Category: writing

Like every Tuesday afternoon, I had therapy with a crazy therapist. Today she really annoyed the crap out of me because she wanted to know what was inhibiting me from seeking help. I had asked her why I was in therapy. I don’t feel like I need therapy anymore yet I am chronically suicidal and depressed at times. I constantly think of ending my life. I don’t know why I asked her this. It started a fight as she got into one of her raves and it killed me hearing her listing all the reasons I need therapy. Made me sound like a big psycho. I just feel like I am wasting her time. I feel like I am a worthless loser who just is never going to get better.
I told her I told my sister I wanted to be Mike. I thought she was going to have a breakdown. She got so happy and said that I am making progress. But then I told her the downfall of it. I overdosed most of the weekend to escape from the pain I was feeling and I don’t mean the chronic physical pain I normally deal with. I was just overwhelmed with everything I didn’t want to face the world. SO I didn’t. I drugged myself to oblivion. I honestly don’t remember much about this past weekend. I know I wrote four blogs in one day. I don’t even remember what they were about. I totally checked out in my own way. I think I dissociated. It was the most painful experience I ever had and the weird part of it all was that my sister was accepting of it. She was ok with me being Mike but she told me the unpleasant side of things with my mother and my other sister and that I just couldn’t face. That was what I felt so painful. I just wanted to check out. I couldn’t stand myself for saying something. I was completely mentally exhausted from the conversation with my sister. I couldn’t and still can’t really do much of anything but stare out into space. Not working doesn’t help. I have no place I can go to get away from my feelings or from myself. I no longer have the luxury of losing myself in a pile of samples. SO I did some self harming. I checked out by taking a bunch of pills to deal with the pain of coming out as a transgender.

I told my therapist all this. She was happy but not really that I had checked out most of the weekend. But I didn’t cut like I had wanted to. I knew that if I did there would be no stopping me. I wouldn’t stop. It would be like cocaine, once I started I wouldn’t be able to stop. I would need to cut more and more to get the feeling of nothing. Those that cut know what I am talking about.

The end of the session my therapist got tearful and I’m not sure why. I think she was happy I was progressing along with the transgender stuff but I am not sure. I know two months ago I wouldn’t even think about it. But seeing as I set a date on killing myself, I want to see how far along I can go with this transgender transitioning. If I can progress toward it maybe I won’t have to kill myself, but that is no guarantee that I will not kill myself sooner. I still have thoughts and urges of hanging myself. I hope that I don’t but you never know.