You know, the ironic part about being suicidal is that it's a reinforcing cycle; as you find yourself thinking more and more often about committing suicide, the sane part of your mind gets so fed up with this negativity and pain that it's about ready to put a bullet through the offending part of the brain, which feeds the general sense of negativity, which makes one think more often about suicide, ad nauseam.
The worst part may be that I'm having real trouble getting some proper sleep now. The past two nights I stayed awake for a long time just thinking dark thoughts and waking up feeling like absolute cr*p. The constant headache I already had for weeks is gradually getting worse and only by firmly suppressing my emotions can I still function. Even my emotional side is sick and tired of having to feel things. To say it's in turmoil is the understatement of the century.
So where's the way out, the point of light towards which I should be moving? I have no idea. The zillionth speck of hope has appeared with my latest appointment with doctor Linthorst at the AMC last Wednesday. Pieter had come along with me as I was looking up against traveling to the AMC by myself again. I was really glad he came along, as during the talk with Linthorst it was clear that he had the wrong idea about what I wanted. He started by drawing two parallel lines on a piece of paper, 'A' and 'B', saying that I was at A right now and wanted to go to B where I'd be a regular girl. At this point I already interrupted him by saying that this was not the case, that at this point I'm basically already at point B (which he admitted to by saying that I'm registered as a woman at the AMC hospital) while my problem is that I have no idea what point A is for me. After Pieter said this as well in his own words Linthorst finally seemed to get it.
This seems to be main reason why I got so little help the past years from specialists, all because they didn't understand what I wanted; they all seemed to assume that I just wanted to go from A to B while I was talking about wanting to learn more about this point A (what I am physically) after which I might adjust point B a bit for myself. My issue has thus never been recognized , leaving me stranded in my current position. I think this theory of miss-communication definitely explains a lot.
Anyway, Linthorst proceeded by admitting that there are few methods for finding out the answers to my questions regarding point A. No surgeon would just cut me open to see what I've really got down there, getting a full DNA test of multiple tissues seems to be impossible to get as well. What he could offer was to have a gynaecologist have a look at me. Next week he'll let me know when I have an appointment with this gynaecologist. If something unusual is found during this appointment, it could mean that more possibilities will open up for me.
I so hope that I'll have the answers I need before the end of this year. Not just because it'd be nice to put an end to those four years of suffering and misery, but also because emotionally I've reached my limits already a while ago and am just holding on by the tiniest of strings. If I say that I might be dead before the end of the year it's not because I'm actively planning to commit suicide, but because this string might snap and I'd just resort to taking a knife to myself, while having enough knowledge of human anatomy to ensure I won't easily botch it.
Frankly, I'm terrified of these thoughts. I want to get rid of the pain I feel inside, I want to let go of the traumas, of the chaos and negativity, but it seems wherever I turn it keeps haunting me. Only place where I'm still somewhat safe is inside my work, safely inside the cold, rational world of computers and software. Emotions have no place there.
Just the way it should be.