January 28th, 2013


Week 63: I believe she is capable of making appropriate decisions about her transition

The first artifact has arrived.

Despite all my annoying travails and complications getting my "Yes, she's sane. Go ahead an' lop off her beans" letters, the first one has come in. Given, the therapist who wrote that letter was ready to fire it off as soon as I asked for it, but it's PROGRESS. Real, actual progress.

The reason I asked her for that letter in the first place is just because I'm tired of waiting for the other doc to go ahead and greenlight me. I guess homeboy needs to talk to my physician? I don't know. It' hard after all this time NOT to feel like it's jus' arbitrary gatekeeping. I mean, it's NOT arbitrary... I know liability's a bitch and I'm a weird case. Medical professionals don't know much about genderqueer patients, I've been through a HELL of a lot of transition and upheaval in this, my first year of my new me. I can see how a mental health professional would want me to settle a bit and make sure I'm coming from a clear perspective.

Still... GodDAMN, man. The fuckin' things don't WORK any more.

Emotion-wise, it's hard to tell if anything's stabilizing. I have good days and bad days. This past weekend, I had a big fun social night and was immobilized crying and shaking on the bed the next day. My sweetie-pie and I are working to get game plans in order for when I fall into a super-freakout, but it's fucking difficult. I'm not USED to this. I don't have strategies in mind for how to cope with this kind of stuff. It's really strange to have your mind tell you that things are THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS EVER when they're not. How do you not believe your brain!? And to have this terror and depression suffocate you and put you in a space where you can't do ANYTHING... When my sweetie asked me why I was crying, I honestly came back with "I don't know what else to do".

I need to goddamn figure OUT what else to do. I go from resenting my sweetie-pie and digging up any old fight we've ever had to clinging desperately to her, begging her forgiveness for my tyranny. I'm a mess.

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    Courteeners - Sycophant