me.
|
||||
|
||||
> Treat, as they say, yourself. Carry on.
|
||||
|
||||
There were little fits and starts between James and I. I remember laying on the couch --- that awful, awful yellow couch --- and him getting playful, and then some little movement of his touched a nerve and I started crying because of the way that brushed up against that me that wasn't in focus. It brought it to the forefront the fact that I didn't align with myself, that there was a lag in my proprioception, that I was falling behind myself.
|
||||
|
||||
Is there some word for ecstasy that doesn't imply it being positive? Something that captures the feeling of being outside oneself, beside oneself, behind oneself without implying the sense of greatness, of awe that goes along with spiritual *ekstasis*?
|
||||
|
||||
> Dissociation?
|
||||
|
||||
Yeah.
|
||||
|
||||
That.
|
||||
|
||||
That little bit of panic-colored dissociation that I would later name dysphoria would come in waves. Sometimes it'd be triggered, as it was then. Sometimes it would fade slowly into view and I'd go on a tear making skirts and then it would fade back into the low background static of the anxiety that goes along with being a member of a minority identity group.
|
||||
|
||||
> There **was** ecstasy, though. There was euphoria as well as dysphoria.
|
||||
|
||||
Yes.
|
||||
|
||||
The moment when my hair got long enough to put up in a ponytail.
|
||||
|
||||
The utter terror of shaving my legs for the first time, weird as it sounds. Outrageously stupid, and yet the feeling of *having* shaved legs was incredibly validating.
|
||||
|
||||
The first time I looked in the mirror and saw the trace of femininity.
|
||||
|
||||
The softening of skin.
|
||||
|
||||
The first "she" on the street.
|
||||
|
||||
The first "ma'am" on the phone.
|
||||
|
||||
Hell, the first time dressing feminine.
|
||||
|
||||
> What, back when you were nine? When you snuck into the spare room and tried on one of Julie's dresses?
|
||||
|
||||
Holy *shit* could you just *shut up*.
|
||||
|
||||
> Wow, touched a nerve, there.
|
||||
|
||||
We will talk about that later.
|
||||
@ -1,10 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-20
|
||||
weight: 37
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
You know what? No, I take that back. We'll talk about it now.
|
||||
|
||||
> Tell me about the dress.
|
||||
|
||||
<a class="pulse" href="/dad">It's not even about the dress</a>.
|
||||
@ -1,10 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-22
|
||||
weight: 38
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
> Do you feel better, now?
|
||||
|
||||
Not really. Just a <a class="pulse" href="/poet-and-mystic">different kind of melancholy</a>.
|
||||
|
||||
> Ain't that just the way of things?
|
||||
@ -1,12 +0,0 @@
|
||||
---
|
||||
date: 2019-08-25
|
||||
weight: 39
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
Let's talk about writing.
|
||||
|
||||
> If you'd like. We still have a few others on the list, don't forget.
|
||||
|
||||
Would you let me?
|
||||
|
||||
> Of course not.
|
||||
Reference in New Issue
Block a user