Bitter pill to swallow.

I worked my second Saturday in a row. And I am now into my second week on call. As much as I hate call outs, I am hoping for a few more. I only get paid if I get called out. So instead of maybe heading to the river to enjoy the sunshine, I am stuck in town, waiting for the damn phone to ring.

I am still waiting to hear on the other job. They are not hiring at the moment. I have been in touch with the H.R and she knows I really want to go to work there. I can hardly wait. I am getting terribly frustrated at my current job. It is not that I think I can run the company better. I know I can't. I don't suggest things to my boss because he has been in business for a long time and knows what he is doing. I am just a tech. If he asks me a question about my job, I can answer it with confidence. Why? Because I know my job. I know my place in the pecking order. I am not quite low man on the totem pole but I am close to it. I have no say and no authority to do anything but my job. Does that stop the management from expecting me to do more then I am paid for? No. Apparently, I am not only expected to do my job, but know all about everyone else's job is. Even if I don't work in that department or spend a limited amount of time in a certain department. Even when the douche bag makes a mistake, it is my fault. Even if I wasn't even in the building at the time.

So, I just keep my mouth shut, do MY job the best I can and try to let the rest roll off my shoulders. I know it will only be for a short time.

Onto other things.

I got a text message from the other one this week. Out of the blue. She sent a picture of the two of us on her wedding day. I stood up with her. I don't object to the picture. Not much anyway. She said "A couple of good looking ladies!" I replied with "Since I am not a lady, I guess so."  She says, "You were still a female back then blah blah blah."

Excuse me?

What?

She was trying to acknowledge what I am doing. I get that part. But sending me a picture of me in dress after months of not talking is really not the way to go about it. All that does is remind me of very unhappy times for me. Maybe she was trying to open a conversation with me about what I am doing. And that is cool. Open the conversation. Ask me questions. Let's talk. But YOU are the one who has to ask. I know what I am doing. I understand it and am comfortable with it. I know what my future holds. I know what I want. YOU are the one who needs answers from me. ME. Not the older one. Not Mom and Dad. From me. So ask me. Don't talk about me to each other. Talk to ME! Who better to tell you what is happening with me then me? You know my number. You know where to find me. Pick up the phone and call. Or text. What ever. You know where to find me. I will talk to you about what I am doing. And why. But I will not talk to you about each other or Mom and Dad. The only conversation I will have with you is about me. Sending a picture of me in a dress feels like an insult. Not an acknowledgement of my life.

Does that sound selfish? It is not meant to be. I can only answer questions about what I am thinking and feeling. I can't answer for someone else. I will not discuss how Mom and Dad feel about it. They have to deal with it on their own. And same as you, they know where to find me if they have any questions. I can not be responsible for anyone else's emotional health. I have a hard enough time with my own emotional health.

I am sorry if this sounds like an open letter to the other one and the older one. I am told they read my blog so I figured I would write it down here for them to see. Or maybe someone in the family will see this and tell them to read it.

I seen the older one this weekend as well. She made a point to call me by my old name numerous times. I tried really hard not to let it bother me. But it did a little. Maybe I was just being over sensitive about it but it felt like she was deliberately doing it to see if I would correct her. If it wasn't my nephew's first birthday party, I might have. But the time and place wasn't right.To be honest, seeing her reminded me why I do not have a relationship with her.And also strengthened my resolve to look after myself. To support myself. I don't need my parents to give me things or money. I can pay for it on my own. When I decide it is time for a new vehicle, I will do it on my own. I will not ask my parents for the money. I have long expected nothing financially from my folks. After getting my ass chewed by my Dad years ago. Yes. I have borrowed small amounts over the years. Not much compared to the other two. I was never given a vehicle that was going to be sold for $1500 by my Dad. Do I sound bitter? Damn rights I do! Why? Because the co dependence between the older one and parents is getting really old.  Enough already! She is 47 years old! She has to stand on her own two feet. Just like I do. When I bought my truck, I showed it off like any proud owner of their first new vehicle. I received a call from my Mom later that day and was told to say sorry to the older one for rubbing it in her face. That I had worked hard to be able to buy a new vehicle and was proud of myself for doing it. Did Mom make the older one call me and apologize for rubbing it in that Dad GAVE her a truck? No.

Damn rights I am bitter.


The shots are going well. Although I hit a vein a couple of weeks ago. Or at least went through a vein. I pulled the needle out and blood went "squirt". I just applied pressure and the bleeding stopped. No biggie. It was going to happen sooner or later. I feel like a junkie sometimes. When I get my "fixings" together for my shots. The needles and syringe. The wipes and band-aid. The sharps container. There is a whole ritual around shot time. My countdown through the week is not for the weekend. It is for when I give myself my shot.

I am noticing more hair growth. On my legs and arms. Not so much on my face but it is coming in slowly. I am slowly getting side burns. It feel like my shoulders are getting broader.  When I have my binders on, wearing a t shirt, I can "see" what I will look like after surgery. I have also come to the conclusion I will be a short and stocky man. And I am good with that. I know lots of short stocky guys and they are wonderful guys. I am proud to be one.

OK. I think I have vented enough for today.

Thanks for listening.

Bro code article # 127

A Bro will always help another Bro reconstruct the events from the previous night, unless those events entail hooking up with an ugly chick or the Bro repeatedly saying "I love you, man" to all his Bros.

Dustin