Don’t even have the capacity to come up with some vaguely witty or ‘clever’ title. Being rejected sucks big time, even when you’re half expecting it. Even when you’re used to it. I did have plans to finish my disability benefits form today. That’s not going to happen. Instead I shall be crying under a blanket wishing I could get a hug.
I can’t gather myself together enough to process or describe what’s going on properly. And I’m going to have to let things settle before I decide how to respond, whether I do respond. I’d tentatively made contact with my father after my sister said he was being much better behaved. It’s been a year of occasional contact and 1 visit and it’d had mostly been okay, he was indeed being better. Except the last couple of emails have been more like what I’m used to, weird, oddly aggressive and having a different conversation to what was happening. He’d previously been unexpectedly positive about my referral to the GIC* and I wondered if he’d really understood. In a later email he’d misgendered me anf it felt deliberate (but in a way that is not upfront and therefore could be denied if confronted) so I corrected him made my pronouns clear and offered alternatives to the words he’d used.
His response was just as non direct and plausibly deniable as “it’s just words” or “well that’s just how it is” kind of language instead of being up front and saying ‘I don’t believe or respect you’. He’s chosen to point out a family tree and say that the proof is there Forever.
Wow
I think this experiment with having him back in my life is over. I hadn’t realise just how anxious I’d bee. This whole time waiting for him to do something like this. His reaction to me going into detox/stopping drinking was awful and went on and on. This feels worse. And could go on forever, if I let it. Or I can just walk away again. His loss. But I can’t bear to think it through right now. Right now I’m feeling devastated and vulnerable and foolish for trying to reconnect. And so horribly alone. I don’t want to be here, to be alive. I have a massive urge to cut and punish this body, it’s not my body and I shouldn’t be here, in it. It’s like all of the denial and rejection I had from childhood, the being forced into being what they’d assisnged me as all condensed into one stupid sentence. One sentence that’s knocked me over and wrecked the tiny bit of control I’d scrapped together. And I’m alone. I have nobody here to comfort me.
*Gender Identity Clinic
The Bouncing Spoon 