Monday, 28 April 2008


The past days have been really stressing and confusing for me, but I think that at last my mind has found a new balance. In order to deal with the conflicting reports regarding my supposed IS condition, it has decided that I do not have any sexual organs. that I never had them and never will have them. Therefore sexuality and all of the pain, suffering and anguish which comes with it doesn't apply to me.

Of course, this is hardly natural and in the long term I don't foresee it being very practical, if it even lasts that long. At least it beats threatening everyone that I'll kill myself if they don't help me immediately.

Last night I had a rather disturbing dream. In it the daughter of the friend of my mother I visited earlier this year after the family gathering, had suddenly died, of which I received a short message informing me. I think that this girl represents the girl I want(ed) to be, and that this is the symbolical death of this goal. Like I said, pretty disturbing, even if one doesn't interpret it this way.

At 2 PM I've got an appointment with my physician, where I'll hopefully get some support in my quest for actual answers. If I said that I'm hoping I'll get the support I want, then I'd be lying. All hope I had on Friday before that phone call has bled out of me. All I feel when I think of further build-ups to another test or whatever and the inevitable subsequent disappointment, I can feel this intense bitterness and pain.

Nevertheless, I still welcome any kind of relief in this maddening uncertainty and sequences of incomprehensible events. At least I no longer carry the hope and desire to gain friends, or ever have a relationship. Which is a good thing, as it seems as though whenever someone gets close enough to me, they almost always just drop me like a brick, without ever telling me why. Try not getting bitter after that.

My apologies for turning into such a bitter, negative person.


Saturday, 26 April 2008

Taking My Leave...

This morning I began to experience the backlash of yesterday. The thought with which I woke up was that if the report from Rotterdam is right, and nothing will further change about my situation, then I don't want to keep living, as knowing what I am is painful every day over and over again. Experiencing this pain for another few decades seems like pointless torture to me.

There's still a bright spot, though. When I was talking to the counselor yesterday, she suggested an exploratory operation, since that's the only 'test' which is not subject to interpretation. If my physician agrees to it, and we can find a surgeon crazy enough, then this may be my last chance.

The past few hours I've been feeling like I'm completely losing my grip on reality. I just got the MRI report from Rotterdam in the mailbox, which only worsened my condition. I began to look at myself in the mirror while considering the possibility that with my XY genes and supposedly regular male genitals, I'm just a freakishly female-looking guy, that I was wrong about myself, about my own body all along. Ergo if I'm not crazy already, I'm becoming it now. I'm totally losing the plot here.

Please help me...


Friday, 25 April 2008


Sorry for not updating my blog for a while. Things have been moving rather quickly, and confusingly, leaving me more often than not to the decision to defer updating at some later point. I also wanted to write something happy for a change, which I guess I could have done on Monday, after my mother and younger brother came to visit me. It was good to see them again.

Beyond that it was mostly more of the usual gloom-'n'-doom, such as me not playing on Wednesday with D&D as I have decided to quit playing with this group. The reasons behind this decision are somewhat personal and may hurt the fragile feelings of certain people, thus I won't list them here. At any rate it's all rather irrelevant.

A few hours ago I finally got the long-expected phone call from the Erasmus MC regarding the MRI analysis. My expectations on this matter had been swinging between relatively determined positive to rather negative. Unfortunately it turned out that yet again my negative, pessimistic feelings were right.

According to Ms v.d. Berg, the analysis showed that I've got no vagina, yet do have a prostate. The complete opposite of the German report, in other words. As a result I got kicked out of this hospital as well, as they only treat intersexual people there, which I then supposedly am not. She proposed that I should go back to the VU to join the treatment for transsexuals there.

Obviously this news has completely and utterly devastated me. I had to give the phone to NG after a while as I broke down in tears. His reasoning with v.d. Berg had no effect either. As a result of this I'm now back where I started, with me knowing even less about myself.

Am I intersexual? Am I transsexual? Am I a boy? Am I girl? What am I? Who am I? All I know is that my body has largely decided to develop itself in a distinctly feminine way, that I've got semi-functional male sexual organs, that I may or may not have female sexual organs (yet I can only get female orgasms), and that at least my blood has an XY genotype. In other words I know jack sh*t.

My feelings and experiences tell me that I am right... that I am intersexual, that I'm just the result of some freakish glitch during development, yet the answers to this question will remain hidden. Meanwhile I feel that the last shreds of reality are slowly slipping through my fingers. My struggles to find friends, to maybe work on a relationship... it all seems so utterly foolish now. I just went off and assumed that everything would be fine now, only to smack head-first into a brick wall like this.

At this point I just feel emptiness and bitterness. Empty since my entire emotional side has decided to slit its wrists and throat and every other artery it had access to, and bitter because it seems that life loves to keep throwing me curve balls like this. It's as though someone behind the screens is hinting me to give up already. I'm afraid that if this continues that I might give in.

What to do from this point onwards... NG has been calling around a bit, and for tonight I've got an appointment with a counselor who might be able to make me feel a little better. Next week Monday I've got an appointment with my physician, of whom I'm not sure she can help me. I don't think that anyone can help me with this issue anymore. I'll never find out what I am and never develop anything resembling a normal emotional side instead of this car chain collision wreckage of a traumatized mess I had as an emotional side before I bled it out earlier.

On a happier note, I don't seem to be too terribly depressed yet, my rational side is keeping me afloat, and I'm looking forward to doing some serious work, especially with some new computer parts arriving next week (yay for upgrading). Ironically it's the death of my emotional side which has motivated me to do something useful. I guess that means I have found the problem which kept me from doing my duties.

So long,


Tuesday, 15 April 2008

Will This Ever End...

I'm seriously considering cutting off most of my access to the internet and locking myself up inside my room until at least the 25th. If I have to deal with any more of this pain I'll go insane and really do something stupid.

Today I have finally erased my Facebook account, as the entire site seems to be flooded with moronic, perverted retards. During the years that I've been on Facebook I've met so few decent people that I don't need more than one hand to count them all. More recently I tried this Private Gallery app which, as it turns out, is actually a Pr0n Gallery app, which nearly everyone violating the Terms of Service by posting themselves in the most disgustingly inappropriate poses ever (with the men mostly trying to impress others by showing close-ups of their manhood. Losers).

The past days I've been assaulted by endless streams of guys intent on either sexually harassing me, or showing off their immense retardation, no doubt caused by severe inbreeding and the use of illegal substances. This with many girls showing that they're nothing but moronic, brainless, walking slutty bags filled with only eggs and a womb. If this is what most of society desires to be, then I weep for mankind.

*takes a deep breath*

Anyway, most of this post will sound quite familiar to regular readers. I have reached a point where I absolutely reject sexuality, can not accept men within a few kilometers from any female without me flipping out, and am struggling more and more with flashbacks from the rape.

A few days ago, shortly before I was going to bed, I started feeling so depressed and miserable that after I had found NG still awake and had thrown me into his arms, the first words I uttered to him were: "I want to die...". If he had offered me a painless means of suicide at that point, I'd gladly have accepted it.

Instead I admitted that one source of my depressions was that I feel so terribly, terribly alone, leaving me far too much time to think too much and get all worked up about things I can't do anything about right now. NG suggested that I should join activities here in Almere, like table tennis, the fitness club or swimming. I chose the latter. Tomorrow I'll attempt to convince myself that I really want to go outside and venture into a swimming pool where I've never been before.

Wish me luck,


Wednesday, 9 April 2008


Today I mostly felt completely horrible, until I finished crying after nearly half an hour and my emotions died away. The rest of the day I've been setting up the development environment for my company's software development, testing and research into AI and robotics.

It was fun to find myself wondering whether one could commit suicide with regular pain killers. I suppose it's possible if one has enough of them, if only from a stroke or so due to the blood-thinning effect. I'm not really interested in committing suicide, though, nor do I care about things in general. I just want to work right now, get something finished of the things I've been working on for the past years, so that finally I may become someone more well-known, instead of the nobody I am now.

I guess that's what bothers me a lot, how I can be so cut off from the entire world, while everyone it seems is getting their pictures placed in all kinds of magazines, or otherwise find themselves in the spotlight. I crave attention, I crave feeling important, feeling successful, appreciated... not like an existence desperate trying to carve out a place for itself.

I'm getting so sick of standing in front of the mirror, trying to talk myself into believing that I really am not that ugly, that this body is something I can live with. This is a task I have to repeat every day if there's no outside influence which helps me balance out my self-image. I think it has become clear what happens if this balance swings the wrong way.

Ah well... just over two weeks to go until I get that decisive phone call...


Monday, 7 April 2008

I Hate This...

When I left the hospital last Friday I already knew that this was going to happen, but I hoped that it wouldn't. Without any certainty regarding some fundamental questions and issues I seem to be descending back into the same negative chaos as before.

Last Friday and the day after I felt quite good, somewhat happy, even. Yet the realization that at this point I'm basically waiting for a phone call in a few weeks time, which'll finally provide me relief, or make me want to really kill myself. Not exactly an improvement compared to before Friday.

What is it that I'm worrying about? That the Erasmus laboratory will report back that the German MRI report was wrong after all, even though the only thing to disprove it right now are the words of that bumbling fool of an endocrinologist at the VUMC. Heck, I can _feel_ that it is right. This is why it irked me Friday as well when V.d. Berg somewhat suggested that she didn't exclude the possibility that I might be transsexual. The day that I'm transsexual is the day that I kill myself, because then I've been proven to be totally insane.

I just don't know what I am, I guess. For three years I've fought to discover the truth, and I still only know a few loose bits and pieces. I live a kind of shadow life, where I don't really belong anywhere, where I can't really communicate with anyone, where I'm alone with this pain inside me which no one can ever hope to understand as even I have trouble dealing with it.

I am reminded of that day when I apologized to B for putting some things about her on my blog. When she told me that it'd take time for the damage to be restored and our 'friendship' with it, I could literally see the huge chasm between us. How can someone be a friend if that person is always at the other side of a very wide and very deep chasm?

Similarly, on sites like Facebook I'm being pursued by dozens of guys who seem to find me rather attractive, yet even if I were to meet a guy that way who I'd find attractive, there are still a few chasms between us which I don't see vanish any time soon. In other words, I'm doomed to be alone until I can fix those chasms, which are projects of this internal pain.

I know most of the causes of this pain... yet I'm powerless to repair many of them, unless I had a time machine, and rapists wouldn't exist on this world. Yet it isn't only pain I feel. There's also an incredible amount of anger and frustration. Seriously, how could anyone ever expect to understand what I'm going through? I know of just one person who does to any significant extent, which is why I'd call him a real friend. My only real friend.


Friday, 4 April 2008

Still Alive~

As I write this, the painkillers I took earlier have just kicked in, resulting in a rather pleasant fluffy daze kind of sensation. Apparently I'm still rather sensitive to any kind of drug :P but forgive me if anything I write now sounds a bit... odd~

This morning at 5 AM NG and I got up and prepared for our journey to Rotterdam. At 6.20 AM we boarded our train, at around 8.10 we entered the Erasmus hospital, where after a long and arduous registration process thanks to my double identity, we sat down in the waiting room.

I had actually managed to eat a few slices of bread (with jam) this morning before we left, for which I was glad at one side, yet less so at another, as when I was waiting there for about 15 minutes I was feeling completely sick to my stomach from anxiety. Then we were called inside by the specialist, Marjan van den Berg. After a short introduction, I explained my situation to her.

Even though she told me that especially at this point she could mean very little to me, she'd nevertheless send the CD with the MRI images I gave her to the radiologists in the laboratory of the Erasmus MC, where it'd be interpreted. With 3 weeks she'll call me, hopefully to make a further appointment.

If they confirm the German MRI scan report, it should be pretty much a home run for me, which is what I'm hoping for, obviously. It's going to be exciting yet again waiting for Van den Berg's phone call. I'll keep my fingers crossed until the 25th...

At any rate I'd describe my mood as cautiously happy. I got out of this appointment pretty much anything I could have hoped for. Above all this was the first time I got treated like a human being, instead of a shriveled up piece of junk, like they loved to do at the VUMC, who'll have to send their files to the Erasmus MC as well. It's going to be fun to see how that one works out, especially if the radiologists confirm the German conclusion.

After NG and I returned home, he soon left again to attend a wedding (he'd much rather just have slept the rest of the day :P ). I went to bed shortly after he left, and woke up a short while ago with the most terrible headache I've had in a long time, migraines excluded. Perhaps I'll kick back a few shots of tequila to ease the pain further... No, I'm not thinking of becoming an alcoholic ;)

Until later~


Thursday, 3 April 2008

Sick From Anxiety...

Less than 24 hours to go until my appointment in Rotterdam with the gynaecologist... Today I'm more anxious than I have been in the past weeks. Especially after the D&D night yesterday, on the way back it really hit me that there's no more time left. This is it.

While I do have some faith in that things will go right this and I will get the response and help I've been seeking for years, the emotional turmoil inside me is almost too much to bear. My mood keeps shifting between careful optimism and downright depression, with various states in between. It feels as though my whole life is focused on this one appointment, as though it'll decide whether I'll live or die.

In a sense that isn't so far-fetched. Last night, before I went to bed I went upstairs to say goodnight to NG, but saw that he had gone to bed already. This combined with various (negative) impressions during the day made me feel rather lonely. Without the protective blanket of friendship I began to plan my eventual suicide should Friday's appointment turn out as negative as the last one.

At some point my rational mind realized what was going on, threw in some thoughts to make me realize what in the world I was planning to do, and broke the spell. At this point I was already lying in my bed, and ended up soaking my pillow with tears yet again. Noticing my emotional distress I forced myself to get up, browse around a bit and watch some movies. After a few hours I felt I had calmed down enough to try sleeping again. I did this because it's bad practice to fall asleep while feeling depressed, as you'll wake up feeling even worse.

At any rate I can say that the level of anxiety I'm experiencing is akin to that the days preceding the MRI scan last year. As you may remember, on the day of the MRI scan itself I was so anxious that I couldn't eat a single bite. That day was about discovering the truth, about discovering whether I was right or not, so that I could finally move on with my life, or so I thought.

Tomorrow is about my future. A future in which I can be an adult, where I can live with nothing more than a faint feeling of regret at certain things, yet in the knowledge that everything has been taken care of as well as possible.

The only alternative to that future is the waking nightmare I find myself in every time I wake up, where I know nothing, am nothing and everything hurts. No wonder my mind keeps considering suicide... Eternal sleep isn't so bad in this case.

Here goes nothing...