Well, I had a better day at work last night, and now I'm off for a couple, so I'm going to try and get a few things accomplished. But its not all rosy, as you can guess by the title of this entry, and that's because there are things in my head that kinda scare me, and I have a number of almost-mental-illness like conditions that are less than fun.

They include having some OCD-like traits -I'm not a neat freak, or a germ freak, but I have a number of "magic" little routines that seem to serve no purpose other than keep me calm. ...

Well, the last couple of days I've been in the domestic department, but when the regular staffer came back from her weekend you would have thought I turned the whole department upside down. She actually swore at me, about me, and it was not a fun experience. My trouble with such stuff is that faced with something like that, I tend to turtle and often internalize whatever is being said to me.

This leads me to a point I've been thinking about for the last while.

I'm broken.

There have been a number of news articles lately about supposed Christians acting hatefully towards gay, lesbians, or trans people.

But fortunately, not all Christians are like that, even ones who think its a sin.

A couple of people I can point to as examples of that is my brother and sister-in-law.

No matter how much they may think I'm making a mistake in transitioning, they continue to show love and support to me even when I was acting in a way that made me less than loveable.

Just wanted to give them some props for this.

Outside my mother's room is a charcoal portrait of me, taken in my 20's. I have a mustache in the picture, and for many years its been a bit of a challenge to not look at that painting without feeling a bit pained.

But yesterday, I happened to glance at it, and somehow, something had changed. Like one of the hidden images in some pictures, all of a sudden I could honestly see a girl in that face, even with the facial hair.

Make of that what you will.

They say confession is good for the soul, but bad for the reputation, so I might as well find out if they're right by making a confession of my own.

There are bits of my mind that scare the heck out of me.

Sometimes it feels like I may not be alone in my head, and somewhere in the boatload of darkness inside me there is something, or someone else.

And that something or someone isnt a nice critter in any way, shape or form.

An apology, to all who called me on my being a drama queen over the incident with my car. I just got off the phone with the insurance company, and it turns out I'm NOT going to have to have a year's worth of coverage up front. Once again, what looked to me like a mountain turns out to be a mole-hill, and boy is my face red over my over-reaction.

Hopefully, this is a lesson I can learn for the next time something happens - dont make more trouble than is actually there, and take it one breath at a time.

Thanks to everyone who puts up with me anyway.

Every morning, I get up, look at this body of mine, and wonder how I can possibly make being female work. I mean, put it in a suit and have it lose 50 pounds, and it would probably be called "handsome".

And yet here I am, trying to change that, and somehow make this body pass as a woman's.

Its dam hard, and sometimes, it feels like a hopeless task, so why do I bother?

I've never had enough discipline in my life to reach any goal I've set, so why do I think this will be any different than when I tried to become a nurse, or before that a teacher?

Well, finished dealing with the insurance company for the moment, and I got both the bad news and the worse news. The bad news is that due to the non-payment I was cut off as of April 1, and to re-start a policy I'm going to have to pay the yearly cost up front. So somehow over the next little bit I'm going to have to come up with 18,000 $ up front to have coverage for the upcoming year.

When I was a very young creature of uncertain gender, my brother began having vision troubles that ended with him having operations and needing to wear glasses. Not long after, I began to complain about my eyes as well, but something funny happened.

Nobody believed me.

They assumed that I was just trying to being like my big brother, and so patted me on the head, and told me to stop being silly.

It took months before my teacher finally told my parents to have my eyes actually checked, and it turned out I did indeed need glasses, and I wear them to this day.

Many, many years ago, I accidentally slammed a car door on my brother's fingers. Afterward, I had an almost PTSD reaction to the event - I had nightmares about it, had it replay over and over again in my mind, and to this day can get a little leery about closing a car door when I have any passengers.

The point of me sharing this little story is that I seem sort of primed for trauma. And if a minor event like that can set me off, you can just imagine what's going on in my head right now.

Well, I've managed to screw my life up for the last time. I was driving home from work today and hit another car, doing serious damage to both vehicles. To make matters worse, I've been having troubles with payments on my car insurance, so I'm not sure I'm covered at the moment.

This just goes to show that it makes no difference if I'm Todd or Dorothy, I'm still a fuck up, and nothing will ever change that. So I'm going to throw everything away associated with Dorothy, and quit living in fantasy land.

Byes.

That's what my daughter said to me tonight. She even added "Even if you become a girl, you'll still be a great dad."

Kids, huh?

Got called a "monster" by some kids at Sam's school today, and a kid was told, "Look out, its headed your way."

I have no idea where this came from, or what I could have possibly done to deserve that, but it kinda hurt.

Ah, well.

Well, tomorrow is Mother's day, and my store has been pushing hard for sales, but looking at all the pink signs pointing out discounts on home appliances, weepy movies, and flowery perfumes got me wondering.

What if you had a mom who didnt fit the nice neat little stereotype? What if your mom would prefer to watch an action film than a three-hankie weepie? What if she's more comfortable with power tools than with knitting needles? Do those types of moms get left behind?

Every day, I'm faced with choices. Some are trivial, some could be life-altering. Sometimes, I can see the right choice without much problem, and others I really struggle with trying to figure out what to do.

One choice I'm dealing with right now has to do with my plans for mother's day. See, my ex, my mom, my daughter, and my brother and sister-in-law are going to a restaurant, and of course I'm going to.

But the question I've been dealing with is this: What the heck do I wear?