TW for this chapter: Mentions of suicidal ideation, lack of hygiene due to depression/dysphoria, dysphoria, misgendering, sexual abuse and lots more
I haven't always been this okay being trans, I'm still not always okay with it. When I finally got on antidepressants for my depression it didn't go well.
The first ones they gave me made me super hyper- I was seeing animals in the carpet and walls; it was awful. I wanted to sleep but I couldn't; I got about 4 hours worth within the 72 hours I was on them.
Drug induced mania, they called it, I knew I'd been diagnosed with Hypomania- was this an extreme form of that?
They switched my medication immediately, told Toni to look after me and keep me away from sharp objects.
After a few more alarming tries on medication, all while having to see a therapist. We found the right one.
They also made me tell him about the abuse- I was a 'minor' and therefore had to inform him of the sexual abuse that I endured.
As if I hadn't already been through enough; he wanted to know who did it.
It wouldn't make it any better to tell him so I refused. The Bastards aren't anywhere near me anymore and that's all that matters.
I was told for years that the 'reason' I 'thought' I was a man/guy/boy was because of my abuse.
"It makes sense you wouldn't want to be seen as a woman after that." they'd say.
It's stupid because even before my abuse I was having symptoms of gender/body dysphoria; I just didn't know that's what it was.
If it was all about trauma then I should feel better with medication; but as I said earlier we found me the right medication- it wasn't enough.
In fact, the more my General anxiety and depression improved, the worse my dysphoria grew.
It's because I didn't have a way to present male at the time and I couldn't ask them to call me he or him unless I wanted to die for 'mental illness' or 'demonic possession'.
It's like the things that were getting treated were like forest fires in my brain and ability to function. Now that they're smouldering (mostly taken care of) the other issues are now in the forefront of my mind; demanding to be addressed as well.
I thought my dysphoria was another fire, if I throw some water on it (acknowledge it and try to cope) that it would be manageable. The thing is… It's a grease fire.
The water made it flare, larger than before and more desperate for destruction and fuel. I'll do little things to try and help myself, and they do help; but the next problem shows itself and I can't do anything about it. If it doesn't get addressed, it gets worse.
I told my bosses, as I knew they would be less judgemental since they already knew I was immortal and overall different. The only problem was I tend to have a very religious bosses. They were good Catholics (mostly), and as such they thought it an utter disgrace that a 'lowly woman' would try and call herself a man.
The more they told me what an abomination, and how evil I was; the more I wanted to talk about it and it was present in my mind begging to be addressed.
Spain addressed me as a girl like the bosses told him to, and then tell me how confused he thought they were when they left. He became my one ally, he thought I was a male, and though I mostly reflect that now- I will always be biologically female. I still was so thankful for the fact he'd made the 'mistake'. Or else I might not be alive today.
The more you try to ignore something integral about yourself the more it consumes you until it's taken care of or you die. Things like this make you forget everything else and heighten existing problems. I would get so anxious I wouldn't want to talk or move for days. I felt like every bit of me screamed female to the point I would neglect hygiene for I couldn't bear facing myself in the mirror or my body in the shower.
I wanted to die. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be me.
When I was little and told to imagine the future, I would close my eyes- and see black. I couldn't imagine living as I was especially for a long time. I didn't want a future as me.
It took me a long time to realize I actually like myself. I usually think of myself as the self everyone sees me as and that's not who I am. I'm not a girl, or any of the million things they label and see me as. I am a person, a man, who has insecurities. They see them, and sometimes- they exploit them.
I don't hate the me that only I can see, I hate the me that I experience and live and get treated as.
I'm smart, I'm sarcastic, and loving, and needy, as well as dorky, alone, anxious, depressed, happy, confused, messy, dumb, and a million other things.
I hope one day they stop seeing me as 'the girl who thinks she's a man' and see me as 'the man who worked hard to help his body match what was intended' because I am.
The next time someone tells me that "it's so sad, you were such a pretty girl and you're ruining yourself." I'm going to tell them that it's sad that'd they prefer a pretty corpse to an ugly angel.
I could keep telling myself stuff like this for years, I have so many lessons I've had to learn the hard way. Just one last thing, hey future me, if you're reading this? Could you try and be happy enough to keep us both going? Take care of yourself, get more therapy if you need it, ask about adding to your meds, don't be afraid to try and do things to help yourself. You're the one suffering, you're the one who knows what you need. So ask for it, no one else will.
P.S.Yeah so like, I know some of ya'll know these are at least some of my personal experiences. I'm not gonna say which could be all could be none. Please if you feel any of these things, talk to someone- anyone that will listen. I know I used to enjoy wallowing in my own self hate and depression and it wasn't healthy and I just wish I'd seen a message like this on one of the fanfics I'd read like this. If you ever need someone to talk to you can PM/DM me or Email me or whatever. But please talk to someone, you don't even have to try and correct your habits yet just talk. On that note, I would really appreciate comments, so leave one if ya want. And lastly, sorry for another depressing chapter!