If I acted less like me, would I be in the clear?

Last night, I ended up spending the evening downstairs with my parents, my brother, and his girlfriend. Ivan and Moony were both asleep, Moony having told me she had to for work and Ivan crashing straight after telling me he didn't need or want to sleep. Maybe one day he'll remember to give warning before he passes out over the keyboard.

I didn't intend to spend so long down there. Originally I was asking for help with research, then me and dad were laughing about Dredd. Dinner arrived from the local take-out, so we all ate downstairs. I should have known to run as soon as I could, but I was lured into false safety by the Dredd talk and Benedict Cumberbatch unexpectedly being in the Graham Norton show.

One of the underlaying reasons me and my family aren't best suited to each other is the pure fact that they don't understand my personality. It's a pretty fundamental part of who I am, so it's no wonder it gets to me so easily.

It isn't that the conversation is always aimed at teasing me, but it tends to happen whenever I give an opinion. My problem, it seems, is that I'm too serious about things, and if I would only stop letting things get to me, then I would be okay.

But that would imply that I choose to be sensitive, to be hurt by their comments that really aren't meant in a mean way. Oh, but according to them, it really is my choice, and if I choose not to be affected, I won't be. It's all a state of mind.

I disrespectfully call bullshit.

I can't remember the topic of last night that got it started, but it got to a point where I reached for my phone, as I often to do hold off from shouting or to ground myself. Every single time I do this in their company, I'm laughed at, joked that I'm telling on them to the Internet, and they started impersonating me, in a high voice, saying that I'm claiming I hate them and wish they'd get run over by a bus, of all things. And that I can't wait to move out and get away.

And if a double decker bus kills the both of us...

While I don't mean the one about the bus, it's a little worrying, that they're so close to the truth but they're joking.

I said, as they were laughing, that one day, I'm going to stop going downstairs to socialise, and they'll all ask why I'm not spending time with them, and I'll reply 'remember every time I did and you ended up laughing and teasing me?'

I hate to say it, but I think that was the breaking point. Every time I spend any time with them, I end up upset, and they never understand why. Always tell me to get over it, but it isn't a choice. Like Moony doesn't choose to have anxiety.

My brother even asked why I was so quiet, after they'd stopped laughing.

As if none of them had noticed how tight I held on to my cup, how I never actually shout, but I was shouting to try to get them to understand that just because I grew up in a house where everyone is teased, it doesn't mean that I'm used to it.

I know it's known that once you leave something, you realise how much you miss it, but I feel caged, I can't spend time downstairs in the living room because I'm made to feel like less of a person because I get offended easily, because I've never liked jokes that rely on picking on a weak aspect of someone.

I'm a prisoner in my own home, and isn't that fucking tragic.

List 10 things.

In my classroom the other day, there was a homework on the board that I believe connects somehow to Private Peaceful by Michael Morpurgo. But it looks like year 7 work - that's around age 11/12 I think, for anyone out of England. It's been a while.

So the homework was to list 10 feelings or words that you feel explain your relationship with your family. I was a little shocked by the emotions I got on first impact, so I thought I'd play this game, see what I would write if that were my homework. See what my teachers would have to read.

1. Dysfunctional.

2. Untrusting.

3. Misunderstanding.

4. Wrong.

5. Tense.

6. Built on untruths.

7. One-sided.

8. Useless.

9. Out of my depth.

10. Out of place. 

Okay. I think what we can see from this list is that when I'm tired I get more honest, and that there's something seriously wrong with my family relationship.

I can't help but wonder what my teacher would say, like, if they'd take my aside and ask if I'm okay, if I need someone to talk to. Any maybe I do. I haven't spoken to Richard for months because I can't afford it and I thought I was fine, and my name has gone through, I'm fine there. Until I get through my GP sending me to a psychoanalyst or something, there's not much I can do.

I guess we'll see. There's a lot of time for all that. Sort of.

I dig down deeper, and you fall so much faster.

Today isn't how I expected to spend my Saturday 13th of July.

I'm not in Bournemouth. I couldn't sleep all night, I'm still exhausted. I kept waking and thinking it had to be late, but by the time I gave up it was only 9:17, the time I would have been in Bournemouth to meet Jake. Or, the time me, Jake and Moony would have been there to meet the group.

I spent a few hours in my room, trying to ignore everything, and found that when I laugh, it hurts.

Let me tell you a short story.

A while ago, my phone died for three days due to the influx of texts it kept getting, and I couldn't get a new one, or get to a reliable internet source. It broke me, I was a complete mess. My parents told me to shut up, to sort myself out because it's not like me and Moony are married or anything.

We don't talk about those three days, because they were the darkest days of my life. I don't remember much past complete pain, sending packed e-mails of my day each day to Moony through school.

But it was horrible. This is what it feels like. Did you know you can actually die of a broken heart? It can cause the heart to malfunction until you die because your beloved died.

I wouldn't believe it unless I was experiencing it.

But my best friend demanded I stay at his for the night, to get me out of the triggering environment. And if that isn't one of the most amazing things anyone has done for me, I dunno what is. We're just watching films, having a Karl Urban marathon, and a Marvel marathon. His mum is fantastic.

Me and Moony sorted out our sort-of argument. We were both emotionally compromised yesterday and said stuff we shouldn't have. It's alright though, because we know we'll never stop loving each other, and that's enough to get us through anything.

But now she's gone to have a drink with some friends, and I'm gonna watch DOOM, because it's a completely amazing film that is like watching back my childhood (because I played it a lot, not because I ran around killing aliens as an eight year old.) We're nearly one day closer, one day through the sudden hell we didn't expect ourselves to be in.


And if this posts seemed more disjointed than usual because my other posts are so very well structured then you can blame Tony Stark and his PTSD.

Reflection of the last few days.

I was taken camping for the last few days but I didn't really expect more than three days with my parents and not much else.

Since this is the first time I've spent that long with them in a long time, I didn't quite know how to act, but we discussed the pairing of Rajesh and Howard in Big Bang Theory, a family friend and his partner, and Mark Gatiss. I had Maurice on my e-book to read, along with a few downloaded porny fics to keep me going through the evenings - since fanfiction is my main source of entertainment - and the third Harry Potter book as part of my 'finish all the books and get through The Hobbit by Christmas' plan. It's even been agreed that me and my friend can go camping alone together and I can actually take the stove. This is trust and progress right here. I had even managed to work out how to present as male to people who don't know me and I'm pretty sure it worked. The photos my mum took are some of the only ones I like, because you really can't tell. And that's fantastic. It seemed to be going well.

Until they suggested that Transgenderism is all in my head and if I were raised in the 'proper fashion' like a girl, then it wouldn't be there. That if I hadn't been shown Star Wars, Doctor Who, and all the fantastic movies I adore, then the notion of being in the wrong body wouldn't exist.

That hurt. Really. And there was nowhere I could go to get over it. A tent isn't the most private of places. Luckily I had my phone and was able to keep it charged enough over the days to talk to my partner, as a sort of touch-down to keep me grounded.

It only got worse. They pretty much left that there, but we went to a load of big rocks by the sea beach nearby and the weather was so warm blokes were taking their tops off.

I've never wanted surgery more than I did in that moment. It was painful and I was thinking the entire time that I bet these guys don't know how lucky they are and how much I'm going to be risking trying to get that myself. I've never felt more wrong about myself.

There were also a few little kids running about and I unexpectedly got yearnings for my partner and our not-yet-existent-but-it-will-happen child. He's a long way off yet, maybe more than ten years, but he is planned and I already love him.

I'm not far past my mid-teens, and my main thoughts recently are of top surgery/trans* life, my future child, and living with my partner next year for the summer. Big thoughts for a kid.

And from Monday I'm going to Dartmoor for five-ish days, where signal is so awful I won't be able to contact my partner. The longest we've gone without talking is three unexpected days and it actually almost destroyed our lives. I almost regret agreeing to this. I've hardly got any time to talk to her until I leave at 8am Monday and the only thing getting me through my life right now is the very realistic prospect of Summertime in Sweden. If I don't do this trip, my parents may not think I'm responsible enough, and that's what this is about. It's life-skills and responsibility. And fucking Dartmoor. Admittedly, that's why I'm going. I want to see where The Hound of  The Baskervilles was set.

So it's been a partially relaxing, mostly inwardly exhausting few days.