don’t call me daughter 3

Don’t call me daughter 3

Warning I am very tired so this might be a little ragged and out of sorts…

I’m having withdrawal symptoms because I forgot to take my pain meds before therapy. I usually take it when I reach his office because it’s around the time I usually take it. Idiot I am. Anyways, I came to a realization after therapy that got me thinking of the title of this blog.

We were talking and he absentmindedly called me a she instead of a he. I guess my reaction was unconscious because he quickly corrected himself. I realized after therapy as I was walking to the station why my mother had upset me so much yesterday and that was because she called me “daughter”. Any female pronouns or use of the word “daughter” will set off a suicidal cascade, which we talked about in therapy. Well, not so much about being the wrong gender but the fact she called me a lazy bastard on Mother’s day.

We spent some time talking about it. He wanted to know my plan because he got the sense I was suicidal. Sometimes I am without me knowing about it because it’s second nature to me. When he miscued and called me a she instead of a he, I really felt degraded. I have been thinking about talking about transgender with him the last 24 hours and I just didn’t bring it up today because the whole Mother’s day incident really had me upset.

I didn’t talk about the nerve pain that sent me over the edge over the weekend and that I was feeling while in his office. I had a bowel movement and it hurt really bad. It wasn’t a crime scene like it was the other day but I was still bleeding a lot. I am going to have to see my doc about what I can do because the pain is so damn bad. He is too new to talk to about this stuff. I wish I could just send him my blogs but he wants me to read them to him. I don’t like reading what I write up, unless it’s a clinical paper or something.

I really need to talk about the transgender piece because it drives me to suicide whenever my mother calls me a “Miss” or “my dear” in her condescending tone that she uses. I just feel so misunderstood about who I am though I know I am a male but to the world I am a fucking female because of the fucking things on my chest.

About G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about
This entry was posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, transgender and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

any thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s