I know I sound like a broken record….

** TRIGGER WARNING **

Day 1 of the diet and I’ve eaten all I’m going to eat all day – an apple.   I’ll keep drinking plenty of water. I have to do this in the hope that my ugly arms and shoulders will waste away and my stomach will return to its formerly flat state.  I hate food and what it’s done to me.
The community meeting last Thursday featured a discussion on peer-to-peer support and a monthly meet up group for residents and their “family and friends”.  I wish I hadn’t gone to the community meeting a all. I don’t have any family or friends here. And even if my family did live here, they wouldn’t go to something like that.  My mum has stopped talking to me since we fell out a month or so ago.  My dad just thinks I’m a pain in the ass and a drug addict. None of my half siblings talk to me and I have no desire to reach out to them.  Friends?   The only true friend I have left lives 2 states away.  The meeting just left me feeling even more lonely and worthless.  It’s part of the reason why I can’t shake off this latest depressive spell.  I will say that my family (including me) could have benefited from family therapy back when I was a child then teenager, but even if it were possible, it’s too late now. 

I keep wondering if I should email my mum, but I can’t get over how she not only refused to help me get back to the UK, but also tried to dissuade me from coming back at all.  At the time, my legal name change was in major doubt and I was terrified of losing my healthcare.  If I reach out to her, she will make me grovel and she will make me feel guilty.  I’m not sure if I can deal with that right now, but I feel like I quite literally have no one.  She will claim that I hate her and don’t care about her, which isn’t true.  I actually enjoyed staying with her last year and doing things with her, such as the day that we went to Lincoln together on the bus.  

I am not sure if hanging out with E is a good idea.   She doesn’t have a filter and she has already managed to trigger my dysphoria by “pointing out” my ugly muscular arms.  She only seems to want to talk about the people she’s slept with or dated and her family.  I keep thinking “At least you have a family and at least men find you attractive”.

This weekend is going to be extremely difficult.   I got rid of my food, so I can’t comfort eat.  I know the hunger will be tough for the first 2 days or so, then I’ll just start to feel tired and my appetite will lessen (based on past experience of starving myself).  At least having anxiety and weekend anxiety will make it impossible for me to go out and buy more food, even if I get tempted.  I want to avoid E and everyone else.  I don’t know what I’m going to do to kill time and take my mind off the boredom, loneliness and emptiness.  Self-harm is always an option, though I have to be careful not to get caught doing that.

I know that I sound like a broken record and I know that people are reading this blog and enjoying watching me suffer.  But I’ll say it again: I’m sick of being ugly, scared and alone.  I am grateful for the help I’ve received, but take that away and I’ve got nothing.   I’m never going to be happy as long as I’m trapped inside this disgusting body and tormented by my broken mind.  I’m done with trying to meet people here in Rochester (dating and friends) because they’ve all hurt / rejected me for being too ugly.

“Blow Up The Outside World” 

I had a bad dream last night that involved one of my younger brothers becoming a parent and my jealousy and envy of them.  I know most people probably wouldn’t understand why such a thing would cause me pain, but I have always felt inferior to my 2 younger half brothers.  They are normal, successful, married and not afflicted with the ugly gene that has ruined my life.

The dream plus my dysphoria has left me feeling extremely low. It was a challenge to even get out of bed this morning and take a shower, but I cannot be in my apartment for too long as I am quite literally “cut off” from the outside world.

Chris Cornell’s death is really affecting me.  I listened to an hour long tribute to his life and music on the radio last night on the Nikki Sixx show.  I knew Chris suffered from depression, but I never thought that he’d take his own life or die before his time like many of the other tortured grunge era musicians.    I also thought of an (almost) ex girlfriend of mine who was utterly obsessed with Soundgarden and Chris Cornell. She must be devastated.

I feel utterly burned out for some reason. I think I did too much socializing yesterday.  I think my dysphoria is getting the better of me.   Too much “outside world” exposure and rejection have done a number on me. I’ve given up on the idea of dating and ever becoming functional. I’ve largely given up on myself too.  It’s a permeating sense of defeat that is only going to continue to eat away at me until I can no longer take it.

I’m going to starve myself after I’ve used the food I have left.   I feel like a bloated, huge ugly monster.   I still have too much muscle in my upper arms and shoulders, despite being on HRT for over 3 1/2 years and not producing teaosterone.  If I starve myself, I’ll waste away.   It’ll make me sick, but I don’t care.   I’m disgusted by my body and by food.  I wanted to put a bullet in my head when E noticed the muscle in my right arm.   

I feel like I don’t belong anywhere and the feeling is only getting more intense as I get older.  Society has changed, I have no love in my life and most of my idols are dead.  I can’t even look at the news anymore because it scares me to death.  I feel like I’m just waiting to die.

Why does Anglo culture shame adults for choosing to live with their parents?

I do not care for many aspects of westernized, specifically Anglo culture.  These include excessive materialism, comsumerism and even the level of individualism in Anglosphere countries, particularly in Britain and the United States.  I want to draw attention to a particular stigma that exists in Anglo culture, namely the stigma against adult children who choose to live at home with their parents.  Such individuals are the subject of shaming and I have a huge problem with that.

While I was sat in the care management waiting room, I couldn’t help but overhear Dr. Phil on television. His guests were a couple, one of whom was a blonde American lady, the other was an Indian (South Asian) man.  She was complaining that he still lived with his parents and seemingly, the audience was on her side. I immediately didn’t like the fact that she was doing this, because I personally don’t have a problem with adults still living at home. It is none of anyone’s business but the adult child and the parents.  

The man explained why he still lives with his parents. I didn’t catch all of what he said, because it was too noisy in the waiting area.  But his reasons were of course, absolutely genuine and admirable.  He said he worked for the family business and was trying to save money.  When Dr. Phil asked him how much he was hoping to save, he replied “Five hundred thousand dollars”..  When he said that, the audience went silent for a moment, then suddenly the notion of a grown man living at home with his parents wasn’t so bad.  I heard a chorus of “I’d date him” from several women in the audience.  It was funny to see the girlfriend’s entire facial expression changed when her boyfriend whom she assumed was just a momma’s boy suddenly became a lucrative meal ticket.  She was actually going to break up with him because he still lived at home.  

The man was both smart and attractive.   I thought he looked like a younger, Indian version of Johnny Depp in the movie The Ninth Gate.   He had been to college and was financially stable.  I’m sure that in countries and cultures where living at home with your parents isn’t stigmatized as it is here, he’d have been married off long ago.  He wasn’t some sort of leech, both living with his parents and dependent on them.

Anyway, my point is that why is it so bad for an adult to choose to live with his or her parents?  If everybody in the family gets along and the relationship between adult child and parent is symbiotic, what’s the problem?  Living alone is expensive, wasteful and inefficient.  Not everyone can live with roommates either and more often than not, toommate atrangements are short lived.  Many people choose to live alone and enjoy it, but others suffer from extreme loneliness as a result.  If I got along with my mum and she wanted me around, I would rather live with her than live alone.  The way I’d see it is that we’d both be helping each other.  

I’m sure that in other cultures, families take care of one another.  I’m sure that it’s perfectly normal to find unmarried adult children still living at home in such cultures.  By the same token, I’m sure that elderly people in such cultures are cared for by their families, rather than left to rot alone or in nursing homes.  And in such cultures, family most likely means family, rather than a bunch of biologically related people who don’t give a crap about one another.

Having been in relaeuoships with mostly Latin people, I’ve experienced Latin culture.  Growing up in the UK, I had several Indian and Pakistani friends over the course of my life there.  Both cultures had a much stronger sense of family and I respected that.   You don’t see elderly people in such cultures socially isolated and sent to die in nursing homes.    I how that people of Latin and Asian cultures living in Anglosphere countries never lose their sense of family as this and future generations assimilate further.  

Our culture could learn an awful lot from other cultures, but our arrogance in the belief that our way is the right way prevents us from learning and being open minded.  

Monday morning 

I didn’t sleep well at all, despite trying to wear myself out last night by pacing around the building and running up and down several flights of stairs.  Even after taking 4 Seroquel, it took me until 11pm to fall asleep, then I woke up at 3am after a nightmare.

I have therapy today. Of course, the topic of conversation will be focussed on the court order and my absolute nerd to leave the United States if I can’t get it.

I am going to create a YouCaring fundraiser page in order to try to raise sufficient funds.  I know it’s not certain that I will have to leave yet, but I have to start preparing for that eventuality.  I do not expect to get the court order as nothing has really gone right for me since I got here.

I have 2 potential places to stay, 2 friends willing to help me with accommodation at least.   I will lose the mental health support I get here, but I will be around friends (something I don’t have here).

I’ve had to cut my mum out of my life for now.  When I get back to the UK and I’m stable enough, I may reach out to her, but right now I can’t allow her to trigger me again like she did yesterday.  It’s bad enough that she flat out refuses to help, never mind tries to add to my problems by making me feel trapped here and unable to even go back to the UK.  I have realized that the accepting parents I thought I had aren’t accepting at all.  My mum doesn’t give a damn that I’m stuck with a male name and my dad thinks I’m transgender because I’m still on drugs, despite being clean since 2003.  I don’t even drink and I don’t even eat junk food, so it hurts to hr labeled as an addict.  He won’t even tell me where he lives after 3 years, because he is most likely ashamed of me and embarrassed by me, so he doesn’t want to introduce me to his girlfriend that he’s been with for several years.  And I was never an addict. You don’t need to be a master psychologist to figure out why I used to need to get high. It was a form of escape and a slow death, because I couldn’t stand living as a male.

As much as I hate to believe it, perhaps my mum secretly wants me to go back to being what I was – what she wanted.  Perhaps she still cannot get over losing what she thought was her son.  Perhaps that’s why she still flat out denies that o told her I wanted a sex change back in 2002, which I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday, but she denies that ever happened. But in failing to accept and refusal to acknowledge what I’m going through, she is going to lose me as a daughter, either by me permanently severing ties with her or being forced to take my own life, if I end up being trapped here with the ugly male name that she gave me.

It’s the waiting that is killing me right now.  Until I know one way or another, I’m stuck in limbo, forced to exist under the radar.  This can’t go on indefinitely. It’s probably for the best that I don’t have friends here anyway, as it’s likely that I’d have to say goodbye to them. Still, I will miss Rochester and New York I I have to leave.  I could have settled here, had the name change gone my way.

Also, I’m now convinced that people who know me in person (even family) are snooping on my blog. I had an unusually high number of views from the UK yesterday and the day before.  It makes me sad that people who know me would read this page and still fail to understand what I’m going through and why my transition is so important to me….it saved my life 3 1/2 years ago.

If I make it back to the UK for the third time, I’m going to try my hardest to make it work.  I’ll have the support of a friend. I’m going to ignore the news as I do here and I’m not going to contact my family, as it does not help me to do so.

And still nothing from the attorney.   The agony continues.  

There isn’t a word in the English language to describe how awful I feel 

Naturally, I hardly slept last night. I spent several hours either staring at the ceiling or pacing around the apartment, tormented by my thoughts.

Being told by my mum that I have an assessment that I can’t go to for the surgery I’ve wanted since I was a teenager is too much to take.  Not only that, but she has closed the door on me returning to the UK by flat out refusing to help.  I gave her the opportunity to help me several times, but she’d rather I stayed here with no friends, a male name and a no chance of getting SES.  There’s no one else I can ask, not even my dad, who once told me that he considers such surgery “mutilation” and would rather believe that drug abuse in my early 20’s made me believe that I was a woman, rather than accept my identity and accept me as his daughter.

I was leaning towards leaving the United States anyway, because it seems like I’ll never be able to change my name in time (or perhaps not at all).  I simply can’t live here and move forward, stuck with a male name after all this time. If I could get back to the UK and find a place to stay, my legal name and gender are correct and I wouldn’t have the complete and utter dread of a male name ever popping up.  I wouldn’t get the level of help that I get here, but I wouldn’t have as much of a need for it.  If she would have let me stay for a little bit, I would definitely go back as soon as possible, before the assessment on April 11.

You have no idea what this has done to me.  Things were awful even before she told me about the assessment, now I know that there’s only one way out of this.  I feel angry at her, angry at myself and desperate.  I specifically told her a few weeks ago not to open any mail that might come for me.  If I’d have just stayed in the UK and not worried about Brexit and hadn’t listened to a certain former friend, my mental health may have improved rather than declined and I’d have something to finally live for.

She doesn’t even remotely understand what that surgery means to me and how much of a difference it would make.  All the pills and therapy in the world won’t make up for SRS.  It’s like she still blames me and wants to punish me for leaving the UK again and coming back to the US, even though I admitted that it was a huge mistake and that I was misled and misinformed  by several people that I don’t care to mention.   Also, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of borrowing money from her for the security deposit on a flat in Grantham that I was set to move into last August, because it was her retirement savings.  I didn’t want to be in her debt, but apparently she doesn’t understand that either.  I had to block her messages, as she triggered the shit out of me yesterday when I broke down at the clinic, with people around.


I don’t have a family, they are just people biologically related to me by blood.  I’m nothing but a burden to my parents and only one of my many half siblings know me and none of them talk to me.  But that’s fine, because I no longer feel guilty for doing what I’m going to have to do to end this, as I finally have the green light.  I’m too upset to even talk about this anymore, because talking is pointless beyond what I’ve alteady said.  

I would rather die than get old

Having experienced prolonged loneliness and social isolation, I feel like I’ve experienced one of the worst aspects of aging.  While I am not ‘old’ and therefore have no concept of the physical problems that come with aging, I can relate to the sense of loneliness and being marginalized, which is something that many elderly people experience.

It makes me wonder why anyone would want to get old at all, unless they have family and friends to live for.  The thought of being alone in an apartment or a nursing home wasting away and lonely is far less appealing to me than death itself.  I cannot even imagine any possible outcome of my life which would make me actually want to get old.

My mum is in her 60’s, but she’s still physically healthy.  She has her husband and 2 other children, both of whom are ‘normal’ and successful adults.  She has friends,a degree of financial stability and is able to pursue her hobbies, such as gardening.  But my situation is different.  I have no children, no partner (and little chance of finding one).  Years of depression have zapped away any hobbies and interests I once had.  I have no friends outside of the internet.  It’s also unlikely I’ll have anything saved for retirement.

So why would I want to get old?  It would be more of the same loneliness and social isolation, physical deterioration and possible senility.  No thanks!

I seldom feel lonely when I’m far away from civilization, surrounded by nature

Sometimes I think that the only hope I have for a tolerable existence is to completely remove myself from human civilization.  If it were possible to just run away and spend the rest of my days in the wilderness far away from all reaches of humanity, I would.  I wouldn’t feel socially isolated living in the wildernesses, surrounded by nature.  I would have no one to have to compare myself with.  I wouldn’t have to suffer watching real and even fictional people live the life that I want to live, have the love I’ve never had or look the way I want to look.

You’ve no idea how much it hurts; being forced to watch, but unable to take part.  So many things that are supposed to be enjoyable can actually trigger me.  This included movies, television shows, social media, commercials and even books.  Going out and seeing couples and happy families is also painful for me.  Even other transgender people can make me feel this way, because many of them seem either happy and confident or they are perfectly content to not be a part of society. 

This particular pain is something I’ve experienced since childhood.    My first recollection of feeling this way was when my the first of my 2,younger half brothers were born.  I felt left out and unwanted. He was smarter than me and not ugly like I am.   I’ll never forget when I was 10, one of the kids in my class asked “How come your brothers aren’t ugly like you?”.  Needless to say, I grew up with a burning envy of them both.  At school, I was excluded and continually picked on.  As a teenager, it became apparent that I would never fit in, I’d never go to university and I’d never have a family of my own.  From age 14, I used to spend much of my time in the school or local public library, reading books about various remote and beautiful parts of the world and books on survival in the wild.  At 16, I started secretly stashing camping items under my bed, because I planned on running away to the Scottish Highlands.  These feelings have only intensified as I’ve got older and have become bitter and jaded.

I have no idea how to even begin to address this problem.  I know that it can’t be fixed, so I’m faced with 2 choices: 1) end my life or 2) remove mysslf from society completely and live far away from any people.  I think my longing for human company and need to fit in come from a powerful need to take part, not just observe from the sidelines.  If I were to live in the wilderness, I wonder if I would feel lonely at all, or just relieved to be far away from all of my triggers; triggers which no one else seems to understand, which makes it all the more painful.

I know for a fact that nature doesn’t trigger me, nor does it make me feel sad or inferior  – it has the opposite effect.  Being surrounded by nature and staring up at the stars makes me feel lkle I’m part of something far bigger and far more important than the human (rat) race.  If I can’t fit in, I need to find a way to completely remove myself from civilization, far away from real or fictional human beings.