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Captain Taru's Log: Out of the Fog


Hitaru
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I took the offer and had a semi-decent stay, I'm back at my place now. Bad stuff happened but I want to focus on the good: I'm very happy about being able to feel hunger and eat more consistently now. I feel like I'll be able to handle two meals a day on my own soon, and that would be honestly great. Some day I'll be fluffy and people will love to cuddle me. You'll see, you'll see... 

About to reach 39 days (a new day is counted at midday spanish time. It's 8:55 here now) 

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40 days!

I tried to apply for a job offer today but had an anxiety attack. I'll try again after some more therapy. At least the offer was a bit shady (no salary or references from the employer) so I may have dodged a bullet there. 

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7 hours ago, Hitaru said:

40 days!

I tried to apply for a job offer today

way to go on both we're definitely better off for having tried maybe the therapy will prove useful, congrats!

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On 4/20/2022 at 2:03 AM, goodvibes said:

way to go on both we're definitely better off for having tried maybe the therapy will prove useful, congrats!

I've been in therapy since last October and it's been a very literal life saver.

BUT, I also have plenty of experience with botched therapists and I know how draining and disheartening can be to meet someone who doesn't work for you (or is a plain abuser). You need a certain amount of self awareness to use your intuition and that can be too much to ask while depressed or during a crisis. It's not easy, at all. But I'm glad I hit the target this time.

 

43 days. I've been more consistent with my hormone regime along with eating and tiddy hurts again. Growth. Literally!

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45 days, second detox halfway done.

Feels like so little and a lot at the same time. I think the "so little" part comes from believing I will relapse the moment I lay my hands on a computer again. And to be honest with myself, that's still how it is. In his last video, @Cam Adairmentions how urges are fueled by doubt and that's the current situation. I'm doubting about games in the context of doubting everything else in my life, but I still don't have anything else to oppose games with (or rather, a bunch of things piled together to be equally strong). But I'll get there eventually if I keep going. I just need to... keep going.

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48 days. 

Life is so short. And lately, I've been ok with that.

Someone gave me a writing prompt that I've absolutely loved and it has motivated me to start taking reading seriously. Gotta learn my deal before making my own. 

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50 days. 

I can write a minimum of 100-150 words each day for works I have already started and need to be thought over. It's not unusual for me to write around 500. I can do better but it's a good start and I'm in no rush to pressure myself. 250 words is a book page average. 50k words is a 200 page novel. My longest writing so far has around 5k and it's not finished yet, I guess it'll be around 8k. I'm sticking to short stories at the moment but I would love to write a long one someday. Who knows. No expectations.

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55 days. 

I spent some days at my friends place and my health got better (sun, socialization and consistent meals most of it). At some point my friend sat down with me and told me that, while he was seeing a lot of progress he shouldn't become the enabler of a new status quo, since I still have issues to fix in my life. So even tho he wasn't kicking me out I immediately packed my things and went back to my place. I've made minor progress with life decisions but I won't stop. 

But man, I could really use those antidepressants. My evaluation is in a week, it can't arrive soon enough. 

As an added problem, a judge denied my sex change with no explanation given and no intention to clarify. That actually isn't as important as it sounds but since I didn't change my name beforehand, they denied my name change as well. And that IS a real bother if I wanna apply to more stuff. Shit's draining. What else do they want? Been State-mandated medicated for years, I have my papers in order, I have a public doctor saying I'm not whatever danger to society they may believe I am. My p-word doesn't work, thank you very much (no regrets!), so yeah, I'm at worst a completely harmless weirdo. Just leave me be, man. Me being the utterly ruined "guy" from the beginning of my journal, business as usual. Bitch says turns out I'm a gal and suddenly I'm everyone's problem. The hell. If the fash rise even more and I'm forced to go back, I'm becoming the worst nuisance I can manage. I'll throw car batteries into water wells for sport. Should have let me wear those skirts, pal. 

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58 days. 

Went to therapy yesterday and the cravings later were insane. It's ok now. They pass. I'm still salty about needing to make future life decisions based on not being left alone with a computer. Like how inconvenient would be to go back to my mother's place for the summer. At least I'm eating and sleeping, that's been my mantra for the last couple months. I'm also feeling prettier lately. 

My last rant seems to have invoked the gods of bureaucracy and the judge has deigned to forward their note explaining why they were rejecting my application to legal girlhood. I'm missing a paper I believe I'm not, but the old usual, see me rolling, they gatekeepin'. So I'll find my way to send them the stupid thing. 

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60 days. Two months in 13 hours.

Feeling stuck indeed, but at least I've been clearing my room at snails pace, with the idea of moving out soon-ish. Also writing a lot! Almost finished my first text.

I may need to travel to my hometown soon for a birthday party (and if I'm lucky, sort my papers out). I'm absolutely leaving the laptop here, to test how it would feel to leave it for the whole summer with my friends here once my flatmates depart. My mother still has one so I'll need to ask her to put a password and the basic stuff. She'll be grumpy about it but I think I'm allowed to set my own conditions to handle a 20 year long addiction.

Still, not ideal. I'm softening to the idea of spending holidays at home and I don't believe it'll do good to me. Beach and gentler weather, yes, but also the dreadful atmosphere of the past, the chance of random encounters with unpleasant people while I'm still in boymode and the even scarier prospect of surrendering myself to try to study my next thing there (which, while I still have a clear head free from specific deadlines, I don't think it would work. Again.)

Goddess, please help me pick whatever I wanna do next at once. The whole purpose was to take a "simpler" path of employment (far away from academics, the constant need to hear and come up with bullshit written and spoken in an obscenely obscure language), to be able to free mental space and creativity to eventually pour it into post-work endeavors.

So why am I doubting so much? What is it that I wanna do? [And no girl, "half lewd model half smut writer" and leading a life of careless debauchery is not a reasonable option. No matter how appealing in some alternate universe free of patriarchy. Unless grossly pressed for cash that is. And, huh, I wouldn't journal that part if it actually happened]

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62 days, two months mark! :3

Leaving now for my social security mental health appointment. It can go badly, so I'm writing the celebratory post first and tomorrow I'll handle whatever sour mistreatment may (or may not) come my way.

Screenshot_20220511_102317.jpg

Screenshot_20220511_102329.jpg

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63 days. 

So, who has two thumbs and has been prescribed antidepressants? Yes, this girl! Let's see how they go. I've been told multiple times I'll feel a bit shitty at the beginning, but it's not like I'm being expected anywhere at the moment. Bottoms up!

The paper I was told to be missing for my change approval was a mental health referral. Being trans was an illness back in 2007, the year the law was passed (and may as well become again if things keep going this way) so I need to prove to the government that I'm not crazy. Not in a way that "obstructs" transness. Somehow, since transness is not an illness and the "disqualifying conditions" are not mentioned. Right. 

Because I was already screened for mental health as a condition to begin the (mandatory, remember) hormone treatment, keeping it for 2 years should have been proof enough. That's how it usually works and what I had expected at the beginning.

And then the judge insisted I needed even more documents and they were the final authority to believe it or not, without even meeting me, after going through several doctors and bureaucrats. 

The shrink got so mad when I asked for a mental health referral for the sex change. All offended in her professional dignity. Yeah, like, your drama. How compelling. Of course you can say "No one can ask me to do anything like that" and go home with a clean conscience. Because sister, they are asking it, for me.

The weirdo with the skirt and the pee-pee, remember? The social outcast and potential moral nightmare. The family values breaker so and so. Must be nice not being legally questioned your existence and sanity, huh? I missed that part tho, I was hidden at my mothers house, wasting my youth away with games, escaping from reality and feeling like a monster. 

To her credit, after her cis guilt outburst she agreed to do a clinical, aseptic assessment of my symptoms and syndromes (or rather, lack of them) and see if the judge can take a hint.

I've been also directed to LGBT-friendly legal services to help me address what was probably ill intention or gross ignorance from the folks involved in the process. This is supposed to be a fairly simple paper shuffling, the hard part being the waits and the cruelty of it all. I was just randomly picked as a target for day ruining, with months and months of pointless wait as icing of the cake.

After the judge wrote the note ruling the denial, 3 months after my request, they took a whole month to sign it and make it official. The text is two lines and half long. They could have signed it right then and forward it but they took a month, and only after I insisted. That's how casually dehumanizing it is. I can't change my name until this is sorted out. Imagine being nameless for a month. Imagine being it for your whole life until now. 

But, I got my chill pills now, so things are moving forward. Societal collapse is approaching and it has to meet me in my best shape. 

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64 days. 

3rd day of antidepressants. They're making me nauseous. Bleh. 

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67 days. 

Almost a week in antidepressants and I think it's going well. If their goal was to make me feel neutral (but not empty), that's exactly how I'm feeling. Neat!

I finished my second smut piece! (since I wrote my first text years ago, but this one's the first in the present period.) It's none of the ones I was already working on, but an unhinged "fanfic" set in a certain world full of... bureaucracy.

Humiliation play and document stamping. 2.5k words voluntarily crunched in less than 48 hours. I know, I'm amazing.

And I also need to touch some grass. But in all honesty, it's a good piece, regardless of the sheer absurdity of it. I'm writing more serious ones as well, so letting the bullshit flow now and then is both good practice and very relaxing. I'm so glad I took it up. Writing kinda comes naturally to me. 

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68 days. 

Landlady is showing the flat tomorrow and I was able to clean up my room in preparation. Had to take some ADHD meds for it but at least it's done. I shouldn't be ashamed of medication either. It just makes me frustrated being unable to be like the rest. Oh well. Clean room. 

 

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72 days. 

Staying a couple of days at mom's, I've been invited to a birthday party. Two days ago I had a dream in which I relapsed. Maybe I should be a little proud that it was played as a nightmare. 

A distant cousin whom I don't see since childhood is temporarily staying with us. Somehow the encounter hasn't evolved into a romance / lewd plot. Weird, I know. All those mangas I read for decades were so sure about that being common occurrence... 🤔

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