*** TRIGGER WARNING ***
Even when I’m not feeling depressed, I would still choose to die over anything else. The only difference is that on the non-bad days, I manage to push suicidal ideation far enough to the back of my mind where it’s not quite so intrusive.
Yesterday was one of those non-bad days. My friend came and picked me up and took me to see another room being rented out. He brought the dog with him and it was nice to see them both. He also took me grocery shopping and to a few thrift stores to look for a dresser for me, but we couldn’t find anything suitable. I did buy a purse though, to replace the one that was broken by either the police or the hospital staff during my brief but frightening stint in the psychiatric emergency department last Sunday.
When I got back, I was sufficiently burned out to be content with just recharging in my apartment and I managed to keep myself somewhat distracted by watching Netflix and listening to music. I didn’t sleep well last night, mostly because the bed here is extremely uncomfortable and my mind started racing. I had at least 2 PTSD-induced nightmares, the latter of which has left me with a lingering but dull feeling of nausea and dread. Life doesn’t stop tormenting me, even when I’m asleep and wishing that I could be dreaming of something else, rather than having nightmares that are warped versions of past experiences and present fears.
My mood has come crashing down back to reality today, as I find myself trapped inside my mind again, subjected to an endless cycle of negative and self-destructive thoughts that I cannot distract myself from. I feel so utterly hopeless about everything, from my transition to my chances of ever getting better and experiencing some semblance of a normal life which includes a few of the things that normal people seem to just take for granted.
I’m sure that everyone wishes there was something about themselves that they could change or fix, but in my case, there’s simply too much that needs ‘fixing’ before I’d even feel comfortable in my own skin or feel able to face life and deal with living life. On my non–bad days, I have all these grandiose ideas about going to school, working again, moving back to the UK and even (*gasp*) the possibility of finding love, but those things are so far beyond what I’ll ever be able to achieve, given my limitations. While I don’t struggle to get out of bed like many people who suffer from depression, I struggle to go out and even doing the bare minimum leaves me feeling burned out. Going out and being surrounded by a bunch of normal people just reminds me of what I will never have and who I’ll never be. I can no longer manage my dysphoria, because of the multiple instances where my gender identity has been attacked or subjected to intentional or (worse) unintentional misgendering.
I didn’t exactly fit in before transition, but I was lucky enough to have a partner and at least a friend or two, plus I was invisible to people who didn’t matter to me in the outside world. Transition has caused me to become marginalized and socially isolated, more so than ever before. I not only see my own ugliness in the mirror, but being on the outside and looking in, I see the ugliness of the human race too. I just want the pain to end and I want to be gone forever. If there was a pill that I could take right now to end my life quickly and painlessly, I would take it without hesitation. I’m not afraid of death, but I am afraid of the pain of dying.
I’m not thinking beyond spending 2 weeks with my mother back in the country that I once called “home”. I can’t even look forward to it, because I’m terrified of being misgendered or harassed on the journey and I’m just not mentally able to deal with that. Beyond my trip and spending time with my mother, I see no logical reason to continue existing.