I am tired. So very tired and don’t know why. I didn’t sleep last night. I didn’t go to bed till six in the morning because my brain just would not shut off.
I kept on thinking about my TG issues. I finally came out to my group to call me Mike. I also changed my name on Facebook to call me Mike. So far everyone has been so supportive I am almost tempted to try my real family and see if I still get the support but I am very afraid to. I am so afraid of rejection that I know it will send me to a tailspin suicidal crisis. I don’t think anyone understands the pain that I am feeling. Maybe that is what is making me exhausted. I could take my meds now and fall asleep. Another day will rise and maybe this would all be a dream.
I am cold. I still have this bloody cold and cough for the past week. I hate being sick.
I also been thinking about what I wrote last night about Shneidman. Maybe he wouldn’t be rolling over in his grave because there would be less man hours going over hundreds of notes. The hard part of this study is that all of them have to be inputted by hand into computer. Now that is a lot of man hours!! But if it helps the greater good so be it.
I was talking with a fellow blogger who was suicidal and he/she wanted help yet when they got it, rejected it, saying that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I got really mad. Telling me I don’t know what depression is like is telling me I don’t know how to breathe. This dude has some serious issues. SO I walked away. Obviously he didn’t want to be helped and so be it if he wanted to kill himself there was no way I could stop him. I was trying to be there for him and he was rejecting my help so fuck him. Let him stay in his own miserable world, thinking he is the ONLY person that feels pain. I never seen such a case of stupidity but then again I am new to this blogging thing. I can’t help everyone I guess.
Category: transgender
a little more about me
I have been thinking about taking my life since I was eight years old. I was in a lot of pain for some reason or another and it never got taken cared of. Today I think that pain stems from the fact that I am really a male and not a female. I knew at a young age that I was different and back then, there was no expressing how I truly felt. I really think that if I got help sooner, this would have come to light sooner and I wouldn’t be in this pickle today about what to do with my transition.
I’ve know since I was in kindergarten that I was different than the other girls in my class because I wanted to play with “boy” toys rather than with dolls. I found playing dress up boring as all hell and mostly destroyed my dolls as my mother would tell you. I would always take my toys apart, wonder how they worked but could never put them back together again as I would end up destroying them.
I didn’t mind being different. This was a time where I still thought I was straight so I thought that if a boy liked me, he had to like me for who I was rather than what I am. I still feel this way today, though to a greater extent than a five year old’s thinking. I just know that I was a boy though I could not express what I was feeling. Everyone called me a girl and I just could not understand why. It wasn’t until I started my menarche that I inwardly defied being a “woman” and the feelings of wanting to die grew stronger. I knew there was no way in hell I could tell my parents I was a boy. My father downright refused to let me play sports because I was a “girl” and that hurt more than anything. I couldn’t play soccer but I could play basketball when I got to high school. I still don’t know why I had to go to the girls room and be on the girls team but I just figured I was following the rules of play and that was what I did. I hated starting arguments so I just played along. It wasn’t until I was in my early thirties that the realization of me growing into a boy was not going to happen. I think I am a boy for many reasons. I have hair in places most girls do not and I have facial hair. I love wearing men’s clothing, doing men things like watching sports, and my closest friends are men. I tend to think more of man things like how things work and other stuff that is being more than just being a tomboy. Terri Clark is a tomboy but she shows her feminine side at times. I don’t feel I have a feminine side and would hate it if I did. Things like make up and jewelry just don’t interest me. I think just having one pair of shoes is sufficient, I hate shopping, and I can’t stand hair products.
The depression gets bad and I am always hating myself. I hate my appearance. I hate my body. I hate me, I actually loath and despise myself. There is no other term I can describe how much I hate myself for not being who I really am. This constant pretending is killing me. But I don’t think about it often because it will just drive the suicidal self into action if I do. For years I have kept a lid on who I really was but I can’t do that anymore because it just hurts too much. I have to be who I am and if anyone can’t understand it, then they don’t need to be in my life. It hurts when the pronoun gets misused. I love it when I am called sir but then I kind of feel really bad when they correct it. Unfortunately, now that I am severely overweight, my figures are more defined so I am being called Ma’am more often and it hurts. Sometimes with baggy clothes or jacket I can still be called sir or mister but that is rare these days. I hardly go out anymore. I just can’t face the world. I have become reclusive to my own surroundings. I hate going out for anything even if it is for my one cup of Joe a day.
sense of humor keeping me alive?
Sense of humor keeping me alive?
Been thinking about this today.. I was at an interview meeting for first year medical students and I remember joking a lot with the interviewer. I was talking about serious stuff, like my suicide and transgender issues and I kept thinking why is every one laughing. I was laughing at myself, but inside. The voices were watching me and I could tell they were not pleased. They always get nervous when I tell people my most personal thoughts. I guess they get jealous when I tell people outside because the voices are lonely and they need me to continue to talk to them to exist. I have not been faithful with my medication the past few days. I find that my mind is better for writing when I am not medicated than when I am. It truly sucks trying to write and you can’t because the thoughts just are not flowing.
I began reading a book on sibling suicide written by a friend of mine. I had no idea how suicide affected siblings. I never thought about how my sisters would react to my death if I died by my own hand. I was more afraid of their children’s grief than theirs. I guess you can say I am too old to kill myself but that does not mean I want to live. I am forced to live because of my responsibilities to others. That is why I am still here. I can joke about suicide and suicidal thinking, because it is who I am. Right now I am feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet and I am betting not a single person on facebook responds to it. I know I post a lot of statuses. It is because I am bored most of the time and have to tell people what I am doing like they really care. I find that less meaningful statuses draw more attention than serious ones. I don’t know why that seems important to me but I have noticed it. Very rarely do my family members respond. Usually my friends do. Even those that are across the pond will respond. I know that not everyone can respond to each of my twenty or more statuses but the ones that mean the most to me are the ones that I find the most painful. I complain a lot about being in chronic pain. I use my Facebook status to vent about how awful I feel, both physically and mentally. It is very rare that I will post I am having a good day. The days last week are gone and I doubt they will happen again. I feel like my air has been let out of the balloon and now I am back to my usual level of depression.
Today I had a migraine. It was really bright outside and I resented having to go out to this meeting but I agreed and I always hold up to my commitments no matter how bad I was feeling. In this meeting I divulged more than I should have and I think that is why I am feeling very terrible now. I can’t shut up the voices in my head. They have been chattering non-stop since I have come home. I have been trying to read to drown them out but it does no good. They keep telling me I am a loser and won’t amount to a thing. That the book deal with my friend will never happen, that it was a joke to start with and I am starting to believe them because why would someone want to hear my voice? What makes me so damn special that others want to know my struggles with depression and suicide and being a transgender or being homosexual? But am I really homosexual if I am a guy and like women? I am so confused!!! I just want to fricken die rather than deal with this stuff. I know that I must continue to live to make others happen but it’s killing me to struggle every damn day, whether I pee my pants, crap my pants, am in chronic pain with my stupid ankle or have the nerve pain from hell or just have the biggest psychache in the world for no reason other than I am not who I am. I am a guy trapped in a woman’s body and it is killing me to be this way.
interview meeting with 1st yrs
Started reading a book about sibling suicide survivor. I was apprehensive about reading it because I have siblings that would probably go through the same things if I should die and I didn’t want to know what they would go through. My pain is bad enough but knowing I would cause my sisters pain would be impossible for me to take. I guess that is one of the many reasons I am still here.
I had an interview meeting with some med students today and I don’t know why but I told them I was transgendered and told them what it was like being. The doctor was good about it and I had Dr. P behind me in case I got into trouble. Right now I am feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet because I shared my biggest fear and the main reason why I feel suicidal. I sent a text to my therapist because I just feel so awful and I don’t know what to do about it. She hasn’t called me back yet so I decided to blog.
A lot of feelings came up but it also felt like a relief because I rarely discuss this outside the confines of my relationship with dr. p and bozo. I started to get a little lightheaded and dizzy at the release of my personal feelings about this. I don’t know how it happened but I think I am getting more and more comfortable talking about being transgendered and what it is like to be this way. I hope that the students will benefit from this. I tried to emphasize the alliance between doctors that helps so much in the heath care process because without it, you are not really going to have a good relationship or report with your patients.
I’m still trying to process what happened and how I feel about it but I am soooo fatigued. I just can’t think about today without it exhausting me. I don’t know if what I said was a good thing or a bad thing. I was trying to be honest about what my experiences were and how I got CES x 2 and everything but somehow the transgendered thing took over the conversation. I know it is because it is such a hot topic. More transgendered tend to be more suicidal and probably end up killing themselves more than we think. I know those that get help become free but I also wonder if it still a constant struggle to be accepted as the gender we say we are once we make the transition. My therapist used the assimilation word on me last week and I am wondering if that is ever going to be possible for me or will I die before that happens. I’d like to think that I can lead this life without going through the “change” but I want facial hair and a mastectomy so bad. I loathe myself for having a chest. It is not what I want. I remember when they were forming I was pissed because it was not who I thought I was. It still is a painful reminder of what I am not.
So “Michael” entered the room to give his little speech about what it was like to be transgender. I didn’t want to use my real name because I hate it so much. I think with Michael I can really relate because I always thought of myself as a “Mike”, more so than Alex. Hell for this blog I am Michael Crusher and I don’t think that is going to change. I think Michael will be making more appearances on the blog, as it is easier sometimes to write under his name than my own.
midnightdemons7 