I don’t know what to do.
I’m tired of fighting a losing battle, the same thing each and every day with nothing getting better and everything getting worse. No matter what I do, how hard I try to make things better, it never works.
I am a failure.
Everyone tries to tell me that it is my depression telling me this, but it’s not. It’s the cold, apathetic part of my brain that refuses to sugarcoat anything. It’s the truth, it hurts and there will be nothing that I can ever do to change it.
Next month I’ll be thirty-two years old and what do I have to show for it?
I am so scarred by the thirty plus years of societial abuse that I can’t even function around people.
Nothing great has come from me and nothing great will come from me.
I can do nothing good for my family while I am alive, so I will do the one thing that I can do that will help them and that is die.
I’ve tried for nearly five years now to start multiple nonprofit
organizations to help people that are transgender.
Each of my attempts has yeilded nearly the same results. My ideas have been taken by others, I have been ignored and my words spout from other people’s lips while they claim my thoughts to be their own.
Multiple times I have been chased from support groups, the reasons varying between the fact that I wasn’t transgender enough to the fact that I have a family and don’t want to party constantly and engage in group sex.
I am the end result of a broken country, a broken way of life, and a damned society that cares more for profit margins than they do for people.
In July of last year I finally gave in an applied for SSI because of my inability to hold down a job. This was five months after I had a total meltdown
at my last place of employment.
I tried so hard to keep my position, but the agreements that were made when I was hired were broken and ignored. I had change after change shoved in my face by people that didn’t want to
do their own jobs so they pawned them off on me. What hurt the most about this was the person that owned the business was supposed to be my best friend, but he refused to listen to what I
was telling him.
I ended up having to see a therapist again because of this job.
I lasted all of a month.
The job before that I didn’t do much better, nor the one before that. It gets to a point though, no
matter how badly you want to work, when employers refuse to listen to you about your disabilities
you end up moving from job to job to job. When you have more than two or three jobs over the
course of a year or so, no one wants to hire you.
No one wants to hire the autistic person to begin with, and if you couple that with transgender,
that’s another strike against me. There are states now that have given people the right to
murder people like me, just because I am transgender. In North Carolina I can’t even use the
men’s room, and me entering the women’s room in a southern, gun crazy state would end up
with me dead, and for what, because I had to pee.
This is the world that we live in, or rather, this is the country that I live in.
Nine months later I still have no decision on my SSI case, when I try to access the records online
I get a message to call them. Something I can’t do, so my wife does for me. Then the
“representative” decides that he doesn’t want to talk to my wife, and hangs up without giving any
update. It doesn’t matter that I filed out and turned in paperwork for her to speak on behalf nine
months ago, it doesn’t matter that she was the one that did my phone interview, and has talked
to my personal worker several times. None of this matters, nor does it matter that speaking on
the phone is trigger or that my wife had been on the phone waiting for over half an hour.
I can’t do this anymore.
I don’t have a home.
My truck is breaking down yet again.
Our food is in a cooler and we cook on the BBQ or over a firepit every single day.
Hot showers are a dream and cold baths a nightmare.
I can’t do this.
If I kill myself, I’ll become just another statistic and maybe, just maybe my family will finally get
the help that they need.
No one else wants to listen as long as I’m alive, maybe my death will send a loud clear message
as to how completely fucked the game is for people like me.
People that grew up with their parents making just enough money not to be able to get medical
assistance, but not enough buy insurance or go to the doctor, let alone a specialist to diagnose
autism. People that try their damnedest to function in a society that thinks they are abominations
and calls for their deaths each and every day. Can you even begin to understand what that feels