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Another depressing blog post.

Field Notes In/On Transition

Change is the only Constant

If you have been reading my blog, or know me in the real world, you know that I have lately really been struggling with depression. Not that I wasn’t depressed before, but I had crutches back then in the Joe Daze (sic), booze, drugs, food. The only one of those that still soothes me is food. I still have a few drinks, etc, here and there, but have turned into a lightweight, and my heart (nor my head) is not into getting wasted anymore. It’s probably horrible to say, but I miss being able to get really drunk, really wasted. These days after a few drinks, I don’t want it anymore. I wish I could say that about food.

But as far as being a worker, or an artist, I feel like a loser, I don’t feel respected, or treated like the middle aged person with 30 years of work experience under their belt, that I really am. Also, I’m aware this is likely my own fault for constantly doing what others think I should do, and being to chickenshit to try and sell my artistry, or do anything with it, except put it up in a blog, or the metaphorical refrigerator called facebook. 

 I asked for the advice and took it, right. It’s always my fault. Every goddamned thing, is all I ever feel. I have been accused of blaming others or circumstances for things, but in fact I know this is not true. I always blame myself first, and last. 

 I am still at almost 48 years old, mostly treated like I’m some wet behind the ears kid a lot of the time. I have done a lot of jobs, a lot of artistic endeavours over the years. Too many, really; because I dabble in so many areas, I get pigeonholed as a constant newbie. “you gotta pay your dues,” I keep hearing. I have been ‘paying my dues’ my whole life. I would for just a moment even have the feeling that I am respected, and that my art has value.  

Yesterday at work, at my job that is so laid back, no one should be stressed about it (Well aside from the fact that we have no idea how much longer the place will be open) It was all I could do all day, doing busy work, and dragging out conversations with chatty customers, so as not to just burst into heaving sobs and fall onto the floor. 

When I got home that is exactly what I did, though. I am so paralyzed with fear of not being able to move forward, job wise, when and if the store closes, or I get completely burned out on retail, and rage quit.... which would be really stupid, as you can’t get pogey if you quit a job anymore, even if I got a medical EI, it still takes weeks to even get a claim going, I would need to have another job by then; I still have to pay rent. It’s not even so much (though it is a little bit) that I don’t think anyone else will hire me, it’s more that I know I will again have to settle for what I can get, which will almost certainly be less money. Is it wrong to think you should better your situation rather than just accepting whatever comes along? A lot of people tell me this. And when I was in my 20’s yeah, jobs, just jobs. Not so much, anymore. I want to be proud of what I am doing, my own thing, not working so others can make their bills. I would like to come first in my own life. “Is that so wrong?” To quote Harvey Fierstein.

I have a faint, and getting fainter every day hope of getting some random shifts as a shelver at the library, but I feel like I messed up on the written test they give you, and I have so far been right to think so, as it’s been over a week and no word. Which means no job, no word. 

I came home from work crying, I cried myself to sleep. I cried myself awake, at 6 am instead of my usual 7am. At least I was able to get some sleep, worn out from being so, so low. I will probably feel better today, or tomorrow when I have a social evening planned with some friends, and I can talk about their lives instead of fussing over my own. But you know, just like I can’t party as hard as I used to, my mood pendulum doesn’t swing way back up to joy and hope very often, or less and less often, perhaps. The best I can get to these days is being a bit neutral about my prospects, philosophical, ‘I always bounced back in the past,’ kind of thing.

Moving, into a hovel (i.e. bedbugs, illegal suite) or giving up on my privacy and finding a room mate situation might have to also be in my future. This makes me feel worse than anything other than being homeless which is also a reasonable fear that I have every day. To me it would be the biggest failure of my failure filled life, to have to live in someone else’s place. I will give up any luxuries I can, live on water and rice to not have to move in with room mates as a 48 year old person. 

Maybe if I was in a relationship, but that’s a moot point, as that is less likely to happen than anything else. And even if it did, I need to be making changes now, not waiting for some mythical prince or princess. No one is going to rescue me. 

No one. 

Nor should anyone feel like they should have to. I should be able to pick myself up and out of a career path that really has no long term future. What a lot of it comes down to for me, is that I do measure myself against everyone else: people who tell you they don’t are lying, or they are sociopaths. And most of the people I know have something in their lives like a child, or a partner, or an actual career that they have worked hard to achieve. I have none of these things, and it seems I never will. They have a legacy. I have none, zip, nada.

I am sure that lots of folks roll their eyes at all this blather from me. Just because you are able to deal with your own problems in a more proactive less whiny way, doesn’t mean I can. I am not you, I am not anyone really. Likely also you have had someone in your life, tell you that they loved you. No not family or friends, a lover. I have never had this and never will, I am seemingly cut off from that kind of world, where at least once in a life you get to be in love. Unless you are 48 and have never heard those three little words, you have no idea what I am talking about. I am the only person that I know, in this situation. No one groks it. 


This really is how I feel. 

Despite the fact that I am getting up everyday and wearing the clothes, looking like the person I have always wanted to be, I don’t feel like I have a right to brag about anything. I am still stuck in my art, in my job life, fluttering around from one thing to the other with everyone telling me about ‘entry level’ jobs. 

I have never really had a plan in life. I never felt I needed one, as I was never going to get to be who I want to be - A Woman, any way. 

I always just went with things as they happened. The jobs I have had that lasted any amount of time, I simply ‘fell’ into, by people getting me an interview. Maybe I did good in the interviews, but none of these jobs were things I wanted to do. However: don’t whine, right. I had jobs, lots of people don’t or didn’t. 

I just want to feel my life has some meaning beyond my core gender identity.

When I talk to other artists who may be slightly or much more successful than me, they always tell me that I need to do more writing, art, whatever in my free time, nights and weekends.... 

As if that isn’t what I have been doing my entire life, like they are offering me some secret I never knew about. I have published 3 books myself, I have made 100 movies and posted them to youtube, and been in a few film festivals! I have been blogging since long before it was called blogging. I have taken and shared with my friends, hundreds of photographs that I look at as much as I look at anyone’s art.

My first two books under my old name (which the pay on demand will not let me change, fuck them!

See: I do have some pride. I do have some accomplishments. Why don’t I feel like I have something in my life that will last beyond me though? Why can’t I figure out how to make all this creativity (I have made at least a little bit of art pretty much every day for decades) pay my bills and be my living. I am not looking to have any kind of fame or even fortune, with my art, my writing. I am looking to make a modest income so I can keep renting a studio apartment, and buy myself the odd nice outfit, or book, dinner out. I have no dependents, no car, no house payments. I have and can live very frugally. But I can’t figure out how to do it while doing the things I enjoy doing.  I really am not looking for advice, either, I am stating a fact that has always been a fact of my life. I don’t know what to do. It paralyzes me more every day.

If I end up unemployed, I am not sure what I can do. I only have so much credit, and unemployment for someone making less than they need to live on already is not very much to help you out til you get on your feet. It seems that whatever I do in the future, the only certainty I have is: more debt, and more doubt. 

Hope, I never really got to know you, drop by next time you are in town.


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