I got a gentle reminder the other day that I had neglected to write in my blog. I thought, “There isn’t really much that can be said.” But I’ve been reflecting again as of late on a few things. I’m going to preface this with a minor warning. It’s going to be ranty. I’m not going to sugar coat anything. I’m exhausted, in pain and frustrated. Be warned, there are talks of suicide in this as well.
I attended Pride in Kansas City recently and it was a mixed bag of feelings. It usually is though with the community. On one hand I feel supported in some small way. That existing as I do is ok. On the other, I feel swarmed by judgmental eyes from a lot of the queer community. I know that’s a broad statement and please don’t understand me wrong. I know the majority see equality for everyone. But those bad apples sure do stand out.
But I’m not here to talk about that. Laverne Cox pretty much sums up how I feel about all of that here in this article: Laverne Cox addresses the issues in the LGBTQA community
No, I’m here to talk about the transmen I walked past, shirts no where to be seen, proudly showing their chests. It’s a double edged sword for me. I’m so happy to see them happy with themselves. I truly am and honestly am. But the feelings are quickly overshadowed by jealousy, silent rage and guilt.
I’ve struggled now for 3 years on obtaining my surgery. I’ve exhausted every outlet I can only to show up at a dead end sign, flashing brightly in my face with a curt FU tacked on.
I’m almost at the end of my rope. My patience and denial wear thinner by the day as the pain from my binder slices into my shoulders and sides. The thoughts of being able to just toss a T shirt on haunt me. Not having to twist and struggle to put on this torture device that strains my stomach and restricts my breathing would be a god send.
I’ve grown to self hatred, swearing I would quit smoking but an hour later chain smoke 2 in a row because I just want it to end faster.
I have too much guilt weighing on my heart to ever end it all. I love my family too much to make them suffer any more than they already are. So it’s not so much of a question of will I but more so, when will the thoughts go away? I don’t want to feel like I have to grab the nearest kitchen knife and just do the job myself.
I’ve tried insurance. I’ve tried finding a job that has insurance that covers it. Currently I’ve been with Target for over a year now. But guess what? They keep cutting my hours. I’m trying to hit 30 a week so I qualify but the more I ask, the less hours I get. The resounding no’s echo every day and here I am.. wallowing in what feels like a constant state of frozen eternity.
And don’t get me started on those sites that offer funding. 3 people.. out of hundreds. It’s a damn raffle of chance. I make money so I must be able to save and qualify for help and blah blah blah. So you don’t get any help.
I haven’t been able to save anything higher than $20 to my paycheck in a long damn time. I’ve tried finding better paying jobs but let me tell you.. with 1 car and 3 working adults and no babysitter? Good luck.
The thought of starting a fund me page almost sends me into a spell of sickness and regret. What’s the point? Get maybe $100, sound like a spam bot, and then sink even lower emotionally before I finally admit myself to a hospital because the depression gets to be too much?
I’m at a complete loss. I’m tired of being in pain. I’m exhausted trying to think of ways to get even $500 we won’t need for food let alone a surgery. I don’t qualify for medical credit because I’ve tried and they’ve denied me on more than one occasion. I don’t qualify for medicaid.. not like they’d cover it anyways. The state of Missouri doesn’t require them too and Trump has been dismantling everything in between.
So what’s the point? I just don’t know what to do. I honestly don’t. No one is going to hand me $8,000 to have surgery and insurance that covers it seems like a rich man’s dream. I can’t walk out in public with a C sized chest and just expect to feel even remotely comfortable. And I can’t go through with offing my self.
I’m so unimaginably uncomfortable with this situation it makes my skin crawl.
It’d almost be worth leaving this Earth with a note saying Trump is one of the many reasons I left and send it to the media. Be one last hurrah for others in my situation needing help. But I just can’t.
So here I sit. Typing to the void. I didn’t want to come to my blog today and make it rain bullshit. I honestly didn’t. And it really didn’t help fill the blank space I have inside me either. But here it is. Laid out for whomever decides to read it.
Just know. If you feel the same way. You’re not alone at least.