It's my hope to post entries here about my life and experiences as a trans-woman who also happens to have bipolar disorder. This is my way of making my voice be heard, and bringing attention to the issues that myself and others like me, face every day.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

One Year Later

It’s been exactly one year since all hell broke loose in my life, almost to the minute at that. A year ago tonight, on the stormiest, wettest night of March, my aunts threw me out on a moments notice, and forced me to get my sick girlfriend to come get me and everything I owned. I won’t recap anything, I feel like what posted after everything that happened last year was enough. I was more or less thrown out on the street, and I’m sure I’d have been out on the street if not for Stef. I was talked to as if I were less than human, misgendered and misnamed, I saw my whole life packed into one vehicle, I was threatened in many ways, and I was tossed aside by my family like a piece of trash.

There isn’t an ounce of forgiveness in my heart, as much as I have tried over the last year to find it. I never hold a grudge, but I can’t just get past what was done to me by my own family. By the people who said they would take me in, give me a safer and more open minded place to live; by the people who I looked at more as best friends than family. It hurts still, just as bad as it did that night. I won’t say that I hate them; I won’t even try to hate them, because hate only brings about more hate. I like to think that karma will do more than I ever could. I have erased them from my life instead, and I hope they can live with what they did.

I’ve come a long way since then, in spite of everything they did to try to screw me over. You can beat the shit out of me, but I’ll keep getting back up. I’m a fighter, and I won’t stop fighting until I’m dead. In the past year I’ve had 4 homes, all in different cities. It’s been a pretty wild and crazy ride living on my own with Stef for the last 10 months, but it’s been rewarding in its own way. The pain and humiliation of that night makes me angry to reflect on, and I’ve taken that anger and used it to motivate me to persevere.

I’ve learned who my real family is, and in spite of all the times I’ve fought with, and been ashamed of my dad’s family, they’ve always been there for me. They haven’t always been accepting of my lifestyle, but they’ve always loved me and taken me in when I had no place else to go. My friends are also like family, and this past year has brought me closer to many of you than I ever expected. I can’t thank those of you who have been there for us in our times of need enough. To me, that’s real family.

That night will forever haunt me, but it put quite a bit into perspective for me too. I know who I can count on in life now, and who I can’t. I know what I am capable of when left to my own devices, and I did well. With any luck, I’m hoping I can make the next year an even better one, and try to put the wrongs done to me by my family behind me. It’s a long road ahead of me, and things are only going to get worse before they get better, but I will endure against all odds. I am a survivalist, and that is what I will do; survive and thrive.