I was born on this day in 1984. That day was the Friday before Mother's Day and often I feel like I shouldn't celebrate my birthday because I don't want to ruin Mother's Day, also it seems my birthday usually carries a string of horrid luck with it. On my 13th birthday (which also happened… Continue reading Why I Hate My Birthday
I said I would write to raise money, but it didn’t work, so I write because if I don’t I’ll kill myself because I have no other outlets. I go see my therapist each week and feel like I get nowhere now. I’m depressed and often I just want to die. I want this struggle to be over. I just want to wake up one morning and not worry about whether or not we’re going to end up on the streets again. I don’t want to have to worry about having the electricity shut off because we can’t afford the nearly $1,000 electric bill because the co-ops meters were fucked up and gave inaccurate readings for three months.
If we accept who we are, we are mentally healthier and generally happier people. We are often more productive members of society and find a place that we feel relatively comfortable in. On the other hand if we come out as gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, etc. we are often chased from our faith path. We are denied that comfort that often helps guide us through our life.
I spent most of my teenage years depressed and often suicidal and to this day I struggle with depression. From the time that I was 15 until I was 23 there wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t contemplate killing myself. I felt lost most of the time like my life had no meaning… Continue reading Never Give Up.
On May 11, 2002 (my 18th birthday) I officially graduated from high school with my class. The ceremony was bittersweet for me. It had been nearly three months since I had seen anyone from my graduating class or from my high school. We really didn’t have much of anything to say to one another. The… Continue reading One of a Kind
For the first time since I had started playing baseball, I had a real fight with depression. I left the field and returned home only to bawl my eyes out. There was nothing that hurt me more in school than that one moment when everything that I had worked so hard for and had fought for had been taken away from me, and why? The answer was because I had been born in a female body.
I felt like no matter what I told my mother, I couldn’t trust her to take me seriously. If that was the answer that my mother gave me about being depressed, then how would she react if I told her that I felt like I was transgender?