When someone who hates you accuses you of the thing you most hate about yourself, that you fear to be true, it lights the inside of your veins on fire.
“I hate myself because a part of me thinks they’re right,” I tell my therapist. “I will never know.” After crying for an hour in their office over the fact that I don’t have a womb. That when I was twelve, I fantasized about being fucked by a big, strong man. The joy and danger of the possibility of getting pregnant a significant amount of the pleasure that took me over the edge. To find myself being incapable of feeling that now, now, now that…. why? Why would any man want to be with me? Why would any woman want to be with me? This thing that finds joy in the brilliance of a woman’s beauty, her curves, her being, but yearns to be a universe to a man, to be his world, to have his kids.
To only know this after it can’t happen. After I’m useless to everyone because when you’ve spent your life hating yourself, it becomes impossible to love or to trust.
“What a betrayal… you’ll never know!” She says to me, another mean girl from junior high, but now we’re both 46. I will never know. I am a betrayer.
The blood catches fire and burns until all I can see illuminated is the jealousy I have for others.
So many parallels that I can identify with in my life, I’m glad you succeeded in becoming YOU , the real YOU .
In ways I envy the system that you have in the USA , medical insured that’ll cover you,
Alas that’s not the norm in dear old blighty , the costs are emense, even getting a “professional diagnosis ” is a struggle .
I’ve resigned myself to never having surgery , given my age and circumstances and being almost reclusive in my daily routine.
I meant to write before ,how helpful your blog has been on my “dark nights ” in sub Saharan Africa.
I could never keep a diary as such , although I keep a memorised diary in my mind of life’s events and disappointments , all neatly behind locked doors , as recalling them just hurts, so little time left now .
I miss my life before but not the grief and strife it caused or inflicted on me .
I never had kids of my own , as I made a promise to my parents that I’d never put a child through what I had been subjected too ,
I kept that promise , and in ways that hurts me more looking back on life now .
I chose to disclose when I “came out ” to my family and friends, the “real truths of my childhood ” and they weren’t well received,
Plenty of people, just didn’t want to accept the damage was done ,
My ex I loved dearly but alas she “wouldn’t accept me ”
Her 1st remark , we have to move ,what will the neighbours think ?
As long as she could maintain the charade of dignified existence,
Her family eventually closed ranks , and it was painful to be ostracised.
Forever to be a lonely cloud in a big sky .
Ce’st la vie 💋