5/30/2021 0 Comments May 30th, 2021I don't even truly know what I want. I finally realized that just a few minutes ago while feeling miserable as I forced myself to listen to Quadeca's terrible album "From Me to You" (why I do that kind of shit to myself I will never know. I really need to stop forcing myself to listen all the way through terrible albums). Anyway, what I realized is that my different "personalities" as you could say have pretty much merged. Now, I do not want to imply that I have multiple personality disorder, I am just using the term "personalities" for lack of a better one. Anyway, so, there's the part of me that I created to "protect" me from trauma. I used it to pretend to my parents that I was every bit as evil as they wanted to believe, and to repress what I truly wanted because of abuse. For instance, giving up all my hopes and dreams because of abuse. I still love those things, I have just repressed my love for those things. To the outside world I pretended that I had completely gotten over all of those things, and made it seem like that I had moved completely on, and eventually over time I started convincing myself that it was so, even though it was a blatant lie. For examples: I loved astronomy. I knew I wanted to be an astronomer. My dad decided that it wasn't a good career path for me, so he made sure that I knew that it wasn't acceptable to chase after professionally. So, I pretended that I didn't really care for astronomy anymore. Over time, I started convincing myself that maybe I was. Well, I never did stop caring for it, in my heart of hearts I still do love it, but there's so much trauma attached to it that I cannot bring myself to get back into studying astronomy. Stuff like that. So many wishes, desires, and loves I had to repress just to be acceptable in the eyes of my parents. So many things I started convincing myself that I was over and sometimes forgot about for awhile. So, now, I have a problem. I don't truly know what it is I desire, what is the real me in certain cases. There are certain things where I genuinely don't know what my true thoughts and feelings are. I know I used to have a strong feeling about these things, I used to be certain, but when I had to pretend to be different for the sake of my parents, I gradually forgot what my original position was, and my new position became so ingrained that now I have no idea what was the one I took on to deal with trauma and which is my true self. My traumatized repressed self has merged with, well, my true self. I don't even know what is my true self anymore. To illustrate what I mean better, let us pretend that I didn't remember whether I liked astronomy or not when I was little. If that were the case, today I would sit here and wonder: "did I always like astronomy, or did I pretend to like astronomy only to keep my parents off my back? I can't remember." It's gotten to the point that for some things like that I feel one way in one mood, and another way in a different mood. I'm such a damn mess. What is my natural desires? I don't know anymore, outside of a few things that I do remember.
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5/26/2021 0 Comments May 26th, 2021I can't handle guys and I cannot understand them. A guy hit on me yesterday. This was my first (and so far, only time) being hit on. I should have seen it coming. Ok, I kinda did but was just hoping I was mis-understanding the set-up for his hitting on me (quite clearly horny). I didn't take the compliment. I didn't respond at first, he then pushed me for a response. So, I stupidly responded. I told him I didn't know how to respond and told him I was only used to being told I was ugly and not recieving compliments. I could tell he was disappointed. I didn't accept the compliment. I made excuses to not respond. I genuinely didn't know how to respond in the moment. I didn't know what I really felt in the moment. Several hours Iater I now know that I should have told him, "thank you, but being hit on does make me feel uncomfortable. I'm glad you find me visually pleasing, but if you would, please don't hit on me." (Of course, the other problem is that even if I knew at the time to say that, I doubt I could bring myself to say that to not make him feel bad) Now I just feel uncomfortable with him hitting on me, telling me that he thought I'm hot. First off, I don't think I look good at all, so I am stunned that a guy could find me hot in the first place. Second, I hate being seen strictly for my looks. It makes me so uncomfortable. I don't want to be known for being visually pleasing (or discomforting). I want to be known for my personality, how I treat others, my thoughts and fears, etc. The thought that anyone would ever think of me as "hot" is scary to me. Don't get me wrong, I am glad that someone actually thinks I'm good looking, it's a nice break from the assholes who's comments I constantly delete from my YouTube channel who love to let me know that I am the ugliest woman they have ever seen. So, being "hot" in and of itself isn't bad for me, I guess it's that someone is getting horny over me, finds me hot enough to hit on, and that I am just seen as some hot chick on the internet rather than Anna, the human being who is so much more than my looks. It kinda makes me feel sub-human to be honest to know that when some people see me, they don't see a person, they see a thing to get horny over. They see a beautiful pair of breasts, not a person. A pretty face, but not a person. Thing is, I feel very uncomfortable being hit on.
Another problem is that I cannot take a compliment. I have been torn down my whole life. I never mattered. My accomplishments never mattered. Everything was to be torn down. It's gotten to the point that I don't bother attempting anything really. I don't see a point in taking any risks or trying to make anything any better. I'll just get torn down for it. So, yeah, I cannot handle compliments. If I am being honest, being complimented makes me feel bad. It feels unearned, it feels wrong to receive. I will find any excuse for why you shouldn't compliment me. I will likely make you wish that you hadn't complimented me, if I respond at all. I can't handle them. I feel horrible for not being able to take a compliment. I actually hate myself for it. I mean, what is wrong with me? Anyway, yeah, I got hit on, didn't know how to respond, hate being hit on, and I can't take compliments. Also, I don't understand guys, at all. I have no idea how to deal with guys, especially when they're finding me rather hot. Like, how do you deal with guys in such a case? I genuinely don't know. I don't understand men one bit, and I can't figure out how to deal with th em in a good way. Tips are genuinely appreciated. Guys are a mystery to me that it's clear I need to understand to some extent now if they're going to hit on me now. Also, how do you handle being hit on? I got so depressed last night. I can't handle being hit on, but I know that I can't let myself get that depressed again whenever I get hit on again. I guess that's a new reality I unfortunately have to get used to. Never got hit on as a man. I guess it never really became real to me until now that living as a woman means that guys are going to hit on me now. I don't know how to handle it. How am I supposed to deal with all this? I don't want it. How do you deal with something so unwanted? Ugh. 5/25/2021 0 Comments May 25th, 2021I am a dirtbag Christian. Unfortunately, as I found out, I am not the first to come up with the term as there is already an existing Substack newsletter with the title. As it turns out, she came up with the name the same way I did and has a lot of the same reasons I now use the name. So, since she is now the de facto founder of "Dirtbag Christianity," here are some excerpts I want to focus on from her article explaining the term (you can read the whole article here: https://dirtbagchristian.substack.com/p/what-is-a-dirtbag-christian): If you’re unfamiliar with the term “dirtbag Christian” that’s okay. As far as I know, I made it up. Not because I’m particularly original or clever because I certainly am not, but because I stole the term from the so-called “dirtbag left,” a term coined to describe the leftists who shirk overly PC/Tumblr culture and generally don’t give a shit about politeness while there’s actual, real, horrific economic injustice in the world. This is exactly how I came up with the term as well, being an avid listener of "Dirtbag left" podcasts such as "Red Scare" and "Chapo Trap House." However, I love the dirtbag concept. The idea that you’re a shitty, unacceptable, controversial person in your own circles is something I recognize in myself in the context of Christianity, not politics. No matter where I was in my theological journey, no matter what church I was attending at the time, I’ve always been an outcast, and dare I say it, a rebel. I totally relate to this. Even when I was a disphit conservative fundamentalist who believed in a literal Genesis account of creation and the Earth being only 6,000 years old, I still didn't believe a lot of the narratives pushed by Answers in Genesis, and pushed back regularly. I literally got in trouble with the Children's Church teacher for challenging the all-knowing wisdom of Ken Ham. I challenged the world-wide flood narrative. I questioned their teachings on Jesus. Even outside of theology, my lifestyle wasn't considered ok. I was always a wimp. I have been in more fights than I can count, and have never won a single one. I have lost to kids five years younger than me. That's how physically wimpy I was. I had no muscle mass, no matter how much I tried. I also acted a bit effeminate. That also wasn't acceptable. Between my wimpiness and being effeminate, I got bullied a lot and many adults had a poor view of me. I wasn't the "manly man" I was supposed to be. So, yeah, even when I was as conservative and fundamentalist as it got, I still was an outcast and rebel. I had no friends the majority of the time. I fully relate to what was said in the last quote. I have never been acceptable even in my own circles. Even today as a progressive trans woman I still butt heads with other trans women over trans issues and theology because apparently I hold "unacceptable" positions. My dirtbag Christianity is best represented when I’m getting stoned off my ass and listening to mewithoutYou, or when I’m posting thirst trap pictures where both my Jesus fish tattoo and barely concealed, obviously pierced nipples are visible, or when I’m reading the Bible app and trying to pray for myself to not actively wish death threats upon prominent conservative figures, or when I’m playing Final Fantasy XIV and making references to Vintage21 Jesus parody videos that nobody else gets, or when my kids giggle as I accidentally drop the f-bomb in front of them for the 10th time that day. Here we go. Everything is now getting neatly summed up, and there's a lot I relate to. One of those things is actively trying not to wish death upon prominent conservative figures. I can't even begin to imagine the amount of times where in my head I envisioned some conservative figure getting beat to death after hearing them say something awful. In fact, there have been times when I have found myself starting to ask God for death, injury, illness or just any kind of serious harm before having to stop myself and ask for forgiveness. Anyway, I like what she said. Being a dirtbag Christian is an attitude. It's not giving a fuck about being respectable, about being some kind gentle Christian with all the answers and trying to unify with evangelicals. Like her, I don't give a single fuck about whether evangelicals consider me a Christian or not. Evangelicals can kiss my ass for all I care. Even more than that though, it's having that kind of attitude in regards to ALL Christians, not just evangelicals. Stop caring whether your theology is acceptable or not. Not caring if other Christians consider your life or presentation to be acceptable or not. I don't give a fuck. I have no interest in toning down my language because it might offend other Christians sensibilities, and I have no interest in changing my theology because it's not "orthodox" or because it's "heretical." Your pastor can kiss my ass as well. I don't care what some dude who went to Seminary and has a Master in Divinity thinks about my theology. I never listened to pastors or any person a Christian is "supposed" to listen to, and I don't plan to start doing so. I don't need your approval of my life, theology, or whatever. Now, here is where I without a doubt will take it far beyond what the writer of the article I am quoting would ever take it. For me personally, reading all this really helped set in place what I have believed for years now but have never been comfortable saying in public: the American church is irreparably broken and I hope it burns. I hope the American church becomes such a massive embarrassment to the point it burns down in such a blaze that the entire world takes notice. I want Christians to feel that they have no choice but to pretend that they're not Christians if thet want to have any place in society. The church is broken. It is founded upon oppression. It's entire theology and structure is based upon the oppression of women, black people, immigrants, queer people, poor people, and any other marginalized group you can think of. It has been built specifically to prop up the evangelical rich white straight cisgender male and fuck everyone else over. There is not a single Christian thing about the American church. It propped up slavery and segregation and even today is pro-mass incarceration and pro-drug war. It is anti-immigrant. It has always pushed to ensure women have no rights. It views "The Handmaid's Tale" as a guidebook of what to do rather than what not to do. The church has no regard for the widow or orphan. In fact it scorns both and actively makes life harder for both. It promotes capitalism, and all the evil that comes along with it. It supports Trump who is undeniably an anti-Christ. The church has a rotted foundation. It can't be saved. Let it burn, and then, once it does, I and others will be glad to swoop in and help build the church up. Until then I have no interest in being part of the American church. It simply is fundamentally against everything the Bible actually teaches. Anyway, reading this article helped me feel more comfortable with being open with my views, such as this one. It has helped me to give less of a fuck of what others think. Not censor myself to not offend others. I have no interest in being respectable. I have no interest in being a diplomat. I have come with a flamethrower, and I intend to use it. That is who I am. The one who questions everything and to whom nothing is sacred. The one who says what no respectable progressive theologian or blogger would ever say, because, you know, it's not "respectable." I have come with a sword, just like Jesus demanded. Jesus was not some peace-loving advocate as he has been presented as. He told the disciples to go buy swords. He Himself said He came with a sword and intended to cause divisions. He wrecked the temple courts. When the Romans came to arrest Him and Peter cut off the guy's ear, Jesus told the Romans, NOT Peter that anyone who lives by the sword dies by the sword. It wasn't a warning to Peter, it was a warning to the Romans. Jesus isn't a peace advocate. So, I follow His example. I am here to kick ass in the trans and theological discourse. Besides, it's not like I have anything to live for or have a reputation to defend. I have always had a bad reputation and never had a life anyway. Anyway, I will end this article with this paragraph with no comment, because, honestly, what is there to add? I still identify as a Christian. I’m deeply obsessed with the figure of Christ, with the idea of overthrowing empires and pushing forth the lowest class people and all the other rejects. I want to find the most controversial, trashiest, broken people and see more God in them than any of the all-American mannequin pastors with their perfect teeth smiles. I imagine the kingdom of God here on earth, and I see the Resurrection as a reminder that no matter how bad things look, they can get better again. It’s the only optimism left in my hopelessly cynical life some days, and it’s enough. Jesus is enough. And at the end of the day, I still want everyone around me to feel like they’re enough, too. To subscribe to the Dirtbag Christian newsletter, go here: https://dirtbagchristian.substack.com/
5/19/2021 2 Comments May 19th, 2021As of today, March 19th, 2021, it has been two years since I started blogging. Two years. It's crazy to think that it's been that long. It feels like a lifetime ago to be honest. Honestly, everything that happened pre-transition (basically pre-pandemic because I literally started transitioning exactly a week before Indiana got locked down) feels like a previous life. I don't feel much connection with the person that I apparently was before. It feels like a completely different person. I struggle to actually accept that that person was me. That I used to live as a guy. I know I used to be "Nicholas," but it doesn't seem real. So, it doesn't seem real that I was the one who started the blog two whole years ago. It feels as if someone else started it and I just took over for them just over a year ago. When I first started blogging I hadn't even chosen the name Anna yet. I was going by "Nicole." It would be about a month later when I finally start going by the Anna. I talked a lot about music back then. Much of my blogging efforts were about music. A lot of my posts were suicide threats as well. Not a good time in my life. Then, a year ago we were just exiting lockdowns and I had been transitioning for just over two months. By that point I wasn't blogging about music anymore. By that point I wasn't posting suicide threats anymore, but instead things going on in my life. It was more of a personal blog instead of a blog about music and trans issues. Then we get to today. Two years. Wow. Hopefully, I will be able to blog for many more years to come. Thank you all for reading. I don't know if anyone has been reading since the first month of my blog, but I do know of at least one of you who have been reading since my first year blogging. Anyway, no matter how long you have been reading: thank you. Thank you for reading what my dumb ass has to say.
5/7/2021 0 Comments May 07th, 2021The purpose of this article is four-fold:
Mothers Day is almost here. Father's Day isn't much further away. These are easily two of the most painful days of the year for me. They are days that serve as painful reminders of the abuse I have received from my parents. These are days when I am expected to celebrate my abusers. I hate these two days. I wish I could sleep right through both days. Those painful memories will always live with me. My birthday is getting closer. October 1. Less than five months away. Less than half a year. I hate my birthday. It hasn't been good since I was a child. Having to constantly give it up to visit people, go to weddings of people I don't know, and other things, not being able to celebrate it in a way I would actually like because the rest of my family can't eat pretty much anything. I'm gluten-intolerant, like the rest of the family, but it doesn't affect me that badly, and milk chocolate doesn't sit well with me for some odd reason (but dairy is perfectly fine and so is dark chocolate), but various members can't have: soy, peanut butter, dairy, corn, starches, and rice (and probably another thing or two I forgot about). Basically, there's me who can eat just about anything, and the rest of my family who can eat nothing. Which, isn't bad, but not going to lie, is rough on my birthday. My family really can't eat my favorite foods or eat the desserts I want, so I have to choose stuff I don't really want just so they can partake. Major first world problem I know, and beyond selfish to complain about, but after years of compromising on your birthday what you eat, it wears on you. I guess in isolation it's not a problem. It's only wearing on me because it's in conjunction with having to use my birthdays doing anything but celebrating my birthday, like celebrating my aunt and uncle being pregnant with their child. Didn't do anything for my birthday. It was all about my aunt and uncle. No one in the family even remembered it was my birthday. Would have probably been more acceptable if I was close to that side of the family. My dad's side I have never been close to. Always felt like a stranger in my own family. To make everything worse, last year on my birthday I was alone and homeless. No one cared. At all. I felt so alone. Only a few close friends sent me messages wishing me a happy birthday. Nothing to celebrate that day. For me, last year's birthday was the worst. Honestly, it was so bad I kinda just want to forget that I even have a birthday. I'll never have one that's worth remembering in a good way. It's a day of pain and feeling like I don't matter. I know this is all so silly and petty, but it's true. It's how I feel. I know I shouldn't, but this is how I feel. I really don't want to have a birthday anymore. It's too painful. I have fears as well. My youngest sister committing suicide. I have heard that she is very suicidal. To the point of very realistically having to go to the hospital. I have been at that point. Many times. To be honest, I really should have gone to the hospital. I honestly should have. Just like I should have seen a doctor about getting on anti-depressants but never did. Anyway, but yeah, hearing that my little sis is in that kind of head space breaks my heart. I can't imagine living without her. Sure, we don't have much of a relationship, regrettably, but I still love her to death. I mean, I can't lose my video game partner! The only person I could ever play "Mario Kart: Double Dash" with! The only person I could ever play "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2: Battlenexus" with (whenever I can finally get my hands on a copy of it again. Still mad dad threw out that game when we were kids). The first family member to ever accept me as my true self. The one who always had the most energy. The one with the most imagination. The most persuasivness. I don't know how I could live without her. I love her so much. I honestly wish I was the only one in the family who ever got that suicidal. If I could make it that I was the only person in the family to ever get suicidal so the rest of the family could be happy, I would. The thought of any of them hurting hurts me too much. I just want what is best for all of them. I want them to be happy, even if it means I get hurt for the rest of my life. They're more important than me anyway and have brighter futures. Anyway, this is something I fear so much, a life without my youngest sister. I don't even want to imagine something like that is possible. Another fear of mine is really silly, but real. My love language is touch. I never really got touched growing up, and when I did, it was always negative. I know what touch starvation feels like. Probably the worst thing I have ever experienced. Even worse than gender dysphoria and right up there with being demonically oppressed (actually happened to me, and would rather not ever think about that). So, I am someone who desperately craves touch and shows my love through touch, as I don't want anyone to ever experience what I did. That said, that love language is a tough one to have in America. Touching one another is pretty socially unacceptable unless it's a mother touching her small child, a greeting (before COVID, that is), or a lover. Many people just don't like being touched as well. So, it is hard for me to love others in a way that feels authentic, and to be honest, when someone doesn't want to be touched, it feels like a personal attack. It feels like they are rejecting me, because that is how I show my love. The even harder part is finding anyone who will touch me. Once again, here in America, the number of situations where it's acceptable to touch another person are extremely limited. Touchy feely people like me are considered weird and creeps and people generally try to avoid us. Thing is, as an adult, the expectation is that if I want touch, I will find someone to either hook-up with for sex (I'm asexual, so not happening) or find a romantic partner (also, not happening). Thankfully, I have my mom at the moment who is willing to touch me (not nearly enough, but good enough), and I am allowed to touch her (and I do get to touch her enough, at least). That said, mom is middle-aged. She's easy to get sick, and her body is really broken down. She isn't going to live forever. For all I know we won't always live near each other (though if she and/or dad ever need someone to take care of them, the burden will almost certainly fall upon me as the oldest, though unmarried one who will also probably be making the least amount of money, considering what my sister's and one of their boyfriends are chasing as careers, and the fact that I am the one they abused the most). I need touch, often. I need to touch others, often. I am terrified of living without being able to fulfill that need. I don't want to go back to touch-starvation being a constant and feeling so unloved. Yet, the day my mom moves away or dies, that is what will happen, because it almost certain that I am not getting married. So, how could I fulfill my need to touch someone and get someone to touch me? I don't see how it's possible. This is honestly, maybe my biggest fear in life. It's really stupid, I know, but something so important to me. Now, how about some wishes? One is to see my younger sisters find happiness. Even if I never do, just seeing them happy makes me happy. My middle sister always, from her earliest days made it clear that her desire was to be a mom. That was her goal. She wanted to get married to some great guy and have a family with him. It appears that she found him. At this point they are just waiting to graduate from college to marry (next year is their graduation year if I remember correctly). She is quite close to finding her happiness, the thing she has always strived for. I am happy for her. I so hope she is fulfilled quite soon. My youngest sister, not completely certain on what she wants anymore. Whatever it is, it will be creative. She's a very creative person, the most creative person I know. She's always wanted careers where she could show off her creativity, and whatever that is, she will shine so brightly in. I only hope she can survive the abuse of our parents to get to that point. Honestly, I was about to post more wishes, but the only other one I can think of is that my parents stop being so abusive. I really don't have any for myself. I've never been allowed to dream or wish for things. My parents made sure of that. Honestly, I am completely aimless. I don't know what I want for myself. I don't know what I want to do with my life. My parents thoroughly destroyed any love or passion for anything I ever had. My first loves where meteorology and astronomy. My parents were against both because I wasn't good at math, and it would be "too hard to get careers out of," so they ensured I stopped wanting to be either. I have always loved history. My entire life I have loved watching documentaries and reading history books, even as a small child. Even as a kid I would rather read a history book than a fiction book. So, I thought maybe I would get a history degree. Once again, because it's hard to get a career with a history degree, my parents thoroughly destroyed any notion that I should chase after a career with a history degree. Then I found a love for graphic design. Once again, hard to get a career in that field and my parents removed access from graphic design programs from me. My very final love was psychology. That one died because by that time I was getting so suicidal from dysphoria that I had to focus on just living, rather than making any future plans. So, my last dream died. Now, I am aimless with no real loves for anything. I have no idea what it is I want. If I am being honest, I still love history, astronomy, and to a small extent, meteorology, but, studying those things today brings too much pain. It's painful for me to read or watch anything about them. My entire life I have been stripped of my identity. Forced to live as a boy and then man. Forced to give up every passion I have ever had. How could I dream or wish? My only wishes are for others that they have a better life. I am being honest when I say that I have given up on having a better life. I just hope no one else has to. I'm just in survival mode. Doing the bare minimum to live. I don't see how I could be anything more than the dirt poor idiot who loses at everything. As I see it, my chance at life is long past gone. I only exist to serve others and help push them and help them live better lives, so they don't end up like me. |
AuthorHi! I'm Anna, a currently transitioning transgender woman! I started my blog "Ramblings of a Trans Woman" as therapy for gender and identity issues and abuse from my parents and church. Hopefully, someone else out there can get something from this. If you want to talk, just get in contact with me, there's plenty of ways how and we'll discuss the best way to talk! Archives
June 2022
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