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About Hitaru

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    The Spaniard Dude
  • Birthday 09/09/1994

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  1. I remember I "wanted" to be some kind of genderless entity since almost as long as I have memories. If it's a sign of dysphoria or a projection of that subconscious wish of eternity rooted in judeo-christian imagery would be impossible to tell at this point but, would it matter that much anyway? In the process of finding and also building myself, I refuse to be defined by gender, which is nothing but the social narration of who is (and 'must be') privileged and who is (and 'must be') oppressed. I want to escape that dichotomy. Even if it was biology. Which is not. You know what bothers me? I think I mentioned it before. Since I was little I somehow knew I'd study Politics. Who knows if I'll finish it but here I am. I knew I wouldn't settle with "being a boy", here I am. I knew I would majorly screw up if I didn't have absolute confidence in myself and some kind of providential ability to somehow sense how my future in general lines was going to unfold. Then theatre school happened. And of course in the end I find myself following that schedule, the only ramifications my pathetic tries to avoid it (which, surprise, ended in major screw ups.) And lastly, I knew I would ultimately be unable to cope with the pressure of closing time and end my days completely insane, à la Nietzsche I guess. Well fuck, thanks I hate it. If it happens, please world don't give me that "HE lost HIS mind because he was a tr*nny" or similar bullshit. If anything it would happen because smart people do that, lose their mind and die. So I should really, REALLY focus in enjoying every day. Infinite reminder to myself. May sound weird but openly speaking about my magical/supernatural/irrational thinking and my doubts about my identity or purpose help me a lot to keep them in check. I'll be staying at home (back home) for a week or so, going to medical appointments, putting my university notes in order, hanging out with my parents and boyfriend, disconnecting for a bit in general. I think it'll do me good but I don't want to be at home with the laptop. At this point I'm 99% certain I'll relapse if I'm left alone with it, but I can't bring myself to ask my boyfriend to some kind of saudi guardianship. I mean I could, but I don't think he'll accept and it's also kind of a toxic dynamic. May do the trick for an emergency or two so I'll take it into consideration.
  2. "Later", yeah right. It's been a wild ride. For real. It bothers me a lot that, since I write from time to (a lot of) time, there's not really a feeling of progression between posts, only these "jumps". I'll come one day and say "I'm feeling great!", then next month I'll say "I relapsed!", then the next "Hey guess what I'm transgender!" and so on. In my life it makes sense because I'm focused on living it (or rather at this point, just getting through this stage works fine for me), but for any potential reader it may look like... "Dude, what the f*ck. Or gal, who knows what's going on anymore". On the bright side, reading my journal lately must be a constant surprise (?) Some key points from these last 2 months: - Today I made 77 days without computer at all! I still get distracted a lot because apparently I simply can't be left alone with an internet connection, but I consider it a personal victory. Taking notes and studying overall is harder for me without the technology, but so far I'm managing only because I'm smart. - Did most of the assignments and some mock exams for the semester and my teachers are showering me with compliments! I found a place where talking pedantic to the point of flamboyance about something you don't really know about is not only not frowned upon but ENCOURAGED. Is this Heaven? (The guy from History (the "cool" one, then there's the "normal" one) seems particularly enthralled with me. Thanks 15 years of 8+ hours a day of Grand Strategy games I guess...!) - A brief, weird, mildly dangerous and frankly stupid story with a middle-aged man was the source of unnecessary conflict between me and my boyfriend, to the point I'm seriously considering ditching all that free love talk and settle down under a conventional Triple H setting: Home, Husband and Hegel. And some cats of course. I was mistreated by that stranger, not to the point of violence but high quality bullshit nonetheless. - I came out to practically all the people that ever cared about me and my father (who now seems to care so I'm going to have to tone down a bit what I said about him in the past, not to hurt his feelings. He deserved criticism, but I was also bitter.) - I presented feminine for the first times and confirmed all my feelings and suppositions, which led me to... - ...coming out at Uni and using their inside protocol to change "common use name" to my chosen name. My legal name is still the same and my degree would reflect it, changing it requires another process. This change at university level will take place this week. And honestly, I'm terrified since I picked a girl's name and now I feel compelled to maintain a clearly feminine presentation everyday. More than 30 pages of intermittent journal must have proven that I'm terrible at consistency. On top of that, I've been also feeling more comfortable with my masculine presentation, now that I consider it a choice (actually emergency measure when I cannot present as girl, but at least it doesn't feel imposed.) So I would say those are my 2 main concerns: keeping a presentation (also adding the fun fact that I'm balding) and the potential harmful effects of HRT in my body, should I go that way. And if I calm down and think about it, those worries are not ultimately about 'who I am', but rather 'what am I doing here'. If I was alone in this world, I would not have a need for a name, or pronouns. Clothes, hair, accessories, would have no meaning for me beyond looking pretty. I would be in practice another part of the scenery, like the wind or the ocean waves or, you know, that thing that is not a rock or a plant and has existential anxiety at night while the other animals sleep. Here and now in this world, I don't think I've ever really felt that sense of "belonging". At school I was an outcast, at home I was alone; all my hobbies (and addictions), I did them either in secret or just by myself. Most of them through lurking online, with only brief periods of being part of a physical group of people. No sob story, just facts, context. Even with friends I have this fantasy or daydream in which, rather than spending the evenings with a trusted circle (still appealing sometimes), I'm more of a wandering sort, just dropping by and healing people in need with kind words, cold (no, better 'calm') logic and support. I get tired from people's presence easily, or at least moodily, with a lot of swing between social highs and lows, and that doesn't help long-term connection. It has hurt me, more times that I'm consciously aware of. At Uni I feel (very) comfortable, but I'm aware of the fact that, unless I dedicate my life to academia and flamboyant writing (which wouldn't be a bad choice), it will be temporary. Classmates and teachers will come and go. Me as well. And yet, it's the place I've ever felt most 'at home', so I really don't want to screw up, come back home ashamed and defeated and hide behind video games for the nth time. (Yet) I feel like doing just that a lot of the time because, I still can't cope with either living or (and) dying. I don't think I'll ever will, unless perhaps at the very end (I truly hope so). But that's a fallacy. It's all a fallacy. Why do I feel so invalid when I think about dying in pain or emotional anguish? I mean, you're dying, it's not like they give you bonus points for stoicism at the end of the performance. And why this obsession with living a lot, thus being skeptic of anything that would be potentially (self)harmful? I've wasted 25 years of that life. I'll be becoming older now. I'm still unsure about what to do with the rest of it. I get the self preservation, but what's the point of living a lot? Why am I so attached to it? What is it that I want to do here so badly? It feels sometimes that transitioning would be the vehicle or metaphor to represent this conflict. Ultimately it doesn't matter if I "am" a man, a woman or an idiot in a wig, at least that's not really my concern. In any case I would be taking full responsibility for living as who I honestly feel I am. So far existence for me has been a given. I just wake up every morning, realize I'm still alive, and to be honest, I kind of decide in the moment if I'm going to carry on with the day or not. Until now I didn't need to take pills to regulate my hormones or shave every morning or do this or that to keep the image of myself (for myself, not for attention) I want to live my life with. I didn't have to take full responsibility for living, I just did. Every day. Just here, wandering, lurking. Lost...? Facing that commitment terrifies me. The idea that I have to consciously maintain myself. Even if I wasn't transitioning, I still struggle with everything related to grinding: sleep habits, diet, exercise, study, work, relationships. Me. I don't give two bucks for me and my well-being and that's sad, sad and unfair. I realize the absurdity, it's easier to take care of myself than others, but I neglect basic things anyway and then I also can't face the rest of humans as well. I know that, but... Would I take the skittles if I was alone? Yes. Would I take them in a fully supportive community? Yes. It's settled then. My problem is not the skittles, or dying. It's... the feeling that it's pointless I guess, no matter which direction I take. Without the values of God, Country or Family it's partly understandable that I'm finding issues in grasping my arbitrary individuality, can't really complain about it, just the times I'm living and I'm OK with them. There must be something I can do to free myself from this feeling of emptiness. Dresses and makeup help however, so I'm not giving up those (?).
  3. @giblets Man, the feeling is mutual! So long since we last talked, hope you've been doing amazing. I was able to do a decent amount of studying yesterday and I treated myself to some chai tea (for reference, I love the stuff), then went to a promotional conference for a sci-fi publishing house focused on women writers (apparently they write sci-fi too!). The books are hard to find and I want to support the initiative (and read them too, obviously) so I bought a bunch of the stuff with no regrets. I'll go through them and recommend the ones I like. After that I received some very emotional audio messages from a friend I had not talked with for a while. She was using female pronouns by her own volition (I came out to her the last time we met) and it felt mysteriously comforting, so I shared with her the name I have in mind for myself, pronounced it for the first time out loud (in another audio), my voice was shaking... that sort of moment. She's an unusual and special person and talking with her gave it some sort of feeling of interesting adventure. Which is much better than the current reluctant unavoidable drama mood I'm currently sitting at (thanks LGTB media average representation of transitions, AND society), so I'll try to stick to this new one instead...! Finally I went out with some friends after what felt like years without doing it. They're also very aligned with me, so we had a great time. Wishing for more days like this. [Update with "today's" developments later]
  4. Heaven knows I don't want to jinx it but I freaking love what I'm studying. So apparently this is what vocation is, something that you like so much that you invest time on it, despite other things that you also like. Yesterday was a bad day and I stayed in bed, and yet here I am today. I stumbled across a short scribble (artist's pen name is Optipess) in which he mentions death. There's a trend with other artists works that I casually follow: sharing the same worries as them makes me feel comforted in the sense that my existentialism is, even if mismanaged, at least "common" or even "valid" (it would still be valid if I was the only one thinking about it but you get how the feeling works). On the other hand it triggers me in the sense that they are unsolvable issues and we're all equally "screwed" (the emotional implication is of course subjective). I mention this because, in the same way, yesterday I was feeling bad, today I'm feeling good, and there's no overly dramatic consequence aside from making my student life a bit harder if I skip a lesson, or making my health a bit weaker if I skip a meal. They are important but my point is, a lot of people deal with this shit. And I don't judge them when they talk about it, or even when it affects me (eg. someone cancelling a plan). And yet, why am I so harsh with myself when I'm feeling bad? What if it works like the periodic stage of an illness? Like an allergic crisis or something of the sort. I've considered this several times already, also in this journal, but I'm talking about really grasping and embodying the mindset. What if I could talk normally about it? "Sorry teach, I was having a crisis the other day, but I'm good now, where were we?", or "Yeah last week I had to stay at home for several days but I'm great now". Maybe feeling that I'm not "doing what I should be doing" when I'm feeling down is hurting me more than those periods of irrational desperation. Maybe I should put a stop to that, and to anyone who implies that "I should strive to be ok". Maybe I am OK, and this is my ok. I get physically sick less than the average person, maybe it's just fair (?). In any case, maybe assuming that this is my current and best possible "normal" is actually the first step towards trying (not sacrificing myself) to reach a new, improved normal. Or maybe this is the best normal I'll ever have and I should look backwards, towards everything I do have and take for granted. Or a combination of the two. That said I'm still struggling in the "cutting myself some slack" department. Wish me luck with that.
  5. Speaking about more general things, it's been 26 DAYS that I don't use the computer at all. The phone has become my main (and only) device and I still check it too much (with the excuse of needing it to check university stuff, which is not exactly false either), but the limited capacity makes it impossible to play games or getting too distracted and that translates into me almost being able to reach the standards of a functional person. Still lagging a bit behind in the consistency of meals and showers but getting there slowly. Downside is, I haven't learned to properly relax. At the end of the day, specially when I'm most productive, all the bottled up anxiety comes out and troubles my nights, and this is a real problem. It may have something to do with my mentality. I can't properly lay out activities for fun yet, and the few ones I do still look like chores or at least tasks. And the tasks never end so there's no satisfaction. I finished a work that had me worried for a week, I should be happy about it, damn it. Yet no, eyes focused on the next target. That burns out anyone in days. I need to take resting and recognizing myself seriously. Today I woke up, had breakfast (kudos me), went to class on time, everything went fine, was social, had lunch, then studied and finished this work, then returned some clothes I previously bought and got a refund (plus, I didn't panic since they were girl clothes and I still present male), had a coffee and went to my first Spanish fencing lesson (which puts me one little step closer to my lifelong goal of becoming a Spanish stereotype). Then had dinner (that makes 3 meals and a coffee in the day, for me that's still overwhelming most of the time), went home, took a shower before bed, was social again with flatmates, then went to bed. I performed perfectly! What was I doing 30 days ago? Playing video games all day. It should feel exhilarating, I'm doing the thing. Yet it doesn't and I'm sure it's "my fault". Recent issues with my boyfriend don't help either. Dunno man. I know it's a funk, I know I'm adapting (and probably still in withdrawal from the last relapse), I know it will pass but right now, i feel like shit. And even with that, I think I'm now closer to "happiness" than I've ever been in years. Life is fucking crazy.
  6. It is time I talk about it. It was time a while ago. Yep, the girl thing. But not THAT much "while ago" to be honest, even if it makes it less spectacular. Here's some backstory (brief summary of my journal so far): After passing the tests to be able to apply to Uni, I almost felt physically lighter. I still had to actually go and study a career (my current business) but at least now I knew I could always choose to take that path, instead of a perpetually uncertain future of, best case scenario, infuriatingly underpaid intermittent manual labor. My mind was much, much clearer even if for me it still was this disgusting sensation of dullness and imposter syndrome, as if I was cleaning up my life like I clean my dirty dishes. Something changed however, because that same night and the day after, the thought returned. Or rather the realization of "how not a phase it was". It was strange but not really scary. At first. "What about my gender identity now?", and that was it; if it enters my mind, I have to deal with it. You know it wasn't this thing in which I am 4 years old and put on my mother's dresses while playing and all of a sudden I start to cry because I know and everything becomes so clear. Nah man, not that way. Not the Eddie Redmayne way though I could relate to try on dresses and crying later on. More like always being uncomfortable showing skin at the beach or feeling awful at P. E. class. Girls scared the crap out of me (still do) but it was weird and awkward being put with the boys. Always feeling my body was weird or mismatched. Something not right with what was expected from me because of being born inside it, that went beyond being thin, weak or looking like a nerd (even though those were problems on their own right). Beyond failing to fit in the masculine norm; I didn't want to have anything to do with it at all. Puberty arrived and I assumed it was just me coping badly with being ignored by girls. A sore loser at being a guy. Then boys arrived. Entering a relationship with another man, even if he wasn't the average, normative, masculine man, put a lot of perspective on things. Of course I wasn't doing 'gay things' because gay equalled feminine, or because I sucked at being dominant therefore 'masculine'. I couldn't care less about what is supposed to mean being masculine or feminine. One of the upsides of being an outcast during your teen years is, there's a point when you don't play the social norms/expectations game anymore. You just don't care. I never really cared, even before puberty. And my boyfriend seemed to approve and appreciate my slightly masculine body so, what was to complain about? Also, after this exam there wasn't anymore this big reason (being a NEET) to serve as background excuse to justify my life being completely fucked over. And after finding genuine love and respect at the hands of a man I couldn't really say or think I was unlovable or my body some kind of aberration. The thing is, I don't. I don't intrinsically hate my body. Or my life (and I thought I had to in order to consider transition). I was born a "very smart white european man", I can stick to that role and basically remain at the very top of the human pyramid until I die. It only gets more and more convenient, like an investment. But being afraid to die and your life being pointless makes you do strange things man. Things like considering I should strive for what I genuinely feel is my best self, go all in instead of just drift around in this weird universe I found myself in, with no deeper perspective, no explanation and no real hope. Getting rid of the dysphoria is also a plus. I'm still dying, if I'm unlucky I might die sooner but, trying. Trying is always worth it. The memes (mostly Reddit) put everything in place. If I wasn't already questioning I wouldn't have found the memes, but they helped. All of a sudden it wasn't a weird thought, or collection of thoughts. Other real people felt like I did. There were two big groups of them: the ones who did something about it and the ones who only felt bad. Trying is always worth it. I work like that, it's the constant of my life, no matter how lost or depressed I've been at times. When I think about something I cannot drop it. I pretend to drop it but it's bullshit, I hurt myself by pretending. I liked Politics, I am studying Politics, even if it took years, even if my life takes another turn into stupid and I drop it. I like acting, I will go back to do acting someday, I'm sure. And I always felt having this body, the idea of this body was a mistake, so here we are. Girl? Boy? Doesn't really matter, I'm more of a non binary sort. But I still have my preferences. Not purely aesthetic, or frivolous. It's not about the rest of the world, if it was, refining my already owned (like an object) white masculine identity would be my best (and also easier) option, right? Nothing wrong with that. Except that I close my eyes and I look completely different. And if I don't let that person out and try, I'll not be able to cope with it 20 years from now. This person looks quite feminine so there's a bit of work ahead. Same as with video games. I don't know what or, to be completely honest why the hell I'm doing this effort to not play and perform like a functional human, and it's been 4 years already. And so, my effort is weak, and I fail a lot. I'm not a good example for the community I'm afraid! But I keep going, sometimes even without realizing. Probably because, even if I'm currently unable to see the good and the positive in living life to the fullest, I can still see the bad, the consequences of giving up: That's my freaking mantra. I 'can' reach that point, I 'can' kill myself if I reach that point. Knowing myself it will take an almost unbearable effort (unbearable for me) to keep myself from arriving to that point. From a practical standpoint the ultimate result of suicide from shame would be the same as dying old, rich and happy. I die. So it's not only a question of avoiding this stupid phobia of mine (or existential dread, angst, whatever). I can't do that, I'll probably only be able to manage it, 'hold the gates' could say. So the real point is, I don't want to be that pathetic. I don't want the misery of my life, no matter the amount, to be my fault. I cannot die thinking "I didn't try". I don't. I don't do that shit. I do quit sometimes so fuck you Elon Musk (?) but ultimately I don't give up. I... can't. I don't do that, if I did the regret would solidify and rot inside me like poison. That would be worse than death and God I hate death. Also I can't wait to be able to wear skirts and dresses without looking like a weirdo so everything else can go to hell. Not that wearing skirts makes you a weirdo, I look like a weirdo, even without the skirts, so yeah. Work to do. (I'm considering name and pronouns, but I feel I'm still on early stages so that can wait. I'll talk more about this in the future and it's not like there's some kind of exposition schedule. I write stuff when it comes to my head.) That said there's been a lot in my head lately so I should write a lot more. I miss the people I used to talk with here too. I wonder where they are now...?
  7. I'm still trying to review and complete the empty spaces I've been leaving throughout my journal. All of 2016 is finished but 2017 is a complete mess. Funny and maybe fitting since I can't remember doing anything of note during that year. Perhaps I should delete the whole thing? (?) Kidding and anyway, a lot of new stuff has been going on in my life to be able to confidently update without that nagging feeling that I'm repeating myself or actually saying nothing at all. TO SUMMARIZE: (And perhaps I'll mention twice things I've already talked about, but you know I also can't imagine you guys scrolling through pages and pages of three year long ramblings to check, so...) 1. I'm studying! In University! Like a grown-up! (?) I can feel it man. I'm not exactly 18, even though they're still not that far away. Some of my classmates look like kids to me. A minority still behaves like one. But I'm also not an obvious part of the small gang of "old ones". It's some kind of curious limbo, and I hope the people who have been tirelessly telling me are right and approaching uni some years later gives me a different, better perspective. So far I'm excited yet overwhelmed. There's so freaking much to do and learn and I don't mean it as a cliché. Like literally hundreds of things, life suddenly became so 'short' (I'm starting to understand just how I will so not be able to learn not even a fraction of what I'm being taught) and I didn't like that one bit. But I'm in the right place. Or a place that so far I'm liking very much, so it balances out. Guess a good life does that. Balances out. There's something that has been making all the difference. I've left the computer at home. It wasn't easy, not gonna lie. It's not being easy now. Before moving and beginning this whole new stage, I was still in the middle of a very deep relapse, so technically (and practically) I'm in detox right now. I'm having cravings, doubts, anxiety, chronic fatigue, same old. I must handle this on top of all the new things I'm trying to adapt to. But I'm doing it, somehow, anyhow, only because I cannot retreat back into video games. Realizing the line is so thin (No Computer = Doing / Computer = Not Doing), makes me feel very angry and powerless, but there's nothing I can do about it right now, other than keep going. Even napping is a better solution than playing, at least I wake up fresh and still deal with the stuff, just later (and with a shorter deadline at times). Speaking about managing things: 2. I've begun to live by myself! The process to find a rented apartment was an absolute nightmare and I have wholeheartedly embraced extremist and radical anti-property (private) views. Jesus Christ you may not agree but if only you were there with me at the time, it was ludicrous. There were some people who did their best to help me and I'm truly grateful (let's not forget about them) but hot damn, not behaving like a fucking sociopath should not be left to personal, arbitrary choice. In the end I was able to crash at a neat place (and the landlords behave like human beings). The location is great, if gentrified. The biggest issue is supermarkets and basic day-to-day services are relatively far and dispersed (and are moderately more expensive). It is not a big city tho, and I'm not one of 'them old folks' yet, so it hasn't been that much of a deal. Also I like the variety of peoples in the streets, I find it inspiring and amusing, just like I've always thought it was great to have members of every country in the forums, etc. Doing chores, as expected, triggers my existential dread. It does something to the human spirit I cannot fully grasp, it's like a black fog, but it's also satisfying in a weird way. Action and movement of menial tasks puts you in some kind of trance. This is not fully positive, I freak out when I feel I don't have the "control" and time is just passing around and in front of me. It's bullshit because that's what already happens with time no matter my emotions or focus, it is what 'time' is about. If only, I can only control if I'm doing the thing I want (or should do in order to get the one I want) and try to not obsess too much about it. Perspective takes time. It's an investment, should be. My flatmates are a really funny bunch and together it almost feels we're some kind of troupe. A gipsy fellow who's impossible not to laugh with when he's around and his good friend, death metal musician and enthusiastic recreational botanist, if you catch my meaning; both aspiring Art Historians. Then there's also this Biology freshman that sometimes triggers me with his sheer youth, but a good kid jokes aside. He's trying to get into veganism and the stuff, gotta ask him for some recipes. And then there's of course me, the reluctant political scientist student and aspiring... ...girl. Wait, what.
  8. Recaí y estuve a punto de no presentarme a las pruebas. Al final recobré el sentido a dos semanas del examen y me puse a estudiar, a estudiar la manera de hacer como si hubiera estudiado. Supongo que entendí que aunque me aterraba enfrentarme a la responsabilidad de la vida adulta, que sentía (y sigo sintiendo) como el coma antesala de la muerte, tampoco podía esconderme y escapar para siempre. Tenía una relación que debía pagar con funcionalidad en lo cotidiano, se me estaba empezando a caer el pelo, había que buscar un trabajo, en fin, vivir ser un adulto. Así que desperté, al menos lo suficiente como para pasar el examen sin pena ni gloria. No hubo alegría tampoco cuando conseguí entrar en la carrera a la primera; casi siento la necesidad de disculparme, por mi molesta tendencia a sabotear con apatía los momentos y logros importantes de mi vida. Al final decidí enfrentarme a mi armario vocacional y elegí Ciencias Políticas. Habrá mucha gente, allí en Cádiz, que se reirá mucho cuando se entere. Casi desearía que simplemente desaparecieran, no sólo por evitar las bromas por supuesto, también por el bullying, justicia cósmica por su escasez de calidad humana o, la mayoría, por la pereza de tener que contar por qué no empecé a estudiar hasta los 25. Pero bueno, la gente se muere cuando se muere. No lo he dicho realmente en serio. El verano también pasó entre partida y partida. Pude ver a mi novio y a mis compañeros del voluntariado en Grecia, pasé algunos de los mejores días de mi vida y luego seguí jugando, como si todo lo bueno, como si toda la vida que había en mi vida fuera un intermedio, una pausa, un sueño, otro juego. No ha habido hasta ahora un hilo o consistencia en lo que he vivido más allá de que mi madre lo ha pagado todo, y la razón de esa sensación de existencia intermitente ha sido (aparte de mi cabezonería para admitir que en el fondo soy feliz y no me falta de nada), los videojuegos. Pero ese verano pasó y esta vez el ordenador se ha quedado en casa. De modo que aquí estoy ahora, en otra ciudad, viviendo otra vez con desconocidos, a punto de empezar otra carrera, una que amo y detesto casi por igual (esas son las que se terminan), escribiendo desde el móvil a las 4 de la mañana para intentar distraerme de la angustia que me produce cocinar para sobrevivir, o los 'cravings', el mono de los videojuegos que he dejado literalmente atrás. Lo repetitivo de la rutina y lo que la detesto subjetivamente me hacen pensar en la muerte y si la vida será esto, poner lavadoras y reponer la nevera hasta el final (y estudiar, cuando empiece, para luego trabajar). Salgo a la calle y no tengo a dónde ir, puedo ir a todos sitios y a ninguno al mismo tiempo. Es como si el script de este 'juego' hubiera acabado hace tiempo y todos nos hubiéramos quedado así, sin saber muy bien qué hacer a continuación. Solo que el cuerpo se te pudre y eso le da una sensación de urgencia (y en mi caso, de anticipación). Esta noche en concreto es la primera que de verdad siento ganas de volver corriendo a casa, dejar toda esta tontería de vivir y estudiar y ponerme a jugar. Quizá esta sensación no desaparezca y la siga teniendo en los momentos malos. Quizá me esté muriendo un día y piense "Mierda. Cómo me gustaría estar jugando." ¿Y qué? Aquí estoy. Sin más.
  9. 2017 y 2018 pasaron muy despacio. 2017 y el principio de 2018 los recuerdo particularmente vacíos. Hice algún intercambio, fingí ser Community Manager para Game Quitters (mi ansiedad me impidió ejercer ninguna responsabilidad y lo dejé oficialmente hace unos meses, en 2019). También intenté entrar en la Armada. El cliché dicta que si me dedico a la política, luego me dirán que me traumatizó de alguna manera no conseguir entrar. Pero la verdad es que ni me molestó el rechazo ni realmente lo intenté en serio. Pero me satisfacía poder decir que estaba haciendo algo y la posibilidad de un sueldo. Y llevar uniforme, ¿porque soy un marica fetichista, quizá? Y no me avergüenzo. Lo que recuerdo con más cariño es conocer a mi pareja de la manera más millennial posible y los primeros pasos en la relación que, a fecha de esta entrada, continúa. Me dijo que leía este diario. Si lee esta parte, le saludo cordialmente. En 2018 viví durante 6 meses en Italia, haciendo un voluntariado para el Servicio de Voluntariado Europeo. Propaganda de los burócratas, pero toda una oportunidad para los perdidos en la vida como yo, que defenderé hasta la muerte si es necesario. Fue mi primera experiencia real de convivencia y aprendí mucho. También sufrí mucho, porque las primeras semanas no usaba para nada el ordenador. Aunque había dejado los juegos, seguía viendo muchísimo porno y otras tonterías para evadirme y perder tiempo. La abstinencia volvió y de nuevo los ataques de pánico, la sensación de estar enfermo y el perpetuo miedo a la muerte, que me ha acompañado siempre y había estado acallando con fingidas dominaciones mundiales delante de una pantalla. Mis compañeros me apoyaron como buenamente pudieron; si también leen esto les estoy, aunque a día de hoy sólo uno entiende español, eternamente agradecido. En cualquier caso empecé a usar el ordenador de nuevo, al principio un poco, luego un poco más. Volví a ver porno, leer relatos y jugar a juegos con contenido para adultos (de los que me da vergüenza hablar porque me siento ridículo; y debería hablar), pero también me distraía hasta con la Wikipedia. No llegó a sabotear mi experiencia, pero la mermó, sobretodo al final. Pero en general, la media de aquel voluntariado fue profundamente positiva a nivel personal y creo que me cambió la vida. Cuando volví a casa estaba perdido, como si me hubieran dejado en una parada de autobús desconocida en mitad del campo. La idea abstracta de que tenía que entrar en la universidad flotaba en mi cabeza, pero no terminaba de cuajar en un plan concreto. Mi novio había decidido marcharse a hacer un proyecto del tipo que yo acababa de terminar, esta vez en Rumanía y no volvería en un año. Me apunté a clases para preparar la prueba de acceso para mayores de 25 años (o en mi caso 24), pero sólo en la práctica solo tenía un papel firmado, un resguardo del banco con clases pagadas pero nada más. Lo que sí estaba cerca, tan cerca como en mi propia casa, y era muy concreto y materializado, era el ordenador.
  10. Welcome back! You already made a huge step seeking professional help and the support of your family. I did the same some months ago while I was relapsing. I was reluctant at first, but in the end helped me a lot, so I hope it will help you too 👍
  11. Would I still want to help the community if I was completely anonymous and never, ever be praised or recognized for it? This is the question I should always keep in mind to keep my ego from hurting. And not just this community; my calling is "to help", but my need for validation and recognition keeps getting in the way, making me feel overwhelmed and eventually stuck. I should give up any expectation to be recognized for whatever I do in my life, mentally prepare for an eternity in the dark, but welcome any good vibe or thankfulness when, or if they arrive. That's how I guess I could handle a life in politics as well. It has its context, this reflection. Lately I've been browsing Twitter and its toxic atmosphere is getting to me. I can't help to think there are really very few people in the "work to change things for real" camp. Complaining and trolling has even crystallized in the form of journalism and is now another lobby. On the other trench, the people who will try to hurt me on a personal level if I ever dare to really question their views. Feels lonely man. - That is, if I really do have something interesting and useful to say or share with the world, and I'm not just making it up in a lame attempt to cover up that I'm just a loser former gifted kid with no actual talent or utility whatsoever. Gotta try at least, since the alternative is holing up at moms house and play video games until I'm old and burst from regret. Trip is going great, but the heat is unbearable. And I have only the cellphone with me, so my connection with the virtual world is limited. I could however fill applications to several universities all around Spain, therefore the most important task is done. I could meet with my bf, spent quality time together and that made wonders to my emotional state in general.
  12. Welcome back amigo! 😁
  13. I'll be traveling for the next month (meeting with bf plus staying at a friend's place, pretty awesome) and I hope it will give me much needed perspective for the challenges ahead. I'll try to update from time to time. Things are getting pretty real from this point on. Or rather, I feel a quiet recognition of myself feeling it's time to make them so. It had to happen. Kind of wish it happened 10 years ago, but I guess I must remind myself that it's not like I'm actually racing anyone. It's just me against life. Someday I hope to feel it's me and life, or me in life and make everything much less confrontational. It's best for my emotional stability. Baby steps, isn't it.
  14. Hi @Ennyish! I would call that immersion, with aesthetic (good looking visuals, soundtracks, etc.) being part of that immersion. This immersion (both aesthetic and narrative) is great and I don't think it's reasonable to claim video games are unable to tell good stories or be artistic. Unfortunately this aspect of video games is also a major cause for FOMO (fear of missing out) in people who stop playing, so I would advise to be extra careful when talking about it here. Remember, video game addiction is real and this is a support community for people with a real issue that is impacting our lives. Being mindful of that and taking it into account, I think you have a point, since there are gamers that find role-playing exciting, or even more artistically inclined folks who play games looking for inspiration for their art.
  15. It has been a while. I'll be short now, since I expect to update at lenght at some point in the near future (my eternal struggle, is it not). There goes: Since the last entry and this one it has been almost 10 months, which is an incredible amount of time considering this journal has a current lifespan of 3 and a half years. I have bad news, and good news. Bad news is, since I wrote that last entry, my emotional state plummeted. The last months of the exchange in Italy were really fun and I did a fair amount of traveling, but the daily life was steadily deteriorating. Habits, people, routines. Routines are the fucking deal in the recovery process, it doesn't matter if you have 2000+ days of not playing games if you don't have consistent routines. I keep downplaying that and it keeps coming back to bite me in the balls. This eventually led to a hard relapse. I didn't play when I was in Italy, but I was dragging myself through the days and it had to collapse at some point. After I arrived home, I felt alone and directionless. My partner began a year long exchange in Romania a couple of days before my arrival and I still had to figure out what I would be doing for a living, what to do with my education and specially, coming to terms with my two great and conflicting life passions: Politics/Public service and dressing weirdly coming to terms with my non-binary gender identity. Yeah, I know. More of that at another time, I suppose. Then, the good news. After what felt like an eternity of relapsing, I was able to drop it again, began therapy (with a middle-aged woman, how about that for foreshadowing) and recently applied to University. The process goes like this: In Spain, if you turn 25 (or in my case still 24 since I'll have them the same year the exam took place) and you don't have a high-school degree, you can go to a "free" exam to "rejoin" the system. There is a special quota for this kind of people so I'm not in the same boat as the freshly graduated high-schoolers. My possible score goes from 0-10 and I'm competing with other applicants of this exam. Well I took the damn thing and got a 6 after a lot of struggle. Considering the demand of my desired career (Political Sciences) and the fact that in any case even if I couldn't find a spot I still can study at the public distance learning university, without requirements, at any point in time, this means I'm officially discharged from my status as high-school dropout. This is a huge psychological milestone for me. Sure, university is an industrially-designed, late capitalist complex for directed thought and consumerist elitism. But it is also my opportunity to pursue higher learning, have access to a lot of cool shit, meet a lot of people and have a life experience that, half because of social expectations and half because ego, I was craving and missing in my life. I don't even know if I'll finish a whole degree in the end or not. I just needed to stop feeling like a failure, like a wrecked train left behind at an old, abandoned soviet mining village. After the initial euphoria, or rather, deep relief, I'm currently feeling overwhelmed by everything I've been putting aside and neglecting not only these months, but these eight years of my life as well. My relationship with myself, my loved ones, this community, hopes and dreams... the usual stuff. In any case, first things first, I'm considering how to make a glorious comeback to you amazing people who had my back all this time, in the most efficient (at least anxiety cost efficient) way possible. No promises until I do the thing. I just have to organize myself and do it. I'm on it. Now, the less light-hearted thoughts. You know, this shit is going to keep happening every time. It was great when I finished the 90 days, until it wasn't anymore. It was great when I was abroad, until it wasn't anymore. It will be great when I begin to go to uni, until it won't anymore. Then, what? A relapse again? Dropping out again? Every time I do something relevant or fun, eventually I'm going to feel burnout and relapse, isolate myself, go through a low period. And if I expect to do something with my life, something worthwhile, I can't let this cycle to keep dominating my life. I will enter Uni, crack under the pressure and screw things up shortly after IF I don't get serious no; if I don't make peace with myself and handle things differently. I need a level of consistency that I can manage. The 5 year old me was terrified about the whole idea of "toning down the expectations until I become a soulless ''adult'". 'Adult' was a word full of meaning. It meant death. Either real death (children didn't die, at least no one near me did) or metaphorical (living death, crushed under responsibility, chores and emotional self-sabotage). I'm currently facing this in my therapy and my new life of probably employable young adult (I was this before for the better or worse, I just had to believe it). I'm afraid it will be a lifelong process, but everyone has their own demons, right? I'm looking forward to achieve more victories, and to bring them here for gregarious, jolly merriment. To celebrate! I owe everything to this community, I haven't forgot about you guys. Thank you for your support during this journey. Expect more journey coming your way.
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