Don’t call me daughter 2
I had a conversation with one of my Twitter buddies about being TG. He got me thinking that I still have not made any steps forward in this endeavor since I tried to come out to family last year. My sister read my book, so I know she now knows that I am transgender. Now comes the hard part, do I tell my mother? I have been wanting to for some time now but can’t bring up the nerve to go through with it. I know she will say that I will “always be her daughter” and that is going to be hurtful to me. I don’t want to be called “daughter”. In the song by Pearl Jam, “Daughter”, one line goes like this: “don’t call me daughter, not meant to be, the picture left will remind me”. I remember during an intense painful time in my life, these words spoke volumes to me like they do today. Granted it was a different meaning, meaning I didn’t deserve to be called “daughter” because I was such a despicable person.
After my conversation with my Twitter buddy, I got depressed, which lead me listening to Pearl Jam. I still hate myself so very much. I want to get rid of the things on my chest so badly. I bet I would lose 30 lbs instantly, LOL. Damn suckers are so damn heavy anyways. But I don’t know who to talk to about getting them cut off. My psychiatrist is still out of the office and she isn’t answering my emails. I am getting frustrated with her. I would call her but her pager has been signed out to another clinician, one that doesn’t know me. And I don’t talk to my therapist until Tuesday to discuss these things. Maybe I should call the LGBTQ clinic on Monday and see if I get anywhere. I think I want to try taking testosterone and see if that helps me. I just don’t know if my insurance will cover it.
I am not scared to try anymore. I think that if I do move forward with this, the lingering depression that I feel will lift and maybe I won’t be so suicidal anymore. But I can’t move forward with this. I know my mother is not going to accept me. She could barely accept that I like women, how is she going to accept that I am the wrong gender. And what if she gets so pissed off, she kicks me out of the house? What then? I doubt it as she needs me financially but there are things better than money. And I am not quite sure if her possible rejection will send me to another suicidal crisis. If my own mother can’t accept me, what reason, really, do I have to live for?
I have struggled for years with my suicidality and only in the last five years or so have I realized that the majority of why I was suicidal is not only because I don’t like myself, but because I can’t stand being in the wrong body. It became evident when I made the connection between my menstrual cycle and being purely suicidal. Then I would bleed, and a switch went off and I felt I was just dreaming of being suicidal but I wasn’t because my therapist and friends were on me, seriously worried about me. I can’t say that my mother knows me. She may say she does, but she doesn’t have the first inkling about me. If she did, she would know how torturous it is being in the wrong body. But I know she doesn’t think like that. No one does. It was all for me to figure out one day. I have had twelve different therapists from all different disciplines. IF they figure out the reason for my suicidality, they sure as hell didn’t tell me.
I remember being emotional whenever I brought it up in the beginning. I cried in my therapist’s office (back when we were seeing one another) and she held me, telling me I was going to make it through. I had no idea what she was talking about. I just wanted to die. I hate myself so much it hurts. I don’t even know how I can love anyone when I have so much hate towards myself. My therapist now thinks that going forward with TG stuff is the “only” way to ease my suicidal suffering. I think that she is wrong. It might help in the short term, but I don’t think it is going to help in the long term. I have heard stories of TG people go through with their sex reassignment only to kill themselves afterwards. Why? Most likely, because they were not accepted by the people that were supposed to accept them. I still have no idea how I am going to explain this to my “kids”. I have a homophobic nephew, two caring nieces, and a little pre-teen niece that has her own mental issues. Maybe I will come out to my older niece first and then see how it goes. If I lose their love, it will be the death of me. I know I cannot handle their rejection of me. It will hurt more than my mother’s rejection because we raised my nieces to be accepting of people. I don’t know what happened with my nephew. I blame his teacher for telling him that gays aren’t born gay. They choose to be it. In his mind, only girls choose to be gay. Boys don’t choose because they are always straight. Least that is what I think he thinks. It has been a while since he explained it to me. But he is ignorant and still doesn’t know the world so I don’t blame him. But if I lose his love, it will kill me. He has been the main reason I am still alive. I couldn’t bear to die knowing that he needed me, especially when I was going through a hard time his first year of life. I would say goodbye to him, not knowing if I would see him again. My suicidality twenty years ago was horrific. I was in and out of mental hospitals for six months, until I took an almost fatal overdose that landed me inpatient for two and a half months. That would be unheard of today. No one stays that long in the hospital anymore, though there are exceptions.
I just don’t want to be anymore. I really just rather die than to deal with all this bullshit of becoming a man. It’s not like my bones are going to change. My pelvis will always be revealed as a woman. And that is what kills me every time I think about it. Got to thank a “Bones” episode for that. I know I will kill myself one day. I just hope it is sooner rather than later.