Praise for the Chubby Girls~!

A close friend whose body image has changed since gaining weight feels bereft of possible companions. I have been trying to explain that sexuality and sexiness is not tied in with weight as much as this friend thinks.
Fat girls are yummy and delicious and I am saddened when I hear big girls feel like they won’t be able to have a sex life until they are 20 pounds lighter. Sex can happen at any size!
I am a fat girl. I got teased by my family when it started, because of the meds I have to take. But I grew to love my body, and see it as a beautiful thing. And the great thing is I gained a cup size!
Seriously though, sex is not exclusively the domain of the young and thin. Great sex can happen to anyone!

I just wish it was me having sex. I have been celibate for half a decade, to be completely honest, and it makes me feel inadequate. And not having as much experience makes me feel embarrassed, at this advanced age. I’ve had a number of partners, but not much experience in long term relationships.

I like big butts and I cannot lie!

Been a long time since I got flogged too, I really should do something about this stalemate.

Before the Sun runs away again

I have a good feeling about the lottery numbers I picked. I think I will win something with them eventually.

I am currently looking after my mothers house and all it’s many occupants. I just had to feed them.

I’d like to be a little less stupid sometimes. I feel like I keep making mistakes with my life. All kinds of mistakes. I guess that is what it means to be human.

Ew, there is dog slime all over this table from Arthur!!

I want to get married dammit, and I think I want kids. I have been hemming and hawing about it for years, always kinda like Mmmmmnnnnno. No. But then the last year its been a maybe. And I think I am getting close to the day I can say Yes.

As to how I will end up with kids, well, it is a little more complicated because I am a lesbian, and don’t have a nearby supply of semen like a boyfriend or husband, just the sperm bank and possible donors I know. And then I have bipolar, which makes it even more complicated. I would have to get off my meds to have a baby, and boy oh boy was that bad the last time I went off them. And I’d rather not be recovering from a manic episode AND look after a newborn, just because I would be so tired!

So the next option would be for my partner to have a kid. The trouble is I DON’T have a partner. I’d rather raise children with a partner, even though I was raised by a single parent and know it can be done. I just don’t want to be like Angelina Jolie and have a bazillion children! I think two would be the max I could do.

I think it would be about five years from now, when I’m a bit more ready. A kid! OMG! I am seeing all these little babies sprout up from my friends loins and it’s a bit intense! Everytime I turn around it seems like someone else I know is pregnant.

The weather is really nice these days, we had some rain earlier today, but the sky is clearing up.

Well, I was going to write more, but I got distracted by things, and now I have to go out into the wild city to forage for some grub!

My grandparents used to have a grub box. I thought it had something to do with grubs, ew!

Beautiful Mess

There are things I need to change in my life in order to move on and become a better person. I’ve let things bother me to the point of wanting to die just to avoid my circumstances, and that’s never good. I need some help, it’s rough.

I think dying just to get out of this rut is a dumb idea, just for the record. I know it’s dumb but in the past whenever major problems loomed, suicidal thinking was always there to entice me in it’s cruel grip.

But it’s a cruel thing to do to myself, and especially to the people around me.

I’m tired of being so depressed. And I’m tired of being down on myself. I really have to just get off my ass and start becoming the person I want to be. It’s hard to do that! Why is change so hard? I would like this to be instant, but I know it’s not to be yet.

The hardest part about having these addictions, pot and tobacco, is that it’s everywhere and so easy to get and I am ambivalent about quitting altogether. I’m not so ambivalent about tobacco, I know I need to quit that, but the pot, just the idea of saying No More is so scary! I’ve come to depend on it to relax, and I need better coping skills for life.

I am a mess, it is true, but I am a beautiful mess.

Heart Aches

Having a mood disorder makes me doubt my perceptions at times. Especially if I am in a mania. Those are no fun. Actually they are fun, but the ramifications of that much fun is quite staggering.
I knew one woman who tried to buy ten cars while she was manic because she thought she had an intense amount of money from the mania money fairies.
And that’s the thing about mania, is that there’s all the witnesses and evidence afterwards! And losing important friendships, and self respect, that’s always hard. I hate losing control and writing whatever is coming out of my deep dark subconscious. Linking up all kinds of things in new ways that don’t really make sense. Coming to conclusions that are totally wrong. Inventing stories to try and find out why things are happening and getting lost in them.
My guilt over my actions during mania has kept me in a mini self destructive loop, and the most upsetting thing is knowing I can’t make things right, at least not between myself and the person I hurt. I feel badly about this, like she’s a casualty of my insanity. Not like I was sitting next to her on a bus and stabbed and ate her. But still, bad. Just bad.
Shitastic!
I shouldn’t be beating myself up as much as I have been though. I am going to try and move beyond it!
On a totally different note, I’ve been reading all this Gossip that Michael Jackson had boyfriends. I feel badly that he felt he had to stay in the closet his entire life, not able to share who he loved. That is a sad way to live your life!

Detoxing from marijuana

I’m currently housesitting with my mother’s menagerie and mine. There are three dogs in the house right now and two cats milling about. It’s pretty crazy here yo.
I don’t know if you have noticed, but I have merged posts from Bipolar and Disorderly into Fit of Pique. It now looks a bit more sensible, with the old posts from when I was crazy nicely merged with my recovery posts.
I miss my mom already! She’s left me to go up north and fish, I wish I could fish! I like fishing. Fishing makes for entertainment and good dinners sometimes. We used to catch SO many fish! Mostly Pike. And the occasional pickerel.
Until the go barbless campaign came along. We debarbed all our tackle and from then on barely caught any fish. Pretty sad.
I’m in the process of change this year more than any other year, and it’s been really HARD on me! Personal change is so difficult to achieve. I know I will grow more if I abandon the ways of doing things that have hindered me. But it’s so scary to leave behind my crutches. I realize I have become dependent on certain things and that makes me upset. I never wanted to be dependent on anything. And it’s not good for my health.
I am especially realizing that I need to be better to myself to deal with my bipolar disorder. I am better about getting the right amount of sleep, I go to bed earlier and I don’t miss medication often. But there are other things I should be doing, like not drinking because it makes me depressed, and quitting the marijuana for a while, for long enough to see what difference it makes anyway. I really have questions about my potential without it, and I think those questions need to be answered.
And smoking, I really need to quit it. I started up AGAIN! Fucking hell, but then I am depressed and it is hard to quit while one is depressed. I hate depression.
I have an appointment to see my old counsellor next week, right now my psych nurse is checking in every week except she’s on holidays, so it’s back to the old counsellor.
I liked the old counsellor.
I’m worried I would make a bad girlfriend for someone at the moment just because I do need to learn how to live my life differently than I’ve been doing it. I have to admit some suicidal feelings were around a couple weeks ago, but I think the idea of living life DIFFERENTLY is preferable instead of crumpling it up like a scrap of paper and throwing it in the garbage. I can change, somehow. Starting with today. I can get to work and figure out why I’ve been allowing myself to fall so far short of my own expectations.
Anyway, I’m off to read some motivational online literature. I am thinking of going to an NA meeting this weekend. I might really need it. I smoked my last bit of pot and am going to detox and try life without it starting with one sober week.

It is not Mad Pride here yet, I actually might have missed it, but the day, July 14, hasn’t crept up on me quite yet.
It is hard to have Pride sometimes, especially in relation to being bipolar. It’s a very unusual illness to have. The first thought after a manic psychosis episode for me is always “Oh my God none of it was REAL!”
The second, more depressing thought is “But some of it was, OMG! What did I do?”
And a third, more eerie thought is “But how will I remember what was real and what wasn’t?”
For the most part I have it figured out.
Except for two things I heard. I’m pretty sure one was a hallucination. But the other one, I will never know.
I was walking home from the bar wearing a top hat and tails and as I walked through a residential area I heard a woman scream and then a gunshot, and then silence. I have no idea if it was real. I didn’t stick around to find out, I just kept walking, and I think part of me knew I was crazy and not to pay attention. But it was weird, and I am still haunted by it. Was it real?

The other thing that happened is I was listening to a song on the radio, which had just come out, and this voice said “The story goes that in the end you’ll be normal.” I was just recovering from my episode and still thought “Fuck, was that real?” I’ve listened to the song many times since and never heard those words uttered, so it probably WAS a hallucination.

And then there were so many things that I wrote while I was going under, and I did this the first time too. It’s pretty weird. Still, I erased a lot of it, and some remains here. Like all of April. I forget the day I went into the hospital, but I think it was around April 20th or so. And my birthday was shortly thereafter, a pretty glum birthday. I got a cake and some presents, and cards, and some of the patients scrounged change to get me a strawberry sundae from DQ. We got to get passes to walk to DQ or the store (usually for cigarettes). And even though we were supposed to stay by the ashtray, a lot of us went on walks down the meewasin valley trail. It was pretty weird. One time my friend was depressed and outside having a smoke on the trail when some uber-tanned fit white women came running by and one said loudly “And that’s where the FREAKS sit!”

I can’t help much about my brain, well, actually that’s not true. There’s my cocktail of mind-altering drugs I take, which are prescribed thank you very much. I have heard of people abusing some of the meds I am on. Which seems ridiculous to me because they are just psych drugs. Like the risperdone, who would take that if they didn’t have to? It’s a freakin antipsychotic!

I am not proud of all the things I do or say while I’m in such an altered frame of mind as a psychotic episode. But I am proud that I can stand in the company of other people dealing with similar issues who still find ways to thrive and build community and make glorious works of art and other contributions to society. And I am proud when I look at a friend with similar issues to me, and be able to say “Don’t you hate it when . . . ” And they can say “I know exactly what you mean.”

Today I quit smoking, again,

and it’s been 9 hours of no smoking. I have been wearing step one of the patch and just waiting out the few cravings I’ve had. Mostly I have them whenever I start doing something that I have usually smoked while doing. Like writing. Or walking. Or waiting for the bus. stuff like that.

I updated all my quit meters and dates and times. I have no more cigarettes in the house.

Zzzzzzz

I’m sleepy. I don’t have much of anything to say today. I slept all afternoon and then did some family things for a couple hours. I’m home now, about to go to bed. It’s been a long day, even though I slept in the middle of it.
It was hot here today too!
The depression’s going away, I can feel myself getting better everyday now.
Damn, I really have to go to bed. I hope to have a good day tomorrow, no work til later in the day! Yippee skippee!!

Update on my Guts

Well, as it happens I do have gallstones. I have to switch to a low fat diet (NOOOOO!) and wait and see if I have more problems. IF I do have more problems then it’s surgery for me.

But that wasn’t all, I also got a pelvic ultrasound and it turns out I have fibroids in my uterus which accounts for the heavy bleeding every period, and will get worse as they grow. NOT ONLY THAT! But I also have a cyst on my left ovary. I have another pelvic ultrasound scheduled for August, they expect it will go away because it is a simple cyst.

Anyway, oh joy! The funny thing is what freaked me out about the fibroids was worrying about not being able to be pregnant, which is so BIZARRE! I can get pregnant and have a normal kid even with fibroids in there, not that it will happen. But the idea that maybe I couldn’t, that scared me. It’s fine though. But funny that I panicked about it.

So there ends the medical mysteries of me. THANK GOD FOR Ultrasounds.

Anyway, it’s almost time for bed but I wanted to update yall.

I am slowly recovering from the depression. It’s feeling a lot better.

Phases?

Strange that I left this blog as being written by Thirza instead of Sarain, which is the name I went by for a while during my crazy time when I was still struggling with deciding to be a boy. I decided in the end to be a boy in a girl body, which is fine by me since I like getting fucked in the vagina and having boobs. I am a boy, but a bottom all the same. One more hole is more appealing to me than having a dick.
Still, I do feel I have masculine traits, and I’m trying to honour that more with some more gender bending. I was wearing a packer, like I mentioned before, and I would go out of the house dressed like a boy.
Which isn’t much different than how I normally dress.
But things have changed. I didn’t like how being a boy made me, especially in regards to how I behaved towards the woman in my life. I didn’t like the idea of my female gender disappearing altogether either!
And I didn’t like the idea of my boobs vanishing. I do like my boobs. I like being large chested. And I like how sensitive my nipples are, and I hear top surgery really deadens that sensation because they basically chop your nips off, trim them down, and sew them back on! Eeep!
And testosterone is irreversable. I can basically sum up my apprehension by saying I am not transsexual and am simply transgendered.
Which still puts me in a situation where I could be in danger. Masculine women are still targets of transphobia and homophobia. And I am all tattooed, I don’t know if that makes me look like more of a hard case or what. I wish it did, then people would leave me alone.
I haven’t been hassled since I was a teenager. I was a pretty radical dyke teen. I tried to start Aden Bowman’s first queer group, but even with chips we didn’t have a very big meeting.
I admire anyone who has the guts to be who they are in whatever way makes them feel comfortable, including getting transsexual related surgeries and hormone treatments. But Sarain is an old name and not mine really. I’m a Thirza, through and through. This is what makes me feel like myself.
I sometimes wonder if I will change my mind again down the line, but somehow I doubt it. My struggling with being transgender is somewhat laid to rest by living like a boy for six months or whatever it was. Now I’m simply a transgender lesbian.
My cousin who came out when she was 11 went back to being straight after six years, she said it was just a phase! I think six years is a long time for a phase. But what do I know? I went through a male phase.