Tag: female to male

a little more about me

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt, transgender

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.

this is just a blog

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt

This is just a blog as I finally have some idea of what to write. This blogging every day has not been easy for me so I have learned to blog every other day or so just to keep things fresh. Most of my blogs deal with my severe depression and negative thinking. I cannot help what pops into head and what I write. My writing is my release from the everyday misery most people call life but I call hell.

Past few days I have been getting the itch to do something, anything, to try and get my leg swelling down. I have been in bed most of the day today but still the swelling has not gone down so I went out to get some cookies and some oatmeal because we didn’t have any in the house. I ordered lunch from Redbones, a southern place that makes good ribs. One rib was really fatty and disgusting so I let it be and ate the other less fatty ones. Though I usually enjoy their ribs, I found that today’s selection was not so great. I tried their fried Okra for the first time and it was tasteless. Twenty bucks down the drain. I should have tried to make the trip to Boston to get my bottle of Chianti and Pad Thai from the King and I restaurant. They have the BEST Pad Thai in this area.

Pain is bad in my ankle so I didn’t end up going farther than a block from my house. I still want my bottle of wine and Pad thai, maybe tomorrow.

I have had some good ideas on what to write for future blogs but I just can’t seem to get more than the ideas out on paper. For instance, I started writing about myself as Michael and that is where I ended. I could go no further than that. I guess because Michael means so much to me that I have a hard time expressing him. It is really personal to talk as Michael. Michael is my transgendered persona. I am a transgendered individual and I have been struggling a lot with this the past few years. It is getting more and more real as I try to think of what I want to be named. I hate my birth name but then I hate everything about me. From my face to my breasts all I can see is ugliness. I am ugly and no one can really tell me different no matter what they say.

Since I was little, I always preferred to be called “Mike”. It just sounded like a cool name. I would play pretend with my best childhood buddy. He would change his name to John and I would be Mike. I longed for the day when I could really be a “Mike”. It has been difficult the past few years because frankly I just rather kill myself than change. I remember watching a “Bones” episode of a transgendered female and though he had hormonally been a female, his bones still showed her to be a male. I find this very depressing. That I can go through the hormonal change and all but still have the bone structure of a female is haunting me to no end. I cannot change that no matter how hard I try. It fills me with a sadness that can be palpable. 

I have not discussed this beyond my blog and therapy sessions. It is so hard to talk about. Why am I putting it out on the world wide web? Because I am hoping that someone will read this and think “yup that is me” and understand what I am going through. It can be anonymous, I will never meet this person but at least they will know that they are not alone with this. I am trying to come to terms with it and have difficulty and knowing that transgendered persons are more likely to kill themselves are a big concern of mine because I can also be so suicidal when my identity is attacked. I still am around and I am sure others are also. I am sure they have attempted to kill themselves because they are tired of living a lie like I am. I feel crazy and sometimes like a freak because I know that I am a female but my head keeps telling me I am not. I can’t explain it more than that.

sense of humor keeping me alive?

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mental disorders, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt, transgender

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.