They say that in this world, the first person you should be able to trust completely with no exceptions is yourself. For if this is not the case, you'll end up betraying yourself time and time again. Over the past years I've come to lose trust in myself, or perhaps I never really trusted myself beyond my intellect, as that's the only part of myself I've ever really known in the years that I was withdrawn. The result is this chaos and the irrational desire to harm myself.
Last Wednesday I got a letter from the VUMC's complaint commission. They're willing to look at the proper MRI images and requested my permission to obtain those and my other data from the German clinic where they're stored. I've sent the permission form back and will just have to wait from here on.
Next week I'll have to pick up a referral letter at the Flevo hospital on Wednesday, then Thursday I'm going (on my own...) to the AMC in Amsterdam to meet yet another endocrinologist. It's the third hospital which'll then be looking at my case
Sadly I can not think about these events without feeling an intense sense of despair, followed by depressions. Looking at the worst-case scenario, these hospitals will just all come back to me with the news that they didn't see anything special on the images. Second worst-case scenario is that they do see it, but can't help me, or at least not within 6 months.
The two worst fears which lead to this sense of despair are: not receiving any help for my birth defect, and secondly that I feel more and more like something which is just... freakish and shouldn't exist. I loathe the thought that I might have male parts inside me, especially a prostate. It makes me want to take a knife and cut it out of me.
I've been sick for a few days... yesterday was the first day that I felt somewhat better. I'm not sure whether it's the flu or a cold or so, especially because at the same time I've got this infection on my back which looks pretty serious. Since I started taking medication on Friday to reduce the inflammation I've begun to feel better and the infection has reduced from the ~1 cm core it started off with. I can actually lie on my back again without it hurting me. Strangely enough I kind of miss being sick, as during those few days I didn't feel depressed at all, aside from one moment when the thought crossed my mind that I must be dying with my body failing me one last time.
Last night I couldn't fall asleep easily at all. I had yet another one of those episodes where I'd be so overly sensitive that the mere touch of the quilt on my skin would drive me crazy. If only that was all of it... after getting angry and pushing my quilt away, only to try to find a comfortable position again underneath it, I suddenly found myself crying again and sinking away into despair. Then the part which frightens me occurred again, when I started repetitive movements again, with me rolling from my left side to my back to my left side to my back to my left side to my back... It seems to have a calming effect on me, though, but it's weird to have your body just switch into that kind of movement and not allowing your consciousness to interrupt it. I persisted in this movement for about 15 minutes until I fell asleep from exhaustion.
I realized during this episode that I could keep myself from at least digging my nails into my skin and drawing blood like I've done before. I hate scars.
Now... in the comments to my previous post it was suggested that I'm just allowing myself to sink away into misery, as though I'm not fighting back and just letting life crush me like a bug. I'm not such a person. I hate losing and getting the short end of the stick. I want to be the best, the number one, the ultimate in everything. Yet on the other hand I'm fighting a battle not only against life, but also against myself and I doubt many people realize how difficult and dangerous such a war is.
I wish I could at least stop fighting myself...
Another worry is of course of a financial nature. I can _not_ work every day for more than 5 hours like others. My current level of concentration and the chaos inside doesn't allow for this. Yet next week I'll have to order new medicine for the hormone therapy again and shortly after that there's the money to pay to my insurance company and then the hair removal treatment, and I'm already months behind on my payments to my housemate. Again, I'm learning to really hate myself.