Fuck... I hit a new low and it's the absolute bottom. A fair warning: this entry is very dark, sad and upsetting. It will likely worry you, but please read it all through before you panic.
This pain... it's soooo strong it makes my chest physically hurt. I can't bear this. I literally can't bear this anymore. I got angry at another useless shit thing again but it led to something else... something much worse. I realised that the reason every little shit thing pisses me off so bad is because it makes me feel like I can't do anything at all and that everything is completely hopeless. That's why I get temporarily suicidal when I get angry. But this time... that feeling stayed. Cause I looked into it, and it opened quite a can of worms. It's breaking me.
It made me feel this intense pain that's pushing extremely hard inside but it can't get out. It's locked inside. It all made me realise, after the anger was gone again, that I don't wanna live anymore. Cause it's too much. Now it broke the seal, and tipped me over the edge. I can't carry this weight anymore. I can't even lift it.
I don't wanna do any suicide attempts, don't even wanna plan it. But I can't live either. Not like this. I know I've done good. I know I've tried my absolute hardest to stay above the surface. I feel grateful towards myself and how well I've done. It's not my fault that it got too much. I almost expected it would someday. These past couple of weeks or so I've felt I've been getting worse very rapidly and losing the grip.
This is NOT a suicide letter, I'm not going anywhere. I've only just admitted to myself that this is how I feel. And I'm just venting it now. I've no intentions or plans. If or when I feel even the SLIGHTEST hint towards actually killing myself, I'll run fast to the psychiatric emergency. Because I want help and I want to be able to live. First and foremost that is what I want. I want to live but I just can't. So what I'll do now? I'll vent, I'll talk, I'll sit on my ass and continue doing nothing in my apartment that's slowly becoming a health hazard. I've more important things to worry about than some clothing piles and nasty but dried up dishes. I'll try my best to just stay calm, rest a lot, try to take care of my body as well as I can, listen to myself, just try to let these feelings exist in me and if I can release them in some harmless healthy ways that would be very good. That's my plan. And if I can't manage it, I'll call the psych.
I don't want for this detrans shit to kill me. I really really don't. It feels like it's literally sucking all the life force out of me, draining me until there's just nothing left, like I have no control over it, and it's killing me. But I keep trying to fight it and find ways to stay alive and cope. And I will continue trying.
Oh god I'm glad I didn't go to Uppsala to see my friends there this week. I kinda had a hunch I was too mentally unwell to manage it. Guess I was kinda right. Yeah, they invited me to a party there (which is tomorrow, but I've known about it for 2 weeks) and I guess that was a hint that I was invited to stay at their place and hang out, but I just couldn't. Couldn't even handle the thought of packing a bag. Let alone actually traveling. I fantasise about seeing them again. Maybe by spring. Maybe who knows what. I don't think they care or think much about me anymore. That makes it practically impossible for me to even send a fucking text message to them. That too hurts too much.
My best friend is irreplacable, and my broken heart knows that. We were soulmates. Soulmate sisters, we used to say. And we were gonna stick together forever, inseparable. Whatever happened to that? I dunno. It happened before I moved here, some 7 years ago. I love her to death and beyond, but I can't pick up the phone to text her. Cause I think she gave up on us. It hurts more and more by the day. Especially this week when I got that party invitation but no message. I didn't know what to think. And she never even likes or replies to any of my facebook posts, but she does to the friends we have in common. I always like her posts and check her page. Makes me wonder if she unfollowed me. If I'm dead to her or something.
But anyhow. That probably exacerbated my mood plummeting. And my hormones being whackier than ever since pms-ing, then period happening with extremely painful cramps and a complete inability to regulate my body temperature. Yeah, I know full well that this suicidal thing could just be cause my hormones are literally all over the fucking place right now. I've no idea what either my estrogen or my testosterone are doing, but it's not nice whatever it is. Not surprising at all if they fuck up my mood massively as well. But holy shit this isn't an okay level to be at. It's just really not. I got a doctor's appointment on the 10th, if I can hang on until then without having to go get myself locked up somewhere safe, I can bring up my issue with moodswings or what's going on to that doctor. I don't think it's really mood swings though, more like mood dip and it's not getting back up again. It just keeps plummeting.
Oh god I just wanna disappear... just lie down somewhere soft and warm and fall asleep and not wake up again. That would be so sweet. Just rest forever. I'm cold again. Soon I'll overheat. Whatever. Somehow I can't be bothered to care about that anymore. This pain of detransing is choking me, it's suffocating me. I don't wanna care about my looks anymore. I don't wanna feel this way. My chest grief spread out to include my testo changes as well, and that grief completely consumed me. Swallowed me whole. I think that's why I hit this breaking point. It felt like the chest grief alone was getting too much. Then it grew massively. And that totally tipped me over the edge.
I feel so horrible, and utterly horrified, about my body. I've destroyed it. That's all my feelings are telling me right now. That I destroyed my own body, permanently, and I can't restore it... ever again. That feeling is pure pain and it's currently digging a hole in my chest. I think most of that pain comes from the result of what my body became like, it comes from that feeling of regret and that I know I shouldn't have done it... it comes from what I can't get back... I just shouldn't have fucking transitioned! Sex change, my ass! It didn't make me a man... it only ruined my womanhood. Tore it to fucking shreds. Like a meat-grinder. It ruined me, it literally ruined me. What the fuck have I done?! What have I done to myself... how could I? How could I... I just want my body back... the way nature made it for me. How could I ruin that gift?
I did know I had natural beauty, back in my teens. I don't think I've ever told you this... or anyone for that matter... Cause as a trans guy I was ashamed of it, and now as a detrans fuckup it just really REALLY hurts to even just think about it... but I was really confident about my body when I was around 13-17 years old. I loved showing it off and took every chance I could to flash it cause I was so proud of its beauty, I loved my curves, I loved my boobs, I loved my face, even my big ass... I loved the completeness of it. I did feel complete... for but a fraction of my life... before my rapist and R destroyed that feeling. Before I destroyed my own beauty... and here I am, grieving my fucking heart to pieces.
Yeah, my gender is "fuckup" now, cause I don't deserve to be a woman. Wow, that sentence really hurt to write. I love being a woman, I truly do... it's the sweetest, most comforting thing ever, to truly love my womanhood like that... it's such a warming and genuine love... and being a woman is the best, most beautiful thing ever in this dark cruel world... that's one of the truly good things I saw and can't unsee, the amazingness of being a woman... but I can't forgive myself for what I've done. I erased my womanhood. And what's left is a fuckup. I don't have a woman's body anymore. I have a fuckup's body. Cause I fucked it up.
Be careful what you wish... cause it might just come true.
I don't know how to possibly survive this. It feels like I can't. Like it's just not possible. Like the tragedy that is my life has no end. It will just keep getting worse until I stop it from becoming even worse ever again. Before I pull the breaks on life. I can't find any solutions to anything. I'm just barely even here. Stuck in survival mode. I can't just sit and wait for "better times" my entire life! Cause I've never done anything else than waiting for things to get better. I've never actually enjoyed life. It makes me wonder what's really the point of it all.
And oh god... Last time I was in a psych ward for being suicidal... was because I hated my pre-transition body and couldn't live without getting to transition! Realising that now just broke my fucking heart. No, it fucking shattered it! Will I ever find peace with my body? I love my body... I want for it to be well. It's a good a lovely body that functions so well and doesn't look bad... considering its circumstances. It's very comforting and warm to hold it, the smooth skin and little hairs on it that feel good to touch... the way it responds when I touch it... but it's broken and I can't connect to what I've done to it. I can only connect to what's original/natural about it. That is what I feel is the real me. The unaltered parts. That's what truly clicking with me. Those parts are sooo amazing I don't even have words to describe how much I truly, genuinely love them. I treasure them so much, and hold onto them so hard, cause I still have them and they're mine and I need them so much. They comfort me. But the rest, the altered stuff... I can't bear it. I feel so sad for how I've hurt my body... Transitioning saved my life back in 2013 but now my treatment is killing me. Was it worth it then? If it does kill me... truly hoping it won't... was it ever worth it?
I can't think clearly. This pain is blocking my mental pathways. This pain has dug enough holes in me for me to feel it almost constantly now. Everything trans triggers me, to either sadness or anger. I don't know what to possibly do to distract or amuse myself online or anywhere. I don't have any creativity or interests. I don't know for how long except from the few random spurs. It's just me and my pain. I can't draw, I can't write. I can't unfocus, I can't breathe. I'm stuck in this quicksand and I keep sinking. That's a very good description of my situation actually: quicksand.
I read your reply to my previos blog post, X. Thank you, it was really good things you brought up. I read it on my way to see my therapist yesterday, I was just on my way to leave when you told me you wrote and sent it. So I didn't have time to tell you I was gonna read it and was happy you wrote it. Then I've just been too miserable to talk to you at all. Also got my 5th present from you today. Thank you. This one actually is wine red.
"We've fallen deep so far inside
behind the walls we choose to hide
We cannot love, we can only feed, the liar inside
Our heavy heart died long ago
We shut down truth, claimed we didn't know
and then we smiled into the face of the liar inside"
- the chorus from "The liar inside" by Human Drama.
Maybe these feelings won't lead to any actual plans or attempts. Maybe it won't get worse than to just wishing I was dead. That's bad in itself, but not as bad as actual actions in that direction. Me being suicidal doesn't always lead to actions. Sometimes it's just a feeling. Let's hope it's like that this time, and that I'll get better again soon. I do want to get better.
Can I end this entry on that note, without worrying you to panic? I hate it when anyone is worried about me. I hate it so much. But I just have to vent and maybe it's good for to know. But please just see it for what it is: me admitting to feeling this way. Nothing more. It doesn't change my actions. But I will be more careful and more keen. I will try my absolute hardest to prevent any actual attempts. That much I can promise.
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