Since I last posted, I’ve been a complete zombie. I’ve not been able to sleep properly or do anything other than stare into space or wanting to cry, or both. Things that I once loved doing have become bland. They’ve lost all flavour and colour. I can even bring myself to pick up an instrument. The world around me looks plain and uninviting as if somebody put a cold Instagram filter over my eyes. It’s so difficult to look forward to anything when you know it could all be lost because of this. What’s the point in planning for next week, next month or next year when I’m struggling to make it to the end of this hour? Being at work helps usually give me something to do but even then the slightest thing that goes wrong just sends me back to zombie mode. Today, I’m not at work. It’s Easter weekend and I’m not back in work till Tuesday. I don’t want to talk to anyone, do anything nor do I want to be awake. I’m just stuck in limbo and it annoys me so much that I can’t snap myself out of this. I used to be able to. This time it’s so very different. Before I forced myself to write this, I was sat on my bed staring down at the duvet. Turned out I’d been staring for about an hour. Bizarrely, there were no specific thoughts going through my mind. After everything that’s happened over the last few days, you’d think I’d be doing a lot more thinking. But no. It’s as if my mind is a complete blank. The lights are on but nobody’s home. Even when I got really cold, I couldn’t even be bothered to make myself warm. So what is going on? Why is this happening?
I wish I could figure this out, to be honest. It’s frustrating me. Not to mention frustrating those around me too, as I ruin or bring down their mood. Could it be the realisation of stuff? Knowing there’s no going back? Like waking up during a good dream and not being able to get back to it. Except my dream wasn’t exactly a good one to begin with, was it? But then this reality isn’t so good either. Mentally, I’ve been pushed out of my little comfort bubble. Before, I was just plodding along in denial, not wanting to admit what the real reason could be. Since my post, the suspicion that I may have gender dysphoria grows more. It seems more real. I don’t want to self-diagnose but it feels right. When you know what isn’t right, you’re on your way to finding out what’s wrong. Have you ever been stuck for an answer and have people suggesting answers for you? They call out loads of possibilities to help you find the right one but you just know which ones aren’t right because it feels wrong. Finally, when you discover the right answer, it just clicks. You know that’s the answer without having to double check. Well, that’s kind of how it feels with me right now. I can’t go back to pretending anymore – trust me, I’ve tried!! Crawling back into the life I once knew is no longer an option. I’m stranded in the open now. Between lives. Like a hermit crab, only my life doesn’t have any purpose or meaning.
I can’t even use alcohol to make me happy anymore. A few days ago, I had to go to the doctor as I was in a lot of pain all of a sudden. I’m no stranger to pain, but this was fucking agony. Turns out I have gout which has caused high levels of uric acid in my blood. My kidneys can’t process it properly anymore, which has resulted in crystals forming in a joint, causing swelling and pain. I’ve been struggling to walk and the throbbing pain is some of the worst I’ve ever felt. The doctor said this could be caused by far too much alcohol. Given the struggles of the past few months, I knew they were right. The thing that was helping me tread water was actually doing the opposite. Fuck. All I could feel was shame for letting it get to this. But that subsided and I started to panic: how else am I going to get through this shit now??! I knew alcohol would cause damage, but I was kind of hoping that’d be in a few years when I may not be around. This was too soon. This was a fucking wake up call…but I need a way to cope, especially as I’ve considered suicide more in the past few months than in the rest of my life put together. It’s been a few days since I stopped drinking and I’ve still not found that new way of coping. I suppose there’s always high strength painkillers to help zone me out? That’s the only thing I have left to help me to be honest. In the meantime, these kinds of desperate thoughts are making me realise that the reality of this gender dysphoria situation is what’s crushing me, but I can’t do anything about them.
I know of gender dysphoria from what I’ve read. Stories from people who have been brave enough to come forward and share it or from articles that mention it, such as the one that told me about Laura Jane Grace. Since I admitted it to myself, I’ve been too terrified to look into it more. I suppose I’ve been too scared to find out more about myself and there having it confirmed. Actually, I just realised that I’ve always been too afraid of looking into the subject more. (Maybe I knew in the past what the problem was?) So far, I have related to every single story or article about it, to the point where it’s like I’m reading about my own life or I know exactly what the next sentence/quote will say. Just that alone scares the fuck out of me. I think I may still be in denial slightly? Or some part of me is still trying to resist the latest development that enables me to move forward with my life…whatever “forward” now means for me. In the past I’m certain I must have known something as I’ve tested the water when something relating to a transgender person has happened in the news. Like, I’m sharing what’s happened but I think subconsciously I’ve then waited to see how people react to it. Maybe as a way to see how they’d react to me? I know it’s probably wrong of me to do that and I can honestly say it wasn’t a conscious decision to test people in such a way. Could it be that I knew the answer all along? And that my eviction from my comfort bubble has caused a part of me to resist change? Possibly. After years of therapy, I find myself psychoanalysing all my thoughts and decisions. After so many hundreds of therapy hours, I know one thing is certain: this zombie-like state and all the (lack of) feelings associated with it is depression. I’ve been depressed before, but nowhere near this kind of scale. I should be able to get myself through this but instead I can just feel myself sinking further into it, as I try and find some kind of voice with which I can scream for help.
Featured image: via Pinterest