For what it's worth, today is Day 22 on the Premarin 2.5mg daily, and Day 8 on spironolactone 100mg daily. Tomorrow I see my prescribing doctor at Tom Waddell trans clinic and will ask to switch from Premarin to estradiol and to increase the dosages on estrogen and t-blocker.
I see my therapist today. I don't know how much good it is going to do to talk to him, but it is a good thing that I will see him.
Last night I got some sustained rest and sleep at last. It is still difficult relaxing and allowing myself to sleep. I keep listening for noises, fearing another rat will come to disturb my peace.
This blog is supposed to be about my feelings and impression relating to the hormone therapy, but so far I am not sure about any of that in terms of effects. So I guess I will just write down what I am feeling (and thinking) today...
I feel remorseful and ashamed about what I did to that poor rat. It went against my own moral convictions, and it went against what virtually all of my friends advised me to do in terms of dealing with a rat in my house (some friends were even telling me to just live with it and it wouldn't bother me, ha). I feel queasy about the image in my memory of that rat in fear and torment. I hope that its suffering has ended by now, that it has fallen into a pool of water at the bottom of the storm drain and drowned and did not live too long.
I also feel dragged down by feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt and low self-esteem, the feelings that arose when I went to the Citadel party Friday night and which continue to dog me. I haven't worn makeup or dressed as a girl in three days. I'm wearing men's clothing and trying to be as unnoticeable as I can, I don't want to call attention to myself when I am out in public, and I have no desire to pretty myself up alone at home. I want to crawl under a rock. And at the same time, I am thinking of going out to Death Guild (goth/industrial dance club here in SF) tonight, where I know I will feel alone and awkard and introverted. I can't make up my mind, I guess.
When I go to the personals and the dating sites I belong to, and look at other people's profiles, I just go "These people are putting out an image of healthy self-esteem, with claims of active, fulfilling lives and a long history of personal and professional achievements, why the hell would they want anything to do with me: a depressed, unemployed fifty-something year-old loser living in poverty and emotional & financial insecurity?" Of course, maybe these people with the attractive online profiles are faking it, but still, I at least have to give them credit for being able to fake it. I guess. What have I got to say for myself? My greatest achievement in life is that I have survived a lifelong history of mental illness, drug & alcohol abuse/addiction, bulimia/anorexia, self-mutilation, etc, without managing to kill myself. I've also managed to rack up such an unflattering employment history that no one will give me a job, probably ever again in this city where I've lived for the past twenty years. I've never had a wife or family, I've had two or three intimate relationships in my entire adult life, adding up to about 24 months all together, and the rest of the time I have been alone without a partner. As an artist, I have put out a couple of CDs and played a handful of gigs, at the age of fifty (where others half my age have done much more and have actually achieved a vastly higher level of musical/technical proficiency and creative if not commercial success). When it comes down to presenting a positive and attractive profile or resume for myself with the hopes of making a potential lover or employer think that I am someone worth knowing, I have almost nothing good to say for myself. I'm not feeling sorry for myself when I write that, I'm just being honest, and fairly objective, I think. OK, what good things I can say for myself: that I am a bit wiser than most people in terms of spiritual matters and in terms of the cultural/political brainwashing and conditioning that most people in the USA are duped into. I've done a lot of therapy and learned to look at my own faults and habits, which is something most people don't learn to do. Fuck it, I don't know anything. I'm groping around in the dark like the rest of us. Waiting for this meaningless and unfulfilling life to draw to a close when the time is appropriate...
I'm going to put on some brown rice for lunch, then I'm going to the hardware store to pick up the Xmas lights I need to replace in my bedroom after the rat ate the cord. I will string up the lights, eat lunch, and go to my therapy appointment. Then maybe tonight I will go to the free music show at the Make-Out Room, or pay $5 to go to Death Guild to gawk at all the trendy beautiful goths and the other losers, poseurs and voyeurs like me...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One final observation with regard to my decision to use a glue trap to get rid of the pest in my home:
We humans have a persistent habit of excusing ourselves for inappropriate conduct in cases where we clearly know the difference between right and wrong. This can play itself out in all kinds of cases, from a petty instance of failing to tell someone the truth in a situation where a relationship of mutual trust and honesty is a precondition (e.g. cheating on a mate) to killing people in wars our government wages which we prefer not to question. It often comes down to a matter of emotional or financial convenience, and we tell ourselves generalizations or half-truths to support our morally inconsistent behavior. Children do it, and adults of high intelligence and social standing do it. We all do it. It is one of the fundamental reasons the world is the fucked-up mess it is today.
I see my therapist today. I don't know how much good it is going to do to talk to him, but it is a good thing that I will see him.
Last night I got some sustained rest and sleep at last. It is still difficult relaxing and allowing myself to sleep. I keep listening for noises, fearing another rat will come to disturb my peace.
This blog is supposed to be about my feelings and impression relating to the hormone therapy, but so far I am not sure about any of that in terms of effects. So I guess I will just write down what I am feeling (and thinking) today...
I feel remorseful and ashamed about what I did to that poor rat. It went against my own moral convictions, and it went against what virtually all of my friends advised me to do in terms of dealing with a rat in my house (some friends were even telling me to just live with it and it wouldn't bother me, ha). I feel queasy about the image in my memory of that rat in fear and torment. I hope that its suffering has ended by now, that it has fallen into a pool of water at the bottom of the storm drain and drowned and did not live too long.
I also feel dragged down by feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt and low self-esteem, the feelings that arose when I went to the Citadel party Friday night and which continue to dog me. I haven't worn makeup or dressed as a girl in three days. I'm wearing men's clothing and trying to be as unnoticeable as I can, I don't want to call attention to myself when I am out in public, and I have no desire to pretty myself up alone at home. I want to crawl under a rock. And at the same time, I am thinking of going out to Death Guild (goth/industrial dance club here in SF) tonight, where I know I will feel alone and awkard and introverted. I can't make up my mind, I guess.
When I go to the personals and the dating sites I belong to, and look at other people's profiles, I just go "These people are putting out an image of healthy self-esteem, with claims of active, fulfilling lives and a long history of personal and professional achievements, why the hell would they want anything to do with me: a depressed, unemployed fifty-something year-old loser living in poverty and emotional & financial insecurity?" Of course, maybe these people with the attractive online profiles are faking it, but still, I at least have to give them credit for being able to fake it. I guess. What have I got to say for myself? My greatest achievement in life is that I have survived a lifelong history of mental illness, drug & alcohol abuse/addiction, bulimia/anorexia, self-mutilation, etc, without managing to kill myself. I've also managed to rack up such an unflattering employment history that no one will give me a job, probably ever again in this city where I've lived for the past twenty years. I've never had a wife or family, I've had two or three intimate relationships in my entire adult life, adding up to about 24 months all together, and the rest of the time I have been alone without a partner. As an artist, I have put out a couple of CDs and played a handful of gigs, at the age of fifty (where others half my age have done much more and have actually achieved a vastly higher level of musical/technical proficiency and creative if not commercial success). When it comes down to presenting a positive and attractive profile or resume for myself with the hopes of making a potential lover or employer think that I am someone worth knowing, I have almost nothing good to say for myself. I'm not feeling sorry for myself when I write that, I'm just being honest, and fairly objective, I think. OK, what good things I can say for myself: that I am a bit wiser than most people in terms of spiritual matters and in terms of the cultural/political brainwashing and conditioning that most people in the USA are duped into. I've done a lot of therapy and learned to look at my own faults and habits, which is something most people don't learn to do. Fuck it, I don't know anything. I'm groping around in the dark like the rest of us. Waiting for this meaningless and unfulfilling life to draw to a close when the time is appropriate...
I'm going to put on some brown rice for lunch, then I'm going to the hardware store to pick up the Xmas lights I need to replace in my bedroom after the rat ate the cord. I will string up the lights, eat lunch, and go to my therapy appointment. Then maybe tonight I will go to the free music show at the Make-Out Room, or pay $5 to go to Death Guild to gawk at all the trendy beautiful goths and the other losers, poseurs and voyeurs like me...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One final observation with regard to my decision to use a glue trap to get rid of the pest in my home:
We humans have a persistent habit of excusing ourselves for inappropriate conduct in cases where we clearly know the difference between right and wrong. This can play itself out in all kinds of cases, from a petty instance of failing to tell someone the truth in a situation where a relationship of mutual trust and honesty is a precondition (e.g. cheating on a mate) to killing people in wars our government wages which we prefer not to question. It often comes down to a matter of emotional or financial convenience, and we tell ourselves generalizations or half-truths to support our morally inconsistent behavior. Children do it, and adults of high intelligence and social standing do it. We all do it. It is one of the fundamental reasons the world is the fucked-up mess it is today.