It’s been a bit longer than I’d intended since my
last post, and on top of that, I just noticed I hadn’t actually posted my last post.
Time to get my little transgender butt in gear. The past week was a difficult
one. For my new friends that I met through the trans dating site, I haven’t
been ignoring you, I’ve just been a serious basket case locked in my room
searching for a way out of a deep dark depression. The fact is that I tend to
be a rather happy person, but when I do get down, the darkest side of sweet
little Jamie can take over and I can become very despondent, even suicidal. It
was a bad week. Well here I am again, back from the edge of that tall cliff – I
haven’t stepped off yet.
Who remembers the movie/television series MASH…
Does anyone recall the words to the MASH theme song?
It goes something like this,
“Suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and
I can take or leave it if I please.”
My version of the “To be or not to be…” question is
somewhat different. The thing is that when I was young I made several very
serious attempts at suicide – much more than cries for help and I very nearly succeeded
- but here I am. The question still haunts me at times though. Do I really want
to stay in this place when things get so hard? The fact is its difficult enough
just lugging this body around, something always seems to hurt, you have to keep
feeding it, breathing, it seems like it’s always too cold or too hot. What it
comes down to is it’s difficult to maintain this body that’s always demanding
so much. And trying just to survive? My gosh, a human form takes a lot to keep
it going.
So, “To be or not to be? That is the question.”…
This is my answer. I don’t actually know what it’s
like to be dead; if I’ve ever been dead I have no recollection of what it’s
like. Since I don’t know what it’s like to be dead then what’s the value in
assuming it will solve any problems? The fact is it may be better, it may be
exactly the same as what I have now, or it may be even worse. I also don’t know
what it’s like to live in Toledo, Ohio, it may be better, it may be exactly the
same as what I have now, or it may be even worse. So why not give old Toledo a
try first? I’m just saying that anyone contemplating such things really ought
to think it through. All we know for sure is there is only a 33% chance that
checking out of this mess will actually solve any problems. I don’t like the
odds. So here I stay. Still I do have my rather perverse fascination with death
that manifests itself in a fantasy of standing on a very high cliff in total
darkness. Will I slip and fall? Will Edger Allen Poe’s ‘Imp of the Perverse’
get the best of me and I step off? Will I be pushed into oblivion? The fantasy
is whether or not angels will catch me and gently set me back atop the cliff or
will I have one last wild ride into the unknown? This intrigues me to no end.
Well the fact is this cat has already used around 6 of her 9 lives so we’ll see
what happens.
This is how I got so far down this time…
Around 5 months ago I found a surgeon that agreed to
do a surgery I’ve wanted for a lifetime, the thing that could finally make me
feel normal, yup – the big one, gender affirming or trans-vaginal surgery. I
was led to believe that everything was good then at the last minute (after 5
months) she reneged. Mind you, this is the second surgeon that’s let me down
like this, also in the mix was a cosmetic surgeon that was supposed to give me
breast implants but messed up. I had put all my trust in these people but once
again, nothing, not a damn thing. It hurts. On top of all that, I’d finally
managed to kick a terrible addiction to prescription narcotics – morphine, just a
mere 6 weeks prior (the addiction had lasted for somewhere between 5 and 7
years – I don’t recall for sure). I’d also had to stop hormone therapy for the
surgery. I was under a considerable amount of stress due to book keeping errors
I’d made at my church (I’m the financial secretary). Nobody thought I’d done
anything wrong – everything was there, just in the wrong categories. All this
right after the holiday season - I reached my breaking point I guess.
My friends worry about me sometimes…
Sometimes my closest friends worry about me; they
say I’m too gullible. Especially after a number of times that I trusted someone
(someone like the guy that turned out to be none other than Jeffrey Dahmer
himself). They ask me when I’m going to learn to be more critical about people?
My answer, “Not likely to be any time soon I guess.” Somehow I’ve gotten this
far but with a lot of help from what I perceive as divine intervention. Why? I
have no idea, but here I am.
So from this sweet hippie chick to my wonderful
friends (I am glad to be here, I love y’all so much)
Big hugs and kisses always.
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