I barely managed 2 hours worth of sleep. I never sleep enough and sleep is seldom much of a respite anyway. I’m not physically tired from lack of sleep, but I’m tired of being conscious, tormented by my thoughts. I am so tempted to return to self-medicating; I’d rather be high, comatose or better still, dead.
With what I thought were achievements and positive experiences comes nothing but pain. It’s now almost 6am and I’ve been awake since just before 1am, either crying or staring at the walls and ceiling of my bedroom as my mind foments with me with thoughts and memories.
I can’t socialize and meet people without ending up feeling even more inadequate, ugly and lonely than I did before. I met some good people yesterday, some of whom could be potential friends, but then my ‘curse’ kicks in and reminds me as to why it’s less painful to completely isolate myself as much as possible. It was all another reminder of what I’ll never be and what I’ll never have. Seemingly, everyone has someone…..a partner, a friend or a group of friends. I’m tired of having to repeat “I have no friends here” over and over, although I think it’s obvious and very obvious that I’m too ugly for love.
I felt woefully ugly at the transgender group, even though the group itself was the most supportive of any that I’ve been to. I met 2 lovely people at the coffee shop afterwards and we talked for ages. But they were a couple and unfortunately I was beginning to feel awful, despite feeling pleased that I’d finally started making local connections. They kindly dropped me back home and invited me to get Chinese food with them, but I was already burned out at that point and on the verge of tears. I’m also not doing so well with regard to eating at the moment and didn’t want to waste money (or anyone else’s money) on food that I’d have either just not eaten or purged.
I went straight to sleep when I got back to my apartment. But then I woke up way too early and all positive feelings were replaced by painful ones. I started missing S, missing my mother and the cats. I remembered how S used to comfort me when I felt scared and now that’s all gone. Twice I got up and threw up what little was still undigested in my stomach. I looked at my ugly, worn face and huge body in the mirror and could look no more.
I am only showing part of my face, because it’s far too ugly (people have told me so recently on here) but this is to illustrate what my night and early morning has consisted of. There are no more tears left, my eyes are sore and red and my stomach hurts.
I didn’t hear anything else from the girl that messaged me the other day, seemingly so pleased to have found me after our random encounter almost a year ago. The same goes for the 2 guys I’d been talking to and the one I met on Sunday night who blatantly was not interrelated. I wish people wouldn’t contact me as a joke or a one-off. I’m sure it’s entertaining to them, but it hurts me.
Unfortunately, the (extremely) slim chance of reward (friendship or more) isn’t worth the pain of putting myself out there and then enduring this level of pain and loneliness. I can’t deal with loneliness, but I would rather deal with the loneliness caused by social isolation than feel just as lonely when I’m surrounded by people, living lives that I would give anything to be able to live.
All of this is far too painful, so I’m sticking to isolating until I can find the courage within me to end my life and finally be free from all of this
I’ve failed at life
I’ve failed at being a functional, responsible adult
My mental health is just getting worse
I’m getting older and uglier
I’ve failed at transition
And it will only get worse.
Yesterday was a huge mistake on my part. And it’s all my fault and I take full responsibility for exposing myself to things that I know very well that cause me immense pain.
I slept horribly last night, largely because I took my medication far too early as I simply couldn’t stand being conscious. I was pacing around the apartment building, losing my mind. I broke down in tears when I got back to my empty and internet-less apartment and decided that I’d had enough.
Since it’s a bank holiday, I’m going to have to go to the coffee shop again to get online. I feel worse than I did yesterday and i wouldn’t go out at all if I didn’t have the insatiable need to get online and at least feel ‘connected’ to something.
I still fee like I’m eating too much. I feel guilty because I ate an apple when I woke up at 3am. Perhaps I should stop putting soy milk in my coffee and just drink it black. Since I had a bowl of bran flakes yesterday, I’m not allowing myself to have a bowl of bran flakes again today. While I feel like I’m losing weight around my belly and can now fit into my size 9 shorts, my arms are still disgustingly ugly. When I go to the coffee shop, I ether drink coffee with skimmed milk or sugarless ice tea (it’s literally just cold tea with ice, not that nasty sugary chemical shit). Now that the scars from my surgery have healed enough, I’ve started doing squats and crunches again.
I have no one to talk to in the treatment apartment that I live in. E triggered me far too much and only seemed to want to talk about the guys she’s fucked. Christine doesn’t talk to me anymore either, even though I’ve tried knocking on her door a few times. Nobody here likes me and some of them flat out hate me. It is getting old…I feel like I’m an outcast among outcasts. I am insanely lonely and the loneliness is driving me insane and is further robbing me of any motivation to try to get better. Even being in the coffee shop is tough, seeing and overhearing normal people have normal conversations.
I’m still not really getting the long-term help I need, which is help in the community. I cannot continue like this, only able to go 2-3 places on my own (and even that is very dependent on timing). I don’t feel safe in my apartment because I’m cut off and alone with my thoughts. I have to get internet and soon. Going out when I’m not well enough is doing harm, not good.
When I weigh myself at the clinic tomorrow, I hope I’m at least below 170lbs or I’m done with food completely.
I barely managed an hour’s sleep last night. I don’t even remember dozing off for that hour, but. I do remember having a dream involving S, which caused me to wake up crying to no one.
I am dreading the SSD medical assessment in a few hours time. Worrying about is is largely what kept me awake. I know they’re going to ask intrusive questions that will cause pain. I know it’s necessary, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time. I think I am going to ask if my surgery can be postponed, because that’s just one other stress right now. I have no idea how I’ll wake up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to go for pre-admission testing having had practically no sleep last night. It’s too much, too soon. The deadname needs to he killed before I can attempt to tackle anything else.
Laying awake for hours was excruciating as time almost seemed to stand still as my mind raced ahead. I thought about death and kept imagining myself staring death in the face. I tried to imagine the relief I’d feel, but then I imagined the pain and how I’d probably bottle it at the last second. I keep asking myself “What are you doing here?. I’m never going to be happy or even content. I wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind and I’d no longer be a burden.
I’m scared of what may happen today. Will they deadname me? Will I get triggered? Will they just see me as some sort of joke and attribute my mental health problems to being an ugly transgender freak? I have all these scenarios running through my head and none of them are good. I need a period of stability to have any chance of healing, but despite being housed, that is yet to happen. It’s just scare, trigger, disappointment and breakdown. Therapy is barely touching on my existing day-to-day problems, allowing me a safe place to just vent. I’m broken and it’s worse than I thought.
I have to get ready and head over to meet my care manager. I barely have the energy to move right now, even after 2 cups of starting coffee. All I want to do Is puke and crawl into a dark hole somewhere and die.
I feel awful this morning. It was a battle to even get myself out of bed, even though I was losing my mind staring at the ceiling. Going to bed later isn’t doing me any favors. I still wake up too early and can’t get back to sleep. Taking Seroquel later at night is also making me feel worse in the morning.
I couldn’t stand looking at my reflection in the mirror, so I did the bare minimum ad far as makeup is concerned. Foundation is always a must as the skin on my face looks like rice paper, clinging to my deformed bone structure for dear life. I feel huge and disgustingly bloated. I wish I could stop eating completely, but cooking and eating are often the poly things that ease my stress and boredom. I ended up changing 4 times earlier, because every cloning combination made me look huge and disgusting. I used to be so skinny when I drank, because I just didn’t eat.
I’m tired of existing this way, struggling with the same issues that I was struggling with yesterday and countless days, weeks, months and years prior. I hate my body, I hate my ugly face and I hate being a freak. No wonder nobody wants to have anything to do with me. Quite honestly, I’m pretty sure that people either laugh at me or they’re scared of me.
I would love to not only escape this body, but take a sledgehammer to it after I’ve escaped. I’d bash the face in first, until it was unrecognizable. Then I would have the remains cremated and then I’d toss the ashes in the sea. You’ve no idea how much I hate myself. The ugliness on the outside is slowly turning me ugly on the inside too. I could have died at birth and I’m even angry at the medical staff for saving me. I should’ve been tossed into a bucket and discarded. I was even ugly as an infant (and no, I’m not exaggerating).
Finding love is beyond me as long as I live as a freak, but I can’t let it go as I’m continually reminded of how I’m missing out on it.
I need to give up.i
Yet another night of insufficient sleep and a painful dream that I’d rather not go into. I woke up feeling nauseous. I don’t think Seroquel is the right medication for me. It knocks me out, but it doesn’t help me stay asleep and I wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a freight train. When I see my psychiatrist next week, I’m going to ask to switch to something else. I lay in bed awake for hours, tormented by my usual thoughts:
“No one will ever want you”
“You’re a freak”
I also relive bad experiences and go over and over what was said to me and I take it in the worst possible way. I worry about the future and how I’ll never be able to find a job or find love.
I accept that I cannot live alone, but even with that in mind, it’s a situation that is forced on me because of factors beyond my control. Sometimes I need to be alone, but my need to socialize is greater. It’s not that I can’t take care of myself as far as cooking, cleaning, managing money and personal hygiene is concerned. I just hate my own company, because it forces me to think and there’s little or no way of distracting myself from such overpowering thoughts.
I was actually starting to get better when I lived with my mum for 2 months last year and also with the host family for 6 weeks or so back in 2015. While I sometimes chose to stay in my room, it was a great comfort to know that I could get away from myself whenever I needed to. I didn’t need as much support, as far as mental health professionals go. Though of course, life in the UK was considerably easier as my name and gender were legally changed back in January 2015, so there was never any risk of that ugly deadname ever coming up.
I was informed yesterday that Frontier are now offering internet, telephone and cable at this building. Unfortunately, I cannot sign up for it until I’ve got the court order to change my name with Social Security. As badly as I want (need( the internet at home, I’m not willing to open an account in the deadname. I don’t even want to see that name on a bill.
If the weather here didn’t keep turning cold again, I’d be able to go out and sit outside the clinic and use their wifi in the evening and at night, but temperatures of less than 45 degrees will kill my phone battery within 10 minutes of usage. Winters in Western New York are not only colder and more snowy than I’ve ever experienced, but are also very long. It’s already mid April and it still gets colder here than than most parts of the UK in January. It’s tolerable in sunny weather during the day, as long as there’s little or no wind. But the wind can make it feel 20 degrees colder than it actually is and makes it impossible to stand still for more than a minute or so.
I committed myself to attending a cooking group at 11:30 this morning, even though I don’t need to learn how to cook. I hope the guy that talks too much and too loudly won’t be there. He makes me feel very uncomfortable and stopped saying hello to me just because I can’t always respond. I hope I won’t be asked to do anything, because I am too clumsy and liable to drop or break something, especially if there’s an audience.
The cute young guy with the ginger beard hair who I assumed hated me held the door for me yesterday and asked how I was. Now I see that he probably just has social anxiety, as I do. People who I find attractive often make me nervous. I know I’d have absolutely no chance with him and he’s pretty short, which would make it difficult because of how much I loathe my height.
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.