Writing difficulties and dealing with shit

Writing difficulties and dealing with shit

***warning long read***

I have been having trouble writing my blogs. I have been going through some turmoil about my psych leaving. I have been in contact her with email but it isn’t the same. I feel like I lost a parent. Because of this, I have lost my words. Past few days, I have not been able to write because even though there is stuff to write about, I just can’t get it. It is really difficult. Before I left seeing my psych we talked about my writing and writing in general. I half want to send her a message telling her I have been having difficulty writing since she left but not sure that is appropriate as I don’t want to make it seem like her leaving is the reason I cannot write. I am so mad at the place she and I worked at because they forced out for obviously different reasons. I think this anger is what is getting in the way of my writing. She wants me to continue my care there. And frankly, I really don’t want to leave as I finally found a doctor that can work with me and has a good team that cares. That is rare to find these days.

Day before yesterday (the 2nd), I had my appointment with my TG doc (transgender). We discussed how things were going and I am pleased with the results. I sort of have a hair explosion which I knew was going to happen but damn, my legs are really hairy now. She told me that T can cause increase in sweating and OMG that hit me like a ton of bricks. I sweat really bad anyway because of my nerve injury and now it is worse. The weather has been really muggy and hot and because of the sweating, I had to go through like 3 shirts in one day over a couple of days. I couldn’t understand why I was so damn hot and now I realize it is because of hormones adding to my already messed up temperature settings. I asked her if she was going to increase the T dose and she said no because my testosterone blood level is in the “male” range. I had my blood drawn yesterday and I guess I made the cut off for running hormones as my T result came back. It was nearly double what it was in Jan. Holy crap. I looked up the normal range for males and I am close to being in the middle of it. So I will stay on the dose. My hematocrit has increased though my energy levels haven’t. Hematocrit levels shows if you are anemic or not. I was always in the 30s range. Now I am in the 40s. Thing is my numbers have steadily increased and she told me that she doesn’t want my blood to become viscous due to increase in blood production in the bone marrow. I am fine with the dose as it is. She also said that it is a time process so the longer I am taking the T, the more it will build up in my system. I felt good about that but also am a little impatient!

Before I started my blog, I had a chat with my nephew. I am so glad I can talk to him about men stuff. I had asked him about the facial hair and he said that shaving it will make it grow faster. I had wanted to hold off shaving the rest of the month to see what will grow as the fuzz around my face is becoming more noticeable but is not really dark enough yet. It is there but kind of faded. So when I take a shower today, I will shave. I might trim my sideburns a little bit. They are now past my earlobes so it will be only a matter of time before the rest fills in. One day I really want to go downstairs with facial hair just to freak my mother out. She has not been accepting of transgendered people. My brother in law’s nephew is trans and there was a period of time where we didn’t see him. When we did, he had almost a full beard and my mother exclaimed, “what the hell is on your face?!” I nearly died from embarrassment and also felt the sting of it because I knew then she would not accept me when I did grow a beard or when I came out to her. I was right about it and it still hurts. I have tried talking to her about it but she is adamant that she is “accepting.” When I was in the hospital, I had asked her during my last weekend there when is she going to accept me. Her response was in a strained voice as she said “she has accepted since I was born.” The other stuff we talked about I knew was making it uncomfortable for her. I can pick up things, I always have as I have been empathic and sensitive. We haven’t talked about it since, though she is trying to use my pronouns and name more, unlike my sister that moved in. She has yet to call me a him/he and will call me my birthname. I am glad my youngest sister is more accepting but if she messes up, she will correct herself. I am not sure if my brother in law knows I am or not. I haven’t told him and I am not sure my sister (youngest) has either. The kids (nieces and nephew) have been more accepting and I think knew before I came out to them. It has been a process for everyone. My online friends have been the most accepting and supportive. They really like the transition photos as they can see the changes. I had recently done a ten week transition post and even then you can see a change. I really don’t like my day 1 pic anymore. But I think that has more to do with me hating myself and being uncomfortable with myself for basically two reasons: I am not congruent to what I am and that my father called me ugly and fat my whole life. I do think I am ugly and obviously I am fat. The TG had the “weight talk” with me. Even though I had lost 12 pounds since I last saw her and I told her it was because of me not eating, she still wants me to lose more. I have no idea why doctors feel they have to say the obvious. I cannot stand it because it makes me feel more ashamed of myself.

I had appointments all week. Today and the rest of the week I am not doing anything. My legs are so sore from everything. Monday when I went to PT things looked good. I have two sessions left and then I will “graduate.” I have been going for nearly six months trying to get my right (good) ankle/foot stronger. I don’t think I can get the calf to loosen. It has been the most aggravating part over the course of treatment. Every time I try to stretch, I hurt the next day in a big way. I pretty much have given up on it. I have also given up on trying to get my balance better only because I need to be standing and my CRPS foot/ankle doesn’t like it. It can trigger a flare. Tues after I saw my TG doc, I had a flare and for the first time, a few hours later, I dissociated. I felt like I didn’t have a foot/ankle anymore and the pain was not there. It was very fucking weird. This lasted until this morning when I woke up at 2 am because of back and hip pain. I have gotten into this habit while sleeping to twist my upper body is one way and my pelvis/hip is the opposite. I had some pain that was about an 8 so I took my breakthrough meds and some Neurontin. When I was having difficulty going back to sleep, I took some melatonin. I now have a hangover from it but that is what coffee is for. I still don’t have mega pain and this worries me. I had emailed my psych about this but never got a response about it.

Yesterday I saw my eye doctor, which I am not going back to again. She didn’t really help me and I feel like she didn’t get what I was telling her as I really couldn’t see the letters out of my right eye clearly. No matter how I told her that, she just kept adjusting the lenses on the thing and nothing worked. Then she went to the other eye. After that she just said my prescription changed a little. I was like WTF. How the hell could it have changed a little when I cannot see out of my right eye from far away??? I had gone to see her not only for a regular eye exam but also due to my having double vision. I had told my psych as I thought it might be the Lamictal and she said it is. I needed to be under supervision to taper down the dose so she is trying to speed up seeing another psychiatrist. But after the exam, it turns out that my right eye is “lazy” meaning the muscles are weak and get worse when I am tired, hence the double vision. The problem is not problematic enough for me to have a prism in my eyeglasses, but if it gets worse, I will need it. I feel like I might need it now as I could not see just one frame the whole time she was trying to get me to see one. I kept on seeing two or the corner or half of the other frame. Again, she did not listen to me and just went on with her business. I will be seeing my mother’s eye doctor. He is an ophthalmologist which is what I sort of need. My mother confused me because she said a “nurse” did the eye exam and then he went over what they did to okay it. I tried to get more information out of her but she doesn’t know who the person is that is testing her vision. She never asks the questions just goes along with it. I am sure if the doctor said that if she jumped off a bridge would help her, she would. So now I got to get another eye exam, which needs to be on Medicare, not my eye insurance. I am not sure Medicare covers eye exams. I know the insurance that I have does but they will not cover it because I have Medicare. I am so annoyed at this. I won’t be getting new glasses until I get another eye exam. I want to make sure the prescription is right and won’t cause my eyes to strain or get tired while reading on my phone or while I am on the computer or even looking at something far away like a street sign or something. I have always known my right eye has been weak but hell, least listen to me when I say I cannot see the letters!

After the appointment, I sent an email to my psych telling her the double vision was likely not due to the Lamictal but having the lazy eye problem. I never got a response back. I then emailed her about still being in a dissociated state. I wish she would have responded but she didn’t. I miss her and it has only been a week since I last saw her.

I guess that is all. I might do a weekly blog if I don’t write every day or every other day, like I am doing now. I know it is long and I apologize. I just wanted to write how things are going for me. It has been a real struggle and my pain has not helped my suicidality. I still have my plan and I know one day I will go through with it. Just not now.

saying good-bye to a friend

Saying good-bye to a friend

I got up soon after my mother left the house. I wanted to basically shave the sides and part of the back of my head because she “loves” it so much. Unfortunately, the razor that I wanted to use died and I had to use my trimmer, which didn’t cut as close as I wanted it. I took a shower afterwards to get the hair off me.

I then made breakfast of scrambled eggs with pepper jack cheese. It was good. We were running low on orange juice so I figured after the wake, I would get some. By the time I was done ironing my shirt, it was time for the next bus to the Square. I desperately needed coffee. I got dressed quickly. My dress pants had some trouble going over my brace. Luckily the bus was a little late so I was basically on time when it came.

I felt pretty good in my shirt and tie. I hardly get dressed up anymore or even wear button down shirts since I have been out of work. I went to Starbucks for my espresso and started to write in my journal. I then thought I could get the juice at the new grocery store they opened in the Square a few months ago. They didn’t carry the kind I wanted in the size I wanted. I decided to go home so I could take another dose of pain meds before leaving for the funeral home. Unfortunately, I had spilled my coffee on my tie and it smelled of soy milk and espresso. I was not happy because cleaning ties are a bitch.

I came home and thought about blogging but I didn’t. I called my carrier for my cellphone to see if I could get a better deal now that my contract had expired. I lowered my bill, which is good and have unlimited everything plus a hotspot. I have no idea how to use a hotspot but whatever. It’s 10 GB and I doubt I will use it at all. But it’s with the plan and doesn’t cost me extra. The plan is in effect and I should see it in my next billing cycle.

I got antsy and decided to leave for the funeral home. It was nice weather, even though it was cloudy so I didn’t mind waiting outside. The bus was late but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be there too early. I saw my friend and said goodbye to him. I told him to say hi to my other coworkers that have passed on. I then gave my condolences to the family.

I went to see the pictures they had on display and saw one of the friends that I used to work in. There were a few more that came in and we all talked. I learned there have been 81 people to date that have passed on since the company closed in 1997. I hope we don’t lose anymore. I waited around a bit, hoping to see more friends but it was getting late and I still needed to go to the grocery store. I left and then bought something to eat while at the store. I didn’t have dinner at home because I wasn’t hungry. By the time I made it back to the bus stop, my Achilles flared up something awful and I still needed to walk home. I basically limped on my bad foot, which it didn’t like so my ankle flared in protest. I was screwed.

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for the bus to come. I walked to the convenience store to buy a Powerball ticket and a scratch ticket. I lost on the scratch. I hope the powerball numbers come through. It’s low numbers so I am not sure. There hasn’t been a Massachusetts winner in a long time so I am not hopeful. But in order to win, you have to play so I am taking a $2 chance.

I came home and medicated. I told my mother about my friend and how he used to tell one line jokes. He was a sweet man. He isn’t suffering anymore and he can be with his friends to tell his corny jokes.



My friend that I am close to, lost his father. I don’t know if it happened yesterday or today as he is in South Africa. I feel bad for him because his father is in England and now he has to travel there.

This is the 4th loss of a parent of people I know this year. It saddens me because my parents are relatively in good health and are much older than my friends parents. This is because my parents had my sisters and I at an older age.

I got into a fight with my mother today over the cable. We put in a call because the digital converter box is not working. The guy said yesterday a tech would come out between 12-2. He never showed up. I waited till 5 pm. I told my mother I would call today and see what I could do. Well, I woke up early, like 0500 early and by 8 I was tired and wanted to sleep. She kept nagging me to call and I said why don’t you call. She gave the “excuse” that she was babysitting. A nine year old, not a nine month old that required attention. But I bet dimes to donuts its because of her hearing she didn’t want to call. She is fucking deaf and won’t do anything about it. Yesterday when she called, she had me go downstairs to complete the call because she didn’t understand what the guy was saying. She drives me nuts.

I am also thinking about my Godfather who died this month three years ago. And also my Aunt who also died this month last year. The date is close to my Godfather’s death. I didn’t see her before she passed because she was very ill and had shingles all over her face. I wanted to remember her the way that I do now, not like what she become. I did go to the wake and funeral. It was very painful as she was a close aunt. I grew up with her. But because of a language barrier (she only spoke Italian, dialect), it was often difficult to have a conversation with her other than yes and no. I am grateful she didn’t get Alzheimer’s, even though she was more than 90 years old.

My godfather died suddenly and peacefully. I think he had a pulmonary embolism (blood clot in the lungs). His death was more traumatic to me than my aunt because she had been sick for a while and he was not. He wasn’t in the best of health as he was 82. He had Alzheimer’s so every time I talked with him, I had to explain who I was. I don’t think he really remembered but he just had a conversation with me just the same. It became harder as the years progressed so I stopped calling except on his birthday and holidays.

Think I am going to take that nap that I should have taken this morning now. I am so drained and I just had a cup of coffee. I hate when the coffee has the opposite affect on me. I really wanted to do some writing today but don’t look like it’s going to happen. Maybe after my nap.

loss of self

Today I broached the subject of grief with my therapist. She hasn’t received her packet of letters that describes my grief and how I think I should address it. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I think the reason for my craziness the last few months has to do with my grief and not dealing with it. Course, I didn’t think much of it until I asked if grief can cause psychosis. Then I just shut down. And thank god, it was the end of session. She wanted to see me tomorrow but I told her Tuesday was fine. It will give me more time to think about how to approach this.

She encouraged me to write about this stuff and how I am thinking about it but I don’t know how. Just thinking about my losses just makes me extremely sad. It’s like knocking the wind out of me. I mean, I used to be able to work two friggen jobs and now I can’t even work one. I was stable enough to work in one job for fourteen years and then I messed it up because my foot got messed up. I don’t know if I could work again at the same job. I would like to. But I can’t be all running around like I used to. Thing is, being a lab assistant, you sometimes have to do phlebotomy (draw blood) and I was never keen on drawing blood. Even the easiest of veins I blew and I don’t want to go back to it ever again. I was lucky my department didn’t have to do that. There was a separate department for blood draws.

It still hurts that after fourteen years of service I was just not accommodated by my job to do my job. It really hurts. I never told anyone how bad it is losing my job. Even though it has been almost a year and a half now. It also sucks I can’t do my other job of driving around Boston picking up samples because my driving record got messed up. I got a speeding ticket one morning because I was too sleepy to notice I was over the speed limit. But a State trooper noticed and I got fined. Then because I couldn’t pay the fine, my license got suspended. It took me almost a year to get it all cleared up. But it is going to take a while for me to have a “good” driving record again. And that kills me. I know it doesn’t matter now because by the time I have a car of my own again, I will be “good” again. But the fact that I can’t get a Zipcar to have some independence just kills me. I can borrow my sister’s car to go places but mostly her husband takes it and I hate driving the truck. I know I should conquer my fears and learn to get used to it but I have a peripheral defect and I am just afraid I am going to sideswipe someone or something. And I HATE backing up in the drive way because my sense is not great. Even with the car I hate it, especially when there is a car parked across my driveway.

I really have other deep losses such as the loss of myself and the loss of my abilities. Walking used to be my joy. I was able to walk long distances and think nothing of it. It never bothered me. Sometimes it did when I used to get Charlie horses if I walked too far and didn’t drink enough. But other than that, I really enjoyed walking to the train station which is about a mile away. I used to do the Walk for Hunger, which is a 20 mile walk around Boston. Haven’t done that in years but I am determined to do it one year, long as I go slow. I will have to do mega training to work up to it as right now my limit is four blocks .

Then I have the loss of my bodily functions. I never thought that at the age of 36/37 I would have to wear diapers to events that last longer than a few hours. This is because I no longer get the signals to my brain that my bladder is full. Once I am full, I start leaking excess until I do go. It isn’t until I feel wet do I ask myself the last time I went potty. The number 2’s are a different story. I can’t feel myself went I go unless my stools are hard. If you are the squeamish type, I would stop reading right now. This could be disgusting to you. If my stools are soft I don’t feel them as they move out. If I have the runs, I can quickly have an accident as I can’t hold them long, though I have been lucky the last few times in holding them in by not letting loose my farts. If I lose control of my farts, I lose control of my stool and well, you got it. A nice number 2 in the pants. It has only happened to me a few times, the worse was when I took too much fiber pills and thought I was farting but really I was shitting myself. That was a lesson learned. I usually take senna because I find that it is the only thing that makes me go without too much trouble. Too much however can cause very bad cramps and possible accidents. Every time I have an accident or have skid marks because I didn’t wipe myself well enough, I lose it. I really go into a darker place and usually want to kill myself. Same with when I have a urine accident but I am getting used to them. Having stool in my pants is a real downer. And I don’t think anyone can get used to that. It makes you feel so small. And people take it for granted that their bodies will tell them these things. My body, because of the nerve damage, no longer does. And it is a HUGE loss. Again, not something I have dealt with nor wanted to.

Then, of course, there is the loss of where I should be now had my mental illness not shut me down and forced me to stop school once again. I call this the “if onlys”, such as if only I didn’t have a psychotic breakdown in 2008, how different my life would have been. If only I went to a four year school instead of getting just my Associate’s degree I would be better off now than I was back then. If only I had decided to work part time and go to school full time would I have been better mentally than I am now. Or would the financial strain of not working been too much? Or would the strain of going to college full time really be my downfall? Either way, I can’t change any of it, but it is a HUGE loss to me not being able to go back because I fucked up. I should have just made a simple phone call to put my loans into deferment and I would have been able to go back now that I am just sitting on my ass doing nothing most days. I think me not going to back to college is the most hurtful to me because I loved my studies, didn’t matter what they were. I just loved being in academia. Psychology is really my thing. And I know I could have been a good therapist. But I don’t think those dreams are ever going to come true. Maybe if I win the lottery.

Then you take into account all the times I have been suicidal. It is a loss because I am still having to piece back my life and I don’t like it. I rather be pushing up daisies for eternity. But as past blogs have talked about, I can’t kill myself anymore than I can make a gourmet dinner. AND it hurts to go on living like this.