Longing to be normal 

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.  

“Something Just Like This” 

** 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 superhero
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.   

Too ugly for the outside world 

The wifi was down at the clinic yesterday and last night.  I spent yesterday evening at the nearby coffee shop using their wifi instead.  One of the residents from my apartment building recognized me and introduced herself.  We talked for 15-20 minutes before she had to leave.

I was feeling restless last night and I walked to a nearby bar, where I stood outside using their free wifi as the wifi at the clinic was still down.   I didn’t stay long; because there were shady people and cars passing by and I had briefly forgotten that I’d gone out dressed in pajama pants and a tank top that I usually only wear to bed (not the smartest of ideas).

It took me forever to fall asleep last night, despite taking 3 Seroquel.  I lay awake worrying myself stupid and feeling extremely lonely at the same time.  I eventually fell asleep just before midnight, but I woke up at 3am after having a panic-inducing nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep.

I signed up for a group putting to a thrift store later this morning.  I always feel guilty for spending money on myself, but I need more summer clothes and clothes shopping is one of the few things I enjoy.     I do have quite a lot of clothes, but many of them were bought over 2 years ago when 1) I wasn’t as confident presenting female as 2) my body shape has changed quite drastically due to hormones, so some of those clothes don’t fit me anymore.  I would advise anyone starting hormones to WAIT a year or so before investing in a whole new wardrobe.

The girl I met on Tuesday never emailed me, which reinforces tie absolute need for me to give up on dating and love.  I’m never going to find anyone and I’m now too scared to meet anyone from a dating site ever again.  My best friend told me that I feel too bad about myself to date, which is largely true, but I hate myself for a very valid reason: I’m ugly.  Why else would people either pity me, go ‘weird’ on me or just not contact me again after meeting me in person?  It HAS to be because of the way I look. Why else would this keep happening?  My real life persona is the same as my online persona.  The only difference is that I generally try my hardest to hide my pain as far as the outside world goes, even though some people do notice the pain in my eyes.  If I weren’t ugly, maybe I’d consider the fact that it might be that people assume that I don’t like them because of my awkwardness, aloofness and inability to make eye contact.  It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility, being as I was recently told by one of the residents in my building that he thought I was angry with him.  But I’m ugly….ugly as fuck.  I’ve been single for over a year, which is the longest I’ve ever been single since my first “proper” relationship at 23 years old.

Then I start missing S again. She’s the only person that has ever truly loved me.   I keep thinking that if she’d been able to be with me as I am now, our relationship would’ve survived and I would have been a much better partner and friend to her.  I imagine that my transition would’ve been so much easier if we’d stayed together, but it was excruciatingly difficult for her and it is selfish on my part to even harbor such wishes.  She is better off without me and as much as meeting her was the best thing ever to have happened to me, I wish she hadn’t met me for her sake.

A lifetime of loneliness is as certain as death, as far as my life is concerned.  Even if I hadn’t transitioned, it’s unlikely that I’d have found love.  I have too many flaws and deformities to fix just to make myself look somewhere close to ‘average’ and I wouldn’t even know where to start.  I have asked for referrals to a chiropractor to fix my ugly (and painful) feet and an ear nose and thrust specialist to fix my huge nose, as it isn’t just ugly; it’s causing breathing problems too.   I could see an orthodontist / maxillofacial surgeon about fixing my jaw, but that would involve major surgery that I am terrified of, especially as I wouldn’t be able to look after myself post-surgery.  

I need to just avoid the outside world as much as possible, as it’ll never be safe for me and it only serves to remind me of what I’ll never have and who I’ll never be.   My dysphoria has returned with a vengeance and that is largely due to exposure with the outside world and situations that I have little or no control over.  The help that I’m getting now won’t last forever and without it I’d be truly fucked.  Ironically, I was able to be more functional when I self-medicated with drugs and alcohol.

Facing the very likely prospect of losing my health insurance and healthcare 

I’m trying to be strong in facing the very real prospect that I may lose my healthcare, but it isn’t working.  I had to take 5 Seroquel just to fall asleep.  I had a dream in which I was in Paris and trying to find S, because she was in trouble.  I woke up in tears.

Trump’s healthcare bill probably won’t pass the Senate, but knowing my (awful) luck, it will.  When I lose my health insurance then my healthcare, the only prescription I’ll be able to pay for is my estrogen.  Having just had an orchiectomy, I don’t need to take blockers anymore and I can live without progesterone.  I’ll cut down from 8mg a day to 4mg a day of estrogen, which I should be able to pay for out of pocket, though I won’t be able to afford internet access at home.  Because I’ve had the orchiectomy done and I’ve got the court order to change my name, Trump can’t ruin my transition unless I’m forced to use my old name and tied down and forced to take testosterone shots.

But even though my transition is relatively safe, I’m still in big trouble…

I take 4 different psych meds, 2 of which I know have been having positive effects.  I would most likely have to go cold turkey on all of them. I see a therapist once a week and I’d imagine that won’t be possible anymore.  I will lose all of the help and advocacy I get through care management too, because that is also currently covered by Medicaid.    I may even lose the limited support that I get at my treatment housing.

What terrifies me is that I’m going to be completely “on my own”.   I have no family or friends in this city or even in this state.  I can barely do anything on my own in the outside world here beyond what I’m doing now (and even that is often too much).  I will have to go to so many potentially triggering and even unsafe places on my own and I don’t see how that will even be possible.  I’ve had too many bad experiences in this city as it is, even when here have been people literally holding my hand to support me.    I will be reliant on the bus system here, which I’ve barely been able to use, except for one route and only at certain times.

A friend online told me I should “prepare for the worst” and contact my family in the UK to help me make plans to leave, if the healthcare bill passes.  In the past, my online friends had been urging me to stay despite the election result, but now the same friends are completely silent.  I stopped talking to my mum last month, because she wouldn’t help me return to the UK before when it looked unlikely that I’d be able to change my legal name. I certainty can’t ask her, because I already know the answer.  As for my dad, he thinks that I only contact him when I need money, so I can’t contact him either.  I’m sure both of my parents are aware of what’s happening in the news here in the US and they must know that the healthcare bill will be devastating for me and countless others like me, if it becomes law.  I have no other family in the UK. I have a friend that said she’s willing to let me stay with her and her husband.   However, I don’t have enough money to pay for the cost of getting there or supporting myself for long enough until I can find a job that I can do or be eligible for public assistance, which I’d have to wait 3 months for due to ‘habitual residency’ rules.  I’m in deep shit this time though and it isn’t just me ‘over thinking’.  This could become law and it could happen very quickly.   I can almost hear my family say “Well, you chose to go back to America“.   If they’re even thinking about it having seen the news, I’m pretty sure that’s what they’d still say to me, but I already know that I fucked up and that it was a terrible decision on my part.  Because despite the help I’ve received, I’ve had so many bad experiences since I arrived last July, including losing the friend that encouraged me to come back to Rochester in the first place.   I didn’t think that it would all turn to shit less than a year later.   The only major ‘positive’ is that I got the orchiectomy and I got my name changed.   I’d never have got an orchiectomy on the British NHS.  I would’ve had to wait 2-3 years for SRS before my body would no longer be producing testosterone.    I still want full SRS, but there is no longer any urgency.   

Even if I could return to the UK tomorrow, it would be heartbreaking, given the fact that I’ve gone through so much and have finally got a court order to change my name and begin my life.    I had even started to consider this city and this state as my home, despite not having any friends or family here.  But I don’t see how I’d be able to stay if the rug gets pulled from underneath me. I recall writing something a few weeks ago along the lines of “If you were to remove all of the care that I receive, I’d be completely and utterly alone”.  Now that seems like a very real and very terrifying prospect, in a city where I’ve had many bad experiences and no friends or acquaintances.  Let’s be honest, I won’t last 2 seconds.  If I had an idea of when the axe will fall on my healthcare and care, perhaps I could work with my care manager and therapist to “prepare”, if there was enough time (months rather than weeks).  I want to find a job that I can do and work, but who is going to hire me and how will I get to and cope with interviews?   If I had family or friends here, this wouldn’t be quite as scary, but I don’t.   I will become completely socially isolated and unable to cope with the loneliness and absence of support.  

Even if the healthcare bill doesn’t pass the Senate, they’ll tinker with it enough for it to become law next time around, which is what happened with Obamacare.     It may be less ‘brutal’ when it gets watered down, but I’m pretty sure it will still hurt transgender people.   I don’t understand why the most vulnerable people are being targeted at all, but it’s almost sadistic and it’s totally unnecessary.  

Stop TrumpCare in the Senate – National Centrt for Transgender Equality

But just as before, I’m willing to take my own life, if it comes to that.  I already have a plan – the same plan that I’ve had in my head for the last few months.  I’m far more afraid of continuing life than I am of death.  Perhaps it’s time; it’s not as if I’m happy with my life or body and it’s not as if I have anything or anyone to lose.  My prospects don’t look good, even if I don’t lose my healthcare.  Not only am I hated by society and marginalized from it, but those in power want to destroy me and countless others like me who are part of the LGBT community and / or mentally ill.  I wish they’d just put a bullet in my head and put me out of my misery, rather than subject me to more pain, which will force me to take my own life.   I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one willing to die over this.  I wish those people would let me know that they exist, rather than people who either blindly tell me to carry on or those who are enjoying watching me suffer.  

The sheer loneliness of transgender life 

For me, the worst part about being transgender isn’t the risk of harassment or abuse, but the sheer loneliness of it.  Few people want to have anything to do with me and even if they do,  I have to worry about my voice or them asking intrusive questions or making comments that could potentially trigger me or pitying me.  I feel like I don’t exist as an actual person anymore.  I’m nothing but a freak, a weirdo, ugly and worthless.   I’m an easy target and my Achilles heel is there for all to see. I walk around with an open wound that never seems to heal, because loneliness and people’s words and actions won’t allow it to heal.  All therapy has been able to achieve is to allow me a safe place to vent.  I can’t even begin to address the past, while the present is so unbearably awful.  Happiness, love and friendship are just words to me: things that happen to normal people.

Why I’m done with being nice and feeding egos

The humiliation of the last 48 hours is intense.  I’m not even sure I can face most of the staff here or my care manager and his assistant, who were also involved.  I had 5-6 different people standing over me in my bedroom ‘demanding’ that I uncovered my face when I had no makeup, plus there was another reason for hiding my face that I don’t even feel comfortable discussing here.  They assumed that I’d injured my face with the knife beside my bed. I missed therapy yesterday, which is most likely what alerted my care manager that something was wrong, because I never miss therapy. But I have no internet or phone in my apartment, so when I’m sick (including mentally) I have no way of letting anyone know.

The humiliation for putting myself through that ‘date’ is equally as bad or worse, after being friend-zoned and pity-zoned and was subjected to their narcissism.   That coffee shop is one of only 3 ‘safe’ places for me here in Rochester. It’s not that I wouldn’t feel safe there, but I don’t want to be reminded of what happened on Sunday each time I go in there. People keep suggesting I try the Equal Grounds coffee shop, but that was where I attended that stupid transgender getup last November and I don’t want to risk running into any more transgender people.  I’m pretty sure that I’m hated in the so-called ‘community’ here anyway, which is fine by me, because the feeling is mutual.  Each of these awful experiences just makes me hate myself that much more for being one of them. And people often doubt me that such a marginalized group of people could be so awful, but my experiences are real.  While I was also at fault, the narcissism and self-centered behavior is rife among transgender women in particular.  They may say they care, but most of them just seem to want an audience to talk about themselves and their transitions. Whereas, I choose not to discuss transition, both the good and the bad. It is deeply personal to me and a trigger.  Even my care manager finally acknowledged yesterday that meeting transgender people is a bad idea for me, which is what I’ve been saying for over 3 1/2 years, but most people don’t share my point of view.  I’ve been accused of harboring internalized transphobia, but all I am trying to do is keep those away from me who are a major threat to my mental wellbeing and recovery. In fact,  I’m beginning to think that I need to stay away from everyone beyond mental health professionals and support workers.  My care manager and his assistant kept telling me how I have an excellent support system here and as far as paid professionals are concerned, I can’t argue with that. But if you take that away or when I dare venture out into the real world,  I am completely and utterly alone in the world. I have no real life friends at all,  I can’t talk to my few online friends left and I’m estranged from my family.  I wonder if fake people realize this when they claim to be my ‘friend’ and they claim to care. It’s not as if I hide it, or pretend that I have friends so as to appear more normal, although perhaps I should have to avoid being pity-zoned.

I have no choice but to accept that until I find the courage to end my existence, loneliness and social isolation are here to stay.  I’m too ugly and too broken to be a part of the human race.  The last 48 hours have validated my worst insecurities.  This is one wound that won’t heal (such wounds never do).  I especially don’t want to try to make friends or date again here in Rochester.  I’ve had too many negative experiences and I am done trying  The pain of loneliness and social isolation is constant, but there are no surprises.  The pain caused by other people is likely to get me sent to Psych ED, like it almost did yesterday (and had they not focused on me covering up my uglyface and had seen what I did to my left arm, they would have forced me to go).  I’m not willing yo let anyone else in, especially not o this city and especially not any transgender individual anywhere. I’m going to check out, but it’ll be on my terms, not because of someone causing me pain.  For one, I’m not going to let anyone take the credit for me choosing to end my life and secondly,  I’m not a monster and would not want anyone blaming themselves for my suicide.  That would not solve anything and would actually deflect from the underlying reasons why I made that choice. Bullying, rejection, exclusion and abuse have done irreparable damage, but I will not hold those individuals responsible for my suicide.  I don’t completely blame people for treating me poorly, as I’m an ugly freak and deserve it. Perhaps it’s nature’s way of ensuring survival of the fittest and that I should’ve perished a long time ago.

I’m not feeding anyone else’s ego and next time someone makes me uncomfortable, I’m going to get up, grab my purse and walk away.  I’m done being “nice” because of my delayed reaction processing and wanting to help others feel good about themselves even when there’s little or no basis (as is the case with me).  I need to be brutally honest from now on and not care about people’s feelings, since they don’t give a damn about mine. If I’d done that on Sunday,  I might have come across as a bitch, but I wouldn’t be here dealing with wounds that aren’t likely to heal. That is exactly how I’m going to treat others from here on in….brutal honesty and self-preservation.  If it’s a choice between getting torn down or tearing someone else down, I’ll tear someone else down.  I’ve got nothing to lose anymore and no reason to be nice.  Some people need to be brought back down to reality for their own good anyway. In general, people need to face their insecurities, rather than become bullies or narcissists. Those who truly love themselves do not need to put others down or brag. Just like truly smart people don’t walk around telling everyone how intelligent they are.

The only person I feel semi-comfortable talking to about how much I hate my appearance and why I my therapist.  And that’s only because he has never inadvertently and unintentionally validated my insecurities or made stupid comments about inner beauty.  But I need to make him aware of why I got so upset and lost it yesterday after having multiple people tell me to take my hands away from my face, including the crisis team.  I embarrassed myself and can’t even face my care manager or any of the support workers here,  after they witnessed me in such a state. While I don’t hide my pain or my instability online, I do my best to hide it in the real world. I don’t even cry in front of others.  People need to understand that I need to hide my face at times and threatening me with hospital just makes it worse.

When the dust has settled and I’m no longer being ‘watched’ I’m out.  I would hope that my decision won’t come as too much of a surprise to people who claim to know me. It is too late to try to ‘guilt’ me into staying and I have no reason to.  I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be finally free from this existence and this ugly body that will be destroyed beyond recognition.

I can’t take any more of these weekends 

It’s Friday night, depression and loneliness reign supreme.  I had to get out of my apartment, because I was rapidly drowning in my thoughts, cut off and isolated.  It’s ridiculously cold outside for almost mid-April, so I doubt I’ll be able to stay outside for very long, but hopefully long enough to publish this.  These weekends are becoming more and more unbearable.  From Friday night to Sunday night, the time drags by ten times slower than it does for the rest of the week.

Time to throw on more fucking winter clothes that make me feel huge again to go outside.  The only thing even less appealing than the cold is that I’m sure I’ll have to walk past the usual crowd of assholes in the lobby, many of whom clearly don’t like me.  I can almost feel their stares behind my back as I leave the building. “There goes the ugly freak again”, they probably say.

I’m sick of this.  I’m sick of being alive.