- Jun 23, 2005
- 15,882
- 4,882
- 136
I've been back for about a week, though I was not ready to really talk about it until now. ..Partly due to embarrassment. But, my doctor tells me that I should reach out to family and friends instead of keeping it a secret, to stop always concealing and internalizing my thoughts. And for better or for worse, I consider many of you friends. 
So here it is. Wall of text incoming. If not interested, hit your back button and turn back now!
But in any case, I spent a week confined to the mental ward at the hospital for having a plan to end my life.
I had thought about it for a very long time. I just never got as far as making a plan and setting a day. But a few weeks ago I was in a very dark place and instead of reaching out for help, I calmly rationalized it and accepted it to the point where I was comfortable with the thought of suicide. I rejected a supremely generous offer from Crono that would have gained me a sorely needed processor upgrade for the gaming pc I have always been very passionate about, but have been otherwise unable to maintain. But because I sensed the end was near and his generosity would be a wasted gesture, I brazenly declined. I Ignored inquiries from Stormkroe, Zinfamous and my bro Ichinisan asking me if I was ok when I knew I wasn't. What could I say? That I had marked on the calendar the final day of my life?
I have been in pain for a very long time. I endlessly curse my fate for being transgender. I sorely wish every day that I could simply flip a switch in my head that could cure my dysphoria for the sex I was born into. But I can't. And it hurts so... much... every... single... day... Every single day, going outside and living a lie. Sorely do I wish I could just be myself. But in the support group I go to, all the transwomen that have gone full time without surgeries endure endless scorn, sadistic mocking and constant ridicule. I am honestly terrified. I am constantly gripped in fear and anxiety and it has finally reached the point of being positively suffocating. It is clear to me that I will never be able to live life as myself while being safe unless I can complete my transition with the surgeries that as of yet have continued to elude me.
My insurance on paper covers sexual reassignment surgery. But for all practical purposes, it does not. Only a dozen doctors exist in all of America that can even perform the surgery, and the number that accepts medicaid is very small indeed. I don't own my own car and cannot commute back and forth across the country, much less finance a move. I have been chronically unemployed for four and a half years. I apply constantly. Sometimes I even get an interview. But every time I am rejected. For four and a half years I have been rejected. My first year I told myself I just had not found the right fit yet. The second, I consoled myself with the knowledge that it's an economically depressed area. The third year I was overwhelmingly depressed, but pushed myself forward with the thought that the next one I try could be the one that finally pans out.
But then year three passed. Then year four. I'm now at four and a half years and my confidence is beyond shot. I can no longer chalk up my failures to outside sources. I am forced to conclude that the issue is me. And despite my best efforts, I have been as yet unable to suppress my anxiety and project confidence enough to persuade a single employer that there is a single thing about me that is valuable. There is something seriously wrong with me and I cannot shrug off my worthlessness any longer. It really says something when not even fast food will touch you. And honestly, even if they did, at minimum wage my transition would still basically be permanently stunted with no hope for a better future. Never mind gainful employment, I have been trying just to get on my feet in a positively degrading and thankless low paying job. And I still failed.
I am so tired. I need to advance my transition. But I lack the resources to realize it. At every turn my efforts to build resources have hit a stone wall. My last resort was the realization that my only path out of poverty and by extension the sole method of realizing my goals was to gain a skill set actually worth something. In an age of automation, I resolved to try to get into the healthcare industry. I looked into medical transcription. The course costs $1800 which isn't a lot of money to most, but may as well be a king's ransom to someone living on $540 a month. Being a non credit certification course, it did not qualify for financial aid. I went to DSS and asked if they could aid with paying for the course. I told them that it's crazy for them to continue to pay me to survive when I want skills that can get me off the system, nay, pay taxes and help to keep the system sustainable that has kept me alive. But that request too was rejected.
I looked into LPN classes at the local BOCES. That too was another dead end. Then I went for broke and applied to college to become an RN. While I was accepted into the college, I was not accepted into the nursing program. If I had, I could have received grants enough to pay my way. Never the less, I had high hopes that the promise of the new Excelsior program passed by our governor here in NY State could help me for the first year as a math/science major that I needed to complete before I can apply to the nursing program. But it did not. The fine print was long and damning. To my colossal disappoint, I did not qualify. My hopes of going to college had been derailed.
My caseworker suggested I look into a CNA program, that while it starts at minimum wage, in time it can lead to something more, like a paid trip through college. I applied, interviewed and got a rejection email two days later. The first year, I would have taken it in stride. At this point however I had had it. I tire of the endless rejection. I tire of living a lie. I tire of having no hope off in the distance I can look towards as incentive to continue trudging through the swamp inbetween. I tire of the fear, the anxiety and dysphoria. I am just so desperate and so exhausted. What in blazes is even the point of continuing this farce?
My only respite has been all things gaming and tech. I struggle so much with living a lie in the outside world that in a bitter twist of irony, I find relief in truly being myself on the internet and in online games like World of Warcraft. It is truly degrading to realize one day that the person you are in a fantasy world is a truer part of yourself than anything being projected in the real world. I can't live like this. Distractions from my woes in all things Nintendo coupled with living in a fantasy world in World of Warcraft and other games is as sorry an existence as any I can imagine and I can take it no longer. My every attempt to break the cycle ended in failure, the rejection and self loathing having reached a boiling point, the blatant lack of hope for a better future at hand, I resolved to get my affairs in order and exit my tenth floor apartment through the window.
I had picked May 10th as the day it would be done. The seventh anniversary to the day that I had told the love of my life whom I had shared a relationship with in WoW (feel free to laugh, it's awfully sad) that I had lied to him about being female and believed I might be transgender. The seventh anniversary to the day that my whole world crashed in all around me, forcing me to go through great internal personal reflection and thought. That was the day I had resolved to never lie to anyone ever again about my situation. And online, I have kept that promise. But it is evident to me that I am still lying. Every single day, every person I meet on the outside, whom I greet with my meticulously crafted mask is no different than a lie. I can't bare the lies any more but do not think I possess the strength to endure the constant ridicule and mocking of my transwomen peers that opted to go full time before they could pass. I hate myself for my weakness and just want it all to end.
I told one of my transfriends in WoW of my decision Monday night, May the 9th. I told her it was not a plea for help. I told her it was goodbye. I just wanted to thank her for being my friend. I was ready to bow out. The last day was bewildering. People at the food pantry where I volunteer would say things to me, but only roughly half of it registered. I was in a daze, overcome with a sense of euphoria at the realization that my pain was at last nearing its end. My perceptions had been distorted... It was almost surreal. I treated my mother to a meal afterwards at a nice sit inside restaurant that I could not possibly afford, where I relayed to her my immense gratitude for all the shit she had endured for my sake, as well as for her love. I always loathed being too poor to take my mother, much less friends, out to lunch. Basic things most take for granted were a rare privilege for me, but just once I wanted to treat her.
I dropped her off, returned home to my apartment and began writing my letter. I loathed myself even more as I did so, with every single word written, with the knowledge that I was about to repay all the love and devotion I had received from my mother with nothing but tears and heart break. But I was just in too much pain to endure any longer. I had folded the paper as neatly as I could and inserted it into the envelope as I heard loud banging on my door. I answered it, and was greeted by two police officers, When they asked if I was "Katie", not yet my legal name, I immediately felt a chill down my spine accompanied with a strong sense of betrayal. They informed me that Blizzard had contacted them with chat logs of my conversation with my friend. They had my address and phone number in my account info and sent the police right to my door. They came in, told me to sit down and to tell them what I was feeling. They were nothing but compassionate, but I resented their presence just the same. I did not want their help, my release was in sight and they would surely deprive me of it.
And they surely did. They took me into custody and drove me in the back of a squad car to Samaritan hospital where I was escorted to the emergency room. Words could not describe my humiliation. By the time I had finished talking to a RN, a therapist and a psychiatrist they all universally agreed on committing me to the mental health ward where I ended up spending an entire week. At the realization that I was not going to talk my way out of it, I grudgingly called my mother and explained the situation. She was in tears upon visiting me. I hated myself so much... She forced me to promise I would never go through with it, and despite my great reluctance, I could not deny her. The medical staff was nothing but kind and understanding. I could appreciate that they only wanted to help me. But they were sorely unequipped to even fully comprehend my problem, much less provide me with a solution. I told the kind nurses and physician assistants that I no longer harbored thoughts of hurting myself and three days later they released me. I got out and it's been business as usual for about a week and a half now. But the problems are still there and they still feel so overwhelming. I Just feel so trapped... But I have resolved to linger, if only to spare my mother the heartbreak of losing me for however long she has left.
But my gosh, I am starved for some ray of legitimate hope. I wish I still had a reason to love life. But now I exist solely for my mother's sake, while I attempt to contemplate the ways in which I will retain my sanity until she passes on someday. I think I need help... But no professionals can understand, no matter how well intentioned. I have never felt so trapped and isolated in my life.
So here it is. Wall of text incoming. If not interested, hit your back button and turn back now!But in any case, I spent a week confined to the mental ward at the hospital for having a plan to end my life.
I had thought about it for a very long time. I just never got as far as making a plan and setting a day. But a few weeks ago I was in a very dark place and instead of reaching out for help, I calmly rationalized it and accepted it to the point where I was comfortable with the thought of suicide. I rejected a supremely generous offer from Crono that would have gained me a sorely needed processor upgrade for the gaming pc I have always been very passionate about, but have been otherwise unable to maintain. But because I sensed the end was near and his generosity would be a wasted gesture, I brazenly declined. I Ignored inquiries from Stormkroe, Zinfamous and my bro Ichinisan asking me if I was ok when I knew I wasn't. What could I say? That I had marked on the calendar the final day of my life?
I have been in pain for a very long time. I endlessly curse my fate for being transgender. I sorely wish every day that I could simply flip a switch in my head that could cure my dysphoria for the sex I was born into. But I can't. And it hurts so... much... every... single... day... Every single day, going outside and living a lie. Sorely do I wish I could just be myself. But in the support group I go to, all the transwomen that have gone full time without surgeries endure endless scorn, sadistic mocking and constant ridicule. I am honestly terrified. I am constantly gripped in fear and anxiety and it has finally reached the point of being positively suffocating. It is clear to me that I will never be able to live life as myself while being safe unless I can complete my transition with the surgeries that as of yet have continued to elude me.
My insurance on paper covers sexual reassignment surgery. But for all practical purposes, it does not. Only a dozen doctors exist in all of America that can even perform the surgery, and the number that accepts medicaid is very small indeed. I don't own my own car and cannot commute back and forth across the country, much less finance a move. I have been chronically unemployed for four and a half years. I apply constantly. Sometimes I even get an interview. But every time I am rejected. For four and a half years I have been rejected. My first year I told myself I just had not found the right fit yet. The second, I consoled myself with the knowledge that it's an economically depressed area. The third year I was overwhelmingly depressed, but pushed myself forward with the thought that the next one I try could be the one that finally pans out.
But then year three passed. Then year four. I'm now at four and a half years and my confidence is beyond shot. I can no longer chalk up my failures to outside sources. I am forced to conclude that the issue is me. And despite my best efforts, I have been as yet unable to suppress my anxiety and project confidence enough to persuade a single employer that there is a single thing about me that is valuable. There is something seriously wrong with me and I cannot shrug off my worthlessness any longer. It really says something when not even fast food will touch you. And honestly, even if they did, at minimum wage my transition would still basically be permanently stunted with no hope for a better future. Never mind gainful employment, I have been trying just to get on my feet in a positively degrading and thankless low paying job. And I still failed.
I am so tired. I need to advance my transition. But I lack the resources to realize it. At every turn my efforts to build resources have hit a stone wall. My last resort was the realization that my only path out of poverty and by extension the sole method of realizing my goals was to gain a skill set actually worth something. In an age of automation, I resolved to try to get into the healthcare industry. I looked into medical transcription. The course costs $1800 which isn't a lot of money to most, but may as well be a king's ransom to someone living on $540 a month. Being a non credit certification course, it did not qualify for financial aid. I went to DSS and asked if they could aid with paying for the course. I told them that it's crazy for them to continue to pay me to survive when I want skills that can get me off the system, nay, pay taxes and help to keep the system sustainable that has kept me alive. But that request too was rejected.
I looked into LPN classes at the local BOCES. That too was another dead end. Then I went for broke and applied to college to become an RN. While I was accepted into the college, I was not accepted into the nursing program. If I had, I could have received grants enough to pay my way. Never the less, I had high hopes that the promise of the new Excelsior program passed by our governor here in NY State could help me for the first year as a math/science major that I needed to complete before I can apply to the nursing program. But it did not. The fine print was long and damning. To my colossal disappoint, I did not qualify. My hopes of going to college had been derailed.
My caseworker suggested I look into a CNA program, that while it starts at minimum wage, in time it can lead to something more, like a paid trip through college. I applied, interviewed and got a rejection email two days later. The first year, I would have taken it in stride. At this point however I had had it. I tire of the endless rejection. I tire of living a lie. I tire of having no hope off in the distance I can look towards as incentive to continue trudging through the swamp inbetween. I tire of the fear, the anxiety and dysphoria. I am just so desperate and so exhausted. What in blazes is even the point of continuing this farce?
My only respite has been all things gaming and tech. I struggle so much with living a lie in the outside world that in a bitter twist of irony, I find relief in truly being myself on the internet and in online games like World of Warcraft. It is truly degrading to realize one day that the person you are in a fantasy world is a truer part of yourself than anything being projected in the real world. I can't live like this. Distractions from my woes in all things Nintendo coupled with living in a fantasy world in World of Warcraft and other games is as sorry an existence as any I can imagine and I can take it no longer. My every attempt to break the cycle ended in failure, the rejection and self loathing having reached a boiling point, the blatant lack of hope for a better future at hand, I resolved to get my affairs in order and exit my tenth floor apartment through the window.
I had picked May 10th as the day it would be done. The seventh anniversary to the day that I had told the love of my life whom I had shared a relationship with in WoW (feel free to laugh, it's awfully sad) that I had lied to him about being female and believed I might be transgender. The seventh anniversary to the day that my whole world crashed in all around me, forcing me to go through great internal personal reflection and thought. That was the day I had resolved to never lie to anyone ever again about my situation. And online, I have kept that promise. But it is evident to me that I am still lying. Every single day, every person I meet on the outside, whom I greet with my meticulously crafted mask is no different than a lie. I can't bare the lies any more but do not think I possess the strength to endure the constant ridicule and mocking of my transwomen peers that opted to go full time before they could pass. I hate myself for my weakness and just want it all to end.
I told one of my transfriends in WoW of my decision Monday night, May the 9th. I told her it was not a plea for help. I told her it was goodbye. I just wanted to thank her for being my friend. I was ready to bow out. The last day was bewildering. People at the food pantry where I volunteer would say things to me, but only roughly half of it registered. I was in a daze, overcome with a sense of euphoria at the realization that my pain was at last nearing its end. My perceptions had been distorted... It was almost surreal. I treated my mother to a meal afterwards at a nice sit inside restaurant that I could not possibly afford, where I relayed to her my immense gratitude for all the shit she had endured for my sake, as well as for her love. I always loathed being too poor to take my mother, much less friends, out to lunch. Basic things most take for granted were a rare privilege for me, but just once I wanted to treat her.
I dropped her off, returned home to my apartment and began writing my letter. I loathed myself even more as I did so, with every single word written, with the knowledge that I was about to repay all the love and devotion I had received from my mother with nothing but tears and heart break. But I was just in too much pain to endure any longer. I had folded the paper as neatly as I could and inserted it into the envelope as I heard loud banging on my door. I answered it, and was greeted by two police officers, When they asked if I was "Katie", not yet my legal name, I immediately felt a chill down my spine accompanied with a strong sense of betrayal. They informed me that Blizzard had contacted them with chat logs of my conversation with my friend. They had my address and phone number in my account info and sent the police right to my door. They came in, told me to sit down and to tell them what I was feeling. They were nothing but compassionate, but I resented their presence just the same. I did not want their help, my release was in sight and they would surely deprive me of it.
And they surely did. They took me into custody and drove me in the back of a squad car to Samaritan hospital where I was escorted to the emergency room. Words could not describe my humiliation. By the time I had finished talking to a RN, a therapist and a psychiatrist they all universally agreed on committing me to the mental health ward where I ended up spending an entire week. At the realization that I was not going to talk my way out of it, I grudgingly called my mother and explained the situation. She was in tears upon visiting me. I hated myself so much... She forced me to promise I would never go through with it, and despite my great reluctance, I could not deny her. The medical staff was nothing but kind and understanding. I could appreciate that they only wanted to help me. But they were sorely unequipped to even fully comprehend my problem, much less provide me with a solution. I told the kind nurses and physician assistants that I no longer harbored thoughts of hurting myself and three days later they released me. I got out and it's been business as usual for about a week and a half now. But the problems are still there and they still feel so overwhelming. I Just feel so trapped... But I have resolved to linger, if only to spare my mother the heartbreak of losing me for however long she has left.
But my gosh, I am starved for some ray of legitimate hope. I wish I still had a reason to love life. But now I exist solely for my mother's sake, while I attempt to contemplate the ways in which I will retain my sanity until she passes on someday. I think I need help... But no professionals can understand, no matter how well intentioned. I have never felt so trapped and isolated in my life.
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