Misery Never Goes Out Of Style

So far this week, I’ve been really struggling again. My moods have been erratic and I’ve become so irritable. I’m spending every waking moment trying to stay positive and motivated but, quite honestly, I’m losing the energy to keep going. Fighting depression is difficult. Really fucking difficult. No matter what I do to snap myself out of it, I just sink deeper.

Spending time away recently has made me realise that I want so badly to be myself. I need to be myself. It kills me so much that I can’t right now. Every time I look in the mirror, I become even more depressed when I see the wrong body looking back at me. It moves when I move but it’s not me. I’ve also become much more conscious of how I look. Trying to do what I can to “fix” things as I notice each problem or imperfection. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m already behind. I have so much catching up to do. I’ve grown up in the wrong body and now I’m trying to put things right…but on my own. It’s a struggle trying to stay focused. As much as I’ve learned to accept who I am, I still hate my appearance and I desperately want to correct it. Yeh, I’ve been to the doctor and started the referral process but let’s be honest, GICs have long waiting lists. The average waiting time is approximately 18 months. That’s a long time. A lot can happen in that time. I guess a part of me was quite naive in thinking the referral would help to ease my daily struggles. It hasn’t. Well, right now it doesn’t feel like it has. Knowing I have to wait so long before I can see a specialist is so frustrating.

I’ve thought about going private, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. I found one clinic but their main contact number was somebody’s mobile phone. Hardly a reputable clinic if they don’t even have a landline?! I’ve also thought about other procedures too. From cosmetic surgery to hair removal. Fortunately I’m not a very hairy person anyway, so it wouldn’t take too many sessions. Even more dramatic is facial surgery. I won’t lie, the thought had crossed my mind. Anything to feel more comfortable in my own skin. The only thing I’ve done so far is lose weight, dropping approx 2 sizes in the last few months. I can do more though. I feel the need to more, especially as it’ll be a long wait for the GIC. Some people mistake me for a woman – but not for long, if their confused looks are anything to go by. Whilst we were at Boardmasters last weekend, somebody who gave us some drink samples referred to us as “ladies”. Would I ever be accepted properly though? Trouble is, I don’t think I look particularly female. I still see me: an imperfection. Maybe that’s just my warped judgement, after years of seeing the wrong person in the mirror? All I know is that I can’t be happy until the outside matches who I am on the inside. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being in denial. At least then I was able to put a lid on all these feelings. With the lid off, the need to be myself is in a rush to make things happen.

Last night was especially tough. After setting up a new Twitter profile, I was going to add a profile photo. I had toyed with the idea of a generic image of something random (my best friend suggested a burger) but this is a new start, so I thought I’d try an actual photo of me…even though I hate any photo of me. And that’s when things went south: I hated them all. I hated how ugly and non-feminine I looked. I looked like a clown. That pushed me over the edge and I had a bit of a breakdown. As suicidal thoughts crept back into my mind, I just wanted to take something that would relieve me of the frustration and depression. Something to zone me out and take the edge off things. Even today, as I write this, I’m struggling to think of anything positive. Instead I’ve just spent the day trying to not think of ways to go and buy more high strength painkillers. I know I have support, but I feel bad talking to them about it. They have their own lives to get on with. Life’s full of ups and downs as it is – they don’t need me on top of all that. Even after going to the doctor about my gender dysphoria, depression still tastes the same. It solved one thing but opened up others. I think I may need to go back and ask for more help.

UPDATE: I’ve since gone back to using my original Twitter account rather than the new one.

Featured image: via Google
Featured video: “Misery” by Creeper (via Creeper’s YouTube page)