Invisible in my own skin

(I originally wrote this text for tumblr, so word choice may look a little weird. Or maybe it doesn't. Whatever.)

I’ve just realised something. That the reason it’s especially painful for me when I’m assumed to be a male-born person is because I strived for being seen as a male-born man for all of my transition and I wanted to be male since… I don’t even know how far back… but was rarely ever believed to be male. And now that I’m finally really loving being female, I’m not believed to be female-born. It’s just heartbreaking! It feels like the cruelest of irony. And double irony: I put myself in this situation. Yeah, don’t just take my dreams away from me, beat me with them too. Cause why not, I guess.

I don’t think I really like being seen as a man. I think I’m mostly just despondent to it, cause I don’t wanna correct people on my stupid gender anymore. I’m tired of my constant fucking gender struggle that just went back and forth and bit its own tail. Can’t I just be me? For once, fucking ONCE in my 29 years long life I truly enjoy being a woman, after all the crap I’ve been through… but how much of a woman am I if I’m never seen or treated as one? I feel invisible in my own skin.

It is MY body and I love it. I refuse to change it more just because whoever around the next corner insisting I’m a trans woman makes me feel bad cause they refuse to believe my words. But I can’t say that doesn’t get to me. It digs its ugly claws into me. I know it’s unreasonable to expect people to see me as a woman when I’m not trying all that hard to look like one. I guess I just have it stuck in my head that cause I was born female and had it so easy with my looks before my transition, I shouldn’t have to “prove” my gender to anyone. Like it should just be a given. But it’s clearly not anymore.

That time has passed, and I think I grieve that too. A lost privilege, of sorts. I didn’t sign up for this when I started taking testosterone with the intent to look like and live happily as a man until I’d die of old age. I really didn’t sign up for this regret. But it’s my reality now and I just have to try harder to find ways to deal and cope with it.

Other people cannot decide what gender I have, no matter how persistently they try to. I’m not transgender, I’m not biologically male, I’m not transitioning to female, I’ve not had mtf vaginoplasty, I’m not non-binary. I’m a biologically female cis woman who just happened to transition to male and then regret it and detransition, and I refuse to let anyone put me in boxes that I simply do not belong in. I need to take back my power over that. First of all, I’m not dumb, I understand what’s in my knickers. Second of all, I don’t have amnesia, I would have remembered it if I had gotten mtf srs and if I had ever had a dick. And thirdly, I’m the only one who knows what’s really going on inside my mind, genderwise.

But people who refuse to believe my truth do not deserve my explanation or the energy it takes for me to do so. I am left with but one choice: walk away and ignore them. Let them believe whatever they want to believe. Because sacrificing more of my body that I know I would regret is simply not an option, nor should it ever have to be.

It is my pride to be a woman, my own kind of woman that I’ve created, broken and polished, even if I’m the only one to truly see it, no matter how much that hurts, and the irony of it all pissing on me.

Society and addictions

I don't know if I like my purging or not. I guess I like having that ability but hate the act. It's so gross and it's sometimes scary too. Three things that have or should have scared me about it: 1, when I almost passed out from it. 2, when I couldn't stop puking even after I stopped trying to. 3, when I threw up blood. Yet, despite those three things, I do find comfort in it. It's definitely an addiction too and I wonder if I can abstain from it for these two days now. Or if I'll have something small just to purge it.

I don't know if I should still count it as fasting if I get it all up. Probably not, causing eating means breaking a fast, not necessarily being on plus minus zero of eaten calories. So I'm not counting yesterday as a fast, but I do count today cause I haven't eaten anything yet. Just had a cup of coffee, some diet coke, some but not enough water and some of this vitamin drink. I could never do a water fast with my caffeine addiction.

Me and my addictions... some come and go, some always stay. My smoking feels like a permanent addiction, my caffeine habit more or less stays, and now also purging. One more horrid than the other. Other addictions I've had/gone through are cutting, alcoholism and painkillers. Am I an addict? I would say so but a fairly functioning one. I don't do any heavy stuff and I've never been hooked on actual, illegal drugs. I'm thankful for that, but I've always been curious to try.

There's a lot I've been wanting to try, I don't really have any limits when it comes to danger. I want to live a short and dangerous life, but instead I'm stuck in this rat hole with a declining eating disorder. Maybe my experimenting days are over, or maybe there will come more opportunities. Benzo... I've always wanted to try that. And I don't mean the tiny Sobril that I got ages ago, I mean the heavy stuff that has a definite kick to it. And at least that is legal, if that matters to anyone.

But mostly I've just had to make do with what's been available to me. Anyone can get a hold of razor blades and coffee, and everyone over a certain age can get a hold of alcohol and cigarettes, and everyone can get an eating disorder. Pills are harder to get but potentially you could get a hold of basically anything legal from a doctor. I've just had bad luck in that department. I think my overdosing days are over. I can't get anything more dangerous than antihistamines these days.

Right now I stick to those three previously mentioned. Cigarettes, caffeine and my eating disorder. I still don't cut. I don't need it and why just create scars for the sake of nothing? Maybe I'm done cutting myself with that realisation, I don't know for sure. But addictions of any of the already mentioned kinds have been a huge part of my life for the past 10 years. It started with cutting when I was 15 years old.

It's all just been a long escape from my own brain and the monsters living in it. An escape from my curse, actually. There's only so much I can take of it. Has it ever worked? No and yes. If it was utterly useless I wouldn't have continued with harming myself. But it was never enough. I've always been one step behind my curse.

And still I won't stop as it's still chasing me. Still making my life hell as I desperately try to control my own mind. But I can't. I know that much but I still need something that's effective enough to at least make my life somewhat livable. I don't exactly want to live a long and happy life, I've just been trying to survive for as long as I need to, or have to. To keep myself somewhat sane in this insanity of a life.

Sex has of course also been an addiction. How could I forget? Mostly with myself, it's a compulsive habit I haven't been able to break for the last 17 years. It was awful starting that when I was 9 years old, and I did it only to punish myself for what had happened to me. Once a day is apparently a lot, but I've been at it for up to 5-6 times a day when I was at my worst. And slept with strangers only because they liked me and they were available. Slept with anyone who wanted me.

Now that was never an infinite amount of people, but I think I've been with 13 or 14 different people between ages 17 and 24. It was mostly self destructive and repeating the abuse I've been through, so I wouldn't call it just an active healthy sex life. Not even close, not at all healthy also because the number of times I used protection are very easy to count. Luckily I got away with it, no diseases, no pregnancy.

Ah, the good old days! I don't even know how many different addictions I'm up at now. It's almost every addiction you could possibly have, but it hasn't been all at once. Usually I feel best with three at a time. More and I just feel like I'm completely losing control over myself, less and the darkness devours me.

I don't even know how much I can write about sex addiction here, with the new blog rules that I haven't read. Don't want my blog shut down for downright indecency but I think it's a problem more common than most people would think and it should be addressed. I'm not all that ashamed of my past and present behaviours, it's just that there's so much freaking hush-hush about it. It drives me crazy. Why shouldn't we be able to talk about it?

Perhaps if we did not so many would fall for that way of life, or they could get help for it. I don't know, but what I do know is that keeping quiet is rarely a good idea. I mean, like at school we're not even allowed to talk about alcohol, like mentioning a drink and the whole room goes crazy. Like seriously what the fuck? Okay I know there are more than just one or two previous addicts going there, but come on? I think some rules are just made because of convenience. That anything that could upset someone should be kept quiet about.

I think that's the wrong approach entirely. Banning words? What, do we suddenly live in the 1950's?! I try to follow the rules, but I'm a compulsive rule-breaker since early childhood so it doesn't exactly come easy for me. Perhaps some people need rules, but I've always only felt hindered by them. To not be allowed to express myself my way mostly, that really bothers me.

To not be allowed to talk about and discuss things that are of importance because some dickhead thought it was a good idea not to. Maybe that's why I prefer alcohol combined with parties instead. Where words can flow almost completely freely and never once have I gotten in trouble for speaking my mind. Maybe once or twice in my whole life time but then I was too drunk, pushed into a corner and didn't know what the fuck to say, so it was hardly my fault.

The point is, freedom of speech is so important like oh my god. Sometimes I miss the old me that was less hindered by stupid rules and social codes. That me got friends for life, that me had some fucking stamina. Now... it's like this awful society finally managed to shrink me. I do still have my moments, but my words don't flow as easily anymore. Afraid of stepping on toes, afraid of getting banned, kicked out or hit in the face.

Now my only place is this blog. My only fucking place to say exactly what's on my mind at all times. That's why I let anyone read it, that's why it doesn't have a password. Cause I think you need to hear some of this honesty from time to time, whoever you may be. A friend, a stranger, a former friend, who knows. Only people I'd like to keep out of this blog are my family members and my shrink, basically. I don't want to shock them with way too much TMI that they most likely don't even want to hear about.

I don't even have an off-button when I'm on here. I could literally go on forever cause I have so much to say that can never pass my lips. Maybe this is a petty attempt to make the world a better place, at least to let some people know that there's nothing I'm scared of mentioning here. Except maybe just a handful of things, I'm writing down more than 99% of all that's crawling around inside my brain.

Sometimes I wish I could do more, other times I think I do enough. I do pull my weight in society too, even if it is just a fraction of what I could do. I live on your tax money with no intention of ever getting a job, I go to school which you also more or less pay for, I live on medication that you also pay the most of, I go to psychiatric meetings and doctors appointments that you also pay the most of.

I don't have any money. I'm a scum of society but at least I'm not intentionally making it any worse than it is. Except from those few laws I've broken. But I try to do what I actually can do, which is trying to talk to people and communicate, and I also do these kind of research questionnaires that the state or whatever randomly send to people. I get "randomly" selected about once a year since I was about 14 or 15 and I've done them all, except two cause they didn't apply to me in the least.

So yeah, I do mostly sit on my ass being half a financial crisis to society but I also do try to do good things. You can't just tell a poor, mentally handicapped person to just get their ass of the couch and start doing volunteer work or whatever. Or well, some people really do think they have the guts to do that. In which cases I usually just let my jaw drop slightly and then proceed to stare at them for five minutes, before I manage to get a grip on myself and gently explain to them why they're a complete dickhead.

I'm not doing anything wrong by just being me with the disabilities I have. I didn't choose to have them. I will never earn my own money, I will never have that kind of capacity to do so. It doesn't bother me, the one actually suffering from it, so why the hell does it keep bothering everyone else?! It's the society that's fucked up, not people like me just trying to live a decent life when we can't.

Wow this turned into ranting I could never have foreseen... I guess I'm just mad at people who are mad at me for stupid reasons. Am I a burden for society? Heck yeah, one of the worst kinds even. But you know what? I don't care cause I don't consider myself a property of society, I'm merely borrowing this body in this little phase called life. I don't care how many people has to work around the clock just to keep me alive, it's their fucking job. And I don't care how much tax money I waste on diet coke and cigarettes, you know you have to pay tax money, I do too.

Really trying to end this rant now... feel free to stop reading at any point cause I doubt it's gonna get better or more coherent than this. Maybe I'm just complaining that I'm being looked upon as a piece of useless trash. You would too if you were in my situation after a bunch of years. I've never been a productive member of society, never going to be. It's my life, and I neither can nor want to change it. I'm comfortable and I don't like taking huge risks that can make all hell break loose. I'm stuck, but not willing to move. I've given up and just counting the days, weeks and months.

I think I'll stop here, before this ranting becomes something else. I've covered a lot in just one blog entry today. I might come back later on to write more shit, but probably not on this topic.

My world vs. your society

I'm trying to watch another quite horrible transguy documentary, as they keep misgendering him and viewing him as a freak of nature, almost. I would never have a documentary made about myself. Never. No matter how interesting my life might be for the public eye. In that case they can make one when I'm dead, cause that I somehow wouldn't mind.

I don't know, the whole media representation of transsexualism is disgusting to me. It's always been, and it's partially what made it harder for me to eventually come out for the first time, about the time I was 19 years old. Cause the media representation that I found when my first thoughts started coming when I was 15 was horrible.

It was only information about transgirls that I could find and it was always this "she used to be a man" or "look at what gross things he did to his body" when referring to a transgirl. It's just disgusting and awful. And that was what I was exposed to and probably what made me reconsider, to try and live as a girl instead of embracing myself and my true gender identity.

Society is so fucked up. Like what the hell?! I still sometimes get reminded of all the young transgender people who have killed themselves recently. Especially a transgirl named Leelah Alcorn (and of course the media used her male birth name, but I have actually, completely honestly, forgotten what that was now.)

She was all over tumblr and I tried to not be bothered by it, but it's just awful and she posted her suicide letter on tumblr. In it she said to fix the society. She killed herself because her family could not accept that she was trans. I think she was 16 or 17 years old, though I might remember her age incorrectly, but something around that.

Anyway, my point is that society is still so very fucked up when it comes to transgender people and how we are being treated. The laws that strap us down, cisgender people not accepting us, hate, discrimination, violence, murder, sexual assault, suicide. The list is too damn long. Also, specifically transgender women of colour have been murdered left to right lately. I honestly have no idea what's going on.

And that makes me almost even angrier because that involves racism too. I really hate racism, it just makes me so fucking angry. Like I have a classmate who is not white and she opened up about being called racist slurs by a teacher when she was a kid. I could almost not contain myself when she said that. I don't know why I almost react stronger to racism, but possibly cause I hate being white privilege myself.

It's stupid and I shouldn't dislike myself for being white. It's just as unimportant/important as any other skin colour. But I do hate that I am privileged in a way that makes some people look down on me. I hate that somehow my opinion matter less because I have that privilege. It's hard to explain, I come to realise.

But lately, I have become more aware of my privilege. As a mentally disabled, gay transgender person, I do have a lot of things going well for me. I have access to allowance, transgender care such as hormones and surgeries, I'm white and I'm male, I live in a country that tolerates my kind of people and I've never had a real reason to fear for my life. I'm middle class (brought up that way, at least) and I've never gotten in any kind of trouble for liking people of the same gender.

A lot of things are good. And I try to embrace that, somehow. Almost all of my problems are mental and has little to do with society. I'm a burden to it though. I am health care resources, living on allowance full time and I can't take care of myself. I'm not independent or smart enough to get a cool job. I am also lazy and selfish. I take up space but do nothing useful with it.

I don't often feel bad about being a burden to society, but more often I feel bad about society being a burden to me. Cause I'm also (kind of) a human being and should be treated as one. Transgender people have right too. Gay people have rights too. Crazy people have rights too. Because underneath all that I am an actual person and society has a knack for forgetting that kind of thing.

I'm not just pills in a bottle, a hospital patient, someone cared under LSS or a guy with girl parts. I'm a person and society just doesn't treat me that way. But I can say fuck society because I am that privileged. I can and do most often choose to turn off the outside world and stay inside my own cozy yet scary little world.

I mostly only blog about myself and that's what this blog really is about, but I just wanted to tell you that despite being too stuck up in my own little world, I do care. I just can't handle it. I have enough going on already in my life, I just can't worry about the lives of others too. Except from K, my best friends (to a certain degree), my family (also to a certain degree) and occasional other friends.

But the world at large? Not a chance, it would be too much. It was too much. Cause as I grew up in my teenage years, I was told to start opening my eyes to see the world outside too, and I tried that for a while, a good amount of years or so, but then my own reality caught up with me and the only way I could sort it was to shut out the real reality.

Then I forgot to care. Reality left me too. I was no longer holding on to it as I realised that there's no place for me in it. I just don't belong in the real reality, in your reality. In the reality where transgendered and people of colour get murdered or end their own lives. In the reality where women get attacked and brutalised, where men get killed by cops for no reason, where sexual assault and child molestation is more than just common, where war and total destruction is.

I have no place in it because I can't react to it right or because I don't react at all. I made a choice and your reality is just not where I want to live. No, I'm not touching the suicide topic again, just the isolation topic, I think. Okay, getting too tired to write, so I guess I'll just post this then.

The gender in clothes

Maybe this summer I'll wear a dress? That thought later came to me as I woke up this morning, as I do not want to believe in gendered clothes. I would still keep my beard and not do anything else differently, but wear a dress. Something black and goth, of course, preferably full length to hide my hairy legs and some nice shoes to go with that.

I never before thought it would scare me but it does. All the hatred I could get for simply wearing a dress. It's not like way before when I wore dresses all the time. It literally went years before I started wearing pants again. So consumed by my role, to keep up appearance so that people wouldn't find out the truth that I'm actually a guy. Hiding behind heavy make-up and fancy skirts, dresses and corsets.

I sometimes miss it, but I'm afraid to admit that. That there's still a transvestite hiding inside me, I try to let that person go. Because I have nowhere to take them, no place to release that pressure and be that part of me. Like, if only there was a gay club or something nearby. I could go all out drag and just be Kazanndra or Lydia for just one night and then stuff that away in a drawer again for the next time.

But I don't know. Just thinking about wearing a dress has got nothing to do with going drag, not really. It's about not being afraid of who I am, a guy who just happens to not give a shit about hetero normativity. And it's got nothing to do with that I'm transsexual either. I've never gotten hate for doing "feminine" things as a transguy. Maybe it's the awesome people that I surround myself with.

Still, it's different here on this island where no one knows about my background. I don't want them getting ideas. That, like, if I was to show up at school wearing a simple, black dress and half fancy shoes they might think that I'm trans the other way around. I've always hated it when people assume that. It's like, no, I'm just wearing a stupid dress, it doesn't mean anything.

It's so wrong though, cause in a way I've almost reverted back to the closet but for the exact opposite reason, if that makes any sense. Cause long before, back in 2005 when I just discovered that what the heck, I'm a guy, I bound my chest and packed in privacy. Now I'm wearing dresses and make-up in privacy.

I'm still a guy, don't get me wrong, just not that macho alpha male that I'm "supposed" to be. And I don't want to be that kind of guy either. I love being androgynous the right way, I just hate this fucked up society and it's "demands" on me as a transguy, or as a guy in general.

Cause even though my openness, most of society doesn't know that I'm trans. And I'd like to keep it that way. My thoughts are running wild right now, and in my mind, I can't stick to the subject. I start rambling about wanting kids again, and about wanting to starve again. So I'll just end it here as I'm drifting off topic and forget what I was thinking about it.

Wake up, society!

I started writing about something else when I came up with this text, so if the beginning here looks a little weird, that is probably why. I'm not even trying to make this text simple and easy to read, you just have to try to tag along with my fairly complicated and just a tad bit too long sentences. You should appreciate it that I for once write from my heart.

I can recite my whole life from my first memory when I was two years old the very first summer I had when me and my parents moved to Alunda in 1991, up until this day. Cause I did, you know, in my autobiography, and it's all there. Or almost all of it, it's not quite finished yet.

The one book I will leave behind me the day I die. Yes, that is my plan. To write it, polish it and finish it, print it out, but leave it here on my desk safe and sound, until that day comes. Cause I will reveal way too much that I don't want anyone to know until I'm not around here anymore. It will also be my final say, my suicide note.

Not to be like that, but that book would most likely make me kinda famous, if I'd be alive to see it or if it get published after my death, or published at all that is. It will be one of a kind, I can assure you. The life of a young man who lived for a whole lifetime and experienced so much, but still somehow managed it. It's tragic, cause I really wanted that book to inspire people who also have a shitty life, a message to them that you can get through life even though you are miserable and have all the reasons to "justify" a suicide. It's tragic, because at the end of the book, I will actually have died from suicide.

I don't want to be famous, you know, at least not for all those stupid reasons today's youth seek fame. But if I would want to to become famous, it would be for that I inspire people to cherish life, seek wisdom and don't give a damn fuck what other people think you should do with your life. To inspire people to not give up on their seemingly impossible dreams even when your loved ones tell you to get real and grow up cause you're supposed to be a "valuable member of society".

Well, let me tell you this: you don't own society anything! You didn't ask to be born, you're not a slave to man made rules, you haven't signed any contract with your own blood. You were born to be you, to make your life valuable to you and no one else, and to survive at the best of your ability.

Now I doubt these words will at all help, and I know there are a lot of people out there who don't agree with me about said words and all of what I will be writing from here on in this entry. It's all about "get an education, grown up, get a job, fold your laundry, grow up, move out and did I mention grow up?!" nowadays. It's sad, it truly is.

I think about slavery. Harsch, perhaps, but that is the way society is going, in case you haven't noticed. Today's youth come off as lazy, despondent and that their lives are practically meaningless unless they take up that mop and clean the damn floors already or they won't get food on their tables. See what I mean?

I realise, cause I'm not that daft, that society is ruled by money and independence above all else. Being dependent is being a burden, living on social welfare is basically stealing other people's tax money, and crashing on your parents sofa until you're 35 isn't very productive - but just hear me out, okay? Complaining about having to abide to society's structured "rules" isn't about being lazy.

I'm walking on that thin line between being mentally disabled and just a lazy brat, but I'm not blind or stupid enough to not realise that I am privileged cause I don't need a job or pay for my own flat. What I want is for everyone, not just young people, to stop shoving it into your own and other peoples faces that you are useless in society. You don't have to be a good citizen for your life to matter.

I'm quite a heavy burden for this society. I live on your tax money, so indirectly it's YOU who pay for my rent, my clothes, food and cigarettes. I can't really afford much else cause the payment I get is minimum wage. I take a lot of prescription drugs, and the state pays for most of it (cause högkostnadsskydd, you know) and the same with almost all of my psychiatric hospital visits. If that wasn't enough I live under LSS as you all know, which means that I have people who have it as their job to do my dishes and help me clean up my mess. Literally.

But do I feel guilty? Hardly. Do you know why? Because it is my right as a member of society to get the help that I need in order to survive. The privilege, is that I'm sick enough to get that help, but others who also suffer might not be, and they die because society won't help them.

People who have had the guts to confront me about my way of living (most just give a friendly pat on my shoulder and tell me not to worry, it's gonna work out in the end for me as well, but I appreciate it when people are honest with me, so don't take this wrong) have asked me what I really want to do with my life. I don't quite understand that question, to be perfectly honest. I'm not halfway anywhere, I'm doing all that I can and sometimes more when I have the strength to. I've survived numerous of suicide attempts, mental torment and a disabling headache for a decade, I can just barely stay above the surface most days, but I still try my best to pursue my long term goals and dreams.

People seem to just assume that I want a job like I'm supposed to. Make my own money the way I'm supposed to. And what if I don't want that? It doesn't matter how damn drunk you are if you ask a person that sort of question, you should fucking respect an honest answer: no I don't, and you can't argue with that. I don't want to work for money, because doing some shit job where someone tells me what to do, just to get a pay check at the end of the month, just isn't my cup of tea.

If I would ever have a job, it would be something that I enjoy. I don't mean a paid full-time vacation, I mean an actual profession that doesn't make you long for Fridays and hate Mondays. Now, I don't technically need a job of any kind, but that's beside the point. It truly is, because the message I want to get out is this: if you can avoid the responsibilities society has handed out for you, fucking do it.

Maybe you don't want to be role model of the year, famous or even the slightest bit of a rebel, but not wanting to be a part of this slavery doesn't make you lazy. That, is what truly makes you an individual. To be able to step aside and take another road to the same goal we are all aiming for: to be happy.

I wish someone could actually listen to me, when I say you don't have to flip burgers in order to survive, there are other options. There truly are. Just open your eyes and see that there is a whole world in front of you.

What we live on

I have never heard of the English word "agape" before. Apparently it's some form of love. I find it a beautiful word. Think I'll keep it. I have collected quite a few words now that I find extra appealing. Some are ordinary while others are not: sovereign, downtrodden, fanciful, hindsight, seep, sift, solace, insipid, disdain, whimsical, livid, sobriety, murmuring, reminiscent, limerence, tarnished, delirium, gash, laceration, suicide, mere, linger, gloom, wolfs-bane, slender, lithe, ardour and now agape.

I think I'm just trying to convince myself that I'm not just wasting time, that I actually do live a little. That it's not just "nothing" that I'm doing in my timeless loneliness. Time is all I have. I have 24 hours every day to find something I want to do and do it. There's no pressure, no deadlines, no demands but my own.

Well, I am sort of retired, and you know how most old people who's stopped working spend their days. They too have all the time in the world to just do whatever they find is meaningful to them. Of course, it's never literally "all the time in the world". Retired elders might not have a long time ahead of them because of their age, and I don't have all the time because I'm a mess with an expiration date.

Many people seem to think I want to have a job like everyone else, but the truth is that I don't. I'm not saying I wanna live on social welfare for the rest of my life, I'm just saying that the expected way of living is kinda repulsive to me. I'm a rebel, not because I want to, but because there is no other way.

It could be nice to have a part time job, something simple and creative without a lot of pressure on me, while still getting paid for all the time that I don't work. Like part time retired and part time working, if you get what I mean. But the thing is that I'm very, very picky about what kind of work I could do. First of all, all the service professions are out of the question. So are dirty jobs like cleaning or construction.

And then there's that it's not so much that I can handle mentally. When I get put into pressure, however small or little, my mind goes into overdrive and basically all of my mental problems exceed beyond reason.

Worst is the combination of extreme headache, panic attacks, dissociation, delusions and voices talking so loud that I can't hear what anyone else says. You wouldn't want me at a "normal" workplace. I get severe stress symptoms close to psychosis in a matter of minutes, no matter how medicated I am.

Oh, well. Work is overrated. Besides, I do spot quite some ambivalence among those people promoting working for money. They say it's important and meaningful to them and what not. But then there is this Monday-hate and Friday-love, which totally makes me wonder what's so fantastic about working five days a week, if you just wanna get back home again.

I could never do that, force myself to a workplace where I don't find the work I do meaningful or rewarding in some other way than pay-checks. In a way that really says something about how high I value my life. That I'm not willing to waste it on a boring day to day job, just because I "have to" or that it's expected from me. That it has to be meaningful if not entertaining, something that can make me grow as a person.

Another thing is that despite the fact that I'm scared I'm gonna kill myself in the sort of near future, I don't want to rush into things. Even if I don't have enough time to get a job like that before I kill myself, at least I don't wanna waste the little time I got left on a shit job. I'd rather be living on social welfare with minimum wage for the rest of my tragically short life. Because it's really not that bad.