May. 26th, 2017 10:55 am
I’ve gained some weight on hrt, which is troubling but nothing that I can’t get under control. The snacking has gone from bad to worse, though, and it’s nobody’s fault but my own. The problem is that at work I would eat my food and had learned to discipline myself to not constantly be shoveling food in, but now with school out, and the weather kind of sucky, I have little to do and as a result, I am eating out of boredom. I’ll get back into things, of course. My goal is to burn off a minimum of seven hundred and fifty calories a day on the elliptical; I figure if I schedule my day around exercising and discipline myself to get on the thing a minimum of ten minutes. Ten times a day, I’ll be golden. Reading books is a great way to keep me from spending so much time thinking about being transgender. Of course, this is who I am, but at the same time I don’t want to waste my life with this being my only focus. I wonder how Jess did it; I’m sure she struggles with it. Time to devote my energy into either developing more understanding about God, my faith, and my hobbies, especially guitar and gardening. Reading books about chess will likely go a long way toward helping me, as well. I am not yet getting read as female, but I’m sure once I begin rapid weight loss, I’ll be there in no time. I know of people who lose weight and are able to live full-time as female before even starting HRT, which is incredible, when you think about it. The girl, Sara, who is on the transgender support boards, documented her transition throughout and she looks stunning now. I’m hoping to clean up well, myself.
I’ve been playing guitar quite a bit lately but doing the same old songs over and over. I really need to start thinking about recording, and how I’m going to arrange, etc. The problem is that I am beginning to think that I have PTSD from this marriage. The dishes are a constant source of badgering for me; it has gotten so bad that I really don’t even want to eat anymore. We need a new dishwasher, but she doesn’t want to go out. It’s obvious she likes playing the helpless victim, and I wish to God that I had seen all these warning signs when I first met her. Heck, if I had realized that I had gender issues, there’s a good chance that I would never have gotten married in the first place. I’ve got to trust that God has a plan in all of this, and that God has to be the source of my strength. If it isn’t, of course I’m going to get stressed and depressed, because I am trying so hard to make Bethany happy, or avoid her. Personally, I think avoiding her is a great way for me to not be triggered by her crap.


Apr. 16th, 2017 01:47 pm
Few people leave a real legacy. They may leave behind bits and pieces of their lives in the form of bills, receipts for toys long broken, snapshots in the family albums, but few leave behind something as important as a diary. I know that I will not be having children now, or ever, and while this thought sometimes pains me, I know it is for the best. I know I can be negative sometimes, here, but this is truly my only outlet, since I have found that people do not often view me as someone to be listened to, but rather, tolerated. It’s my hope that people will eventually read what I have to say, and perhaps be impacted by it, the same way God has used hundreds, if not thousands, of other people to impact my life and show me His purpose. There are always going to be those who will hate me. Why do I care so much what others think of me? I don’t have to share what I am doing, who I am, or why with people? An incident Friday comes to mind, where I pulled into a 7-Eleven to grab a couple of hot dogs if I could, and some asshole nearly backed into me. I pulled into the space as he continued backing up, and then he pulls alongside and starts screaming at me. Well, I responded by saying he almost hit me. So I go inside, not thinking anything of it, and he parks in the middle of the parking lot. I went outside, got into my car, and he started approaching. Big guy, could barely walk, let alone run, and I did several sidestreets to make sure he wasn’t behind me. Just another reminder that my mere existence makes people uncomfortable.
Today, things were going okay until I forgot to do the dishes and B had and continues to rub my nose in it. And then Melissa Jewell was up here for a few days and of course I don’t even get to say hello to her because I am a worthless human being and not worthy of her friendship. I don’t know why I bother; it’s not like I was worth anything to her in high school. I’m not worth anything to anyone, to be frank; it’s like I’m invisible to the people I care about. Should I just not care about these people? Should I just not care at all? I notice David now has been avoiding me at work; we could have had coffee together but he decided not to text me. Maybe he does have a lot going on, and I certainly wouldn’t hold that against him, but at the same time there seems to be this growing distance. Does he realize I am transitioning? It’s certainly possible.
And of course B doesn’t want to hear any of this. She can yell and scream and complain about anything and everything while I sit there and pretend. Pretend what, to be happy? I don’t think happiness will ever come, and it’s not my fault, necessarily. I have to learn that people suck, people blow, and that I am not responsible for other people and the way they view me. Personally, I wish I could just become this hard, cold, woman that just refuses to let people in. That way, I cannot be hurt. But I pray daily that God won’t just let me grow hard. That He won’t just shut me down, and instead keep my heart soft.
I just want to disappear. I want to be free. I want to be free from sitting here listening to the constant reminder that I am a nothing, a nobody, and that my life means nothing to anyone. I just want to live. So I have a choice to make, I can either stop telling B my business, lower my expectations of everyone, and accept that God has a purpose for me, or continue to get into ridiculous arguments with B because everything that happens to me is my fault. B wants me on an anti-depressant. I think I will go on one, but more because if I don’t, she will continue to bitch and moan. If she were to divorce me, if she were to disappear, and I never saw her again, I promise whomever is reading this that the change in me will be revolutionary. Never again will I allow myself to be treated like this. Never again will I be so bold as to think that anyone from my past truly cares. My name will likely not be Stacy Sedgewood, but something else, if only because I don’t want those from my past to know that this is me. I’m not sure what my name would become, but one thing is for sure: no one here would ever see me again. To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m worried. I’m not worth anything to the people here, so no one would be looking for me in the future, would they?



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