Emotional Support

These past weeks truly have felt like I've just been speedrunning all the stages of grief over and over every single day. I wonder whether it's just a bunch of bad weeks or if I'm only now starting to truly realize certain things about myself and those who have surrounded me for years.

I want to do a legal name change. So far I haven't done progress on it because I still have to learn whether my chosen name will be accepted or not. Jay is not a Portuguese name. Rules on foreign names are worded so strangely, I don't know whether I'd be able to switch it or not. Regardless, it's a big change and with being closeted, I could only hide it for so long.

So I finally properly came out as Non-Binary to my family. Not to get their permission, but to know whether I'd have their blessing or not.

The reaction was as uninterested, contemptuous and dismissive as I imagined it would be, so my expectations weren't exceeded in the slightest. I've been paying close attention to their takes on trans people and their reaction was exactly what I thought it would be. Saves me the disappointment, I suppose. If anything, I only feel even more of a stranger to my family than I already was.

There is no friendship there, these people don't know me, they don't know who I am as a person, and they don't care about what I create or what I wish to bring to the world. Any worries they show about me, however genuine they may be, only come across as making me feel like a burden like they only feel one emotion towards me, and it's this vague ball of anger, disappointment and frustration.

Do they think I don't notice it?

Do they think I don't hate myself enough?

Do they genuinely think their words help or bring anything remotely close to comfort?

Do they actively know they're hurting me and choose to go forth with it either way?

I won't deny the support I do get. Food, a home, and overall sustenance. I'm well aware that I’d be worse off without it, I'm aware of how many trans people have suffered much worse fates over coming out than I could ever imagine.

But without feeling like my family knows who I am, with feeling like I'm a stranger whenever I'm with them, and that I'm better off being quiet and not saying anything because that's better than dealing with the fact that I get no interest in any of the topics that matter to me... I feel like nothing short of a parasite.

For the longest time, I thought it was perfectly normal to have family members who straight up don't give a shit about your art or creations or what you're up to.

I guess I appreciated the privacy and being able to do and say whatever I wanted, because it's not like anything I say makes them see me as a person and not a clueless spoiled child trying to cope with the fact that they turned 26 and can't go a day without wishing they weren't living this life.

I guess I wouldn't be where I am today without being completely unsupervised on the internet since I first got the hold of a computer.

I figured the contempt was normal until I started noticing my friends' parents. Even the most abusive and toxic ones, all of them showed some form of interest in my friends as people. My friends could look at their parents and see them as a friend. Someone you can talk to and share things with. Someone who actually cares about you as a person, who you are and what you have to say.

Parents who ask about your art? Finishing a piece of art and just being able to show it to a parent who actually expresses interest in it? Parents who know what kinds of things you like?

Right now, I can't think of anyone in my family as a friend, only acquaintances I get moderately along with. Whenever conversation skews in my direction, it's always about some form of how much of a worthless failure I am and how I'm going nowhere with my life, and how my invisible battle against executive dysfunction only ever reads as laziness, as if the state I'm in has always been a conscious choice and not a consequence of years of self-loathing, lack of medication and dubious support systems. Financial support is necessary, but like most human beings, I need more than just that. There's more to me than just my crumbling life.

I'm an artist, I'm a writer, I like creating characters, I like creating stories, I like designing websites, I like writing sad stories, and I named myself after a bird because when I was a child it was what I wanted to be when I grew up. To spread my wings and fly as far away from this world that wasn't made for people like me.

What's my favourite colour?

Who's my favourite comic artist whose works fill my shelves?

Who's my favourite character?

What's my favourite movie?

Who am I to you?

What's my name?

What is its meaning?

How I wish I could share it all with you.

How I wish to be part of a universe where we could be best friends.

And maybe I'd learn to understand you too.

And understand why the news of me potentially developing a hereditary disease fills you with such indifference.