My gem is back

After the thirty minute protest my daughter is finally asleep.

 I met my future ex and her bf at a fast food place at 6 this morning to get my daughter. I saw him first because the girls had gone to the restroom. He filled me in on a few things including the 10 hour drive to get to where I was meeting them. It almost made feel guilty that I had gotten sleep during their drive (I said almost).

Anyways when my baby came out of the bathroom she saw me and came running, screaming Mommy M. I picked her up as she started to cry and as she did what has been a customary looking at my face by moving my head in every direction. I don’t know if she is looking for a mask or what. She then told me she thought she wasn’t going to see me. Which B (the bf) had told me that she had started doubting that they were actually going to see me.

After breakfast, which they had left before she had finished, we went to the park. While we were playing she said a phrase I didn’t realize how much I missed: “Mommy M you’re my best friend.” It always makes me cry a little. When we got back to my place where my friend keeps a room open for me she got to meet his girls before they were taken back to the land of the eternal sun. The rest of the day we hung around watching cartoons and playing with dolls.               

 He and his GF are back and in bed. My baby is a sleep. While I’m exhausted I sit here thinking how great it is to have her back and find myself crying. However for the first time in a while the tears are of happiness and relief. It feels like I’ve got a missing piece back. As to those who may question me from looking for primary custody since she does have a half-sister by way of her other mother, I don’t care she is my daughter and worth fighting for. Besides I’m putting in for Mommy C to get her during summer, spring and winter breaks.

 

P.S. When I told my little girl to say goodbye to Mommy C apparently I struck a nerve. About 10 minutes after they had left she texted me to make sure I knew that our daughter was to call her Mommy not Mommy C. Oh well.

Nervous versus Excited

         
        Today I left the land of the endless sun and drove several hours across southern Arizona to the son. In the morning I will be meeting my future ex to get my baby girl. My soon to be ex has agreed to let me take my daughter. However she has decided that she wants my baby back by the first part of August, can't say I'm happy with that request.

          She doesn't realize that once I file for divorce our daughter will not be able to leave the state I'm in which her birth state is. This may seem like a harsh thing to do but she (the someday ex) was the one that decided to move to a different state and tell me that I had no choice. I say kidnapping and then she says that because I went to a different city (trying to find work to help support my child) I abandoned our child even though I was coming back to visit her. Also because of some other things that happened during the marriage the ex is a major trigger for my anxiety.

          Hence I'm nervous about seeing the mother but excited about getting my daughter back. If I can survive the morning I am sure things will get better from there.

 

           Oh well I guess time will tell.

Meds or this day sucks

So i have a few people I know who deal with chronic illness. I know some that are in chronic pain. Many of them would agree that somedays the meds just don't cut it.

Today is one of thos days for me. A few weeks ago they raised my doage for anti-depresents. Which has been working out pretty good. I've had fewer anxiety issues and when I do their not as severe as what got me sent back to hell. However this just takes what would have been an over whelming keep me in bed day to another just barely able to move out of bed after hitting snooze for an hour.

With depresion there doesn't always seems to be a reason why it strikes. But whatever the reason when it does every bad thing or thought seems to come to the for front of my brain. Today it's another on of those I miss my daughter so bad I want to curl up into a ball and cry. She is with her other mother in NM. When I told my future ex I was comeing back to hell she told me they were moving and that our daughter wasn't coming back from her summer trip to visit the grand parents in NM. She said I could move out there to a town a couple miles away but she was not going to leave her with me and has no intention of split our daughter from the new child the future ex had with her BF. Talk about a smack in the head.

It's hard to explain what it feels like. The strugle it takes to get up out of bed and get moving for the day. It sometimes takes so much effort that it leaves me feeling drained by the time I get to the door. Those who deal with mental and chronic illness may be able to relate. Trying to force yourself to do the things you need to do in order survive (eating, hygiene and work) becomes the main priority. Forget most days doing those things that make you happy.

However I have no doubt this day would be worse if the meds hadn't been increased. At least I made it out the door.

GID and ME

GID can mean many things to different people. That’s the problem with acronyms. For me being a Trans-woman it has a very specific meaning on the psychological level:

 

But what does it feel like to have GID. It’s one of those things which is hard to explain to people.  For each person it varies in degree and in feelings. All I can attempt to do is describe it from my personal point of view.

Have you ever been in a full body costume?  If not try to imagine something like the Easter Bunny at the mall taking pictures. The costume covers the whole body. They get hot and stuff. You end up with a sort of tunnel vision because of the low visibility. You can’t feel anything you touch. No one can hear what you say (at least not clearly). Eventually all you can think about is getting out of the suit. Now imagine that the zipper is stuck and you can’t get the head off.

That’s what it felt like for me in the beginning. I wanted out of the male costume I was forced into at birth. I realized I was in the wrong body around the time I was 4 years old. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I thought I was a freak.  I would have given anything to find that zipper and just drop the skin I was in and be who I knew I was on the inside. But that never happened.

I could not find a magic item to transform me or at least put me in someone else’s body. Eventually around 10 I figured I would never get out of the costume and suppressed the little girl that was hidden inside. However this lead to the fear that someone might find out. I began to over eat and become antisocial. Know I have come to terms and am in transition.

I still have fears. Those fears are something to be addressed at a future date. Just know for many Trans-individuals I’ve spoken with and my case in particular fear can determine a lot of what we do and why.  I still want to rip of the outer layer unfortunately that’s not going to happen. For those of us who can’t stand our assigned gender (given at birth) who are forced to do something there seems to be three roads. The first is to hide. The second is to die. The third is to make the outside match as closely to the inside as possible.

While this does not explain everything on how this "disorder" affects me it’s a start.

Stories

     So I have this firm belief that everyone has a story. Each story is as unique as the individual which it belongs to. One story maybe of a different genre then another. For example some are horror, some are adventure, some are romance and some are lifetime specials. I have friend who's life fits into the later category.
     Because each story is different that means we may not like every story we hear. However we should still listen when someone tries to tell there story. If we don't like it then we should still be polite and not invalidate their story. I have known afew people who's story can be very inspirational if only you let them tell them.
     My friend who's life should be on lifetime is one of those stories. She inspires several people when they hear what she has survived. She is the reason why I'm trying to blog again. In my mind every time I see a spoon, a walking stick, or even a flip flop I think of her and what she has been through. She is an amazing person but you'll learn more about her down the road. The only thing however you'll here from me is where her life touches mine. The rest of her life is her story and this is mine.
       I've tried to write down things before in the past, journals and blogs. I have consistantly let life get in my way. Well here I go again. You may not like my story or agree with it but I think it needs to be told. I do this for me and not to please anyone else. I should have done this a long time ago. More specificaly about two years ago when things started to get realy interesting.
       Who the hell am I? I have a name I was born with, I have had several stage names, and internet disguises. However legaly and in my heart I have one name that rings true, Just call me Meg. I know that doesn't cover who I am and why anyone should care (not that I care who cares). I was born a boy although I knew from a young age I was a girl. I started seeing a therapist about two years ago and started on hormones shortly after that. I am a performer and a tech on plays. I make masks, I make custom props. I do a little of everything while doing nothing. I have been accused of having a gypsy soul. I like gypsies, hippies, and the old ways.
                       ABOVE ALL I AM ME .......JUST MEG