No, Alianirlian, I haven't made a terminal decision. What I'm going through these past weeks I'd rather describe as a war, a war between rational and emotional sides. This war has really entered a new phase ever since my last visit to the hospital and is making my life more difficult than ever before.
At this moment I refuse to visit family as well as lots of other people, my phone is turned off, I quit MSN, and I have restricted my internet access to just a few trusted sites. This all purely out of self-protection, or self-preservation even.
The thing is that my emotional side has had it, has snapped, has gone over the edge, has flipped out, has gone down in flames, left with a bang, etcetera. I could write down a list of at least 2,645 instances of things which I just have to read, hear, see or merely think about and which'll bring me crashing down into the pits of utter despair and emotional distress. I can feel this despair and frustration churning just below the surface every second that I am awake, even if it isn't controlling me.
The knowledge that I can be relatively happy one moment, encounter one of the hundreds of possible triggers for my traumas and related, and feel like absolute and utter s*** for the next few hours, probably wearing me out so much that I'll need to sleep for a few hours... I don't even want to deal with people in general anymore, as at any point in a conversation they can say something which'll make me feel like that. Same with movies, music...
I've had an appointment with a psychiatrist last week Tuesday. Yesterday I got a letter informing me that I have an appointment with the same psychologist I had before during which he'll advise me on what next or so. This'll take place on January the 13th. My impression so far with the whole psychiatrist thing? Utterly useless. I'd be long dead and buried if I were to actually rely on them before they'd even finished working their way through useless, widely spaced appointments involving merely talking and tests. I can see absolutely no practical use here.
Equally useless is the medical system. I'm left with dozens of questions about my body, but no doctor appears to be interested to even listen to me. I'm still waiting on that report from the gynaecologist/sexologist as well. It is due to this that my emotional side has gone completely haywire. How can I not see myself as a freak, an abomination, a thing without definition, without a right to exist? When I talked to my GP earlier this week, she agreed that there is indeed no suitable description for me using which I could introduce myself to others. I'm not a girl, I'm not a guy, I'm not confirmed intersexual. Ergo I'm nothing.
I'm a faceless, identity-less human, a person with no further definition. Other than my intellectual capacities there is nothing, can be nothing. This is all I am, all I'll ever be. Why was I born like this? Why me? Why is this frickin' world so goddamn unfair? Why doesn't anyone truly give a damn, merely pat me on the shoulder and walk on? What the f*** can I do with wishes for the best or such nonsense. It won't feed a starving person either.
I've been dreaming a lot the past weeks. Those dreams have mostly been about this war, this struggle with myself and my surroundings. One dream repeated a few times in a different setting, these involved me getting close to a girl, with her then leaving me suddenly or something happening which made it impossible for me to ever contact her again. This definitely refers to how I feel that I've just been used by all girls I thought I got close to, who got their fun and then left me without giving me a second thought.
What do I have but my intellectual pursuits? Nothing as far as I can tell. I doubt there truly is that 'someone perfect' for me, and even if there is, my emotional side will never allow me to trust anyone ever again, or so it feels. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... there are times when I feel like I'm just a box, which, if someone were to shake me, would rattle loudly inside. And no glue in sight.