On being myself

Seems such an odd thing on which to reflect. Something that should come as natural as breathing, am I right? It would seem so to most and generally is. There have been times when I have strayed unbelievably far from my essence or being and tortured myself trying to conform to other people’s desires. Tried to run from who I was. Tried to stuff all the maladies and nightmares back into the proverbial box and reclaim some purity I thought I corrupted and lost.

It’s part of the reason I’m kind of strange, blunt and have a dark sense of humor as well as embrace my various personality quirks. Yeah, I’m basically a big sissy nancy boy. I don’t give a shit. I like myself this way. Its a lot of fun. I spent most of my twenties in terrible hetero relationships that tore my soul to pieces. Trying to be something I wasn’t because I was afraid that my Dad or society at large or certain people I know would disown me. I feel like I wasted a lot of my early adult years being miserable and I’m kind of making up for lost time.

So you know what happened? I just stopped giving a shit what other people think. I came out as gay to my Dad and the world. It wasn’t that big a deal. It was a relief. I can’t describe how much lighter my heart was for it. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I realize that with how I sometimes dress I might be making myself a target and I don’t care. I decided one day that I’m not going to let the world make me afraid. If I conform to their will, the assholes win and I’m not letting that happen.

Sometimes I really enjoy dressing up as a woman. It took me a long time to get comfortable enough to admit this to other people. I don’t feel confused, I just like being pretty, damn it. I’m not trans either. I guess I could be considered a bit genderqueer in that I strongly own my feminine side and don’t always identify as particularly masculine even though I’m pretty average honestly. But being boyish as hell certainly helps paint the femme picture. I like being a guy, but sometimes I seriously want to reinvent myself as a drag queen. The stage actor in me just loves to pretend. Speaking of which, I’m most likely going to be a faerie in the show my Man is directing in the summer! So psyched.

So yes, I’m not a particularly conventional guy. I’m equal parts feral beast and total sissy. I don’t have a lisp and I love Death and Thrash and Black Metal. I say pretty much whatever insane things pop into my head and occasionally slip in a bit of repartee and amusement for my audience. A lot of people give me weird looks but I have reached a blissful state of being pleasantly detached when it comes to other people and their hangups.

I love my life. I love being Me. There’s noone else I’d rather be.

I think they call this being content. Fancy that.



PS: I’ll try to get some cool pictures at the DRI show tomorrow night 😀



The holidays notwithstanding things are ever shifting. Time distorts, and it seems like nothing is happening yet everything is somehow different or altered. Some for the better, others not so much.

I’m feeling sad lately and I don’t always have the ability to put it into even the most basic of words or terms. Not all the time, mind you. I actually almost have an idea of where I’m going with this line of thought.

Often I say that I’m X (Sad, Depressed, Morose, or whatever) and ‘I don’t know why’. I’m choosing to point it out because it’s nearly always a misrepresentation of the truth which eventually emerges. Granted there are times when words utterly fail me, but it really doesn’t happen much. Point being that I am almost always blowing smoke when I say things like that.

I’m also feeling quite happy in some respects. I have a lot to be grateful for and I’m fully conscious of this. I mean, there are the usual stressors but my romantic life is unbelievably fulfilling despite my Darling and I being on opposing schedules. I’m excited about Christmas, and seeing my Sister as well as the rest of the family.

I’ve just been shifty lately. It’s the nature of my illness, even when it’s well controlled. I’ve been having occasional flashes of intense sadness, sometimes in the middle of talking to someone. Or anxiety. Either way I feel icky as hell almost instantly. It seems to worry people who see me like that. I try to explain that it happens and I just sort of have to let it run its course. Doesn’t usually last that long.

That, of course is the easiest way I can sum up bipolar disorder. It’s not the highs or lows that get you. It’s the back and forth shit that really drives a person berserk.

Any time I’m sick or my joints start flaring up I tend to get weepy and blubbery. Today is one of those days and I’m on the couch with my Pikachu trying to take it easy. I’m hoping the dreaded work bug I seem to have goes easy on me. I don’t want to have to go off my RA meds when I just got things under control.

So yes, I am a bit frustrated and feeling icky at present. But instead of staring at the walls and wandering around in my head I decided to write about it. Did I achieve anything? I suppose that’s purely a matter of perspective. Whatever. It made me feel a bit better, that’s all I really care about right now.

That’s all I have at the moment. Be well and enjoy yet another obnoxious selfie.

-Tommy Boy