Screaming On the Inside

It annoys me that you assume to know my gender.
When you leave the room and address the people left in there as ladies, you are not talking to me.
I feel invisible when I go to the trouble of sending you an email expressing interest in your show/project and you never respond to me, or you take a really long time, so long it’s clear I am not wanted regardless of your words when you do respond.
It makes me feel hurt when you say age doesn’t matter, yet this only seems to apply as long as I agree with you, I have always given space for your voice, but have realised it is at the price of my own oppressive silence.
I hate the stereotype of the older person who is wise and free and doesn’t give a fuck. In cute cards or images, with some smart tagline. They are nearly always wearing brightly coloured clothes, are thin, white, able bodied and surrounded by friends. The whole ‘you can do anything’. It’s ageist. Ageing is hard and confronting.  It’s not an image I feel I can live up to. Anyway why wait to wear bright colours or kooky clothes, do it now.
People who say ‘I don’t get it, everyone is the same to me, I am nice, I treat everyone the same’ in regards to sexuality or gender (or race or ability). Yeah, no of course you don’t. You are most likely white, able bodied, straight and cisgender. You have no fucking clue about the daily heterosexism us queers experience and the advantages you carry. You are visible.
I don’t like your fucking form that pushes me into a male or female category and won’t give me the salutation I like.
I don’t like that I have to choose one of my two partners to list on your form, and remind you that they are female, because you assume I am female and have a male partner and that I am monogamous.
‘She is my partner and yes, she knows where to locate your office.
I am not too young to have gone through menopause. I think I would know about the hell it was and still is. The massive impact it had on my life. The stigma of middle age.
I don’t walk into the fancy shops to do my shopping. 40 years of op shopping and buying in large discount shops means I feel out of place or not derserving of your goods, and I still can’t afford them. This isn’t helped by the fact that if I even try I am completely ignored in ‘your’ shop.
I walk into a crowded room, and am overwhelmed about what to do. I don’t know if you really want me sitting with you and I feel too awkward to ask, so I will hide over here in the corner. Don’t judge me and think I am snobby as you often do, I am doing my best.
I am confronted by the competitive nature of bodies and body image. It’s a giant can of worms. I can only assume I don’t fit due to lack of media images that resonate with me in any kind of way.
I don’t want to hear about any television dating shows. They are heteronormative bullshit.
I can’t go anywhere today because depression won’t let me leave the house. It has me under a lead blanket, fuck you, it’s not about my attitude.
I feel like shit because my weight has effected my ability to express my sexuality and gender.
It annoys me when people only come to me when they want something from me and they feel they have some sort of right.
I don’t have a bestie. I never have, I have no clue what that’s like or how to do that. It makes me feel I am lacking something.
No, I don’t know that you love me, or you care about, or anything about how you think of me, unless you say so.
I have so many creative ideas I will never get them all made in one lifetime. This causes distress that I really cannot describe.
Being childless is not a choice of mine. It’s circumstance. It doesn’t make me sad, but it makes me angry when people don’t value their children.
I have been a carer, of someone, since I was 17. This has impacted my life considerably. It is the reason I don’t own my own home or have never travelled. These things have nothing to do with avocado.
I do get frustrated that I spend hundreds of hours on a single art piece/performance, to have it end up in my garage, hardly seen by anyone. I don’t know what the point is, but I keep making because my art is me and without making I become nothing.
Managing ageing parents is hard work. There comes a point when you aren’t the kid anymore and you become the parent. Except you have to let them think they are still the parent…. they earnt it.
It’s incredibly stressful having to monitor where every single dollar you have goes. Money can help obtain happiness because it means being able to pay for health care, food and accommodation. People who say money doesn’t matter haven’t experienced the stress of having not enough.
I find keeping well is a constant process. Recovery from, or with mental illness is a road that just keeps going. Having to balance everything to keep well is very hard. If I wobble off a bit the depression or anxiety rises up and pushes me back down. I have to maintain just the right balance of sleep, eating well, the right company, medication, work hours and self care activities.
I don’t find it complementary that you think I am interesting. The way you are saying that and your body language makes me feel like a zoo animal. If you want to understand what, or how I am queer, go do some googling and get a basic understanding first. It’s not up to me to educate you. Education is good, but you and your manner are creepy. You are not entitled to this information from me. Take your white, cis , hetero advantage elsewhere.
I crave friendship, but I don’t know how to do it. I don’t want to be ‘owned’ by particular groups or cliques because there is lots of parts of me I wouldn’t be able to express. The social obligation would be too much. I would find it confining. Then there’s lots of individual people I have met who interest me, but then my health let’s me down and I can’t ever seem to have the time to truly connect, then I lose them. Then there’s the people who I have lost contact with because they left all the work to me.
(For the last twenty years)  ‘I/we really like what you are doing but it doesn’t fit with our vision of what we are doing here’…. fuck you and your vision. I have my own. I will find a way to make my own path, rather than fit in with you.
It’s nice for me to realise that I don’t actually care that my tits hang down to my waist and that my arse does not look like a 20 year olds. I am happy my body functions.My body serves to carry my brain and parts of me that help me make things. Often my body and presentation it is the art. Besides this, I can also choose my own cock.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: