I have a confession. One I’ve been wanting to share since July. One that not sharing has made me feel like a fraud and a liar.
After coming out of the worst of my nervous breakdown (from January until July-ish), I have still been very depressed. The not going out, not brushing teeth, not showering, not having a single word in my head kind of depression. And it always specifically manifests in one way: Eating and exercising.
Not working out directly relates to my food addiction, and I haven’t been working out consistently since my breakdown in February. I’ve gained about 8-10kgs (too scared to weigh myself) and just feel so, so angry at myself and disgusted with myself. And then xmas that brings with it all the excuses to overeat. I know I just need to get back into the gym and things will start falling into place.
But I just can’t. It’s as if the self-loathing and determination to change my body are at war and the self-loathing is just a more familiar feeling.
But: if self-loathing is causing me to hurt myself, then being gentle with myself is the answer. Here’s to a gentler to Germaine 2018.
9 Months post #topsurgery Looking forward to what this body will give birth to #nonbinarytopsurgery
Last night I had sex with a trans man. I thought a lot about whether I should post this. But: fuck it, it’s part of my journey and trans bodies are sexual and sensual bodies too. I’ve been attracted to masculine trans, queer and non-binary people since I started exploring my gender. Last night was incredible: being with a person who gets it all; being with a person with the same queer body who wants that body pleasured in the same way that I do. The best I can compare it to was when I was lesbian and had sex with other lesbians: it’s a home-coming; a spiritual and not just physical experience; a completely affirming experience. It was an experience nothing short of life-changing; an experience that’s difficult to have in South Africa as there are very few masculine trans, queer and non-binary people in my area, and none on Grindr. Thank you, New York!
And all her friends tell her
She’s so pretty
But she’d be a whole lot prettier
If she smiled once in a while
`cause even her smile
Looks like a frown
She’s seen her share of devils
In this angel town
Fake it ‘til you make it. Trying. Been trying for a while now. Still struggling with depression since I came out of the major depression in July. Really wish it was easier. And I see the sadness in my eyes, and hope you don’t. But I know you do. But you seeing it doesn’t make me feel any less alone.
It’s one thing to admit and say #metoo. It’s a whole other thing to admit what years of sexual abuse since the age of 3 has done to me – how it has skewed my perception about love, sex, relationships, my self. These things are difficult to think about, because then I have to sit with them. Not to mention the effects that I’m unaware of and how they influence my being in the world. And if the emotion I’m left with was anger, I could work with that; but the emotions are debilitating self-loathing, shame, guilt, “it’s my fault” and “there’s something wrong with me.” I’m 40 years old and still dealing with these feelings and self-hatred. At best it leads to a dysfunctional limbo where I can’t focus on getting better because I feel I don’t deserve to.