Tag: activism

Triggered By A Diagnosis

I’ve been living with Bipolar Disorder and Complex PTSD for most of my life, and one of the most common things about people with Complex PTSD is that we’ve often been given at least ten other diagnoses, and I have been…

The other day when I went to the doctor over my high pulse and stress, she asked me if I was ever diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. She was very nice and was asking a number of questions, so I told her, yes, that I have been diagnosed but that I don’t believe I was born with a personality disorder. I do think BPD is real and there are people who have that, and I do know I have a few of the symptoms, and used to have a lot more, but that’s the thing… a person with a personality disorder can’t really recover, yet with DBT, I believe the majority of us who are misdiagnosed as Borderline as a result of trauma CAN, and I have in most ways, but I’ve been extremely stressed and triggered lately because the way things are going, my needs are being put last and forgotten about, as per usual because I’m a poor, trans, mentally ill, unemployed person on disability and section 8 who’s at the bottom of society with no money or power or anything giving me any upper hand. I’ve spent my life as a professional lab rat and psych patient and I’ve been destroyed in the process.

When my doctor asked me that the other day, I started asking myself “Why did she ask that? What did I do that made her ask that? Was it my tone of voice? My mania? The fact that I talked so openly about my trauma like it was nothing?” I felt like I’d done something wrong and fucked up for her to ask that. Sometimes I wonder if I DO have BPD since I feel like my life has been a challenge since day one and that people have always been working against me, and that type of belief is common in people with BPD, but let’s examine MY Day 1 in this world. What happened to me that day? My fucking dick was cut off! Okay, so if that’s not traumatic enough, from that very moment on, I was basically brainwashed by my family and society to believe I was a girl, which never felt right, and when I came out about being trans, my family said I brought shame on them and many of them wanted me dead. Then, when I began getting locked up against my will for asking my family questions about my intersex condition that they didn’t wanna answer, they called the cops on me just for asking questions and had me locked up where I was tortured, beaten, and sexually assaulted by staff members who wouldn’t allow me to use the men’s room. Then, when I began saying that I thought there were gangs working in almost every type of position throughout the system (because I know for a fact there are) I was given the diagnosis of Borderline, and when I started pointing out who was actually working for the gangs, I got diagnosed with Schizophrenia, and yeah if you don’t know what I know you probably think I’m crazy to say these things about gangsters in the system, but the best way to explain what they do is basically Matt Damon’s character in The Departed. In that movie, he is working for the police, and there are absolutely gangsters working for the police, but the police in and of themselves are a gang to begin with, so that’s not the best example…. but the same way the Mob payed Matt Damon’s character to work as a cop to get inside information, there are secretaries, social workers, hospital staff, janitors, nurses, doctors, security guards, teachers, and others inside the system who are being paid extra to do some illegal inside investigating along with their jobs. I’m not crazy to think this and I’m not a liar or delusional, but I’ve been given these diagnoses to take away the power of my word. All anyone has to say is “he’s crazy” or actually, they often say “she’s crazy” just to piss me off extra, but that is all they have to say. It’s been used against me when I was beaten, tortured, sexually assaulted, & harassed. I tried to report it as they said was my right but the staff who did it said I was crazy and that was that. Their word over mine. The police do it to me too. I have absolutely no power except to tell my life story, and that’s what I have done in my books, and why I’m a little paranoid for my safety and afraid to go out. I’ve been scooped up off the street by cops for no reason except that my parents were looking for me and I was locked up for months and nearly sent to a state hospital for two years… so to be asked “Have you ever been diagnosed Borderline?” has me buggin’ the more that I thought about it. Like, I was literally born both male and female, which is as common as being born with red hair. Did you hear that? Yes, it’s THAT common, and yet we have been completely erased from society. Our existence is not acknowledged and when we start to question the extreme corruption going on and the fact that wars are being fought over this issue without it ever being talked about or acknowledged and I’m in the middle of it all, and was born into it, hated by so many from the day I was born, as if I had been marked by the devil, but IIIIIIII have a personality disorder????? I’m sorry but I just don’t agree.

In other news though, here are some photos I took today. I’ve been trying to slow myself down and not do too much so I don’t explode, but it’s been a rough ride lately and I can’t help but feel a bit angry.

This last picture is me cheering for the Red Sox who I can’t watch right now cuz I don’t have cable, but I’m hoping to watch them in the playoffs and World Series.

More Thoughts On Being Brave In the Face Of Unsolicited Advice From Strangers

I’ve been getting a lot of shade from strangers on the internet as I put myself out there more, and especially when my stuff gets seen by many, which was the case with a comment I got today on my Tik Tok video. It got 18 likes and a number of compliments, which isn’t a ton, but often times I only get a few likes and views. This time tons of people saw it and I got some compliments, but I also got unsolicited advice from a stranger with 4 followers and no videos of their own. He said “You need to throw in better punch lines and think of better rhymes. The words shouldn’t all end in ‘ad'”

At first the negativity hit me hard and I felt like shit, but then realized I was being gas-lit and told the opposite of the truth by someone who was trying to invalidate my work. I’ve been editing my autobiography and there’s something in there about how when I was growing up, kids and teachers used to tell me I was stupid, ugly, fat, boring, and other stuff like that when the opposite was true. I am fat now, but for the first ten years that I was called fat, I was actually quite skinny. I was also very attractive, fairly smart, and extremely unique, even if I didn’t know how yet, but I believed I was fat, ugly, stupid, and boring because those comments were felt much stronger than any compliments I may have received. This dude on Tik Tok saying “all your words shouldn’t end in -ad” took something kind of unique I do on purpose and spun it like it sucked because he had no understanding of it. Yes, I often throw a bunch of similar sounding rhymes into a verse, but unlike the typical lyrics where each line ends in a rhyme, I throw them in throughout the line for a different kind of effect. It was also only a 1 minute clip of a three minute song, so it may seem excessive in that one part, but there were plenty of other rhymes that didn’t end in -ad.

“I gave all that I had/ and was made to feel bad/ for trying a fad/ and not being rad/ and of course there’s my dad/ but I’m not gonna get into that./ Some stuff’s not even in the past.”

That was the one line with all the words ending in -ad. It goes on from there…

“I’m trying to find my independence/I wear an anchor as a pendent/ I’m sending letters to the president/ It’s evident/ that America is doomed/ We can all sit in one room/ but with whom can you bloom?”

So yeah, this dude with 4 followers and no videos whose advice I did not ask, whether it was meant to be constructive or not, was BS by someone who’s likely just jealous.

Keep in mind, when I say someone is jealous of me, I don’t mean because I’m such a handsome, rich, successful, talented artist. I’m not sure I am any of those things… definitely not rich, and success is a matter of how you view it. In many ways I am successful, but the average person isn’t gonna see me that way. My art may be great, I can’t say for sure, but there are lots of people who still think Picasso and Basquiat’s art is trash, and they’re obviously big influences of mine. Hell, there are people who don’t like DaVinci, even with all his skill, I mean, I’m not even such a huge fan, although I do appreciate him, but The Mona Lisa is a bit underwhelming, in my opinion. Still, who the fuck am I to say it isn’t good? (and that’s not even what I’m saying, but many of these haters are.) And I may be okay looking, but I’m not exactly a hottie or whatever. Anyway, my point is that they may not be jealous of my art or my looks or talent, or any of that, but what they are jealous of is my bravery to put my own art out into the world… hell, the bravery to do art at all in the first place. To be able to say “I’m an artist. This is what I created”, and then not only that, but my art clearly exposes my heart and soul in a vulnerably honest way which one can’t help but feel. On top of that, I often say political things that piss off half the population. To bravely put out my opinions and my creations and bare my soul the way I do, I make it easy for haters to shit on me, and it’s hard, but I am brave. A few friends have reminded me of that lately, that bravery isn’t about not having fear or not being hurt by the comments meant to invalidate us, it’s about continuing to speak up and continuing to share our art, continuing to live each day the best we can when the world is trying its hardest to break us. I am one of the bravest people on the planet by that definition. You aren’t being brave if there’s nothing to be afraid of, which brings me to another story…

After talking about not letting the haters get me down, and not listening to advice by strangers who may know nothing about what they’re giving feedback on, and in fact, usually don’t, I saw a discussion in a writer’s group about Beta Readers, which are people who read your book for free or a small fee, and give you honest feedback. Many swear by them, but others say it’s a waste of money and time. I said I’ve thought about doing it, but usually people find these Beta Readers in writing groups and they’re complete strangers. What if my reader is prejudice to my topic? What if they don’t know anything about the topic? What if they don’t read that genre or they’re lacking empathy for people with mental illness or addictions? Why would I solicit the advice of one or two total strangers and take their word on my work when it could be great and just not meant for them? I got a reply right away from what appeared to be a straight, white, Boomer, cis man saying “You worry too much.” I ended up deleting my comment, and his in the process, which I now feel was weak of me, but I didn’t wanna get ganged up on with other replies. I reminded myself the same thing as before; that I’m being gas-lit by people trying to invalidate me. What the fuck does an older straight, cis, white man have to worry about when giving their book to someone to read? Unless he went through a horrible sexual trauma, survived a suicide attempt, spent years in the psych ward, is talking about true crimes or war crimes, or has problems with his dick, there is almost no topic a straight, cis, white man can really be considered brave for writing about. There may be a few other topics, I’m sure, and I’m not saying they can’t be brave for other reasons, but to “bravely” write about a topic, I think there are limits for straight, cis, white men. Most of what they write will be read by people who’ve grown up in a society where the straight, cis, white male perspective is the norm and not to be questioned the way people would question me for what I dared to share in my books. Being told I worry too much is invalidating of the many reasons I have to worry and he more than likely does not. For me to hand my life story to a complete stranger on the internet in 2021, and say “be totally honest and tell me everything you think needs work” would be setting myself up for possible disaster, inviting the wrong kind of person to unleash their hate on me after learning everything about me.

I was just trying to offer a perspective as to why I agreed with many who said it was a waste of time and money. I mean, unless I got someone who I know is not transphobic, is politically left, doesn’t hate people based on past mistakes, etc. My book isn’t for everyone, and I don’t even want the opinions of the average reader. It is hard for me to take criticism of any sort though, and sometimes it pisses me off at first and then pushes me to come back harder. That’s the only way to properly use criticism, but I find that if it comes from a stranger whose opinion was not asked for, and it invalidates what I already created in any way, I’m not gonna listen, regardless. I know I have more to learn, but it doesn’t mean that what I created so far is wrong or bad just because some random dude doesn’t like it.

Speaking of all this, part of me was glad to hear the woman next door singing today. She didn’t sing yesterday and I was worried I made her feel like she couldn’t sing, ever, but she sang today for a shorter time and with her windows closed. I could still hear, but she only did it for a few minutes. I would be okay with this. I’m not someone who has no empathy. I’m a musician myself and sometimes it can be a little loud. I’ve also completely blasted my music late at night and had the cops called on me many years ago, but I’m mindful now of the volume and when I practice, it’s just for about 15 minutes a day every few days…. of course I know I need more practice than that, but 1. I have a million other projects, and 2. I sacrifice it sometimes for the sake of my neighbors, and this woman has spent the last 3 years, including the entire pandemic, making high pitched opera sounds that are like nails on a chalkboard for five hours a day sometimes, every fucking day while standing on her porch with windows open, just a few feet from all our windows on this side of the building. It’s been terrible and needed to be stopped at almost any cost, but I was a little relieved to hear her sing again, as well as the fact that she was more mindful about it this time…but I was glad I didn’t break her spirit completely. She is brave and continuing on.

Here is a picture of a graffiti sticker I bravely stuck over some racist graffiti I found last month. I was happily surprised to find it still there…

What is something brave you have done recently?