Another restless, lonely night 

The common room that nobody uses.  It’s a depressing place, but I can’t be in my apartment right now, totally cut off from the world.  

Now I’m going to venture out in the cold to publish this.  I couldn’t stay outside the clinic for long as there was some sort of class going on and threatening people in cars, smoking marijuana like it was nothing.  

I’m insanely lonely and restless right now, but it’s too early to take my meds so I can be relieved of consciousness for 3-4 hours (because that’s all the sleep I ever get). 

I now hav to walk through the entrance area past the residents that are almost always just sat there.   They make me feel insanely uncomfortable.  I suspect that as far as some of them are concerned, that’s their intention.   

Tuesday Night

I saw C earlier today at care management. I was too anxious to say much to her.  The man that was harassing me to get him food from the food cupboard harassed me again and I almost had a panic attack because it was so busy.

C is a beautiful woman and I find her very attractive, but I cannot act on it because she has a ‘baby daddy’ and is most likely straight.  Despite that, I’m tempted to email her and ask if she wants to grab coffee.   I liked talking to her, but I don’t feel comfortable doing it when other people are circling around and butting in to the conversation.  I need a friend here in Rochester, especially if I find out on Thursday that the court order is doable and I don’t have to leave.  I’ve had crushes on friends before and just never told them.  I had a crush on a former Swedish expat friend of mine for over a year and never gave him any indication that I liked him.  I would do the same with C, because I don’t ever approach women anyway as far as anything beyond friendship goes, even if I like them in that way.  I’m too scared of rejection, I don’t want to offend anyone and approaching women seems like a masculine thing to do and I’m not comfortable with it.  All of my past girlfriends approached me first, even before transition.

I’m pretty sure I’m not going to make any friends at treatment housing.  I don’t feel comfortable around anyone there, except for the staff.  I’m not going to be able to get the internet in my apartment anytime soon, though I have been informed that they’re getting some desktop computers, which will quite possibly remove the need for me to pay for internet and cable at all.   I wish the weather would hurry up and warm up sufficiently for me to at least be able to sit outside the clinic in relative comfort and without my phone battery dying within minutes of being exposed to the damp, cold air.

I learned today that when dried garbanzo beans taste much better than the canned variety.  I boiled a batch of them to go with my salads. It’s cheaper buying them that way and less for me to carry.

I’m rambling and I have a splitting headache.  Thursday afternoon can’t come soon enough.  I hope that I’ll at least know, one way or another.

Will you PLEASE stop commenting on my height or asking how tall I am!

I wish people would SHUT UP about my height. Once again:

“I saw you yesterday and noticed how tall you were. How tall are you?” – random person waiting for the elevator

I didn’t even answer her and I looked away after she said that. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t say “I couldn’t help but notice how fat you are, how much do you weigh?”

Same shit, only WORSE when it comes to my height and the wave of dysphoria it causes.  If I were normal height and overweight, I would bust my ass to lose that weight. I can’t lose height. I wish people would be more sensitive because one day I’m going to lose all my anxiety and bite someone’s head off on the spot and embarrass them, just like these questions and comments hurt me by reminding me of something I would rather forget.

Tuesday thoughts 

The attorney I was dealing with referred me to another who will hopefully be able to help me with the court order, even if it takes time.   As long as it CAN be done and we can get the ball rolling, I can stop the incessant worrying and can focus on other things I do want to stay here, if I can.  But the legal name change is absolutely essential.  The appointment is on Thursday afternoon, so I will hopefully know for sure one way or another.

I didn’t sleep well last night, but I had a dream involving being in a forest and pleading with a group of faeries to take me under their wing and protect me from whatever or whoever I was running from.  I got up at 3am, made coffee and resumed reading my book.

I read my book for several hours this morning before heading over to the clinic to use the internet, which is where I am now.  I immediately checked my email and was pleased to see 2 emails from my care manager about Thursday’s appointment with the attorney. I’m going to be super-anxious, but he is an expert on transgender law and has probably worked on dozens of court orders for transgender name changes.

Raising my hopes would be foolish, but I can try to start my life again, once my identity is safe, as it is in the UK. Otherwise,  I am still prepared to go back, despite my mother’s disapproval and cynicism over something she either cannot understand or refuses to understand.

My progesterone cycle starts tomorrow, which means more food cravings. It’s worth it, because it’s pushed me up a cup size.  As for food. I’ve been trying to eat as cheaply and as healthy as possible. I’ve given up meat completely. I use various types of beans in dishes that  I make and I eat 2 eggs a day and salad vegetables.  I eat only brown I ice and wheat bread and usually 2 apples a day.  The only reasons that I eat healthy is because 1) I don’t want to gain weight as well as being tall and 2) when I eat crap food, it affects both m skin and my mental health.  Besides, eating crap because I don’t want to live is pointless, because it would take years or even decades to kill me. For the same reasons, I don’t drink alcohol.

Fear of ‘evening people’

I decided to take the bus to the Wegmans supermarket I usually go to on East Avenue.  I was going to go tomorrow (Tuesday), but I felt the urge to go this evening instead, partly to kill time so that I wouldn’t be holed up in my apartment worried about the lack of any need regarding the court order to change my name.

The bus was packed and scary. I saw lots of potential ‘threats’ in the form of human beings.  I was even anxious walking to the bus stop, as cats passed by playing threatening sounding music.  Wegmans was packed, but the store itself is seldom intimidating even when it’s busy.  I got what I needed and had to wait 40 minutes for the bus home.  I kept my back turned from the loud, threatening men inside the bus shelter speaking s form of English that I didn’t understand.

It’s now almost 9pm. I’m going to go out and pinkish this, then I’ll come back and knock myself out with Seroquel.  Hopefully I won’t wake up at 2am again.

And that’s the last time I’m taking a bus in Rochester after 6pm. It’s a whole different crowd of people and I felt extremely uneasy.  That 12 minute bus ride seemed like an eternity, as I stood at the front with my back turned away from eyes that were burning a hole in me.

I’m reading a book called A Painted House by John Grisham.  I’m already a quarter of the way through it.   Adderall has enabled me to not only read, but follow the plot and remember the names of the characters.  Since the story is set in early 1950’s rural Arkansas, there’s nothing to remind me of the life I was denied, as it is so far removed from reality in 2017.  If the vision in my right eye wasn’t so poor, I could read all day.  I can’t get my eyes tested because it would involve the deadname, which is the name my health insurance is in.  

When my mum and then stepdad labeled me as “practical,’not academical” and did not consider me intelligent enough to go to university or do A Levels, they wrote me off, as did many of my teachers.  Perhaps all I needed was the right medication and who knows how far I could have gone.   Oh well, hopefully I’ll be someone else and someone better in the next life.