Gather round minions, Tiffany is about to tell you a story. A story about herself:
There are a lot of people in this world who live their entire lives either hiding themselves from the world or simply not knowing who they really are, but knowing deep down that they’ve yet to figure it out. There are people like this in my own life, but since it is not my place to out them, I won’t. I’ve been seeing a lot about Bruce Jenner’s choice to transition from male to female and I can’t help but be grateful…this has never been an issue for me.
See, on any given day I will tell you that I’d rather be a guy. Once a month is reason enough to give up the “gift of child birth”, never mind the fact that everyone seems fascinated with breasts and quite frankly…that’s annoying as hell for me. (28GG here, and guess what? Is fucking sucks.) But I am a woman, my identity is tied to this fact and it’s never been a question for me. You see, I can’t even imagine a lifetime of living and identity you do not feel attached to. He must have gone through a living hell for decades trying to make the rest of the world comfortable. Which is not something the world is entitled to, especially the prying eyes of a society that makes people like The Kardashian’s famous in the first place.
We all struggle to make the choice that is best for us and I hope Jenner can now live a life that will make him happy. It’s a gift you have to give yourself, not one you can get from others.
I want to be a billionaire-philanthropist park-ranging rocket-scientist. Outside of that, on a more realistic level, I want to be; healthy, happy and well-adjusted. That last one has come only through age and a lifetime of shit I can’t even account for anymore, but sometimes shows up in my dreams to remind me. You see I only got to be well-adjusted after marrying a gay man and then an asshole. Moving my ass from this town I was born into to the “deep south” to live in a 400 square foot flat and chase after a gay man. What’s a girl to do? He’s gay. It’s fact. It’s not a choice and on some level I always knew….but we were each-others way out and to this we still carry each other at times. Then there’s that second marriage…I loved him, oh did I ever, but he didn’t love me or understand himself. You can’t fix that which won’t even admit it’s broken.
Then there’s the long-term factors; my grandmother and father always did there best to keep things level for me and my sisters, but there’s only so much one can do. I think cleaning musty rail and delivering papers as a child either puts things into focus. That and an entire childhood of Girl Scouts. I am far better adjusted than I ever expected to be, I have come to a certain peace with life…
Then there’s the happy part.
Happiness has not come easy for me. I’m still not entirely sure if that word has any real meaning. I would not describe my teen and adult life as horrible, but I would not describe it as happy either. Happiness seems to be the punctuation on ‘meh life’ outlook I have. I get called a nihilist all the time, and maybe I am, but for the most part…I am not excitable. I got a bitchin’ coat at Ann Taylor last week for $40. I am happy about having it! I got to go food shopping today on my own time un-rushed! I am happy about that. My boyfriend continues to put up with me! I’m happy about this. But I also have clinical depression.
“But Tiffany! You’ve got nothing to be sad about. “
Clinical depression isn’t sadness. Clinical depression is a complex neurological issue that affects the way I process the chemicals my body produces in response to situations…the way my body deals with emotions. And guess what? I am not excitable, I do not enjoy socializing, I am very ‘matter of fact’ about a lot of things and I spend a lot of time questioning the point of things. It’s just how I am, it is who I am. It is me, and I will not apologize for this being me.
“Well then you’ve got to just choose to be happier!”
It’s not that simple. I could spend hours going on and on about how that’s not how it works, but quite frankly. It’s not even worth my energy, Google “clinical depression”, avoid anything that also lists ‘natural healing’ or is espoused by Scientology, and get back to me. If you still don’t understand, odds are you will never.
So no, I am not happy-go-lucky…I never will be. But I am also not so sad and pathetic I need fixing or constant attempts to make me feel better.
I am not as healthy as I would like to be. Plain and simple.
When I say that eating causes problems, I mean it. For example; I feel like a blimp whenever I eat, my digestive track is almost always fucked, I have elevated pain responses, I bruise like a banana, migraines and I am always tired. ALWAYS. My guess is these things are all related.
I slept for 10 hours two days ago, then came home after leaving work early the next day and slept for another 10 hours. It’s 9pm, I want to go to bed 2 hours ago, but I feel the need to get some stuff of my chest, so here I am.
I do not have Celiacs. Which is frigin’ awesome, as it means, exposure to gluten will not, in fact, kill me. It just makes me gassy as hell, my colon have fits and my head hurt if I have too much. So, when I say I’m “gluten free” it’s not because I’m some trend-whore. The shit makes me feel awful. So I’m going to cut it completely from my diet. Starting today, end of discussion.
I am out of shape. I can’t even open my frigin’ sun-roof. Granted, it’s almost 20 years old and stuck as fuck, but I should need to Hulk-out to slide a damn window open. But without solving the bruising problem, the simple act of working out makes me look like I’ve had my ass kicked.
I am pretty sure the hormones I take daily to prevent unwanted pregnancy are part of the cause for my migraines. So I’m getting sterilized. That’s right. No child-birth for Tiff, ever. Why? Because I don’t see the point. The socio-economic reasons aside, I feel no need to have my own. There are litteraly millions of kids in this world with no food, water or family to care for them. I’d rather spend my time and money helping them rather than adding to the world. My seed is not so goddamned special that I need to procreate. The notion that two people have to have their own children because other kids might be “damaged” or have “issues” is probably the most archaic, conceited, selfish & arrogant fucking thing people can think.
Getting sterilized has come to a shock to some people, but the truth is…there hasn’t been a moment in my life where I’ve ever felt the need to give birth. I am capable of feeling that connection with anyone in need. If someday Eric & I decide we would like a family, we will consider foster-parenting or adoption. It’s that simple. But if taking myself off those pills and getting sterilized solves my other medical issues and prevents me from becoming pregnant then I have made the right decision. A decision I have not wavered on and will not.
So, in the end…all of the things I want to talk about? They are all legitimate, they are all a part of me and my quest to better understand myself. There have been a few people in my life that don’t seem to understand this and it’s a problem. Because I do my level best to keep my insanity reigned in, (deleting Facebook has helped immensely with that,) and I hate talking…so if I start talking about something, it’s important to me.
Hopefully you’ll stick around through my journey, but if not….so be it. Starting April 25, 2015 my life has to be different. Not just for me, but for the people I can help by being the best I can be.
That’s the deal.