Hang in there, Little Tomato!

This has pretty much been my mantra lately. There has been so much happen since my last blog that I don't know where to begin, so I'll just start with the stuff that's up front in my head.


I'm getting a haircut. This has been such an unnerving thing to think about lately, I'm surprised it feels like such a natural decision now. I'm getting it cut even shorter. Yes, shorter. My hair is a release point for me. Whenever I'm stressed or anxious, I cut my hair. I did a bit of hacking away a week or two ago when I found out Louise was moving her practice, but it's still chin-length. I feel like I need to drop a load of dead weight our of my life, and a haircut always gives me a lighter, weight-off-my-shoulders feeling, like I'm getting rid of all the anxieties and hang-ups that have been building up inside me. I need that to be able to get on with the rest of my shit.


 Also, it turns out my little gender-shift wasn't as temporary as I assumed it would be. I've been searching the fringes of the interwebs and reading up on the subject. Ever since I can remember, I've been discouraged from thinking outside the box. The general rules seemed to be "Don't step out of line, do as you're told, don't let your personality imprint on anything outside of your mind." I have no idea where that last one came from, I have no memory of any life lesson or lecture, but it's been a huge roadblock in my life for... ever. Since I was about 12, I've been slowly uncovering the real person underneath all the stuff I've been told I'm supposed to be. I guess this is just another fun fact I've learned about myself. I've been becoming more and more comfortable with the term "genderqueer," even more so with "androgynous." Because of this, I've been reconsidering what I'll change my name to. I've been Tabitha for the past few years, at least to the people I like. I think it would be smart to chose a unisex name. Small problem, though, a lot of the unisex names I've come across so far are so plain. I never thought I'd want to start making lists of potential names again, but I find my self feeling more optimistic this time around. I've been hanging around on Genderfork, taking note of the kind of names and stuff. I feel good about this.



Before school started, my younger brother Jerome and I went to stay with our Aunt Kym and Uncle Greg for a week. This was a big week. I found out that most of my family know about the problems we've got going on, but were not aware of how much Mum's drinking was affecting us, or how much and often she drinks. There was a family meeting, where we got it all out and I got into a fight with my giant of a grandfather where we both had to be restrained. A few days before that I would have just broken down in tears even before the argument, but I felt so different after staying with Kym and Greg. There was a lot of time-wasting when everyone tried to convince my brother and I that it was our job to take care of Mum. What the fuck does it look like we've been trying to do? She's supposed to be the mother in this relationship. I figured that out a few years ago and backed off, and stopped thinking of myself as the one in charge of everything. One of the few intelligent adults to ever speak to me honestly said that if I acted like a kid, Mum would become the mother I needed. Bullshit. She's just not mother material. Good intentions don't equal good parenting. It's taken me a while to admit that. I've been feeling guilty for saying Mum's not the greatest, well, mum, but now I understand: she's not a dead-beat, she's just genuinely incapable. She's still a child herself. She had kids because it was what married couples were supposed to do. 


It's also taken me a while to admit I'm not okay, and asking for help is definitely not something I've had a lot of practice at. After  they got the message with a little help from Kym, who just listens like you wouldn't believe, we discussed alternative living arrangements. I'd already asked some of the aunts and uncles for help, and they just kind of blew me off while trying to stifle large quantities of guilt. The problem with my family is that they do want to help, they just don't fully understand, which was the point of the family meeting. My aunt Karen was trying to get an apartment with a friend, so I could move in with them and operate like an adult, but I'm so not ready for that it's not even funny. I've tried to operate like an adult for a long time, I can't do it. I admit I need parental figures in my life. (There's a lot of admitting going on) Kym understands that, and we've been working on finding a way for me to live with her. I had hoped to have the majority of these issues resolved before I started school, but it hasn't happened that way. I've been holding up okay, though, but it's starting to take it's toll. Thus the need for ejecting dead weight.


School is awesome. Simply awesome. I love my teachers, my classes, the stuff I'm learning, I've met loads of cool, interesting people. A few weeks ago, we went on an excursion for art to the APT6 exhibit at the Brisbane Gallery of Modern Art. It rocked, bigtime. I look forward to seeing it again without herds of raucous eight-year-olds running around. I totally aced my Art exam the other day, too (I think). Apart from feeling a little over whelmed (okay, a lot) the last few days, things have been very, very, good.


This post is getting ridiculously long, so I'll just leave it here.

xx Remarkable