I just can’t take it anymore! I went for a walk yesterday and it was gorgeous and I felt great but at the same time I felt horribly sad and empty. I knew then that I need meds because my mood was completely incongruent with what I was experiencing. And I tried so hard to stay in the moment but the past and future kept barging in and in the present I was crying.
I tried to get information about how to access the services I need but my insurance said to call the state and the state wouldn’t answer. Worse my insurance keeps calling me then hanging up without allowing a human to talk to me & if I call them they can’t transfer me to whomever I’m supposed to talk to. Mom keeps saying to call the psychiatrist whose info I have but I’m terrified of being rejected as a new patient and/or experiencing the same frustration my insurance has been giving me.
Mom keeps saying I should be in the moment, move on with my life, maybe I’m not seeing the right therapist, and we have a family history tied to biological factors. Clearly ignoring it is not the answer but it feels like that’s what she wants me to do. Just hide it away again and be a good student and get a job and be a good daughter who stays in her box. That’s not me it’s never been me and she all but told me outright she refuses to see it. “It’s not black and white. I need this to be simple.” Gender is not simple! But it’s also not that hard to understand if you’re willing to listen. I could explain it until I’m blue in the face and she still won’t hear a word I say. “You need to tell me what to call you.” “Call me a person.” “But that doesn’t fit.” EXACTLY! But it is what I want so will you please try it once before asking me to cut off my arms, legs, head, and stomach to fit inside the tiny gender box they handed you when I was born!? There is so much more to me, so much more that goes into even this one small part of my identity, than my genitals! How can they determine what you call me? Seriously looking at a baby’s genitals to determine anything about them other than whether they need to be cleaned and/or receive medical attention is perverted, disgusting, and barbaric!
On the plus side now that I’ve written this I no longer want to cut myself. There is nothing wrong with my body. My body is innocent, it should not become a victim to society’s stupidity. I’m… angry really doesn’t cut it. Furious might work… I’m furious with society.
Writing has a way of healing and becoming a coping mechanism. It’s the reason I write so frequently. Keep writing and working through your emotions and call the psychiatrist as your mum suggested. It’s clear you require a bit of outside help. Don’t give up. Sending hugs, prayers and positive thoughts your way.
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