Hopeless and Alone

I grew up in a family that might have cared but showed in it bad ways, with shaming, yelling, and emotional abuse. I was called wimp, crybaby, and told not to do things because I would break them or mess things up. Even at a young age my parents knew I was a screw up.

My body knew it too, I was so clumsy on my first day of school I ripped open my chin and dented an oven with my head. My bladder knew it to, there wasn’t a year in school I didn’t pee my pants because I didn’t know until seconds before I had to go. My reaction time was so slow I was put in remedial physical education.

I knew I was transgendered from that first day in school, but the girls wouldn’t have me except to play tea party but I was ordered by my parents not to play with them because the bill for replacing the cups was getting too expensive. I was stuck with the boys only I didn’t get along with them.

I didn’t have any friends until junior year in high school. It didn’t matter to me though. The image I projected didn’t feel like me and people read it, I stuck out and they made fun of my for all my years in school. It was nice to have friends for the last few years of high school and the first couple of college. But friend only ment someone to do something with. They wouldn’t do anything for me and they weren’t anyone I could tell my problems to. No one knew the real me. The real me wanted to go to the dances, wear scunchies and denim skirts, be invited to parties, and have a boyfriend. Instead I was a smelly fat kid who felt like they were in a borrowed body with no one to confide in and a couple of geeks to occasionally feel not so alone in the world.

In college I had some friends but it was the same way, people I had a hobby in common with but not to talk with not to confide in. I fell into a relationship with a woman but it didn’t last because I wasn’t interested in sex with her. I was more interested in her stye, wardrobe, and attitude. I did get a friend who supported me in being transgendered but she moved away to continue her life. My anxiety and depression kept me from going to classes. I tried to explain myself to people in admissions. I struggled for a few years trying to get a degree, even going down to lesser colleges, but it just didn’t happen. I failed out and I didn’t tell anyone. I pretended I had a degree and a job and was paying off loans to explain why I didn’t have money. I felt like academics was my only value and I messed that up. I couldn’t also loose the respect of friends and family, it was all I had left.

The lie went on for years, gradually getting older and heavier and more isolated. I was constantly afraid someone would see through my lie then I would be out on my ear and unable to cope with the real world. Student loan collectors got aggressive but directed me towards getting mental health help and social services. Things looked up for a while despite the side affects of the medication. But Easter Seals and Bureau of Rehibilitation Services said I was too hard of a case for them.

So here I am with no worth, no hope, getting uglier by the day and watching people I know get married and have children. I can’t get a guy to go out on a single date with me. I barely fit into plus sized clothes. No hope for a job or any surgeries. And too many genetic issues to start hormones. My father is dying and my mother is running herself ragged trying to take care of him.

People say live for the good times, but all life is is pain on pain. What little good things I can remember are decades ago and fading from memory. Even if I won’t feel the relief at least the pain will stop. I have dreams of a perfect funeral but I won’t even get that, its not like we can afford it and I don’t fit into anything anyways. I even messed this post up being over 3 pages. At least I got to see Turbo, it reminded me of seeing movies when I was little.