So, something Charon said in our session Monday really bothered me. It’s still bothering me. She said she wants to fix all my problems so I can ‘Build a Life Worth Living’. As in, help me fix my problems so I can better deal with life and be able to actually fully participate in it. I can get behind the sentiment. I appreciate that she wants to help me. It’s just that… A recurring theme with people seems to be to fix me. Fix whatever problems I have so I can get better/do better/ whatever better.
The thing is: I’m not something or someone who needs fixing. I’m not broken. I’m not malfunctioning. It’s more that I’m running on software (brain stuff) and hardware (body stuff) that are completely incompatible and 100% defective on a solitary basis besides.
I’ve been depressed. Increasingly so, unfortunately. I’m having pain when I just had fucking surgery to treat it. I’ve gained weight. I have no interest in reading (which is a huge red flag because that only happens when I’m really really depressed). I had a consult with the in-house HRT specialist at the Gender clinic place I’ve been going to and it really was a disappointing appointment. She was a half hour late getting me. The appointment was supposed to be an hour and I only got the remaining half hour. The nurse took my weight on a scale on carpet, which makes the number super inaccurate. The fucking doctor kept saying that birth control was really my only option for stopping periods unless I wanted to take testosterone and I felt she wasn’t listening to me. She also had no chin. Mostly, I don’t want to go back to see her ever again. I’m going to be talking to Cybele (the gender therapist I’ve been seeing) about it.
I’ve also been really not okay with how I look, weight aside. The person in the mirror doesn’t reflect the person I see myself as. I look girly. Very feminine. I feel more androgynous. It’s very disconcerting and upsetting. I’m upset because I’m fucking bleeding from my motherfucking crotch again. I can’t seem to get a grasp on naming emotions yet. I feel like it’s becoming more and more impossible and just what the fuck is the point in any of this any more? Nothing is working and I don’t even know what I need help with.
I’m depressed. I’m having nightmares and flashbacks and anxiety and I can’t breathe when I go outside because fucking allergies and I see a fat girl in the mirror and all I want is to be able to be me and do things and I’m not. I’m some gross joke. I don’t even feel like a person most of the time. I feel like a defect that should have been aborted.
I’m just depressed.
-The Sarcastic Autist