A New Kind of Normal

I’ve never really had anything close to a social life, even when I was in high school. Even though I’m an extrovert I’ve spent most of my life in a reclusive state. Part of this is the fact that I am transgender, and the discrimination that I’ve faced because of it, part of it is because of my sensory issues, and part of it is the fact that I was never really allowed to socialize outside of the halls of my middle and high school. Growing up I was never allowed to have friends over nor was I allowed to leave home to go meet with anyone that could be considered a friend outside of school related activities. 

Since moving to New York, and beginning to emerge myself in the world of the SCA, I’ve found something akin to a social life. There are people around me that understand, or at least accept my eccentricities and it doesn’t seem to bother them in the least. I’ve found something that I never thought that I would have, and that’s a community. I feel like I’ve finally found a place where I can belong not hide away from society as life passes me by like I’ve been doing for the past twenty years. 

It’s past time for me to let go of what happened to me in the past and start working towards the future that I want for myself and for my family. 

For the first time in my life I’ve joined a gym so that I can get into shape. I’ve started attending rapier practice within the SCA, and archery as well. While there has been a few bumps in the road, I am actually starting to look forward to the future with excitement rather than disdain or upset. Things are still rough, I’m still fighting for SSI because of my autism, in July of this year it will be two years since I’ve applied. I went into my final appeal in November of last year and that can take up to 15 months. 

I’ve scheduled an appointment for the 22nd of March for the consultation for my chest reconstruction surgery, and my insurance here will cover it and all other SRS surgeries that I need. I can’t believe this year I’ll finally be able to take that step closer to being whole. 

My depression was really bad for a while, but it’s a bit better now. I don’t wake up every morning wanting to die. I hope that this is a permanent change, but I know that there is the possibility that it isn’t. It’s just something that I will have to deal with as it comes along. I know I’m going to have to find a therapist and stick with them, but for once I have a few clear goals in my life that aren’t just ideas. 

I have an idea of where I want to be headed by the end of this year, I’m not completely lost to the chaos anymore. 

#depression, #letting-go-of-the-past, #lgbt, #mental-health-2, #mental-illness, #moving-on, #new-york, #srs, #trans, #transgender

Nightmares, Lost words, and Side-Effects

​I don’t know what’s worse, being hopeless depressed or waking up crying from nightmares. I haven’t had dreams this bad in years. At least with the deep, dark depression I could escape when I was asleep, I could find something worth continuing on for in my dreams. Granted I hated waking up from my dreams, but there was still something good there; now all I have is nightmares that leave me fighting for sleep in the wee hours of the morning. I guess my depression is getting less depressing? 

I’m not to the point where I’m crying all the time anymore, but I’m still not in a good place mentally. I’m hungry a lot now, but if I eat more than two or three bites of food I get physically sick. I am beginning to feel like a little bird pecking at my food. I’m sure I’ll get to the point where my body decides that my fat cells look tasty and it’s starts cannibalizing itself, which altogether isn’t that bad of an idea except for the fact that I’m weak a lot and shaky, and I have fits where I can’t do anything but tremble. The trembling started happening before I was put on “Don’t Kill Yourself” medication though, so I can’t really blame it on that.

The worst of all of this is that fact that I can’t find a doctor that A) takes my insurance B) will treat me like a human being and C) will actually listen to what I have to say. I may not be a doctor, but I do have medical training, and I’m pretty sure that I know my body A LOT better than someone that I just met. Finding a doctor shouldn’t be this taxing, but it’s just something that you learn to deal with if you’re transgender, at least it’s been that way in my experience. 

I’ve also found that I’m having trouble finding the words that I want to use, I can see the picture so vividly in my mind, but the actual word for that image just won’t produce itself. For someone that has a great love of words like myself this is beginning to become terrifying. This tends to happen only when I’m talking though, it’s like the words get stuck in the neurons between my brain and my mouth. If I’m typing (or texting) I don’t have this problem, the words just flow from my fingertips like water from a fountain. Thus I’m left wondering once more what is wrong with me and why I’m broken all the time. 

This year is almost over though, and I will gladly celebrate it becoming a part of history. I hope that the upcoming year can hold something good, or at least not as horrid as this year has been. I’m starting to feel like whatever deities that exist decided that this would be a great year to start a turn on the wheel of Chaos. 

#depression, #medication, #medication-side-effects, #mental-health-2, #mental-health-awareness, #nightmares, #transgender

I feel…lost

Where to begin…at this point I’m not too sure what to say if anything. I want to curl into a ball and cry myself into oblivion. When I hurt this bad, I want to cease to be.

Friday, I went to an orthopaedist because my right knee has been swelling and giving me quite a bit of pain lately. I had hoped that maybe I was just spending too much time on my feet, or that I had twisted it the wrong way. Neither turned out to be the case. It would seem that I have early onset arthritis in my knee, and of course, this isn’t the sort of thing that just goes away.

I’ve been struggling with my weight for years, and no matter what I seem to do I can’t lose it. I kayak three times a week and just hit over 4 miles in one go on Friday morning. I’ve changed my eating habits and stopped drinking soda, but nothing helps. It seems like, in the end, I’m going to have to have surgery to be able to lose weight and that scares the hell out of me.

If that isn’t bad enough, I waited two months for some therapist to tell me something I’ve known for the past 15 years, I’m depressed, plus spew out some lies and bullshit in a report that I never said. My stress level is through the roof and I don’t know how much longer I can take all this pressure.

I don’t feel appreciated. I don’t feel welcome. I don’t feel wanted unless I can do something for someone, then I’m the best person in the world. I don’t feel like a human being, and if I’m honest with myself, I haven’t felt that way in a very long time.

I feel like I’m completely lost. I don’t know who I am anymore, or what I want other than to just be happy.


#depression, #health, #mental-health-2, #weight-loss


(Another poem, this one is from 2010.)

Actions blurred together to create a haze,

Time melting, twisted and warping days to days.

Chaos dances behind my thoughts and colours my reasoning.

Caught up in my own personal hell,

Life’s up or downs nothing even and well.

Everything’s thrown into a confusion riddled pit.

No help to sort out anything what can I make of it?

Nothing seems to help, no one seems to care.

Even if they pretend, do they really care?

Terrified of what I could become.

I reach to find ways to end this so called life.

I don’t want anymore pain, from the blade of a dull knife.

It makes things so empty hollow inside.

Drowning in question whose answer I can’t provide.

Why does everything have to be this way?

Why can’t I be normal for just one day?

#bipolar, #literature, #mental-health-2, #poems, #poetry

Sanity Piracy

(I’ve been going through a lot of my old journals and notebooks with poetry that I had wrote several years ago. Some of it is dated 2008! The difference in the person I was then and the person I am now is astounding. So I thought I might share some of my poetry over the next few weeks. Writing has always helped me cope with the difficulties that I’ve faced in life because I’ve never really felt like therapists give a damn. We’re just a paycheck and nothing more. I’ve had to work through things myself and I think I’m better for it. If anyone feels like I did when I wrote these…Don’t give up. Keep fighting, always keep fighting. You are good enough. You are worth it. You are loved, and if you ever need someone to talk to I am here. )

Drag the blade across the skin
Get lost in the red hazed dance
End all of this pain, surfacing again
Let it all out, break free of society’s trance.

Payment is due for the crimes you’ve committed
The lies from your lips, discretions admitted.
Tearing down others just to build yourself up high.
River of tears that you caused others to cry.

Secure the rope around tender wrists.
Breath in your torment while screams echo.
Snapping, breaking, contort and twist.
Begging for it to end, your mind lets go.

Sanity piracy
The human race brought to its knees.
Sanity piracy
This is what you’ve done to me.

#always-keep-fighting, #dark-poetry, #depressed, #depression, #literature, #mental-health-2, #mental-illness, #never-give-up, #poem, #poetry

Muddled: Trying to Make Sense from All the Bullshit

I’ve been fighting depression on and off since I was thirteen years old when I tried to address the issue with my mother I was blown off and more or less ignored. When I was suicidal and tried to confide in her my thoughts I was told “you know we don’t believe in that” and was left to fend for myself. It’s a wonder that I have lived to see nearly thirty-two years, living more or less out of a stubborn dislike and distrust for the human race than anything else. I

I’ve had to put myself into a mindspace where I need to prove the world wrong, where I need to live to spite all of the people that have done nothing but try to break me. It is a tiring place to be, constantly having to fight just to pull yourself from bed, eat (or not eat), take care of yourself (or not), it’s a fight just to live. Things that most people take for granted and don’t even think about on a daily basis is for me, a uphill battle in the rain with muddy terrain and a broken leg. In short, it is hell.

I tell myself that people depend on me, my children and wife and that they need me but why do I always feel so alone? I have never found a place in society where I belong and I don’t think that I ever will. That kind of isolation and distance from acceptance and belonging can destroy a person. Humans, in a general sense, are pack creatures. They thrive when they are in a group of like company, they thrive so well that they tend to lose their sense of I and instead become We. Ah, the mob mentality.

I have lived most, if not all of my life on the fringes, like the sick lion cub desperately trying to fight for a scrap of food, attention, affection, anything that will solidify his existence or worth on this plane reality. Yet, much like the lion cub, I am different, I am odd and thus a threat, so I must be pushed as far away from everyone else as humanly possible.

The Gods made me, nature damned me, and society has crushed me.

I am autistic thus I think differently from other people, but because I have never been able to find a doctor willing to give me the “official” diagnosis I am unable to have the resources needed to prosper. I was supposed to have been diagnosed as a child, but because I was not nonverbal and my grades were excellent I was just labeled odd, weird, untouchable. All labels that excluded me from society, instead of welcoming me and giving me a place where I could flourish.

I am transgender. A recent study has actually proven that high functioning “females” with autism have a brain structure of a male their age. Previously, studies dealing with the transgender community have also found that transgender individuals have the brain structure like that of the gender they are transitioning to. Nature damned me to have a mind and body that don’t mesh without pain, torment, surgeries and a lifetime of taking medication. This is something that I have zero control over and yet people have labeled me a monster. I am evil, an abomination, something to be gunned down in the streets because I have dared to attempt to fix my medical condition.

How different the world would be if anyone that had surgery, took medications or didn’t follow the masses was gunned down in the street. There would be a lot fewer people, that’s for sure.

In the society that I live in, people like me are disposable. I have two strikes against me, and half of a lifetime of abuse has given me a third in the form of PTSD and social anxiety. The latter of the two could have been prevented had the world been kinder to someone like me. I have been crippled by the abuse that society has perpetrated upon people that aren’t “normal”.  

Doctors don’t want to deal with me because I am transgender, autistic and have mental health issues. I’m too much to deal with. I am refused the help that I need to help myself.

I am left to fend for myself in a world that hates me, in a world that wants me dead because I don’t fit the norm.

#abandonment, #autism, #autistic, #depression, #fight-to-live, #lgbt, #mental-health-2, #ptsd, #suicide, #tg, #transgender, #transman

Razor’s Edge

I’m depressed. I know this and yet there is nothing that I can do to drag myself from the darkness. Each passing day I sink deeper and I’m left wondering why I even bother anymore. Some nights when I go to sleep I pray that I don’t wake up in the morning so the pain will end. So I don’t have to feel this torment any longer. I keep catching myself wondering if I should leave in the middle of the night, just wander into the cold dark night and let death take me into its seemingly warmer grip.

I can’t go see my doctor for help. Each and every time I have visited my doctor the answer has always been either A) antibiotics or B) we don’t treat that here but if your problem continues we’ll send you somewhere else. Somewhere else, i.e. my therapist doesn’t understand why my doctor can’t or rather won’t help. So I’m left being shoved back and forth with no one wanting to help me. This just adds to the depression.

I was managing, not doing so well but managing until my best friend disappeared. It’s funny how someone can say a cat is their best friend, but Jack was. He went missing around Christmas and I haven’t seen him since. No shelters have him, animal control doesn’t pick up stray cats, and no one has seen him. It’s like Jack just disappeared into the darkness. Disappearing is what I want to do. I know people probably think I’m crazy, but I don’t connect with people.

I can’t.

That’s part of the problem too.

Each time I get the courage to reach out and make a friend they end up brushing me off like I’m nothing. So I feel like a total failure. I can’t keep a friend for longer than a few months. I have people on my Facebook as friends, but they don’t know me. I don’t think any of them know my favorite color (red and purple), band (Disturbed), author (Edgar Allen Poe), my favorite animals (fox, rabbit, hawk), or anything really about me other than what I’ve given them in my profile. So really they aren’t my friends. I don’t talk to any of them except in passing on comments every now and then. If I disappeared tomorrow, I doubt any of them would notice. They would simply carry on with their lives and not even miss a step.

I am a ghost. At least, that’s how I feel. I move throughout this world never being noticed or important to anyone. I’m a failure.

I want to die. I want to end the loneliness.

I want to end the hurt that my parents and siblings continuously cause me.

I want to end being used like a tool.


I want to feel worth.

I want to be important.

I want to have value beyond what other people think that they can get out of me.

I’m tired of pretending my life isn’t falling apart. It’s never not been falling apart.

I’m tired of putting on a happy face when I’m dying.

I am tired of waking up so tired and worn out that I have to drag myself from bed to feed my chickens. I lie to myself every morning, if I don’t feed them, they’ll die. They need me. They don’t really. There are other people that would feed them.

But I need that little happiness every morning of seeing these birds running to me. I can pretend that they are running to me because they love me, not because they see me as a source of food. I can pretend they are excited to see me because they like my company. Those little lies are the only reason I haven’t slit my wrists in the bathtub.

I don’t even trust myself to shower alone anymore, I have my wife shower with me.
I don’t trust myself. I’m too damaged. I’m too broken. While some broken things can be fixed, there are others than cannot…and I am the other.  

#depressed, #depression, #family-2, #loneliness, #lonely, #mental-health-2, #mental-illness, #suicide