Depression hits when everything is going just fine.
There is no rhyme, reason, just a cumbersome, debilitating (I want to say cloud, but it’s heavier) that stops you in your tracks.
For me it gets worse when sleep is wrong.
I have an 8-5 job, weekdays.
This weekend I stayed up all night, went to sleep at 10am, slept all day (on and off) getting out of bed at 9pm each day to get some food. It fucks me up. I feel guilty as sin. And mondays always kill me. I hate myself for it.
I’ve had a letter for my first appointment at Charing Cross gender clinic. The stress is unreal. When you wait two years for an appointment the thought that you might miss it, not find the place, say the wrong thing, not get the results you hope for, it’s kind of overwhelming. I’m not happy about getting this appointment just ridden with anxiety and preparing myself for disappointment. I really want a signature for top surgery which I’m pretty sure does not happen on your first appointment, there’s like a 6-month in between stage. I have to ‘gather evidence’ to prove shit. So will have to try and find the earliest letters with my new name on etc. Be like, look, I’ve lived this for two years now will you please believe me. I’m just – stressed.
I don’t know what other kind of thing you have to go to a hospital, in an unfamiliar city for, usually by yourself (given that many parents don’t support their kids transition). I don’t know whether to drive, megabus, where the fuck is my Oyster card, type of thing.
I need to get time off work, they already consider anything related to my transition unnecessary and a luxury, not a ‘proper’ medical appointment.
The whole thing is ridiculous. Mostly, I’m just angry. I’m angry that a 30 year old adult (apparently? Am I?) can’t be trusted with their own autonomy, decision-making.
Stuff has really been getting me down lately. The front page of the Daily Mail today being a classic. SEX-SWAP MEN WOMEN FREAKS GIVING BIRTH TO BABIES WITH YOUR MONEY AND YOU’RE PAYING FOR IT ALL.
I just want to be happy, or at least content with my body, my appearance, my voice.
I do feel more myself. It gets better every day. Facial hair is very slowly filling in, reassuring me, comforting me that stuff is happening.
In the meantime I am trying and mostly succeeding to get on with my life. Going to visit my friend in Leicester, weekends away, playing gigs with my band, getting out occasionally.
I just would very much like to not have to wear a binder anymore. It’s uncomfortable, restricts my breathing, sweaty, digs into my armpits. And no I’m not a breast-hating, woman-hating messed up kid (as the TERFs keep saying) I’m just more confident with a flat chest, it’s just how I want to be.
I just feel like my life has become an argument. Like it’s up for discussion. That everyone has a right to reflect on my mental state. Or tell me why or how I feel the way I do. Or that I should feel trapped in the wrong body (no, not at all). I’m just a different gender to what everyone assumed I was.
My band has written some songs about feminist stuff, gender stuff, trans stuff, queer stuff (drawing from our lives I suppose) including a song about Julie Bindel (Lesbian TERF) and we’ve obviously come to her attention. I imagine from googling herself. It’s all great and I’m glad we’re saying stuff. But I’m also scared. I’m scared because I don’t want to get into a personal argument about who I am. And everything is personal. Every bile-ridden, misinformed thing she says about any trans person IS personal. So yeah, it’s scary.
Our band name has also upset some people, rape survivors, we’ve been getting some flack. I think the point people miss (and I don’t feel comfortable explaining away, if you feel offended, that’s your right, of course it is) but everyone in my band has been through some shit. A lot of shit. And if you piled it all up it would be huge. So yeah, we are expressing ourselves. It’s how we deal with stuff, our way. It is so agonisingly difficult. I hate offending people. And who am I to say you’re being too sensitive. It’s turned into oppression olympics again.
My sister is pregnant, which I’m really excited about. I can’t wait actually. But yes, it also makes me feel wholly inadequate. I can’t help that, it’s just one of those things.
I still have no news on my shit-bag reversal.
At the moment I do just feel like a big drain on the NHS. The worst thing about these articles is possibly not that they make other people think you’re not worthy of this treatment and that you don’t deserve it, you can deal with that, fight against it. The real worry is that it makes you believe it yourself, that you don’t deserve it. Someone with cancer is going to die because of you. That is literally how I feel right now. And I know it’s not right, common sense tells me this is not how it works, it is illogical. But common sense does not equate to the way you feel. Or I should say, they way these articles make you feel.
I’m so fed up of all the hatred, whether it’s against refugees, trans people, people on benefits, disabled people.
I feel glad to have found a group of friends and events to go to where people feel the same way as me.
I guess I’m just feeling vulnerable.
And if that was your intent, Daily Heil, well done.