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?

Hump Day

Apr. 12th, 2017 08:42 am
Yesterday, I finished grading the class that ended Monday. It was a good semester, but so many students did the bare minimum required for the course that it is hard for me to think that this next class, the one that starts tonight, is going to go well, either. I will start doing review quizzes at the beginning of each class; the goal isn't to punish students, but rather, to get them to realize that unless they show up in my classroom regularly they aren't going to be able to pass the class.

There has been an interesting revelation in my life, one which has shattered me to the core. For the vast majority of my life I have been taught to sit there and listen. I have been treated harshly, judged unfairly by my peers, picked on, made fun of, beaten, made to feel unwelcome, and have just kind of existed, My solace, of course, was in my writing. It is my wish I could go back in time and change things, but after reading today’s scripture notes, including Luke 9:45, I am compelled to believe that God deliberately kept all this hidden from me. Why? Because He desires to see me in pain? I don’t think so. I think He did this because He has something special in mind for me to accomplish. Of course, me talking about my purpose at all results in B’s getting angry; just as earlier last year I told her about how Bill and I met, how he had prayed to meet someone whom he could help, and he met me. B’s response, that it wasn’t even Biblical, stunned me to the core, and I think a great deal of people would have said the same, not so much because it is not Biblical, but because it involves me.
So, yesterday I told B that I would eat here with her, at home, in order to spend time with her. I had no idea that doing that would cause so much anger, although I am used to it. I am used to being told that her anger is always justified, and mine is never acceptable. So I was sitting there at the table, and B started opening up with ‘I’m glad you’re here, I’m glad you’re here, but…’ and then she launched into an attack about how she didn’t know I was staying home for lunch, and how I caused all these problems for her. Now, what bothers me is this: if you say that you are glad about something and then use but, it invalidates everything you’ve said before it. I can say that here because this is my journal, and I’m not putting any more filters on for people. My experience has taught me that people watch my words like a hawk. I could say something completely valid and a bunch of people would just jump all over me. It is something that has happened since I was born. I am rarely welcome in relatives’ houses; they do not appear to care or want me over there, really. Someone can spend millions of dollars on a house, etc. I spend fifty bucks, I get yelled at.
After this ‘discussion’ I went to my counselor. I was sitting there in the waiting room when I happened to read an article about a trans woman who had experienced all kinds of abuse, all kinds of unfair treatment growing up. Reading this narrative was eye-opening to me. I’d never thought that the way I’d been treated, from how I walked to how I talked, etc. would be tied up into my gender identity. I mentioned it to B yesterday, who promptly brushed me off and told me that I had to understand: people care about me and they want to see me succeed in life. I remember Jordan, who got a free pass for having long hair, while I was shredded for the same. When the youngest girl cousin had to go to summer school her senior year of high school no one seemed to care; indeed, my hearing about it brought ire from my Uncle, who did not want me to know anything about the family. However, the fact that I was pretty lazy in my parents’ eyes during my senior year of high school has been brought up again and again and again to the point where it seems that will be the only thing I am ever known for.
What fascinates me is that it is only now, at almost thirty-eight years old, that I am realizing just who I am as a person. God hid all this from me. Why? Would it have really changed things had I not been married? I honestly don’t know, but I’m going to guess yes. If I had castrated myself as a teen I would likely have never gotten into these relationships, not that it really would have mattered much to me, anyway, but it would certainly have meant I wouldn’t be sitting here now, having wasted half of my life sitting down and listening to others tell me how to feel, how to act, etc.



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