An Incomplete List of Reasons I Think I Don’t Deserve to Be Happy
What are yours?
- I didn’t save another child from terrible abuse when I was, as a child, also suffering terrible abuse.
- I not only did not stop, but was briefly forced to participate in, said abuse.
- Half of my genetic material comes from someone who abused children; the other half, from someone who, for whatever legitimate psychosocial reasons, never stopped that someone
- It just doesn’t seem right.
Not according to everything I ever learned—about gay people, and especially about trans people (even Elliot Page, currently America’s Most Famous Transmasc, dies in his current, famous TV show) and incest survivors (name a happy one) and poor people, and weirdos and people who live in vehicles and revolutionaries, and two-time divorcees and anyone else—everyone else, all of whom I somehow embody—maligned in my Catholic school education - and I’m basically a cat-lady. But a dude. Which I can only assume is worse.
- To be honest, I’m surprised I needed to think as hard as I did to come up with a #5, and that I have to ponder this long for a #6. That doesn’t at all negate the seriousness of the previous numbers, or how mighty the obstacles to overcome them, but—
Oh wait! I’ve got another: I’m chubby now, and everyone knows that means that my weight should consume all of my energy and self-loathing - —but still, given what I’m up against—culturally, historically. Even legally (#ProtectTransHealth)—it’s pretty good. I must be doing pretty fucking good, if the list that occurs to me right now is so short. ♥︎
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