Sad Poem

The hot height
swirls smoky mists
near, never return ridge
seeing severed rock
crags created, fissures
thrust, broken, tangled
the light reflects on tiny micca
quartz or shiney surface
on walls defended by sheer
strength of impassable sharpness
falling away from the edge,
the ridge. never. return. ridge.
Stand to face, the sun
in the misty swirls
of hot heights
and there, there is no comfort
never comfort, only the constant!
The brain that never settles,
the brain that fights,
and fights for what?
To have some time alone,
to wish, not to be alone!
And know, even if out; There!
Then what… then who… what to do?
What to say, on. that. day, evening, night?
Will I say hi with a faint smile,
embarrassed of my style, the sad eyes,
the wistful pain, trying so hard to hide?
Who will listen, who will want to, why?
Why care, if I dare. to. try?
I might burst into tears, I might cry.
Like I do every time I think about this.
Every single time…
The sad, tired thoughts stop me
stop it all, and…
nothing.

Doing the hard work of looking at me.

3/14/2018
I’m teary eyed, and there’s so much work to do. I feel daunted, but hope the Welbutin kicks in this week? Then the new therapy I have been working on, maybe I can keep doing it at home. My T said I can try that, she believes what I do with one type is Ok for home. I cried so hard though, the tears just go and go…

I had looked at me, I found the very sad me, I looked at him, he at me. I sat in the orange chair, he across the living room on the couch. He related gratitude I know him, have not forgotten him. We could barely manage this. Then… my 3 year old self, he had hugged me and I him a few weeks ago… We did it again, in front of me, me on the couch. That’s when I couldn’t stop crying… I cried so hard… I am now too… So, will I be Ok at home to do this? I’m told the old me who didn’t cry, didn’t feel, that boy me on the couch and decades of that, we/he/me now feel like the feelings demand me to feel.

When I got sober, it was me looking at the feelings and saying to myself, OK, that’s got to be good, I can feel now. But, now? It’s now, feeling these feelings that my body knows the score and it’s not happy. Not happy at all.

I feel the rape again too, too many days I relive it now… I must be close that boy in me needing his voice… the others have been getting their chance and now… I don’t know? I’ve written my story… I’ve written so much, but have I given him a voice or just told his story???

Me (56) Now just (A): Can we talk?
Me (15) Now just (B): About what?
A: What did you think and feel living through 14 to the beginning of 16? But, if that’s not the timeframe… please pick yours, I’m not here to influence, please express you as you?
B: That’s a tough question for me, I don’t think anyone ever asked me how I feel? Maybe in that therapy, that one session where the guy made a threatening comment “why are you smiling?!”, demanding that it evoked me thinking the situation is funny, when I was scared and used my smile to ameliorate my feelings and in a way to de-escalate what I feared. That’s also part of my story, so getting to how I feel is really difficult. The story wants the attention and the inner me… Is what?
A) I get you, that resonates with me to this day, though, I now do have access to expressing my feelings. My hope is you can see some of what’s been your future, and draw from me to express yourself?
B) My gut wrenches to consider feelings.
A) Yes, I’m sorry.
B) Well, I think the loneliness made me very sad, maybe untreated depression? Sad will have to describe it. Then the anxiety about my body and not being like the other boys, the fear that was so intense, I really needed not to feel.
A) I understand.
B) Ok, so there’s sadness and fear with anxiety. I sort of think some happiness was in there? Music made me happy just like it does you.
A) Yes, that’s true.
B) I felt awkward, and unable to talk about it or having no one to talk about it to made me feel worse. What’s a worse feeling than sad?
A) Dejected and despondent?
B) I supposed dejected fits. I had a lot of anxiety, it was fear of my difference, my awkwardness, and not knowing what I was supposed to know. I found out I didn’t know so much? I’ll explain some other time. It’s that dejected, and it’s depression really, that the core of me was off, I didn’t fit in anywhere, and it felt overwhelming. I was always sad, and lonely, left out and afraid.
A) Yes, those fit for me too, I understand you. Does relating this to me help at all?
B) Sort of, you, being me, is safe for me to talk to, you’ll not judge me, and I can tell you know everything I’m saying, so it’s Ok. What do we get out of this?
A) I think this moment is a bond for us. I am seeing the emotions we felt then and that I know them today. I’m still awkward about them, but sense that I’m working to deal with managing them. Do you see that?
B) Yes I do, and that’s why I’m not crying… maybe that and it’s not cool.

 

End.

I’m not sure how to end this, so, that’s all for now.

 

A movie break, helps the sadness.

Last Thursday was the last day I could see this film locally. I wouldn’t have time to go to another venue further away. A Trans Woman’s blog I read almost every day had written about it the end of February and I had been watching for any local listings. I finally found one on Monday of last week and planned seeing it Thursday, Feb., 8th.

I went a bit early for the show-time of 2:20pm. That was the only time I could see it. I knew I would likely find parking if I went a bit early, and I succeeded. I walked a few blocks during the low 30f, sunny afternoon, and then went into a small mall on the block. I warmed up until it was a bit after 2pm and began walking to the theater. It had opened at 1:50, and I had hoped to smell fresh popcorn? Unfortunately, it was stale, but, I endured it with my water. The seats are very comfortable, and spacious for my very long legs, I’m 6’4″ and too much of that is legs. I drive a wonderful Mazda 3 hatchback, that someone considered large people when engineering space. I love them for that. I love my Mazda.

 

Well, I sat and nibbled my popcorn and waited for the greeting by management prior to the film. When he was finished, I noted to myself, that as usual, I had already turned my volume off and pocketed my phone. While I had waited, I enjoyed looking at the old and new which remodeling does to an ageless theater venue like the Uptown in Minneapolis, MN.

 

The beginning of “A Fantastic Woman” drew me in, and I was kept in the film throughout. Drama peaks and intensity, ameliorated by the stoic strength of our fantastic woman character Marina, played by Daniela Vega. She is a wonder and powerhouse on the screen. Her portrayal, and in some way, from seeing interviews of her, it could be imagined she drew from personal experience, flowed seamlessly throughout the film.

 

Marina faced the death of her beloved with emotions many of us can relate to from those close to us passing. She’s devastated, and must endure an oppressive, dismissing attitude from Orlando’s former wife, son, police and some doctors. She’s abused again by those against her attending her beloved’s wake and funeral! She must also deal with unexpectedly intrusive police. The Police from the start evoke denying her, and implying she must prove she’s innocent of being complicit in Orlando’s death. We get to see Orlando a few more times, his visits are timed with Marina’s need. I love how it was done.

 

A note, this is either too much information, or the only information some of you will get about this film. I’ve tried to engage a few people who might consider the film of interest, but none respond, so I’m just doing what I want. This review gives away the plot, and I don’t really care, how many of you are actually going to see the film, and by the time you  might find it available to rent, I believe you’ll have forgotten reading this. I don’t believe more than few will read this anyway. Thanks if you do read, I don’t mean to discount your readership, I’m only making a point that I shouldn’t have to be concerned about giving away the film’s plot.

 

I’m endeared to characters like Marina’s. I have dealt with marginalization and depths of emotions like her character endures. Bullies and neglect created a stoicism in me that denied my needs for decades. It’s amazing how doing that fails at some point. I have noted, it’s like a dam breaking, and one’s life must spill out and be dealt with, or it consumes the rest of it. Marina shows how dealing with her life, in the time it’s happening, has given back to her. What that means to me, is she is working on self-hood; what’s it more commonly called, “self-determination”? I’ll look it up later, I’m almost out of time. I started this too late.

 

I am delighted I was able to see this film, and have sensed it could open conversations about self-hood, or self-determination. I am getting to know myself better at my middle 50’s, than seemed I needed to, but, the necessity is clear to me now. These many blog posts are that discovery and sorting. My interests are working to avail me a deeper sense of what I like and will always be, and maybe I encourage myself to further endeavors in the course of discovery.

 

I hope you’ve read this today, I do want to share about this film, and hope some find it interesting.

 

Best wishes and hopes to you.