I’ve thought about this off and on for several years… I think about it and plan I now more than ever. In the past, I attempted constantly, and of course failed just as constantly. (I apologize for any mistakes that may occur as I’m stubbornly using a mobile phone in bed). The one method I keep coming back to is overdosing on alcohol rectally (because my body clearly has a tendency to puke up harmful things. Stupid body). I am a tiny individual. 5″3′ and 98 pounds. I do not drink alcohol on a regular basis (or at all really) and therefore don’t have a tolerance built up.
Now.. I’m not sure about the fact that I may have rectocele. This could either aid or hinder this idea. I’m also not sure if I should add pills to the mixture (and if that should also be orally or rectally). I was thinking a whole bottle of vodka should do the trick. I don’t know how much it will sting. Or… Fuck, if it’ll go as planned at all. Maybe I should just jump. But I don’t know where from and don’t want to inflict that on others (or have my suicide in the papers).
Hm. Hm. Hm. If only I weren’t also a failure at this, as well. Maybe I’m not all in it. But I want to be. I keep trying to stay positive, but I’ve butchered myself. I really have…. I tried being someone else to solve my problems. In fact, I tried being the “opposite gender”. Lucky for the doctors, they seem to love new willing subjects to push through the project to get more funding and support. I got a hysterectomy. I was on testosterone for four years. You know that tiny voice in your head that tells you that maybe you should slow down? Yeah, its pretty hard to listen to when all the doctors are already convinced (mid you, without my hardly talking to them or trying to) that I was an ftm. I just wanted to be happy. So badly. So, so, so, badly… And when you’re young and looking for answers and find all these stories on how happy ftms are after surgeries and hormones and assimilating into the male role… Gosh, my spongy brain just soaked that right up. I feel so stupid. I am stupid! Before the double mastectomy, I thought “maybe I should just get a lift”. I hated how big they were, afterall. They well like show-stealers. People always staring at them.. Not seeing me, just boobs and a “beautiful, gorgeous” face. Blah, blah, fucking blah…. After the double mastectomy. After seeing my chest in the mirror – I cried. I didn’t even know why. It’s not like I was that attached to them. Was I? I cried until I hyperventilated. I cried until I got a nose bleed.
My voice is low. I see a man staring at me in the mirror. I don’t produce my own estrogen anymore. I can’t afford it, either. My pelvic floor is clearly failing me after the hysterectomy. I’ve had vaginosis for who knows how long. Ive never felt connected to my body. It’s this thing that has constantly failed me since puberty. I didn’t realize how much I’d hate living a “male” role. Female isn’t any better, but at least I’m not lying as much. At least I’m not lying to myself about my very instincts. About my wants.
But I’m so disgusting internally. And I can’t see it or help it. I can’t even see what the issues are, to aid them.
Before people get in a huff about the whole transgender thing – I only speak from MY experience. No one else’s. they are just words.
I just want to die, so badly. I have since I was roughly 8. I don’t know what to do. There is so much conflicting research.
I don’t even know why I’m writing this, here. I don’t expect answers here or anywhere.
I’m obviously a piece of shit, as well. I only hurt the people I care about because of all these things. Even someone that was going through something similar to me. And no matter what I say – it won’t make up for it. As much as I had a judgemental, insensitive, emotionally unavailable, etc,etc.. Childhood. With parents that are now borderline alcholics and that tell me I have bad timing for talking and wonder why I don’t come to them sooner and look a me with awful looks on their faces when I am so scared of my own body… I’ve got no one but myself, and I’m not stable enough to support myself. And who would want to support me, anyways? Clearly I shouldn’t be here.