Dear Deathiversary Diary,
Three years ago today I hit rock bottom. I lost everything. In 2009 a DUI took me out of school only two semesters from graduating. Had I finished I would have started a paid internship in the film industry and would that much closer to living the dream I had since I can remember: making monster movies. A lot of job hunting followed and, when that turned up nothing, there was lots of introspection. Then an extremely messy, confused, and turbulent transition period, none of which I saw a doctor for because in this country you simply can't go to a doctor if you're not independently wealthy. My parents weren't much help, my biological father ended up being a bigot and the extent to which my mom supported me was telling me I was stupid. As the years rolled by, I lost friends, too. All of them. Every friend I ever had. My depression spiraled out of control and my emotions along with it, being unbearably clingy, scaring people away, lashing out for no reason, and with each person I lost I grew more and more unbalanced, the whole time lacking any sort of medical help, either for my trans issues or the prolonged 7-year depression. No living thing would help me. There was no way out. I couldn't get a job because the last one was in 2007, without money I couldn't get a doctor, without stable friendship and love I couldn't even stand still.
And then they took Godzilla from me. The most important thing in my life, and, three years ago on this day, I settled in and prepared to write a week-long suicide note as I watched every Godzilla movie in a row. My one friend at the time seemed to get something out of it, but there's no telling where he is now. No one reads these, no one ever will. It doesn't matter. This is for me. Following seeing gino 2 on opening day, my planned attempt on my life was cut short by being completely black out drunk to the point of not really being able to remember if I actually attempted it or not. I lived by doing the same thing I always had - booze and pills - and eventually a year had passed. I had reached Godzilla's "deathiversary."
Starting on May 9th I made something of a drinking game out of it, then I got really sick, which has been happening with increasing regularity in addition to me feeling tired most of the time, and when I came out of my delirium I came to realize that my inability to keep track of what day it was, combined with my computer which just outright lied to me resulted in me actually starting on May 10th and, with being sick slowing down my pace through the VS series considerably, when I realized it was already the 16th it was all I could do to get through Godzilla vs. Destroyah. I thought, one year out, I would get to face down gino 2 once more, but such was not the case.
In late 2015 I finally managed to land a job the same way I had back in college, show up to a kind of "hiring event" where literally everyone who walked through the door got in. Think this will end well? Wait 'till I tell you where I was working: Kroger. Yes, them. But at the time I didn't know they were one of the worst ranked companies to work for on the continent, I didn't know they actively worked to keep their employees in a perpetual state of poverty, I didn't know they treated trans people like they aren't even people, all I knew is I had an open to self-medicate with black market hormones as well booze and pills. I couldn't afford anything else. I was still dependent on my mom for rent and food, as getting a month's supply of pills to be delivered on time cost me my ENTIRE PAYCHECK AND THEN SOME. We're talking about half of my monthly income here, the rest went to booze. I drank constantly. The stress was unbearable, I couldn't function without alcohol, I went to the bar next door for a pint of Guiness and a shot of this wonderful flavored vodka that was bright pink and called "Kinky" for lunch everyday and was barely breaking even. It took everything I had to drive home without crashing on purpose. And it was hot... it was always hot. Too hot. So hot that carbon-based life forms start to be cooked alive, so hot that molecules begin to break down, so hot I couldn't think, which is just as well because all I really wanted was oblivion. I walked out in early 2016 because the manager thought it was up to them to decide which bathroom I was allowed to use. Every friend I'd made in the process abandoned me, and I was back to where I was before Kroger: the place where bigots go to shop.
Only there was a difference this time: Godzilla was coming back. Two years earlier I thought that with the way things were going, gino 2 would be the final nail in the coffin that started to be built in the late 70's. But Hell couldn't contain Godzilla. He came right out on the other end and the 29th Godzilla film would be out shortly after deathiversary that year. Deathiversary 2016 was a disaster. I wanted to do something different, so I decided on doing a sort of video diary for each entry in the series. Truth be told I was tired in every sense, and I was beginning to feel that I had nothing left to say after my written posts for 2014 and 2015. I figured I could get by more simply this time, and at the end of it? I would finally face down gino 2 once again with the knowledge that Godzilla would survive this and I could die knowing he would outlive me. My mom, the crazy cat lady, has been drowning in cats for many years now, but some of those little rascals were very dear to me, and at the time of Deathiversary that year I had two little batches of kittens, one from my slightly orange cat velvet and one from her mother. Velvet's little sisters (all cats are girls and all dogs are boys) and Bella's grandkittens co-mingled on the floor of my bedroom, mewing at all hours of the night. It was irritating as hell, but at least they would never abandon me, not like humans, not like lying, untrustworthy, war-mongering, bigoted, violent, horrible humans. Still, mom cats sometimes act weird and eventually I had to split them up and move one batch downstairs. So it was that on the morning of Deathiversary day 3, on May 11th 2016, that I went downstairs to grab a soda, only to find one of my babies dead, drowned in a water bowl bigger than it, just floating there. Mocking me. Mocking Godzilla. Mocking every effort I ever made to get better. Force-feeding me the past seven years to me all over again. Reminding me that I was a fool for not ending it two years ago, for not crashing on purpose when I worked for the grocery store run by Trump supporters, for being a weak coward too afraid and too inept to even kill myself. John had a gun. I could have just shot myself. I could have blown my brains out long ago and I would have never had to wake up and see this. But I was stupid, and rather than "decide" to keep living, I just... sat there.
I stopped posting videos, though I made a few more, and posted one or two. As the week wore on, all of my kittens dropped like flies one by one. I don't know why. It was some sort of illness or genetic defect, no doubt a result of the inbreeding my mom's menagerie of cats creates. They were umpteenth generation Hapsburgs, doomed from birth, and I watched them all die, one by one, helpless to do anything to stop it. I didn't get to gino 2 that year. It was all I could do to finish Final Wars. It didn't matter anyhow. John had that gun. I would make it until Shin Godzilla was out, then I would blow my brains out, and I wouldn't have to think about any of this ever again. I wouldn't think at all, I wouldn't be anymore. It was what I wanted more than anything.
I occupied my time with this game called Second Life. It's weird. It's full of weird people and weird things and it's great. Ellie disappeared, I still don't know where she went, but I continued to tell people I had a girlfriend so that I wouldn't have to face the truth. I met Kira, essentially the reincarnation of Ishiro Honda but prettier and way dorkier, there, proving once and for all that all the "we met online" jokes are absolute fucking horseshit. Kira did all of the things for me I did for people when I still had an income, she ordered me pizzas, bought my ticket to Shin Godzilla (and my moms to boot!), sent me presents from sub-shop, but most importantly she did something no other human I've ever known has ever done: be human. When I flipped out for no discernable reason, she didn't abandon me, she stuck with me. She rode it out with me, she tried to fix things to calm me down, she actually tried to fucking help me, something no one in my life has ever done. Offered, of course, but human beings are nothing if not compulsive engines of deceit, spite, and hatred. With the 29th Godzilla film, the first in 12 years, had its US premiere set, I decided to do a "make-up" deathiversary. I would do video entries for each one, like I wanted to do, and what's more, I would share this with someone. For the first time, I wouldn't be doing this alone. "Rebirthiversary," as I ended up calling it, was everything the past three Deathiversaries were not and, for the first time since 2009, I was... optimistic.
It didn't stay that way, of course. Getting a new girlfriend doesn't just fix everything that's wrong with me that's been building up over the past seven years, nor was it like everything just started "working." But at least there was hope. Godzilla was back, and there was hope. Or, that's what I thought for about a month, anwyas. The United States, the grand experiment, came down kicking and screaming when the Russian government turned it into a puppet state and installed their handpicked fuhrer in November of 2016. Problem: the place I live is about a year away from death squads roaming the streets and executing trans people. Solution: Kira's family partly comes from Canada with a little help it would be finally possible to live in a country of my own choosing rather than circumstance. You see, unlike the popular meme, Canada isn't simply a "reaction," I've ALWAYS HATED the United States with every fiber of my being, and would take ANY measure to sabotage it. Treason is apparently legal now anwyas. The United States is easily one of the worst, most vile, disgusting places on Earth and my HATE for it is inconceivable. I have wanted to live in Canada, a land of hope, peace, safety, and opportunity since I was 11... around the same time I settled on my name, Tracy, long before I told anyone or even really admitted to myself what, deep down, I've always known. It was possible and it was going to happen. Eventually, not yet. For now, we made plans for a home in the immediate future where we could plan the rest of our lives and be together while things are in flux. I moved up to her, rather than the other way around, because it's almost never hot up here and Houston is no place for human beings.
Scheduling was tight. Deathiversary isn't going anywhere - no matter what happens to Godzilla now I never want to forget what happened that week in 2014 when I thought it was all over - and to top it off I wanted to do a similar thing leading up to the 8th Alien film in the same way I prepared for the 8th King Kong film, both of which came out this year in addition to Godzilla's big 3-0, the first time in history the three monsters who changed monster movies forever all had an installment released the same year. That's to start on May 12th, or day 4 of Deathiversary, meaning for 5 days I'll be pulling double duty. Therefore, it is extremely important that the movers arrive on time. FINDING a fucking apartment was already so stressful I began to doubt whether reality was even real or if Kira was just another program sent to torture me with false hope, but now I have to deal with this.
We found a company that does expedited moving, A1A, that promised us they would pick up our things on May 2nd and get it there by May 8th, giving us just enough time to unpack the Godzilla and Alien boxes. The payment came in three installments, one up front, one when the movers arrived to load up the stuff, and the final when they arrived and our new home. The welched on the pick-up date almost immediately, saying they wouldn't come until the 3rd, which was too late, then the 1st, which was too early, before finally settling on the exact time we had agreed to beforehand. Pointless stress for nothing. I should make it clear that having Kira around hasn't dampened my fits any, in fact the optimism I've been feeling actually seems to be exacerbating them. At this point, I either go into full-on werewolf mode or I drink and take pills prematurely, essentially leaving Kira out to dry. I would have chased away anyone else. Kira still sticks by me, through all of it. She has seen me at my absolute worst... which was... well, to peel back the curtain a bit, I'm actually writing this on the 10th as I'm watching day 2's line up of films, and I'm currently on Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster. Why didn't I write anything yesterday? I couldn't function. Physically.
On Monday, May 8th, we called the moving company to ask what time they would be here, as promised, and they said "fuck you." Well, they said they would call tomorrow and tell us when. Tomorrow. For those of you keeping track, that would be day 1 of Deathiversary 2017. That's too late. I had a very specific plan for this year, I wanted to watch as many films as I could on the old VHS copies I used to watch as a child. I wanted to share that with Kira. Godzilla is the most important thing in the world and Deathiversary is my time to reflect on that and how I almost lost everything, including myself, and it is very very important to me that the person who literally saved my life on multiple occassions be able to share this experience with me in a special way as this was to be our first week together in our home. And a fucking moving company fucked all of that up.
I started this off by saying that the original Deathiversary from 2014 was my "rock bottom." Well... that's not really true as of day 1 of Deathiversary 2017. I'll just cut straight to it: I didn't know I could even be that loud. Everything... EVERYTHING bottled up inside me from the past seven years tried to come out of me all at once. Here I was, finally safe, finally where I belonged, finally surrounded by people who were good for me, with weather that wouldn't kill me if I stood still, and a very real means to get very real medical help, and these lying, thieving monsters were STILL trying to take it away from me. They stole 2,600 dollars from our savings and literally everything I own and in that moment I couldn't even walk to reach the pills in time. I collapsed and started twitching erratically. I made noises. I vaguely remember hearing Kira call out to me, but I was totally out of control, I was completely numb, fidgeting, choking, spasming involuntarily. I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, and it's not in the hawt way. In the past I have referred to my violent mood swings, outbursts, and suicidal actions as "fits," but what I just went through put all of that to shame. I've never gotten a diagnosis, but that was not mere depression. My way out is finally here, and I'm scared it's already too late. If I don't kill myself first, whatever is wrong with me is going to choke the life out of me.
When I came too, I felt... empty. Not knowing what else to do, Kira put on my digital copy of Godzilla although I didn't pay any attention to it. She spent the better part of an hour conducting suicide watch for me. At the time all I could think about was all my dismal failures for all of my "attempts" and what it would take to finally get out. All I could think about was wanting out. I had to get out. I tried to jump off the balcony, but she stopped me. I tried to bash my head open on a variety of objects. I walked around zombie like looking for anything I could use to cause enough physical trauma to end it immediately, something I could get to before Kira stopped me. Physically, I was in absolutely no condition to fight her, and probably I was in no condition to exert the kind of needed to break the skin, let alone inflict a fatal injury. Running out of options, I relied on Kira's stupidity (I love her for her innocence, the rest of the world just takes advantage of it, but let's not pretend here... she's no Maly) to let her leave me in the bathroom with a rope. I would try the same thing I always had, drowning in the tub. I was about halfway done with the ropework when she unlocked the door after hearing the water running and, distracted by the fact that I was still wearing that pleated mini from earlier in the day and had my legs already tied, she... well, loved me.
As I lay against the side of the cage she bought for me (that poor, sweet old lady at the Petsmart, she was so confused...) while Kira both literally and figuratively propped me up, I sat and watched a chorus of Japanese school-children morn the death of humanity's innocence. Maybe that's a little flowery, but you can excuse me for getting a little emotional about the situation. With the seizure and the sub-drop, I was completely devastated both mentally and physically. Kira ordered me a pizza, and we spent the rest of the evening watching the boring half of Godzilla Raids Again and King Kong vs. Godzilla, eating pizza, being affectionate, and just enjoying some damn Godzilla movies.
I don't know if I'll be okay. I don't think I will. Optimism isn't realism, it's still lying to yourself even if it is a white lie. The reality is that my chances are slim. It is still everything I can do to make it through a day. Every single day is a struggle. I'm still self-medicating with booze and pills. I'm still lashing out. I'm still not okay. I'm really really not okay. The only difference is that now I'm not alone. I found someone on Second Life and now everything is different. It's hard to be optimistic, especially in light of my... whatever that was, but there is hope. Real hope. I have a way out now, the only question is if I can survive long enough to get there.
Malyssa, May 9th 2017