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Journal Entry – March 20, 2017

My friends,

This time last year I had no idea what was in store. I hadn’t met Snow or Rhys or Relyt. I hadn’t even begun considering my transition, and I wasn’t even ready to ask for the help I needed.

I realized today that asking for help is a big problem for me. Because of how I was raised, having to ask makes me feel ashamed and emasculated, but I realize now that it shouldn’t be the case.

I’m so glad I asked for Rhys’ help when I did, although it did put too much stress in all of our lives at the time. I doubt I would still be alive if I hadn’t. I’m so glad Relyt insists on helping me so often, because I would be an overwhelmed nutcase if he didn’t, and I’m so grateful that he is by my side.

My life has changed so much in this last year, and I am impressed that I dealt so well with it. Even those who haven’t seen me in recent years have commented on how much happier I am, and those who see me every day can’t help gushing about how much more confident I am in myself.

I am finally ready to say that I am not a victim anymore. I may still need to process everything, and I may occasionally trigger or have flashbacks. Yet I am not bound by those chains of the past. I am a SURVIVOR;

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Journal Entry – March 18, 2017

That panic-induced feeling of sheer terror when your abuser tells you that he is allowed to attend public events you’re at, and when you remind him that he can’t lay a hand on you, he replies with,

I very rarely did lay a hand on you and never in public.

That doesn’t make what you did excusable, and it definitely doesn’t mean you never abused me!

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Journal Entry – March 17, 2017

Relyt was right.

My body is finally forcing me to process all the mess that has been my life for the last couple months now. No amount of distraction can prevent it any longer, and I am drowning.

I have reached a depth of depression that I have not felt in years. I have only felt like this two other times in my life, and I honestly don’t know how I made it through.

The first was back in 2009. I was 16, and at the time, I felt like my life was worthless. I couldn’t sleep at all, and though my weight never fluctuated, I would cycle between eating absolutely nothing and eating everything in sight. I had no motivation to do any homework, but at least I maintained perfect scores on my tests, otherwise my parents might have cared. I would live off my adrenaline for weeks until my body physically couldn’t function anymore. Then I’d crash for 24 hours. I told a “friend” how I was feeling, and she told me to try cutting because it worked for her. I sat in the shower that night with a razor blade against my wrist, but I just couldn’t get up the courage. Heathen watched from the corner as I cried, then slowly stepped forward to take the blade from me. Then he introduced me to D/s. He knew exactly how to play off my emotions to get me to follow his orders, and I never questioned him. But within a week, I was back to that brink. When I knew I was alone, I went to the medicine cabinet in our kitchen and grabbed all of the pain medications my dad never finished after his back surgery, and I swallowed every single one. There were approximately fifty pills. Then I laid down and slept. I was trapped in a night terror from Friday night at 7 pm until Sunday morning at 6 am. The pills never even made me sick, and no one even noticed they were gone. I sat up in the rocking chair by our living room window until time to get ready for church, and at church, I told that same “friend” what I had done. She told me that I was lying, and that I just wanted attention. Then she told her parents who told my parents, and when my parents asked me about it, it was all a joke. Like “So I heard the craziest thing! C told her mom and dad that you tried to overdose on pills to commit suicide!” and I confessed. I told them the truth, and they said I was lying because I never even got sick. I don’t remember how or when I started feeling a little better. I was still depressed just not as much.

In 2011, I met HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. Everything started out sweet, but when it turned sour, that’s when I fell into that bottomless pit of depression again. I was struggling to figure out what I wanted to accomplish in my life. My teachers accused me of being anorexic or bolimic, but I wasn’t either. I was back in that cycle of not eating then eating everything. My estrogen had really hit me, and I had my first period, and that’s when my emotions flew out of control. I was always crying. I burst into tears in the middle of classes for no reason, and on more than one occasion, had to run to the bathroom to pull myself together. The insomnia hit me again, but not as hard. I slept about once every two weeks, but that was only because I cried myself to sleep because I was crying so hard that I literally exhausted myself. I fell behind on homework, but maintained good grades. I had no motivation. I spent all my free time in my safe place. I considered suicide, but I knew that if I failed again, HE would make things so much worse. It wasn’t until HE left me that I was able to get my life back under control.

I hope I’ll survive this time. My only consolation is that I have support this time.

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Journal Entry – March 16, 2017

Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now. I woke up this morning as though I didn’t get a single second of sleep. It’s not as if I dreamt or had a nightmare, more like I closed my eyes and lost seven hours.

I look like death warmed over, but I guess that means I’ll be closer to my patron, Hel, today.

I have been running non-stop, and work has been running me ragged. I just got a second job, and though I don’t start until Saturday, I am already dreading having to work so much to stay afloat. I wish I could just stop, take a break, take a nap, enjoy a good book, or take some time to write or draw, but I can’t.

I run from one appointment to the next, work, support groups, attempt to do chores, and crash every single night, with no real sleep.

But as my dad always said, “You can rest when you’re dead.”

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Journal Entry – February 14, 2017

Today has been a rough day…

Today is the anniversary of my first miscarriage… My boss accidentally triggered me by giving me a rose… I’m in a lot of pain because I ignored doctor’s orders and took a shower and reopened my burn… I started Satan’s waterfall at work and have no pads with me… My disphoria is off the charts today… The kids are driving me crazy, and if I hear one more, “Why?” I might just scream…

At least I have chocolate and twizzlers…

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Journal Entry – December 28, 2016 – Suits

When I was young, I prayed every day for two things: to be a boy and to have someone love me for who I am. Almost five years ago, I thought I settled for what I was stuck with: a female body and a man who could never accept me for who I was because I could never show him. It wasn’t until recently that I learned that my prayers came true.

While some days are still hard and disphoria eats me alive, I am proud to know that one day this man will be able to walk down the aisle with his spouse and say his vows in a suit.  Now I know we discussed you getting to wear a white suit, but do you mind if I wear a black one?