I know its been a while but I have been lost in thought as usual, or time. Either way I can’t escape the fact that I would like, no love to be in love. I mean the kind of love that makes you dizzy. The kind of love that rocks your world makes it upside down crazy. The kind that makes you drunk in love yet it never comes. The ironic thing is not that you don’t have the opportunity its that you don’t even take the chance. There is something more to life that is almost unexplainable. I mean why wouldn’t one take the chance to be in love? We see this all the time, one person loves another one yet the other one doesn’t even notice the person. Its ironic almost odd, I mean look at life its as if it was meant to be with someone to love…. Yet we don’t choose the easy path. Each one of us choose to be with someone that sometimes doesn’t make the slightest sense, or reason of why. Yet we love someone that is most what our ideals are around. These ideals can be so flawed and be so detrimental to our existence yet we don’t choose someone that will really love us. Either way its a crazy ironic world that sometimes makes me wonder are we really better than a simple pet? After all a pet loves you no matter what and just thing they didn’t choose you. Are we really better off than those who a mate was choose for them? It really makes me wonder sometimes what is love, and what is life?
It is often stated that one should forgive and forget. I have come to think of this quite differently. While I agree we should always forgive individuals I have a different mindset about forgetting. Maybe that is just life or the hardening of my heart, but I have the thought we should never forget. People will say they are sorry, people will come up with great reasons for their actions but many of those actions will never change. Just as people do not change in ways we would wish. Its naive almost to think about forgiving and forgetting. Its not smart either and really people should not apologize for behaviors they cannot change. I once heard a person say that they hated how often someone would say they were sorry. His statement was why apologize for a nature or action that you’re not going to change. It’s a pointless gesture in much the same way we ask how someones day is. We are not really interested in hearing the utmost intimate details of ones life. It’s just a gesture to say hey I noticed you there and couldn’t think of anything interesting to say, so how ya doing? At the time I thought the person was rude for saying that they hated hearing sorry so often. Now I really think they had a point. So if its nature and the habit is not going to change then why say sorry? Why not just say this is my nature I could say sorry but I am not going to change. I know it’s not pc but it would cut out a lot of bs in really knowing who someone is. There is a lot to life that really if we take a deep look it’s just a cloud of deception to hide the reality. I almost wish there was no such thing as political correctness no such masks for individuals then we would really know people. I say almost because there is a nice layer of hope that comes from deception.
Lots of people are people wondering what the hell. We have not had an update from you in years and you come back with this? I am done with this blog forever. Yes, sorry its been way too long. I really miss writing my feeling out on some wall. Let me write the back story and maybe you will forgive me, did I mention I was sorry? Okay the honest truth is that I have been writing in my mind for years. I have keeping things bottled up for a lifetime. It all has to come out sometime. Well here is the back story. When I last left I didn’t know if I would ever see my parents again. My ex hated me but talked about maybe coming back at some point and I was here with two kids trying to be a everything to them. Not much has changed well except I did finally see my parents. My oldest son finally meet his mom. Oh and my ex is still talking about someday coming back. So some progress in my life and more on that back story.
It took my parents five years to come to terms with things a bit. Still they miss gender and purposefully call me their son all the time. Its frustrating and yes I have cut conversations short because of that. Most of the time on the phone the entire conversations are steered well away from my gender and transition. When that becomes the conversation it was in the past about how I was going to hell. For parents the fastest way to kill off your transsexual kid would be to tell them they are going to hell. Trust me most kids will take that very seriously and it’s probably the reason for the suicide rate. We can apologize, say we are sorry but this is our nature and not going to change. Trust me on this one if we could change we would. This is not an easy road and time only makes things more difficult for some things and easier for others. Either way the only reason my parents finally let me visit was my father’s health. He is not doing so great. He had a hip replacement and his body is rejecting it in some ways. The hip replacement was a while ago but basically it’s slowly poising his body. We have talked off and on in email and it came down to the reality. I wanted him to see his grandchildren. One of which he had never meet and he is 5 this year. It was very good though to finally see them. I know things have always been rough between us but that week actually was very good. I am thankful that things are at the point where I can at least visit them once again.
I was also able to talk with my ex my oldest sons mom. We had not spoken in seven years. My other ex was hanging up on her and making things almost impossible for her. I had lost touch and she had also moved ten times over the last seven years. The good thing is that I was able to spend a week with her as well. I found out through her that my mother thinks I look way better now. How odd to find out information like that through someone you have not spoken too in a long time. That is my family though, sweep things under the rug and don’t say anything. True feelings and thoughts can never be spoken of, but I digress from the point. My ex spending time with her and seeing her made me realize I don’t always pick bad people. I do however have the worst timing in the world and hid who I was for a very long time. I still hide much today we all d,o behind our political correctness and our, “how are you’s.”
Its been an interesting month. A month of tears but not tears of sorrow. Its been a month of reflection on the past. This is why I think we should never forget. Things that are said and done are part of who people are. Its part of the fabric of life and part of what makes us who we are. If we forget we are not learning from the past, we are free not to make the same mistakes. I for one know who I am, and realize who people are that I have had extended time with. I do not hold grudges with those people but will not allow extended time in my heart for those people. There is no apologies, no sorry’s that will make up for nature. I would rather move on for something more whole in my life and looking forward for that. Maybe now that I have addressed the past its time to move on to the future.
I often enjoy making or trying new things. Today my co worker had mentioned Indian flat bread. I had never tried to make this but thought it looked wonderful. The idea is very simple you take a simple bread like a pizza doe almost. Then instead of baking it as you usually would you fry it in oil. Then it bubbles up and cooks into a kind of crispy bread. Its almost like naan bread but a little different.
I didn’t follow any sort of recipes but probably should have. It came out wonderful though. Looking at other recipes it looks like you should use powdered milk. Here is what I did to make the bread.
2 cups of flour
2/3 cup of water
1 tbls of sugar
1/2 tbls yeast
1 teaspoon baking powder
I did not let the bread rise much at all. It was only sitting for 30 min. Then I took the bread and balled it up into golf ball size and flattened down with a roller.
Now to cook the bread. This was the careful part. I did it as a deep fat fry kind of thing and it was not easy. The oil causes it to bubble really quickly and it over cooks quickly. What you want is a nice golden crispy bread. So keep the oil cool but not too cold. Then once it has cooked up eat and enjoy. I would think a good way to keep the oil from getting it soggy would be to put it into a pan on the oven at a light temperature.
I made mine into a taco, with turkey meat since we still had so much left over from Thanksgiving. I made the Turkey meat with taco seasoning cilantro, cinnamon basil, and onion. Then made a salad with jalapeno, tomato, spinach, lettuce, celery, and topped it off with hot sauce. Next time I will have to make the flat bread 100% correct and see how much of a difference it will be (link here for recipe). Here is another picture of the bread and turkey meat.
Here is the thing I know my last post was probably quite pointed and sounded pretty harsh. It was a sad dose of reality though my reality as a child. I did have good times as I stated but I learned I had to hide who I was as a young child. I learned that what I was is somehow less than the norm. How can a child grow up and have any self esteem if the first things they learn is how evil they are. How they are damned to live in eternal hell. This is the real kicker though, I don’t blame my parents. I am not mad at the world and am fairly well-adjusted I tend to think. I really don’t have a crazy alternative lifestyle. As a matter of fact I live quite a normal life despite what some might think. I go to church on Sunday and work 9-5 Monday through Friday. I rarely drink and do not like to ever drink and drive. The sad thing is that I am disconnected from family though as they don’t want to accept my reality. They don’t want to think of the possibility that who I am might be okay. They can’t accept it and won’t. They are this way because they grew up in the 50′s and in a small town. This is where there minds just don’t function or think of the possibilities. In their time things were and are black and white there is no shade of gray. You see I understand completely why someone who is transsexual would not come out till there 50′s. It’s a different world back then and there are things you simply do not question. I believe that my parents and the generation before underwent some major mental and physical abuse. Granted it’s not the majority, but even in the Midwest you can tell something is a miss. I mean how else would you get so many passive aggressive people. I believe this is not the norm but something that is a learned behavior. It’s a way of being nice while being mean at the same time. Its a survival technique and I think it has some deep roots in religion which shaped this part of society. It’s also part of the reason I feel comfortable here, in an odd sort of way. Back to my point though, we all do our best. We all do what we think is best based on what we know. Sometimes we need help, we can’t function ourselves for whatever reason but we try. The problem is when that trying is out of hand. For whatever reason we need to get help and get control.
The bigger issue that I see now in today’s society is almost the opposite. I would say a lot of have come out of a society that felt it was okay to spank our kids. It was okay to be semi abusive and now kids have zero discipline. So the pendulum swings back and forth. I hope that someday we all come to terms with everything and the pendulum is perfectly balanced. I doubt though that we will see that in my lifetime but someday maybe we as human beings will get things right. We will understand human behavior and parenting so we can build a better society. At this point though we don’t have a clue. We don’t know how to govern the people, raise anyone or get education and healthcare out to those that need it. The problem is we have this greedy idea in mind that we know what is best, or that we only want whats best for us. Really we need to band together as people and realize none of us have the answer for anything. We all need to rely on one another and stop finding the differences and start finding the commonalities. Once we realize that differences only tear us apart then maybe we can start mending the wounds and heal generations. Till then maybe I am the 99% fighting the other 99%…
There are things I have not talked about that I feel I should. I know I said my last post would be the last but here is the thing. It can’t be, you see this is more of a psychologist than anyone person could be. The things I write and think on here are very personal and yet apply to so many people I feel. Its such a messed up world we live in and yet I didn’t always think that way. At one time I thought the world was very safe yet knew something was wrong something was off in my own house. My reality was not the same as others I am sure… or maybe it was. I often wonder how many other households and other people go through the same things if not even worse. You see there are things I have not talked about in my past that have really shaped my future. Little demons I need to let go of and forgive, forget about. I don’t remember much before five years old and don’t know if that was a survival technique. I often wonder if that is the reason I don’t remember things maybe I don’t want to remember them. I do however know that what I remember of earlier years are not fond memories. Well not all of them, there are few fond memories but very few. Its ironic how we can grow up in an environment where we are taught of other religions and other families being so wrong. Yet all the while we wonder about those families because we know something is not right in our homes. I have often wondered if every fanatical person is not really hiding something else. Maybe their own fears of life? Maybe they were abused as well as children so they learn to control everything as a coping method. Then later on they become the abuser because its a form of control. The cycle continues and continues every generation sometimes getting worse and sometimes someone breaks the cycle.
You see some of my earliest memories are not peaceful, but those of being tossed down stairs wondering if something in my body was going to break. Being beat with a belt till there were blisters on my butt, because after all the good book did say not to spare the rod and spoil the child. There is something wrong though with picture, something very wrong. I learned it was not right to fight back not right to be mad, because after all I deserved the abuse. I did something very wrong after all I was just a greedy child, or out of line, or loud… Then I would hear the parents fighting as well and would bury my head deep into my hands to try to block the sound. I think at a very young age I moved my room to the basement. This was my choice this was my way to get away and stay away. I learned at a young age that out of sight it meant I could be out of mind. It was my survival technique. I hated spiders and the cold non insulated basement, but I would rather deal with them and not have to be part of what was going on. You see my little family was never functional and still to this day it is not. I am sure my parents were quite proud of their little accomplishment that I grew up so well adjusted till I transitioned. Little did they know the fear they put into me of authority. Little do they know me at all to be honest. I don’t know that I really felt like they listened to me. I mean how could they have? Really I was there always as I am now. Yet they didn’t want to see it and pushed it away, just like I moved to a basement. Often I asked for things that they would never give me, dolls, hair, nails. I think I got thrown down the stairs not at my house but a church leader for being in their daughters room playing dress up at six. You see I learned to hide things, stay on the line as much as I could. I tried not to cross it but was on that bitter edge of what my parents would allow. It was our way of not talking about it, of avoidance of controlling the outcome of who I was to be. It was mental manipulation and very effective for years.
I used to fear being disowned, I used to think that would be the worst. As time has gone on I no longer fear that, you see its been 17 years now I have not lived at my home. I grew close to my mother for quite some time but we kept things unsaid. Its part of reason I came out, I was tired of living some lie of who I was supposed to be. I find it all so ironic, you see my mother prayed for a daughter. She never realized she had one all along just needed to listen. Instead I hid, stayed in shadows for fear of what might of happened. I thank God I did, it probably kept me alive or away from some really deep emotional scaring which I still have anyways. Something was not right, and I learned what it was. It was the fear of the unknown, its always the fear of the unknown. My parents and I do love them choose a religion that was different than both their parents. You see they found one that condemned the Catholics, the Mormons, and nearly every other denomination out there. Its kind of sad that this belief I am afraid is almost neo Nazi and has taught some rather pointed hate sermons. The more of think of it and the issues they must have faced the more I realize it is a form of control even in their religion. The problem with control is that its an illusion. No one has control of anything on this earth only what they can do with themselves. Sometimes I know that can be the biggest challenge to control ourselves. This is where I had to break the cycle. This is why I stepped out did something completely crazy. You see I didn’t want to continue the cycle. I got control of myself and did what I needed to do to be at peace. So if that is wrong, then I don’t know what is right anymore. The cycle had to end and it ended with me.