Transkitty

There is something fundamentally wrong with who I am.

It is ruining my life and I do not know if I have the willpower to fix it

We have been talking about my genophobia in therapy, and we can not pinpoint a root event that triggered it. It seems as if I’ve just always thought differently about it, and that over time it developed into a phobia. Everything is pointing to what I already know but ever so dearly wish was false.

I’m transgender.

I want so hard for it not to be the cause. I so desperately don’t want to have to deal with it. I want it to be something simpler. Something I can get over privately. I don’t want to change anything other than my broken thought processes.

But it seems that the problem is deep at the core of me.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. Feels like an impossible mountain to climb.

Standing on the edge

Searching for reasons to stay,

But there’s nothing but ruins around me.

Waiting to see if I’ll be saved.

Or if I’m too much of a burden.

I’ve been patient.

I’ve been here far too long.

I can’t do this anymore.

I don’t know why I still have a sliver of hope.

It’s preventing me from letting go.

From finally being free.

I don’t want to die

I’m running out of options.

I’ve learned that it’s all been a lie.

I can’t tell what was real.

I’ve lost all my good memories.

Nothing left is safe.

I can’t make it go away.

I can only make me go away.

Please listen to me.

Please save my good memories.

Please save me.

I told you the most important thing to me,

is to never lie

You’ve been lying to me for years

I didn’t know I was losing you

You never gave me the chance save us

But I’m trying to give you the chance

To save me

Please do something.

I feel as if you’ve thrown me away

As if I am the least of your thoughts.

But for me, the thoughts of blood

Running down my arm

are overwhelming, and scary.

I don’t know how I can keep going. I’m reaching the end. I’m out of money.
Dad said he could help with gas + student loan, with conditions, but I don’t think I’d be able to meet any of those conditions. And I don’t know what I’d do without my phone. I’m losing everything and I’m not getting better. I just want to stop. I feel sick. I can’t stop shaking. I have therapy tomorrow. I don’t know. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to wake up. I can’t do this anymore.

I cut my leg. It still stings. I keep thinking about cutting my wrists. I can’t do this. If I was going to get any better there’d be at least a little improvement. But there isn’t. I’m not going to get better.

Terrified of going upstairs to bed. Terrified of tomorrow. I don’t know what’s going to happen after therapy tomorrow. If I don’t lie I doubt she’d let me leave, she’s asked before and I said I’d be fine. But I don’t think I’d be fine this time.

Dad wants there to be consequences, so that he’s not enabling me. That’s all fine and dandy except for the part about that not working. I can’t function at all. Consequences don’t motivate me to be productive. If you took away my computer I’d just sit doing nothing. I already ignore body signals telling me to get food and drink. I wouldn’t eat dinner if my mom didn’t make it, and even then a lot of the time I just say “okay” and not get up for quite awhile.

Simply put, dad helping me pay for loans and gas, me dropping my phone plan, and everything continuing is just not going to happen.

I don’t want to borrow money, but I can’t earn any. If this motivated me then I would have been working so this didn’t happen. But I didn’t. I can’t. If I was providing everything for myself, I’d probably have killed myself long ago. I’m lucky to have the family support I have but it’s about to become not enough. I can’t cope anymore.

I feel sick. I do not know where I will be in 12 hours. I have a cat on my and I’m upset because he isn’t raising my mood as much as it used to. I really don’t want to wake up.
I think I’m just going to sleep in this chair. If I go upstairs I’ll probably just cut myself.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything.

I’m out of money.

My bank account has $75 left in it, and I think have $25 in cash lying around. I have an $88 loan payment due Wednesday, and I have therapy on Tuesday which is going to use up like $10 of gas.

I’m freaking out. I was supposed to, and wanted to, go to museum with mom and brother/fiancé but completely shut down. And now I’m upset about not going. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I knew my Christmas money would only last me a month. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop paying for my phone, I need that. I can’t stop going to therapy, because I really need that. I can’t stop paying my loan, because that would be very bad…

My dad would probably be willing to cover me for a bit if I show that I’m working on earning money but I can’t. I’m trying but I can’t. I can’t do anything. I can’t be productive. I just can’t. I can’t think. I can’t focus. I can’t work.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just want to curl up and stop doing everything forever. I can’t stop shaking.

I might know why I don’t take my meds some times.

Because my brain ends up like this. It’s just blah. Higher thinking is gone. It’s just tired, but not sleepy tired. Just can’t think tired. And I like not thinking.

Thinking is both what I do best, and the thing I currently want to do the least.

Too much thinking ends in anxiety, and disliking people, and cutting. Might be why I’ve been more interested in drawing lately. Don’t have to think critically.

It’s frustrating to realize that you have an incredibly irrational belief, especially when the realization doesn’t make it go away.

I should go to bed and at least try to get a bit of sleep. Big day tomorrow. I plan on sitting in this chair and doing the exact same thing I’ve been doing.

Genophobia

Brain:

Do do do, type type type, read read read, chat chat chat, do do—
SUDDEN EXTREMELY UNPLEASANT THOUGHT

Was doing so well, was actually working on something. Can’t now. I hate my brain.

Unpleasant thought was sex related. It normally never crosses my mind or it’s minor enough I can just ignore it and it goes away, and thus is normally never a problem. But once my train of thought goes there, mind becomes completely worthless. I want to hit my head against the wall until I stop thinking about it.

I wonder if all these qualifies for being genophobic…

Let’s see…

1. Marked and persistent fear that is excessive or unreasonable, cued by the presence or anticipation of a specific object or situation … Yes
2. Exposure to the phobic stimulus almost invariably provokes an immediate anxiety response … Yes
3. The person recognizes that the fear is excessive or unreasonable … Yes
4. The phobic situation(s) is avoided or else is endured with intense anxiety or distress … Yes
5. The avoidance, anxious anticipation or distress in the feared situation(s) interferes significantly … Yes
6. In individuals under the age of 18, the duration is at least 6 months. Not Applicable
7. The anxiety, panic attack, or phobic avoidance associated with the specific object or situation are not better accounted for by another mental disorder … Maybe?

I’m going to go ahead and say yes… This isn’t sustainable. I can’t live this way.

Panic attacks

This is all going downhill rather quickly.

Why aren’t I taking my night meds anytime near when I should be… There’s no reason not to. They’re within arm’s reach, and I have something to take them with. Taking them later just leads to staying up late, having tougher time getting to sleep, and having less quality sleep.

But I keep doing it. Every single night. I take my other meds fine.

I’m absolutely miserable. I’m hungry. I’m both tired and completely awake. It’s 4:30 6:00.

…

I hope I’m rested enough to be able to drive to therapy.

What am I doing…

I can’t get myself to do the very little I was able to do before.
I can’t think clearly.

I seem to be putting all my effort into not thinking. Every time I think, it’s not a good thought.

I think about punching something until my knuckles are bruised. I haven’t yet, but I have been cutting my legs. I think about the blood. The temporary release I get. The brief period of not worrying. The brief period of control. The illusion that maybe things will be alright.

I think about cutting my wrists. A longer period of not worrying. Everything just being better. I think about dying. Killing myself. It’s not to the point where I’m seriously thinking of committing, but it does cross my mind at a worrying frequency.

I think about her. I don’t even know what to call her anymore. I think about her with him and I feel physically ill. I have a strong urge to cut my wrist. I know it’s her choice, but it sickens me. I don’t feel jealous. I’m not envious. I feel sick.

Sickens me that I could trust her, sickens me that I still want to, and sickens me that she doesn’t see it the same way I do. I know my view is fucked up, but I don’t want to change it, I want the world to change. I want her to change. I want her to choose me. I want everything to be back to normal.

I know you don’t need it to be happy. People are happy plenty without it. I know she likes other things. I find her other interests fascinating. I can’t comprehend why she chooses it over me. She knows it’s not required to live. If you need it to be happy, then something else is wrong. It’s a distraction. It’s an escape. It’s not real. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make life better. I hate it. I hate what it does to people. I don’t even know what I’m typing anymore…

I’m pathetic…

And I don’t know how I’m going to get to bed safely…

I told my therapist I’d be okay until I saw her next (Thursday)… I hope I was telling the truth…