Saturday, December 17, 2011

Zane/Clara/Whatever: My Big Choice

Since I couldn't quit being a girl, I was going to just quit this blog. I don't know why it's surprising to you people that I don't love having a pussy. You haven't heard from me in a while and a lot of that has just been sleeping, drinking, avoiding life, and occasionally working.

Here's three things that happened that explained why I'm back here, and why you might hear from me again.

I had a lunch meeting with Anthony. I felt pretty comfortable spilling my guts to her, looking like CeeCee. Talking to her reminds me of some of the best relationships I've had, before I fucked them up. I let it all out and she didn't tell me I was wrong for feeling like that, just that she understood and wished she could help me any way she could. I said that probably would mean laying off the model thing. I really just want to crawl under the sheets for the rest of the year, until I can go back to the inn.

And then something happened. Someone saw us. It was a friend of Anthony's... actually CeeCee's. He comes over, leans over her... and kisses her on the cheek. Like it was no big deal. And he just leans into it! And they make nice and he even kinda flirts with her. Fuck, every time a guy has talked to me like that I wanted to cut his balls off for looking at me, and he just laughs along, and when he's gone... and I notice him staring down at her cleavage... she just acts like it was no big deal. "Just part of business, being friendly," she says, but it looked like he wanted to fuck her.

I ask "You wouldn't, right?"

"No, of course not. It's just easier to get along with guys if they think there's a chance."

That fucking burned me. Like I didn't even know who I was talking to. And it was still bothering me by Thanksgiving, and Shaun was cool enough to invite me over to his place and meet his wife (she's okay looking) but I also had to deal with Clara and Doug's parents. I didn't really wanna talk to anyone, I just wanted to sit around watching football.

At the end of the night, I'm out having a smoke when "mom" comes out. I expected her to give me some bullshit about quitting, but I guess she just accepts that her daughter does that. But what she did do was ask about the way I've been behaving all night, and I kinda dodge answering, because it's none of her business. And then she asks me this question:

"Are you taking your pills?"

And I'm like, what is there some kind of girl-pill I should be taking? What's the deal here? I'm all confused, until I get home and I start doing some digging and I find out Clara's on fucking anti-depressants. Xanax or Zoloft or whatever. I've never taken pills in my life, besides painkillers. She's depressed?? She never fucking mentioned that to me!!

So I'm freaking out, like is this my problem now? Did I get this from her? Like, it's not my problem, is it? Then I started looking it up online and I realized I had all these symptoms, which I figured were just from, you know, being turned into a fucking girl.

No, it turns out Clara was actually clinically depressed and now I probably am too. I went and saw the doctor and got a prescription, but I can't fucking afford the pills on the money I make at the snack bar.

I talked to Anthony about it, and she said she would lend me some money, but I would need to pay it back, and the only real way to do that is to throw myself into this modeling thing. So I either do something I really don't wanna do, or I feel shitty all the time.

So I've got the pills, but I haven't done any more modeling jobs. I haven't even taken any of the pills. I just look at them and I think "Is it really gonna make everything okay? Am I gonna take this pill and suddenly everything's gonna be all right and I'll feel okay about being a girl? Am I still gonna be me? Or am I just gonna start calling myself Clara and go on being girly?" I don't know. It was like this is the end of me. I couldn't bring myself to take them.

Tonight I had to get a ride home from my day job, but Anthony wasn't available. I could barely convince myself to call one of my housemates, because I feel like those people all hate me and think I'm an asshole, and I didn't want anything to do with them and I didn't think they'd want to help me.

But no, this one girl Leslie did end up helping me and seeming pretty happy to do it. We even went out for drinks. I was so fucking uncomfortable sitting with this girl, I didn't know what to say or where to look, but she was good at getting guys to leave us alone and she just kept talking. I wasn't really listening, but it was about a guy. And even though I wanted to throw up and die, I thought maybe if I get these pills, I can be this girl's friend, I can make this work. I can't keep living like this. Tomorrow I'm going to take the pill. It can't be any worse than this.


Big Trading Post Inn Fan said...

Being depressed is a major issue -- and a medical one, that unfortunately comes with the body you have. The pills will help you, but they won't suddenly make you happy -- they'll just help you feel less burdened. And they don't work overnight. You've got to give them time.

That said, as long as you're Clara, your life will likely be easier, less frustrating, if you help yourself feel better. It won't make you feel like Zane, and it won't suddenly make you love being a girl. But you won't feel like nothing, either.

Good for you for realizing that you have to take control of the situation. And glad to hear from you, too.

Anonymous said...

Antidepressants cannot make you happy. They can just restore your ABILITY to be happy if you have a horrible chemical imbalance in your brain that's skewed your emotional range into the gutter.

That means that all this stuff you're feeling? Most of it's you. Look at some of the old posts on this blog, from years back. There have been a range of responses to being inserted into others peoples' lives, including those of the opposite gender. But the majority had issues adjusting. Some had very difficult issues.

The fact that you've been immediately thrust into being a model, a traditionally very feminine role that leaves you no chance to ignore your body and acclimatize gradually, doesn't help. Nor does the fact that it means that getting stared at is in fact part of your job description. I also get the impression that in the past you've been a person to avoid the spotlight, making things doubly difficult.

This post is getting too long. To summarize:

1. You are unhappy because of the extraordinary stress of your situation. Stress you are entirely justified in feeling.

2. Clinical depression is worsening the effects by rendering you biologically incapable of enjoying anything for even a moment thus allowing you that critical distraction from your predicament.

3. If you take the pills, you won't turn into Kim Kardashian. Your unhappiness is your own now, and it will be so after you start taking the pills. But with the aid of said pills, the things that DO make you happy will actually work again.

That wasn't a short summary at all...