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Oct. 21st, 2010 12:51 pmI used to worry a lot that I was actually crazy.
That doesn't seem to be the case so much now. I think admitting to myself and to other people that I am transgender helped a lot. It sounds hyperbolic but I feel as though so much of that madness and fear melted away. This summer when I started seriously going to therapy I felt this huge upswing in my anxiety. It's starting to go down now. (My ability to handle crowds of people is still low, but I think that's something else entirely.) Even when going through the "we don't know what's wrong with you and we suspect it might be cancer but we really have no idea so go have all these tests" month this summer wasn't as awful as it might have been. I did not spend all that time comatose with fear, the way I might have done a few years ago.
So perhaps it is all just progress. I no longer believe I'm fated to be depressed forever and ever. I've stopped pretending to be this woman I am not. I've even cut down on the sleeping pills for this insomnia I've had since I was a child. It's refreshing, and frightening and altogether odd to feel just sane.
In other news, I need to learn to stop reading the comments on things. It's one thing that made me stop reading Facebook. I'm pretty good about ignoring the comment sections on newspaper articles. It isn't the disagreement or difference of ideas that gets me. It's the vitriol, the inability to have a rational conversation, the bigotry, the complete lack of human decency that people seem to think is their right when they get to comment on things on the internet.
In Tim Gunn's recent book, he mentions the death of Amy Vanderbilt. I have a copy of the original Amy Vanderbilt's Guide to Etiquette, that belonged to my great grandmother. While I've never had cause to know what to wear to a dance at West Point or what to wear for a papal audience, I did read this book over and over a child because I was so often convinced I was just living in the wrong place or time and things would make more sense and I needed to be prepared for the future or the past.
Anyhow, Gunn talks about Vanderbilt's death and the speculation of whether it was an accident or suicide. He speculates that perhaps she was just so tired and worn down by the breakdown of decent behavior and manners in the world, by all the things that could go wrong, that she just stopped looking out for dangers like open windows. That has really stuck with me though I didn't realize until the latest bit of internet outrage how much I empathized with it. I don't want to ever reach that point of being so tired and disappointed in the world that I stop watching out for open windows.
That doesn't seem to be the case so much now. I think admitting to myself and to other people that I am transgender helped a lot. It sounds hyperbolic but I feel as though so much of that madness and fear melted away. This summer when I started seriously going to therapy I felt this huge upswing in my anxiety. It's starting to go down now. (My ability to handle crowds of people is still low, but I think that's something else entirely.) Even when going through the "we don't know what's wrong with you and we suspect it might be cancer but we really have no idea so go have all these tests" month this summer wasn't as awful as it might have been. I did not spend all that time comatose with fear, the way I might have done a few years ago.
So perhaps it is all just progress. I no longer believe I'm fated to be depressed forever and ever. I've stopped pretending to be this woman I am not. I've even cut down on the sleeping pills for this insomnia I've had since I was a child. It's refreshing, and frightening and altogether odd to feel just sane.
In other news, I need to learn to stop reading the comments on things. It's one thing that made me stop reading Facebook. I'm pretty good about ignoring the comment sections on newspaper articles. It isn't the disagreement or difference of ideas that gets me. It's the vitriol, the inability to have a rational conversation, the bigotry, the complete lack of human decency that people seem to think is their right when they get to comment on things on the internet.
In Tim Gunn's recent book, he mentions the death of Amy Vanderbilt. I have a copy of the original Amy Vanderbilt's Guide to Etiquette, that belonged to my great grandmother. While I've never had cause to know what to wear to a dance at West Point or what to wear for a papal audience, I did read this book over and over a child because I was so often convinced I was just living in the wrong place or time and things would make more sense and I needed to be prepared for the future or the past.
Anyhow, Gunn talks about Vanderbilt's death and the speculation of whether it was an accident or suicide. He speculates that perhaps she was just so tired and worn down by the breakdown of decent behavior and manners in the world, by all the things that could go wrong, that she just stopped looking out for dangers like open windows. That has really stuck with me though I didn't realize until the latest bit of internet outrage how much I empathized with it. I don't want to ever reach that point of being so tired and disappointed in the world that I stop watching out for open windows.