Hello darkness

Where to start. Sitting at the airport as I write this, on my way home. Will probably finish up the post when I arrive home and can type on a proper keyboard.

Anyway, so as a part of my gender reassignment surgery (yeah you heard me), I have to attend a lecture about the whole procedure. Been waiting for a long time, and a few weeks ago I finally got a letter saying it was time for the lecture plus an individual examination with a doctor. Well today was finally the day, and I’ve been so hyped about this. Why? Because it’s another step towards my goal! I live far away from the city where this lecture was to be held, so had to take today off from work, book a flight and a ride to the airport, etc.

I’ve been in the area in the big city before due to other visits in my process, so to speak. But finding the exact location of the lecture was quite a challenge. I eventually found it, after asking twice and then had someone draw me a map (I don’t have a good sense of direction, okay?).

Told the receptionist that I had arrived. Two floors up, then sat down in a waiting room with a bunch of other people. We all had to wait roughly thirty minutes before a nurse came in and told us to follow her. Everyone sat down in a small room, and then shortly after the lecture started. There was a projector, with images being displayed on the wall. Very, very graphic images, of the whole procedure. Lot’s of blood. Now here’s a thing about me. I don’t do well with blood. Even thinking about it while writing this is making me dizzy. So roughly half way through the lecture, I had reached my limit. I tried to hold out and think about something else (I thought about ducks). But it was no use, and my vision got darker and darker. Quickly stood up and tried to make it look like I needed to go to the bathroom. Made it to the door, but it was locked. A nearby doctor saw what was happening. He came up behind me, pushed a button that unlocked the door and grabbed me under my arms as I reached my limit and fell to the floor. I manage to utter the words “I’m very dizzy…” before it went dark.

Woke up what I think was only a few seconds later. I was on the floor outside the room. The doctor that caught me plus two nurses was sitting on their knees around me, keeping an eye on me I guess. I got some help to get up and into a chair, then got some water. Realised I hadn’t eaten anything during the whole day, which probably contributed. I had food in my bag, but I was so afraid to make noise in the waiting room and the lecture room, so I never opened it. When I came back into the room, the lecture was already over. Didn’t want to watch more anyway, but since it’s mandatory to continue the process, it got me worried. I was told later during a private discussion that it was okay and that it counted towards my process, even though I missed half. During this private meeting (everyone was called in for such a meeting after the lecture), a red flag was raised. Normally they would want to do a physical examination, to verify that I can continue with the process. They didn’t do this with me though. Instead they sent a message to my regular doctor, and nothing more. They were very unspecific on what the next step was, and I couldn’t make them give me anymore information.

I thanked the doctor for the lecture, for the discussion, and for capturing me. I wasn’t satisfied at all though. I came all the way there to see half a lecture, then get a “I don’t have any more info for you” afterwards. He did tell me that he sent the info to my regular doctor, and since I had to pass that doctor’s office anyway when I was leaving, I decided to check if she was in. She technically didn’t have any time for me, but was nice enough to spare me five minutes to discuss the info she had been sent by the other doctor.

This is where it all crashed. Previously, I had been told that as long as they can trace my “condition” as far back as at least two years, then it’s all green lights with all procedures that I need to finish this, this year. Now all of a sudden, they tell me that this has been a misunderstanding, and that to even be put in the queue for these procedures, I will have to wait at least one more year. After a year, I can change my legal gender, which takes time as well, then after that the queue is a minimum of one and a half years. In total, we’re looking at a minimum of three years to get this started, with the current queue (which is only growing, and I’m not even in it yet).

These words crushed me. I left my doctors office pretty calm, but started tearing up in the stairs outside. Tearing up in the middle of the big city is not on my bucket list, so I did something I haven’t done since I was forced to as a kid. I went to a church. It was the only place I could imagine people would leave me alone as I cried my eyes out. I’m anything but religious, but I really appreciate that there was a church so close, and that it was empty. It was a very large and beautiful church, and I picked a bench that was as much “off” as possible. I tried to be quiet, processing my thoughts and letting it all out; but it was pretty much impossible to be completely silent. The priest in the church got the message though, and left me alone like I wanted. He’s probably used to people crying in there.

I sat in there for a little more than an hour. When I felt that I had calmed down, I dried my face on my jacket, and left for the train back to the airport. I really wish I had enough money to do all these procedures privately. Sadly they cost a small fortune, and are out of my reach.  In my desperation to feel anything but darkness, I sent in an application to the tax payer’s office, to officially change my name (you can do that easily via the phone here, love it). I’m not writing my full name here, but in about two weeks, my legal first name will be, Jinny <3.

As I have been writing this, I have already been on the plane, and landed. On the bus home now, then I have a short bike ride left before I’m home.

I still have a lot of work to do, and so much darkness that needs processing and light shed on. The writing helps me survive all this in the meantime. It keeps me floating, for now. What messes with my head the most right now, is that I feel as if I now have to live as “half a person” for many years until I can go all the way. I probably wont date anyone, because I’m so afraid of whoever I’m dating getting disappointed, and maybe even disappointed to the point where they threaten me or start spreading information about me. So I guess I will simply try to make as much of an effort as possible with what I can do for now. Unless I can magically find roughly half a million SEK, then I am in the hands of the grumpy old white men who decided that “I haven’t been in the system long enough, and therefore can’t be truly sure that I am what I am”. Really getting the same vibes here as the people who prevent women from deciding if they want to have abortions or not.

And there’s one more thing I feel I need to be clear about. In my country, to do any of these procedures towards living a life as the gender you identify with (There are a lot of procedures that they offer, and I want most of them!), you will need to change your “legal” gender. So, I have to wait at least one year, to even be able to start any of these processes. And all of these procedures, say gender reassignment surgery or vocal chord surgery, have loooooong separate queues! So the legal gender is a huge blocker for me now. And here I thought I would finish up with all this work and pain during this year, so I can live a more normal life, but I guess not.

Oh well. This has been a pretty hard blow for me, and it means I will have to change a lot of my plans and expectations on what I would be able to do with my life after 2019. I wont give up just yet though.

It’s just that sometimes there are very dark moments, and those moments are what scare me the most.

Fixing something as it falls apart

When I write about depression on my blog, it’s usually because I’m about to explode, so I need to get this down somewhere. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I can’t talk to my ex-wife (we’ll get to that part in a moment), and I’ve never felt that I can connect to my parents with this, although my mother and I are really close and getting even closer recently. But I still don’t want to burden my parents or my friends with this, because I’m afraid that eventually they’ll just grow tired of my whining. I go to a therapist a few times a month, but sometimes that’s just not enough, and I sometimes forget to tell her things.

Anyway, so I’ve been thinking about how I should write what’s inside my head right now, and if I should write it at all. I feel like maybe I’m exposing myself too much by writing about all this here, but somehow just writing it in a book doesn’t feel the same. Because I honestly feel better if there’s a chance that someone might read this and spare me a thought, just for the minute or two that they spent reading through this.

I came out of the closet roughly two years ago, and I have been struggling with this a lot since then. I’ve been in the closet since my younger teens, mostly confused about what all this means, and felt a lot of shame for what I potentially was. Let’s not go into detail which closet I came out of, because I don’t think it really matters that much for this text right now. Maybe I’ll write about that another time.

After coming out, my wife became hesitant of our relationship, and questioned it many times during these two years. I’ve tried to convince her that I’m still the same person, and that I love her unconditionally forever and always. Unfortunately, the real world doesn’t work like I wanted it to, and in November last year, she filed for divorce. And, even though I guess I sensed that something was wrong, I still hoped that everything would turn out alright, and that she’d stay with me. We have been married for eight years, and I thought our bond was strong enough, but evidently not. We tried seeking counselling, but without any result. Well, maybe the result was simply that she figured out that she wanted to leave. “Thinking about it” for two years has been painful though, since all our plans automatically paused. Our plans for rearranging our economy, buying a house, and getting kids, all came to a stop while she figured everything out.

When the day came that she finally told me that she wanted a divorce, and that she was leaving the country as well, it suddenly became so very real. It really felt like my world just came crashing down. Everything we built together was undone in a second. My ex-wife is not a very emotional person, but I am, and so I cried a lot that night. I’ve been crying on and off during the days and the nights ever since. We are still living together, and I’ve already gotten myself a new apartment, and we’ve sold the current one. But since she still doesn’t know how she will do with her moving plan, she will have to move with me and live with me until she’s figured it out. The fact that we have not (and will not for a while) physically separated yet, is tearing me apart. I see her everyday, and I just want to hug and kiss her, but I also have to try to not do it, as to get used to the fact that we are not a couple anymore. Another problem is that she seems to want me to hug and kiss her. She gets angry when I don’t, and when I refuse to call her “baby” like I used to. So, it’s a very strange situation for me. This is the only relationship I’ve ever been in, as we met when we were pretty young, and have stayed together for a while now.

I’m very driven, so the apartment that I fixed, was actually bought only a week after she told me about the divorce, and shortly after that we got the current apartment sold. All the boxes are packed and I have already planned everything in detail for the new apartment. But, at the same time as I’m trying to build up my life again, it keeps falling apart. It feels as if I’m trying to rebuild a house while it’s still being demolished. I build a wall but then it falls because an older wall fell over it. I know that I will get out of this, but some days are just so very dark and void of any motivation what so ever.

I just wish that she finds wherever she wants to rebuild her life, and move there. I hope that she makes the right choices so that I don’t have to worry so much about her all the time. I still love her more than I can describe with words, and even writing this is getting harder because my vision is all blurry now. I want to start repairing my life, and maybe eventually find new love somewhere else. I hope I can find love in a person that can accept me for who I am. I know, this all sounds so cliche, but this is all from the heart. A whining, crying, crushed heart.

Been trying to watch some series lately, just to pass time between work and my studies (I picked up a Japanese course, because why not). But sometimes I just can’t watch it. Any romantic or couple scenes, just makes me either awfully sad or surprisingly angry.

It’s not only my wife that has been the hard part for me these past two years. I’ve never felt so oddly alone in my whole life, and I’ve always been quite introverted and kept to myself as a kid in school. I didn’t have a “gang” until I was 16, when I found some really good friends that I still hang out with today. But right now I just can’t see my friends. I don’t want them to see me like this; sad, whiny and hopelessly deprived of sleep. My relationship with my parents has been quite bumpy, ending in my mother starting to support me a lot. It’s just that for me, my parents are one unit, and the other part of that unit refuses to see me for who I am, and it feels like he is keeping his eyes shut and ignoring the whole situation. He wants everything to go back to “normal”. He even thought this was all a “phase” (Who the hell has a phase at 25?), and that I would go back to normal after a while. Normal being the way he wants me to be, the old sad and depressed me that conforms better to his world view. I’m more depressed now than before I came out, I’ll admit that, but it’s not because I regret coming out, but more that the reaction I got from my family was way worse than I thought it would be. My sister even asked me not to come to my nephews birthday party, because her friends would be there, and she didn’t want to be embarrassed by her colourful sibling. That’s the thing you learn about people when it all gets down to business. Their happiness and life stability (meaning that the world as they see it in their heads needs constant confirmation, like a child), is more important than mine. That’s why I decided a while back, that fuck everyone else. Anyone who can’t just accept this for whatever reason, is no one I need in my life, ever. It’s hard to cut off family, but I wont be giving them many more chances now (My mother is excluded in all this because she has been fantastic). I think that’s one of the most important lessons in all this, that a healthy “fuck you” did really a lot of good. Of course now I’m struggling with the thought of getting divorced, which will take a while. But I think that as long as I can get us to physically separate as soon as possible, then it will all just work out in the end. If only 0.1% of the world’s population could consider liking me, then that’s still around 7,500,000 people. So I think I will be able to catch a fish eventually. Just need to learn how to forget the old one.

I actually (depressingly so) thought of a good way to describe the feeling of living together like my ex and I are right now. Since we both obviously still love each other, but she wants to leave me because of my fancy wardrobe. It kind of feels like one of us is dying. I feel as if any one of us has a deadly disease, and that we are both just hugging it out and crying, waiting for one of us to just die in our sleep. Sometimes I just wish that I did, because some days are just too much to handle. There are days like today, where the dark void inside just grows uncontrollably, but it also fills with water all the way up to my head and out of my eyes, as if it’s trying to drown me. There’s just no stopping it. This weird and horrible feeling of getting left behind by the person you thought you’d grow old and die with. I hope that at some point she will find new love, which she absolutely deserves; and I truthfully hope it’s the right one.

I just wish it was me.