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 went out this morning for a long walk by the river. There weren’t many people out, except a few people running and cycling (all harmless). I don’t know where the urge to go on a long walk came from, but I feel better for doing it. I want to do it every day, but I need more suitable shoes, as in running shoes, but I don’t have the money to spend on them right now. They would be a good investment though, as I could start running again. There’s a park nearby that has elliptical machines for the general public to use.
I took a bunch of pictures with my 4 year old inactive / wifi only iPhone. The weather was beautiful, but I was getting bitten by mosquitoes:
I’m surprised that I managed to go out on a Saturday at all because of WEPs (weekend and evening people). But I’ve realized that if you go out early enough, people can be avoided. Still, I wish I could go out whenever I felt like it. When I got back to the apartment building, many of the residents I avoid just HAD to be in the lobby as I passed through as quickly as possible. On the way out, I also HAD to run into one of the men who legitimately creeps me out. I’m glad that I have the internet in my apartment now and as a result, I can hole myself up in my apartment for much longer than before.
I don’t have any friends in Rochester, but it’s my home now. Next month (July) will represent a year that I’ve been here. I honestly like the city, even with its crazy extreme climate. I just wish I had a friend or even friends here to do things with. I like going for walks on my own, but sometimes it would be nice to have company. During my walk, I kept imagining how great it would be to have a boyfriend, but I’ve probably got more chance of winning the lottery and being struck by lightning the same day than I have of meeting someone willing to accept me and my plethora of flaws and defects. I’m done with online dating and posting semi-desperate messages on Craigslist.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going to ask my psychiatrist if I can stop taking Seroquel and try something else.
I spent most of today at the clinic, where I could be online in relative peace. I listened to my music and talked to my mother and my best friend on WhatsApp. While I was there, I had blood taken as I’ve not had my counts done since I had the orchiectomy a month ago.
The good news: my New York license with the correct name and gender came in the mail today. I am now officially 1) Rebecca, 2) female and 3) a New Yorker. I wish I had access to a car so that I could celebrate with a mini-road trip, especially as I miss driving. Driving is one of the few things in life that I’m confident at.
I’m worried about my brother though. I can’t imagine how devastating it must be to be fired from a senior position that you’d worked hard to get to. I’m used to bad news and personal disasters, but he isn’t. He also suffers from mental illness and I’m sure he feels hopeless and scared right now. I wish there was something that I could do. My mother is naturally worried about him too. I hope that he either wins the appeal and gets his job back or is able to find another job. I’ve been fired from shitty low end jobs, but not a senior / executive level job (I never reached those heights anyway).
I am dreading tomorrow, because I have 2 appointments in one day: Social Security in the morning and DHS in the afternoon. I’m dreading DHS more due to the busy and terrifying waiting area, but that is the last government department / agency left where I need to change my name. I hope it won’t be busy, because it is a panic attack inducing environment. I will be glad when it’s all over in 20 hours from now.
I had an apartment inspection earlier and was told that my apartment was one of the cleanest and best kept in the building. I keep explaining that my issues are outside the home, not inside. I don’t have problems with cooking, cleaning or personal hygiene. I differ from most of the other residents here, in that sense. Many of them can socialize better than I can, but struggle to take care of themselves. I don’t go to the groups because they’re geared towards people who need help with ‘living skills’ and groups don’t help me anyway.
I ate a full meal for the first time….vegetarian chili and rice that I defrosted earlier. Now I feel bloated and tired. But after reading about how starving yourself of protein causes hair damage and hair loss, I won’t be doing that again. But I am going to restrict myself to bread and I’ll avoid pasta completely. I will also fast for one day a week and I’ve resumed my “home based” exercises now that my scars have healed sufficiently. This consists of mainly squats and crunches.
I need to go to bed early tonight and get more than 4 hours’ worth of sleep. Or maybe it’s best I don’t sleep at all so I’ll be too exhausted to be scared and anxious. The more awake I am, the more I’m affected by my surroundings…..,,
…….so I’ll sleep tomorrow instead.
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.
** TRIGGER WARNING **
I slept relatively well last night, despite waking up twice. Improved sleep is one added benefit of eating much less. I had a vivid and long dream in which there was a war going on between 3 kingdoms over disputed and highly arable valley territory. I was a young princess. I was trying to negotiate for peace. Then I remember us all being evacuated from a burning castle, but I chose to stay and die as a martyr, but then I woke up (disoriented).
I tried to eat a salad for breakfast, but I could only manage to eat half of it and a cup of coffee. I really can’t stand the sight of food anymore and I don’t even feel hungry, just lethargic. I weighed myself yesterday and I’m still at 169lbs. I need to lose much more, as I still feel huge, disgusting, muscular and bloated. It goes to show that before, I was just eating out of sheer boredom. Now that eating is no longer a coping mechanism, I am letting the rest of these ugly arm and shoulder muscles and my nasty stomach waste away and I can return to single digit clothing sizes. If I have to start purging food, I’ll do that too, though I don’t eat enough to make that necessary.
I vented to one of the support staff last night, but it didn’t little more than kill time. I keep telling them that I don’t need help with living skills – I need help getting out in the community. I need internet access in my apartment more than anything. I’ve been forcing myself out just to use the internet and that has been damaging on the days when I didn’t feel well enough to go out at all.
I don’t talk to E anymore. Part of me wants to thank her for pointing out my ugly muscles, but part of me hates her for triggering my eating disorder that I’d managed to overcome for several years since I stopped drinking. I wish she hadn’t said anything, but then I’d still be 184lbs and blissfully unaware how disgusting my arms looked. She hangs out with men anyway, men that live here and hate me. I don’t trust her.
As for today, I’m not sure whether to go to the clinic or the coffee shop. I had s meltdown at the clinic yesterday because was getting overwhelmed with all the stuff going on in my life and receiving mail and not knowing what to do with it. I will probably go to the coffee shop first and read my book.
And is this sad, and pathetic or what? I look at the Craigslist personals, “missed connections” to see if anyone in Rochester noticed me in a good way. I know it’s stupid,, but that’s how desperate I am. But I also know that I cannot be in a relationship given my disdain for my body and fear of physical intimacy. Asexual men are hard to find and many asexuals are aromantic, so we’d just be like friends / roommates.
My therapist tells me I need to establish a “safe space” before I start facing the outside world, but that is impossible until I get internet access in my apartment. I’m afraid to sign up for Frontier as it’s a contract and I am transitioning from DHS cash assistance to SSD and that could take time and leave me with no income for a while. Also, it’s $50 a month, which seems expensive. I don’t need or want cable television. Most of what I watch is on YouTube or Netflix. But if I had internet, I could make this apartment my home and my safe place. I’d only go out when I needed to and when I felt well enough.
I don’t pay much attention to music anymore, but I love this song. It’s the best thing Coldplay have done in 13 years, even though it’s a collaboration. I wanted to hate it, but it grew on me quickly:
“She said, where’d you wanna go?
How much you wanna risk?
I’m not looking for somebody
With some superhuman gifts
Some fairytale bliss
Just something I can turn to
Somebody I can miss.”
I ended up at the coffee shop, despite the shitty rain that has been almost constant for almost a week.
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.