Anxiety and not knowing it (my list of worries)

Anxiety and not knowing it (my list of worries)

Last night I was up due to a flare. I had done way too much and was hurting. I couldn’t sleep so I was thinking a lot of things. I pondered about stuff that happened during yesterday’s PT session. I realized then that I have a shit ton of anxiety that I am not even aware of most of the time. I think about things and think often of the worse. Like my PT was telling me, I didn’t re-injure myself, that it was just the muscle being overworked because I did too many reps of the strengthening exercises she was giving me. It took her most of the time to reassure me that I was okay. I didn’t resprain my ankle. What I was feeling was the muscle hurt because of overuse. She also reassured me that I was NOT getting CRPS in that foot because I injured it.

I never knew how much anxiety I was feeling. I never do. It’s always a million thoughts and worries and last night I started writing about them in my journal and there was a lot in those three pages I wrote. I am sure if exhaustion didn’t kick in, I could have probably finished the journal off. There are only about 10 pages left and then I will start another one. I really need to write more about this because I don’t think it is going to get better otherwise. I was reading an article about anxiety and ways to reduce it. One of the things mentioned was writing in a journal. I have noticed that when I can’t sleep and write down my thoughts, whatever they are, either in my blog or journal, but mostly journal as it is pen to paper, I feel more relaxed and can often go to sleep afterwards. I had been in the habit of writing in my journal since being disabled. Sometimes I would write three times a day, between my day and night journals. I have one I take with me and write in when I am at Starbucks or have some down time between appointments. Then I have one on my bed so I will write when I get home if I am frustrated and before I want to sleep. I kind of got away from it and it was only during times I couldn’t sleep that I would write.

Thing is, I am not really aware how my thoughts are affecting my emotions and causing me to be tense. I really have a disconnect between my emotions and feeling them. Most of the time, I don’t feel anxious. I feel calm but just worried about things. Like my mother and her rehab, my upcoming pain doc appointment, being in pain, wondering what my PCP is going to do/say when I see him next, etc. I also worry about my sisters and what is going on in their lives. I have a lot of these thoughts and then dealing with my cousin last night that pissed me off because he was flipping out over the weather. Not kidding, he was cursing because it was going to rain today. I have never seen him flip out before over something so stupid. He just made me so annoyed. I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the phone.

Then I worry about my country and the assholes that are ruining it. Also because of the Supreme Court nominee, my sexual abuse stuff has been stirred up big time. I can’t seem to stop the memories and the feelings attached to them. I haven’t told my therapist this. I want to get through this pain doc appointment first. And then you have the worry thoughts of going on hormones next week. While I am thrilled about it, I am thinking of every little detail of how this shot is going to be played out. I have a few hours before I see my therapist after the nurse shows me how to do it. I kind of want to give it before the appointment but worry I won’t do it right. My biggest concern is how to extract the contents of the vial without bending the needle and not breaking the vial because the damn needle is bigger than it. I am not supposed to bring the med with me but I am so the nurse can advise me on how to do this. I will feel better if she sees how small this vial is and how big the needle is. I might be worrying for nothing (anxiety talking) but I think it is a legit concern. I have spoken to a few of my friends who were nurses before they were disabled. They say it will be fine. I would kind of feel better if I had a smaller needle so I can extract the stuff, especially the last bits to make sure I get the correct dose when the vial is almost gone. The syringe I have is okay. I can figure out how the markings and stuff. I used to be a medical assistant so know how to draw but fuck. This is not for a patient. This is for me. And I will be injecting into my muscle!! I am kind of worried about that, too. I know it is better than gels or creams but fuck. I never gave myself an IM injection before. Subcutaneous, yes. We did that in school. It was nothing. I am not afraid of needles but this one is directed toward me. UGH. Sorry, I just realized I am going on and on about this. I must be more nervous about this than anything. But hell, it is got to happen if I am want to be more masculine. I am in the wrong body. I haven’t told my mother. I am not going to because I don’t want to hear what she has to say on the matter, which I know won’t be positive. I can’t deal with her about it.

I have been listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter because she can calm me down. She has such a soothing voice. I haven’t done a thing all day. My mother made pancakes so I will have that in the morning. Maybe I will make some bacon to go with it. I haven’t had her pancakes in quite some time. Only three games left in the regular season. We play the Snakes (NY Yanks). I am hoping for at least one win in the series. Post season starts next week. It will either be Oakland or Snakes. Hoping for Oakland, sort of only because I don’t want to play the snakes!!

Useless appt that wasn’t so useless after all!!

Useless appointment wasn’t so useless after all!!!

I had a hard time sleeping. Pain was awful last night and had me really depressed. I woke up a few times before my alarm but didn’t do much. I was already maxed on stuff I could take and I didn’t want to take any Neurontin because it would give me a hangover. The alarm went off and although I didn’t want to get up, my bladder said I had to. I used the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I wasn’t sure if I would need an allegra but I brought it with me just in case. It was really cold out. I wore sweatpants as I didn’t feel like wearing jeans.

At least three buses I didn’t need came and went. Then my bus finally came. I had my espresso and a sandwich. I didn’t have time for writing because the trains were running behind due to a malfunctioning train. I played with my phone for a bit and then left. I really didn’t want to go to this appointment but it was the only way to get my female hormones.

My doc was on time. Usually she is late so this was good. She brought me to her office and right away she asked about my chart and how I wanted to be called. I thought that was odd so I told and stuff and then she said she would be happy to prescribe testosterone for me and I nearly fell out of my chair! She said she and an ID doc was going to lead a transgender clinic that would open in January. We talked more about my gender dysphoria and stuff. Then next thing I know we were talking about the hormones and how I would take it. I would have to kind of finish my birth control and then start T. That would be next week. I also need to be shown how to inject the stuff as I opted for that. She asked if my PCP’s office would do the training and I said I would ask. And then it was see you in four months!

She made my fucking day!! I don’t have to go to another clinic. I would have all my care at the same place, which makes it easier to have everyone on the same page, so to speak. She called in the prescription but the damn computer system didn’t let it go through. I have to email her and let her know about it. I am kind of waiting on what my PCP’s nurse will say but she is not giving me an answer until Wednesday. My therapist says I should just tell the doc they said no so another nurse can do it. I might go that route. My PCP’s office has been nothing but trouble. Just to get my fricken ear drops for my eczema has been a bitch. Two phone calls later I get the script. I go through this every year when the bottle expires.

I had such a range of emotion today. My pain has been bad most of the day but as it got colder, it seemed to get better. Kind of weird but I will take it. I only needed one BT med today, so far. I got to take my meds soon after I write this. Seems I have a pattern of writing a bunch and then playing on my phone, which delays the end of the blog. UGH. My sisters are excited that I will be starting hormones. It is definitely going to be a change. I didn’t bother telling my mother. I didn’t want her negativity to spoil my day. I am just going to have a beard one day and then maybe she will start to understand. I don’t know. Telling her I am how I am doesn’t seem to be enough.

Still emotional, thanks gender dysphoria

My pcp is still a dickhead. I asked him if he would fill my female hormones and his nurse said sure what is it. I answered now I have to see the repro endo doc. He doesn’t want to do it. Fucking asshole. I’m still a wreck from yesterday and hate, absolutely HATE having to still take these hormones because my Testosterone therapy got pushed back because of him. Almost a year now he has been dicking me around, one thing after another. I am so sick of it. Am I supposed to just see him for cough and colds? It is looking that way. I don’t need a referral for my insurance so if I want to see a specialist, I am just going to. No point in seeing him first. Just a waste of time I could use to make an appt with the specialist.

Saw the pain program doc today. He is okay. Can’t comment more as all he did was repeat my medical history and type really fast. He wants me to continue to see my pain doc and I told him I might not as he is reluctant to increase my meds to give me some quality of life. How I am supposed to work in this program with horrendous pain, I have no clue. I also need to get a PT eval for my thigh as the program PT is 2 months away. I can’t wait that long. I am going to email my current PT and see what she says but I don’t think I can see two PTs at once. So fucking frustrating.

I had to make a pit stop to the Square because the bus that would take me home was longer than the bus to the square. I don’t care, though my sprain ankle is hurting. I didn’t wear the brace because I didn’t want to be bothered taking off two braces. I’m wearing 2 different sneaks and don’t fucking care.

I had a snickers latte today because I need it goddamn it!! Also had something to eat because of the emotional stuff. I feel better now. I need some protein bars. Getting irrational when I don’t eat is getting more frequent. Hope my diabetes test comes back within normal limits. My psych ordered it but I haven’t had a chance to get it drawn yet. Might get it done tomorrow if I am not up at the crack of dawn. My therapist is back from vaca. I see him tomorrow and I can’t wait. Got a lot to talk about.

My mother needed some things today so as I am out, I got to get them for her. I am going by that way so no big deal. I will get some protein bars with her cash as I am broke until tomorrow.

When i see my psych next i am going to ask her if i can go back to the LGBT clinic for T therapy. I just hope i don’t have to start the whole process over. It will send me over the fucking edge.

Twitter Rant: Body Dysmorphia

Twitter Rant: Body Dysmorphia

I am having serious body dysmorphia because I am literally stuck in my female body and I want to be a male. but due to my pain condition, I can’t have T to move forward with my transition. I want top surgery but can’t have it because of $$$. I have had bought of severe suicidality today because I am in the wrong fucking body. then I found out someone reported a tweet to twitter because I was suicidal. twitter didn’t tell me what tweet it was so I don’t fucking care anymore. I am tired of people being “scared” of the word “suicide”. You know, people used to be afraid of the word cancer. they thought that saying the word would give them the disease. this was back in the 1800s and early 1940s or so (guessing here) but guess what, you cannot get cancer from talking about it the same fucking way that if you talk about suicide, it will NOT LEAD TO SUICIDE!!! Talking about suicide, least for me is to let off steam. I suffer from chronic suicidiality and need an outlet. Twitter is my outlet if suicide upsets you, maybe you should find another platform to use. or better yet, don’t follow me or even better, MUTE the word so it doesn’t pop up in your timeline. I am sick of being reported. I know what to do should I feel like ACTING on my thoughts/feelings I have the emergency numbers and I can call my psychaitrist 24/7 if I need to. and, get this, I know where there is an emergency room where I can be admitted if that feels like I should be right now. Suicide doesn’t mean end of life when talking/venting about it. so, yea, today has been a hard day because of my damn things on my chest. I wore a tank top in public for the first time and I will never wear one again because I felt too exposed. I didn’t feel manly. I felt like a fucking female. and it hurts. it fucking does and if you don’t understand it, get off my fucking timeline. I am not going to explain how I feel like an asshole because I am in the wrong body