Last night, I had a bit of a meltdown. The news of someone taking their own life stirred up a lot within me. A lot of old thoughts, a lot of new thoughts. A lot that I’ve touched upon in this blog. Being the analytical person I am, I couldn’t help but feel like I could have done something to help. To spot the signs or to intervene. After all, I feel those same thoughts every day…how did I not recognise them in somebody else? As I became more vocal on social media about my meltdown, I was sent messages from people offering support or just being there for me. I was humbled. Shocked too. I never thought anyone would ever notice me, let alone pick up on my Twitter rants or listen to me. I suppose I just don’t feel like I deserve anybody’s attention. At home, I had a lot of support from my wife too. She was incredible. I really wanted to tell her why it affected me so much but I simply couldn’t. I couldn’t break her heart. I realised that, by opening up, I’d also be disappointing all the people who’d sent me their support. How could I disappoint so many people? No, I needed to keep quiet. I can’t tell them the truth. I had to get a grip on myself and switch off from showing any emotion so that nobody would notice me.
Earlier today, I learned that my best friend is now on antidepressants. I felt so numb when she told me. I’ve always tried to do all I can to help her and be there for her. Clearly I’d not done enough. I felt so guilty that she had to go to the doctor about how she felt. All this time she was struggling so much and here’s me thinking her main worry was about the London Marathon, or I was busy banging on about my own issues on this fucking blog. So disappointed in myself for letting her down. Whilst chatting to her, I almost told her the truth about me. Almost. I got as far as saying I needed to get help but I couldn’t go through with it. In the same way that I’d be disappointing my wife or those that showed their support last night, I’d be disappointing her too. Letting her down even more than I already had. I’d be adding to her problems too. She’s like a sister to me (more so than my actual sister) and I couldn’t allow myself to give her more to worry about. I needed to leave the subject alone.
With all that’s happened, in the last 24 hours, it’s made me realise that I would be upsetting a lot of people if I told my truth. A lot of people disappointed and disgusted by me. If I decided to end it all, I would also be disappointing them. There isn’t really a way I can get out of this. So maybe I need to just stay where I am? My worry is that by doing so I will one day have an even bigger meltdown. I do need to get help, but I can’t do without people knowing. Even then, what is it they’d know? What would I tell them??? So far, in this blog, I’ve mentioned a few things about how I feel but I haven’t actually
said it out loud typed it. Tbh I don’t even know how I’d begin to explain this to somebody. Sure, I could tell them to read this entire blog…but it doesn’t specifically say what my issue is. Is there just one issue, or is it more like a group of things? I don’t even know the cause. All I know is that I’m wired up incorrectly. What happens inside my head, the way I see the world, the way I think, the way I choose to dress, the way I choose to look, the way I live my life…it’s all wrong. I know what you’re going to say: everybody is different, we’re all individuals. Yes, that is the case. However there are still “rules” which we must all follow. Basic rules for life…the most basic of which is that we simply “live”. We are born, we live, then we die. Three simple stages. What we choose to do in the second stage is up to us. But my problem is that I can’t do the second stage (not properly, anyway) because something went wrong in the first stage. Something happened that I had no control over, nor do I have any control over it to this day. What happened? I was born. More specifically, I was born a male. No big deal, you may say. But I don’t think I was born 100% male. My brain doesn’t match my body. It’s difficult to describe but essentially I think I was born with the wrong brain. Or my brain was given the wrong body. However you want to look at it, there’s a conflict. So how do I know there’s a problem? Well, this is where it gets really fucking awkward: I just do. It’s something you just know or feel. Like why do I like coffee whilst other people don’t? You don’t learn to like or dislike coffee. You either like it or you don’t. Yeh you have to try it to know, but the moment you try it, you’ll know within a fraction of a second. That’s probably the only way I can describe my head. Of course it’s not as simple as that, society also plays a huge part in shaping us. But if we stick to the basics, then the simple fact is that I don’t “see” myself as male. When I look in the mirror, I see a problem. I see a terrible mistake. But I’m stuck like this. Suicide, depression, feelings of guilt or shame or disappointment all exist as a result of this mistake. Imagine spending the rest of your life in prison for a crime you didn’t commit. You know you don’t belong there but no matter what you say or do, you aren’t the one with the keys. You’re totally powerless to do anything.
So why do I feel this way? What caused it? Can I be fixed? I don’t know. I don’t think anybody does. I’d like to say it’s a physical development issue or a hormone imbalance, that I joined the wrong queue when waiting for my brain or whatever…but I’d just be kidding myself. I mean, what (inside of us) governs how we think or the things we choose? Our brain? The cells within the brain? Where does it all begin??? I suppose that’s where the answer lies. If there is one. Or what if it’s a mental health issue? In the same way that some people truly believe they hear voices or have multiple personalities, what if it’s just an illness? Illnesses can be fixed, right? With medication and therapy, a person can be rehabilitated. They will eventually realise they were wrong or their judgement was impaired due to a traumatic event in their life…that it was all down to the illness giving them a way to cope with life. That would be ideal. A get out clause and a way to say to the world “hold on, don’t hate me…it’s not my fault, it’s an illness!!” Problem is, I’ve always felt this way though. Ever since I was really young or could start realising stuff about myself and the world around me. So it couldn’t have been triggered by a traumatic event…unless my traumatic event was being born?!?!
Sadly, I don’t think there is an explanation. There is no excuse. I am just a total freak of nature.
Featured image: by me