I'd like to finally write down everything that has happened in my life from the start to today. I guess I'll split it in several parts since it's a lot of stuff.

When I was a young child, a family member died from hanging himself. He was 24 and I was 10. Thankfully, I didn't know him too well, and he lived in another country... Spain, you know. I only heard stories about who he was, that my mother missed him, that he was taken too young. I didn't really feel anything. I didn't know really what to feel. I didn't feel so conscious back then of my life, it's all just snippets of interactions that I remember. But I did experience certain moments like these.

I experienced waking up that night, stepping down the stairs in my sleep clothes in the middle of the night, seeing my mother cry on the sofa with my dad looking somber and holding a hand on her shoulder. I didn't know what to think. What would I do, the same as my mother, grieve? I didn't know the guy. I didn't know how to answer or react or handle it. I thought it was... well, not normal, but something I was expected to handle. At least that's what it felt like when my dad looked at me. I do remember a before and after, the time before being an idyllic life, carefree, doing things although with some social awkwardness, but most of all, my family going out to do activities. After this, not so much.

I experienced later, when I was 12 and 13, blazing through puberty and feeling all kind of weird feelings pop up, and the predictable happened with unrestricted access to the internet. Not sure why I was allowed that, but the online world was unlike real life, it was... better, it was peaceful, quiet, I wasn't pressured to speak before thinking, I was allowed to figure things out on my own. Because that's what reality was. My dad had been working on the house, but never really invited me to help him, and if I did, it was just menial, boring things. In fact, I wasn't really invited to anything. My mother just went through the motions. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Wake up, chores, watch tv. I don't remember much from this time. I remember the many websites I went to. I was nervous as hell. I was afraid if people could see how awkward I was behind the screen. In fact, I think I was afraid of a lot of things. My mother seemed distant and cold, my dad seemed opinionated and short tempered. Eh. I guess that was life, so I just enjoyed the things I could on the computer and forgot about real life.

I experienced my first partner at 15, and of course, it happened. What's there to say? I was also very needy, clingy, controlling, and worried. I was worried she would be gone, 'misbehaving' and I would be hurt and I would lose her. I chalked it up to just being, well, I don't know... not good with people? Clearly, school wasn't doing too well, I felt more like a cog, actually, I felt like a robot. I didn't really get along with anyone in those years, I couldn't agree how people tended to act, or what expectations they put on me. Everybody is bullied, right, but people look at me and say I have to take it, learn to take it. I was also, very, frantically nervous on top of the constant social awkwardness. Fearing people and their decisions and possible inner thoughts. Dad and mom had started to sleep in different rooms, and dad had drunk a beer or two after every day. Mom called it alcoholism. I felt pressured to take sides. I did mention once that my dad was kinder when he drunk. I guess I can understand why he gave me that torn look now. But yeah. Fear of what he would say. Fear of not understanding people. Fear of becoming alone. I didn't know how to take it. How should I interpret it? I don't know. Nobody told me. Nobody really looked towards me. It was just me, and the computer.

I experienced them divorcing at age 15-16. I didn't really understand what was going on, but I nodded with stoicism, just like my dad, and kept my tears back. By that time the relationship had ended, I was moved to a single gender school, and I was feeling the pressure to fit in. My dad was making me do little jobs with new people and I guess it was obvious how uncomfortable it made me. I did take anti anxiety meds, but they didn't do much. Terrible handsweat, terrible school experiences, terrible body experiences, terrible expectations to do things right. It came from everyone around me, all the time. It was clear that my dad would always react negatively, beratingly, cluelessly at my attempts at my independence and exploration of my personality, and it was also clear that my mom would keep a safe distance, look the other way, and react emotionally if I said the wrong thing. My mother would get hurt, and my dad would tell me off. But who knows. Maybe I was wrong, I probably did say the wrong thing. Being too clueless, fragile, anxious. I started understanding that if I was myself, I didn't fit in. And then the divorce. I don't remember much from this time. Except that I became a furry then. I thought it was cute. Animals dont judge.

I experienced my dad leaving at age 19. By this time, whatever attempts I had made to fit in, in my family, in school, in real life - none of it worked. I was known as the geek who just hung out at their home room. They didn't know much of what I was doing online. I learned how I could get attention that I couldn't get before, attention and care I sorely needed but never got. It was gross, when I look back on it. But I didn't know any better. I had finished high school and I didn't know what to do with myself or who I was. I didn't have space for it. The divorce and death seemed far away in my mind, as I just concentrated on my feelings. Even as the recession happened and my dad lost his job, I focused more and more on my feelings. Something must be off, something must be wrong with my stoicism. One day, I found LGBTQ positive artwork online that said that it was okay to be yourself. Of course I clutched it to my heart when real life seemed to reject me. Especially after I told my parents I didn't really want to be the gender I had pretended to be - they didn't really understand in the slightest. They must've been afraid, deeply afraid of who I was. Mentally ill. Isolated. Not like other people. And yet I was supposed to be an adult now. I was supposed to have my shit together, as they said through their faces. And then, my dad left. He said he had to go to make money from the family. What could I do? I just focused on myself, getting lost in the online world and starting digital arts. Maybe there was a home for me on the internet, where I could be myself, after all.

From then on, it was me and the internet and I didn't want to think of real life. It was too messy, too unpredictable, too emotionally confusing, and I couldn't be myself. Transitioning felt like the only option at the time to be myself, facing the unexplainable behavior of my parents and classmates... no, not even just then, but from society, school, adults. They had told me I was worth, but I felt no worth. They had told me it was a stable country to give me a stable life, but I had none of that. I had pressure and escapism, fully prepped, fully wanted, just in time for adulthood. I'll keep writing that half in another post, since this one is becoming long.

Suffice to say, I didn't really trust anyone. I didn't want to think about it. It hurt for reasons I couldn't understand and I could sense my judgement becoming flawed and the head clouding in emotions. I felt a hollow hole emerging in the center of me, and I couldn't explain it. As if everyone around me was unreachable despite being able to see them exist besides me. As if I had enough fear over that time that it carved that hole in me. But enough about me. Dad was gone. Mom was dulled. Nothing happened anymore. The shared dreams, shared comfort, shared experience was gone, had been gone for many years. I didn't know what to make of it. I suppose I thought this is how it is. And I shrugged my shoulders and rolled along, because if I did open my mouth, there would be resistance. I didn't want that anymore. I just wanted a hug and told that I was loved.