I had to ask her the remaining question she had for me at the end of session Thursday. I could have just let it be but no, curiosity got the better of me. And I knew it was going to be an unpleasant subject: my being transgender. The question was how did I see myself moving forward. Trouble is, I don’t see how I am going to go forward. I will never be a son to my parents nor a brother to my sisters. And that hurts. She is probably the only person in the world that sees me as a guy. I have one friend that sees me that way but I don’t see him often enough. I feel so torn because I was brought up as a girl and I keep thinking to myself I am crazy because I am a boy. I asked her the question and now I am all torn up about what to do with the answers. What is worse, she brought up my suicidality and I feel that it has been stirred up again. I truly rather die than try to “fight” as a male. I even begun to call myself a “her” though it is so idiosyncratic. It doesn’t even jibe with what I feel. I just figure I will die some day and that will be that. But my book is coming out and soon the world will know I am a guy, a “he” not a “she”. Yet, I know it is because of the things on my chest that are truly defining me not my mentality. How I wish I could just lob them off, for good. Maybe I should have gone to medical school just to learn a little bit about surgery. Too late now.
I had to ask the question and I won’t talk to her again till Wednesday. It’s only 48 hrs. But I will be wrestling with my suicidality until then. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who will understand. And my crazy cousin will be calling me soon to discuss his anxiety problems. I think I am going to tell him tonight that I am a male. Maybe he won’t talk to me again. Maybe he will think I went off my rocker. I won’t tell him about being suicidal. He doesn’t like talk like that. But then he has known me all my life as a female and calls me such. I don’t know what to do. Why this has to be so fucking difficult. Yet I know that if I didn’t ask her what her question was, all of this turmoil wouldn’t be felt. I feel so stupid. She thinks this is the answer to my suicidality by going forward being transgendered. I have no idea what the hell it means. Just changing my damn name seems like a hassle. And it’s not that I am changing it drastically to something else. I don’t know. You think about these things but you never think them all the way through. If I had the support of my family, maybe things might be different. But they can’t even handle my homosexuality. How in the world are they going to handle me being a man? I might as well just end up six feet under. It will be better for everyone. When the truth hits the fan, if my book is ever published, maybe then it will be easier to kill myself.
Tag: transgender
My Suicidal Mind
Today my therapist asked me if I was suicidal, or specifically, if I was having suicidal thoughts. I had to think about it for a few minutes before answering. And the answer is not so much. I haven’t sat down and thought about killing myself in a few weeks now. I am not saying I am no longer suicidal because that would be inaccurate. If given the chance, I would act on a suicidal plan in a heartbeat. It’s just that I am not thinking about it all the time anymore, 24/7. Then she asked me about my perturbation, press, and psychache, the three P’s of the suicidal cubic model. When all three are at a 5, suicide is imminent. Over the last few years I have ranged from a 4-4-5 to a 5-5-4. Always close to killing myself but not quite there. Granted there have been times that I needed to do something to get rid of the pain so I would self-medicate, usually. But lately, I haven’t been perturbed. I haven’t been feeling press. And my psychache has only increased due to my transgender issues. It varies. Some days it is worse than others.
My suicidal thoughts are also partly dependent on my physical pain. I haven’t had a bad pain flare up in the last few weeks. I had pain today that prevented me from going out, again. Seems I have been waking up in pain the last few mornings and I am not liking this. It just ruins my day. I really wanted to go see my therapist today, and I would have if my stupid foot wasn’t hurting. It makes me depressed big time but it doesn’t necessarily make me suicidal all the time.
I have not been in a dark mood in quite some time. I am fearful that it might come back. I am trying not to be too hopeful about things because I know things are always going to suck no matter what. Like my editor not getting back to me is putting added stress on me. I know that she hasn’t gotten to my book because I am a bad writer, but I can’t help but feel that way sometimes. I am hoping she gets to me this week, after her day off. I am really, really disappointed that I am not going to be publishing the first week of April. I had wanted to get a few books out to the AAS conference in Los Angelas. But now that doesn’t seem likely either.
I feel like I have a fractured ego right now, that one wrong thing someone says to me and I will have a meltdown of some kind. I just feel a pressure building up and I don’t know where the release valve is. Right now things are ok, but I am sure any stress thrown in my direction is going to set me off. I guess that is why I have not thought about a suicidal plan. It would be too tempting to have one in place should I have a meltdown.
Also my therapist wanted to ask me a question about my transgender stuff but we ran out of time. I am kind of glad because we have been talking about that most of the week. I am glad next week we don’t meet three times. She wants to meet with me any time she has an opening. But next week I have appointments for myself and my dad. I am not looking forward to my appointment as it is with my PCP. I also have an appointment with my neurologist this week. That appointment is a joke. She meets with me and just tells me to join yoga. Not happening. We also talk about other stuff. I am going to bring up my neck hurting me and my hand/arm falling asleep. It has been happening a little bit too much for my liking. The weird part is that I will be sleeping on my left side when my right arm falls asleep. I hope I don’t have herniated discs in my neck. That will suck.
TG issues: Suicidal Mind
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
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.
midnightdemons7 
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