Tag: depression

TG issues: Suicidal Mind

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, suicide attempt

In my suicidal mind, I think about death because I feel trapped. I feel trapped because I am stuck in a female’s body where my mind thinks I am a male. I feel like a male because it has always been that way. Ever since I was little, I knew I was different. Every night I prayed that I would grow a penis but I never did. This dream continued well into my 30’s. Then I woke up one day and realized it was never going to happen. The heartbreak then began.

I spent almost the entire part of my adult life trying to kill myself because I hated myself that bad. I hated having breasts, female ovaries, and having menses. It wasn’t until I realized that my menses were the real problem causing my suicidal thoughts every month. It was the constant monthly reminder that I wasn’t a male. And it had to be stopped before I took my own life. Not only were the hormones putting me into a pre-menstrual dysphoria, it made me purely suicidal and this in turn made me very dangerous. With each passing month, the suicidal thoughts got worse and my suicidal plans got more lethal. I tried to tell my doctors that I was going to end my life. But then soon as I started bleeding, a switch went off and so did the suicidal feelings. As I realized this, and it wasn’t an overnight “ah ha” moment, I knew the key to saving my life was to stop the menses. Because otherwise, I was going to cease to exist.

When I saw a specialist that dealt with PMDD, she immediately placed me on birth control pills (BCP). Thus began my trial. It took almost six different kinds of pills to find the one that I am on now to stop my menses.. There was a point where I thought it was hopeless, that I was forever to be maimed a female. But since my menses have stopped completely for almost four months now, I feel a freedom. I can now where my boxers every day and not worry my menses are doing to return. They might but I am hoping not. Now if only there was a way to shrink my breast tissue so I can be flat chested.

My breasts are another source of my pain. They really provoke me into a suicidal rage when I see them. How I long for the day when I can be topless like men are during the summer or wear tank tops without fear of boobs coming out. I try very hard not to look at my chest but it is difficult because I always seem to look down. And that depresses me to no end. I hope one day I can afford the surgery so that I can be rid of these things. But then I wonder if I will be sad without them. They are after all, been apart of me for a long time. And once they are gone, I can’t have them back. But they bring me so much misery I think it will be a happy kind of sadness where they won’t provoke suicidal impulses.

I am a male trapped in a female’s body. And it sucks big time. But once my menses were no longer happening and I didn’t have the hormonal shifts anymore, the suicidal stuff started fading. I never made the connection of menses and suicide before and I am glad I didn’t because if I didn’t I doubt I would still be here. Now if only I can get rid of my chest things that will make me even less suicidal.

So if I ever die by my own hand, know that it was due to me being trapped in the wrong body. That it wasn’t because I felt hopeless or abandoned or any other theory on suicide. It was because my psychological pain was too great to bear and unfortunately, there are no pills to decrease this kind of pain. There is no anodyne therapy that exists to decrease psychache.

Saturday Blog

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, transgender, writing

Saturday Blog

I have decided to create a blog called a Saturday blog because I will write it on Saturday. Today I am really struggling. I feel like crap. I woke up early, had breakfast, and then went back to sleep. My ankle was bothering me so I had some pain killers that knocked me out until my fricken crazy cousin kept calling my house and my sisters looking for me. He was under the impression that I had a doctor’s appointment today and he was going to take me to it. I had told him I did on Monday as he wanted to get together for lunch. Monday is kind of a busy day for me. I have therapy in the morning and then see my pdoc in the afternoon. I also have to get there early to sign up for state insurance as I will need it come June. I will just take the financial worksheet that medicare gave me and see if that will suffice for income.

Although my sister told me that I don’t need to file taxes because I am under a certain amount, I feel like I need to. This is the first time in my entire adult life that I won’t be filing. I won’t be getting anything back but I just feel like I should file just in case. I know SSD filed for me and I don’t really have to file but I know I should file my state taxes but I don’t have a printer to do so. I am very anxious about it. I would go to H&R Block like I did last year but it cost me $150 (USD) to file and I don’t have that kind of money nor do I think I should pay that much when I am getting nothing back. I think I have to file my state because of the new law about health insurance. You have to prove that you have it for the fiscal year or you get penalized. I have to file paperwork because of my disability status. I rather just go through H&R Block just so I don’t have to deal with it and they know the taxes better than I do. I hate filing paperwork. I wish I could file electronically but its all complicated now with the different forms. I don’t have W2 but forms. It’s all confusing to me.

Still no fricken word from the editor. I am starting to go out of my mind. I so want to publish this book and be done with it. But like I said in my previous blog, it comes with fears. But I think I am strong enough to deal with it. For the first time ever I feel comfortable in my own skin. I still don’t like it when my mother calls me “she” but I am getting used to it. I don’t think that is ever going to change. I might feel like a he but I am never going to look like one to the outside world. It is really depressing if I think about it. I try not to but this morning I was and I felt suicidal. It didn’t last too long but it was still there. As I told my therapist the other day, if I had a chance to kill myself I would. I just still believe I would be better off dead. I mean, I am never going to be a man. I am stuck in this fricken woman’s body that I completely hate. And because I am a dickhead with money, I will never have the money for surgery to remove my damn things on my chest. I have thought about going to Mexico or some other country to get my breasts removed but then I thought, what if I developed an infection because the surgeon just wanted the money or I am left badly scarred. But then I have thoughts of doing it myself and what kind of job would that be? I know there is an organization in my area that deals with LGBT issues. But I am so afraid that if I make that step, there is no going back. And I also am afraid that I will have to make that commitment to myself. But I am just not there yet. I am afraid that they will have these weird requirements to get the hormones and stuff. Like I will have to lose weight or work out to build muscle but I don’t want to do stuff like that. I am not a weight builder. I never was interested in building muscle I just want to be flat chested and grow a beard and a full mustache. But no matter how baggy my shirts are these things on my chest always sticks out. I know it is worse with my weight and I am trying to lose but it is just so hard. I want to try and lose another fifteen pounds but that will take some doing. Trying to control caloric intake is so difficult, especially when you love sweets and potato chips. I try not to buy but my mother does and there goes my will power. Like this morning I had chips while making my egg sandwich. Granted I was looking for pizza from last night but there wasn’t any left over, or if it was, I don’t know where my mother put it in our full fridge. She has a bunch of left over food and I just don’t like eating leftovers.

So tonight, my crazy cousin invited me over for dinner. I am debating taking a shower. My ankle has already yelled at me once today for standing too long. I don’t want to take more pain meds today because I will just go back to sleep. I just had a cup of coffee so I am awake now. But take a couple of pills and I will be down for the count. He is making sausages and potatoes. I haven’t had that in a while. I try to stay away from sausages because my cholesterol is a little bit high right now. But I know it is high because I have not been as mobile as I have been. Soon as the weather becomes nicer, I will start a walking regimen. If I can tolerate walking around the block a couple of times, I might venture further out. But it all depends on how I do. So far I know my limits and it all depends on if I am in pain or not. I know I have to wear my AFO more. I don’t like wearing it but it’s the only way I can walk without feeling more pain than without it.

just a person interested in writing stuff

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, writing

I am writing earlier than I usually do because I got hit with pain and I am not sure what is going to happen later tonight. I might be too groggy from pain meds to write.

I’m listening to the same 228 song playlist of country music that I have been listening to for the past few months, if not the past year. It helps to listen to the mix because although I have a lot of country music, I also have Daughtry, Goyte, and Train mixed in. Just recently, I added Martina McBride because I miss hearing her voice. She has some really good songs.

I got an email from a friend of mine today. She complimented me on one of my blogs she saw on Linkin. I don’t know what blog it is as I don’t usually put my blogs on that sight. I think it was the Darkness Short Story but I am not sure. I remember “sharing” a post but I just can’t remember which one it is. It frustrates me when I can’t remember. Anyways, I replied asking if she could let me know what blog it was as I have no clue. I also answered a few questions that she had. She wanted to have a meet up and I think that would be fantastic. It has been a few years since I last saw her. I hope we can meet up, but after my book so I can sign copies.

Still no word from the editor. I am becoming more and more anxious as I wait, patiently, for word that she is working on my book. I have been waiting four months so a few more days should cause me fretfulness. I don’t think I can breathe until this project is done. I have tried working on other things to keep my mind off it, but it has been for naught. Even reading has eluded me. I can’t get into the book I am reading and I used to love reading. Or I do read and I find myself “editing”. I never was this way before. I just want this book to be out and then I will deal with the consequences. I know it isn’t going to be in the New York Times best list or even the Boston Globe, and I am not expecting it to. I just want this process to end and to be done with the waiting. I will feel so much better once this person reads it, gives me suggestions/edits so I can load the thing on to the format template and go from there.

Because of March Madness, a local radio station is having a similar “bracket” except instead of basketball, it is the battle of the bands. I foolishly signed up for notifications so I can vote, not realizing they are posting like every fricken fifteen minutes! In every post, they also want you to go to their website to vote there as well so you can win $1000 (USD). I never win anything so I am not signing up. I spent my last two dollars on a scratch ticket hoping I would win something, and I lost.

My writer friend sent me something on suicide attempt studies last night. She thought I might be able to write about it in my blog. But unless I feel strongly about the article, I don’t really write about it. Most of it is just a “DUH” experience for me anyways. But this week’s SPRC (Suicide Prevention Resource Center) had a call for papers. I might enter one of my papers in the journal they are asking for, though my paper is kind of short by about 3,000 words. I don’t know if they will accept it. And I don’t know if you have to be in academia to enter. I don’t hold a faculty position nor am I a researcher at a facility. I am just a person interested in writing stuff. I might try it, just to see if it gets accepted.

Pink Rectangular Pill

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression

It begins with the shakes. The creepy crawly feeling that you hate. You are not shaking but it feels like you are. All the side effects of the one pill that keeps you sane. Small price to pay for if I miss a dose or don’t take it, I end up in the hospital because the psychosis strikes with a vengeance. The voices have gotten worse as I get older. Luckily, there is something I can take to stop the quivering and restlessness that I feel. But I have to wait till it takes effect thirty or so minutes after I take it. Thirty minutes is a long time when you are feeling like you are crawling in your skin. It drives you crazy. Sad part is that I am not even tired despite today being a long day for me. I watched a movie for the first time in months and actually had the attention span to watch it beginning to end.

The small pink rectangular pill. That is all that makes me sane and crazy at the same time. And it sucks being like this, this crawling in your skin type of feeling. I rather deal with the elastic ball type of feeling where I am being stretched out. That is more tolerable. But I can’t pick which side effect I want. I rather have none but, like I said, it’s a small price to pay. And as long as this isn’t permanent, I am good. I think tonight it started when I noticed the increased in saliva production. I have been drooling a little bit for a while but it stopped too, for a bit. This is the stuff I go through that no one really knows about except for my therapist and psychiatrist. No one else really understands when I say I feel like a rubber ball being stretched out. That I feel like I can’t stand being in my own skin. I have not felt this way in sometime. But then I also have been lax in taking my other white pill to counter act these side effects. I only take them when I need them so if I am not having side effects or feeling symptoms of PTSD, I don’t take it. My doctor trusts me with this judgment. She is not a pill pusher like some docs are. We have a good relationship.

When I feel this way, I can’t help but think bad thoughts. Thoughts that are self destructive. Thoughts of how I wish to be dead. Thoughts that if I only had killed myself before now I wouldn’t be going through this. I still don’t know what my purpose is in my life. It’s not like I am an aspiring country singer. I just am struggling with mental illness. And that is a battle I don’t wish upon no one. It is difficult dealing with these thoughts and feelings when you feel so crummy. It makes the world seem dark and gray. But then my world is dark and gray even on a bright sunny day. It’s hard to see anything else when you have a black cloud trailing you all the time. But that is what depression is. Only dark gray skies can be seen. And within this darkness there is no hope. That is the toughest part of this illness is feeling hopeless all the time. You try not to let it get to you but it sinks into your veins and you have no choice but to accept that things are never going to change. Sure you might be happy that one day but it never lasts. Too bad that pink pill can’t help with that.