Thursday, 22 January 2009


I won't lie to any of you, nor to myself. It isn't going well with me. My days mostly consist out of mindlessly staring at things without really noticing them, or crying from the pain I feel growing stronger and stronger inside me, and me trying to push these things all away, to focus on the thing which can still save me: finishing some projects, to make money and become a Person Who Matters.

Ever thought about how much a person is truly worth? The sad truth is that the value of a person's life is exactly zilch. Just like there is no meaning of life, just a series of meaningless events resulting in meaningless death, there is no meaning to affection, love, hatred, anger, or any other of the petty emotions we humans like to concern ourselves with.

I would so much like to drop this meaningless world of humans, to focus on science and technology only, but sadly it is too intertwined with human emotions and pain. At this point the time I last from cheered up and ready to do some serious work on the game, or projects for clients, or anything, to lethargy or so much emotional pain that suicide truly seems like the only way out.

I doubt that few people have ever been in the situation where they're in so much pain that they can only cry and scream it out in pain, this pain worsened by the knowledge that it'll never go away, that one will have to have live with it forever and ever, with the pain increasing every passing day. I don't say this while feeling smug or whatever that I can feel so god-darn important about feeling this miserable or so. You want to trade this pain for your utterly boring life? You've got it.

The infuriating thing about my body... from my visit to the cardiologist last week I know that it is perfectly healthy, that the issues I'm experiencing are most likely due to stress and being out of shape. Yet I am taking sleeping pills now since a few days ago, this time the real stuff, which knocks me out within 10 minutes after taking one pill.

Something must be wrong that I never feel rested, never feel relaxed, that certain words, phrases, sounds and images make me feel sick to my stomach, even when I'm just browsing a dictionary like today. The voices inside my head are clear about what's wrong; they tell me that I'm a freak of nature, an accident, that I'll never know what to call my body, how to define or describe it, not to myself nor to others. That there can be done nothing about this, that the amount of care fellow human beings can display to each other is limited to some half-hearted attempts at solving the issue, to then declare it an enigma and throw the person into a strait-jacket and into a padded room.

Unless something radically changes, I'll be facing my own death. Emotionally I'm degrading more and more. I can see no future, any dreams I have had I have discarded, as I have faced up to reality. For so long I have hoped for what turned out to be a miracle. That I would learn what is wrong with my body, why it is so weird, to put a label on it and receive treatment for it.

I can expect no miracle. This year I'll be treated at the VUMC like I have been treated before by every other Dutch medical 'specialist', like a emotionally confused 'boy'. No one will notice that my real issue lies with my body, that asking me to decide now on whether I want an artificial vagina or such is absolute and utter nonsense. That's like decorating a baby's room and buying clothes and toys before the baby is even born.

No, I'm not a boy, physically. Else people wouldn't have asked me in the past whether I was a boy or a girl, and they would be looking really strange at me now as they do at transvestites and transsexuals. I wouldn't have been raped, sexually assaulted, or willingly been kissed by boys. It isn't in my head...

I just want to know what I am before I decide what I want to be. Nothing more...


Thursday, 8 January 2009


Last week I got an invitation in the mail for a family gathering to celebrate the 100th birthday of a grand-grandfather of mine. Included was a list of all his offspring and their offspring, up till today. Browsing the list, my eye fell on the name of the cousin I told about before, the one who has taken her own life a few years ago. To read her name did something inside me. While reading the list I started feeling really uncomfortable, then started crying and everything.

I guess what happened was that to read her name again made me somehow realize that what happened to her was real, that what's happening to me is real, that suicide really isn't an option, but giving up. I am terrible at giving up, but it's so tempting more and more often, yet I don't want to follow my cousin into death. I have always wanted that I could have done something for her, I now wish there was something I could do for myself. Only thing I can think of is to just work, which is what I have been doing the past few days.

On Tuesday I had an appointment with my GP. I wanted to know whether I had anemia or not, and whether my GP could perhaps get into touch with the gynaecologist at the AMC to ask why sending a letter takes so long. Long story short, I don't have anemia, but I have got an appointment with a cardiologist next week Tuesday, and my GP had already received a letter from the AMC while I didn't.

Today I had an appointment with Ms Salvatore at the AMC, gynaecologist, and went to it together with Pieter as support. Main items, the letter my GP had received contained a term which was what they called my 'condition'. My GP couldn't understand, however, and Google turned up empty as well. The term? Autoparagynaecophilia. This is what they think I have got.

Ms Salvatore explained that basically it means that I (auto) like to see myself (philia) as a woman (gynae) even though I am not (para). This is an existing term in sexuology, albeit rarely used. As for the treatment, I have been referred back to the VUMC hospital, where the psychologist or psychiatrist who leads the intersexuality team within the gender team will be treating me. Main issue is that I will have to decide what I want to have done about my body.

Thing is that Ms Salvatore insists that the physical check-up last time indicated that I have no vagina, no mysterious something and no extension of the urine channel. Confusing? You bet. But this is how the cards are lying at the moment. I do think that I'll ask my money back from that German clinic, though...

Emotionally it isn't exactly easy... hearing all this basically confirms for me that I have never been male or female, that I have never had usable sexual organs, and never will have them. I was born a freak and will die a freak. All the thoughts I had that my body was just a female body waiting to be uncovered have been incinerated and the ash scattered by the winds of fate. I'll never know what I am. All people can help me now with is what I want to become.

The real question is whether that question matters enough to me.


Thursday, 1 January 2009

Getting An Overview...

A few weeks ago Doc suggested in the comments on my blog post from 2008/12/13 that I should write down the list of '2,465' things which are triggers to my traumas and such. To start off the new year (have a safe new year, everyone~), I have decided to write down this list. I doubt it'll pass even 100 items, but it's going to be a long list anyway.

Sexuality, seeing it in a video or on photos:

- documentary: makes me feel uncomfortable. Don't want to watch.
- romantic: makes me feel sad and hurt inside.
- erotic: makes me feel ugly and wish I was born normal.
- pornographic: don't want to watch. Ever. Get it out of my sight. Makes me want to kill myself.
- rape: crawl-into-corner-and-die response

Sexuality, someone talking about it, or in writing (book or other text):

- scientific: emotional side hates it, rational side is kind of okay with it.
- one's sex-life: don't ever mention you even think about sex. Makes me feel miserable for the rest of the day.
- sex in general: I don't want to know sex exists. Period.
- children: yes, women can bear children. I don't want to think about this gruesome process, let alone about the icky stuff men do.
- sexual attraction: makes me feel ugly and unwanted, like the world is a cruel joke existing only to torture me.
- whores and sluts: those... 'things' should just vanish. They don't belong in this world. I can not explain them, I can not deal with them. Gives me a headache and makes me want to die.
- rape: rapists should be set on fire and burn to death after they've been skinned alive and have salt sprinkled all over them. Their victims may or may not recover. I haven't yet.

Sexuality, my own experiences:

- memories: sometimes a memory of my own sexual experiences will drift towards the surface of my consciousness and causes agony there.

Relationships, visually or in writing:

- fictional characters: I can distance myself from fictional characters enough that my emotional side doesn't take too much offence to watching such scenes. Generally. I don't like or trust males in most cases, so if any doubt exists about the male character things can get ugly.
- real people: I dislike seeing couples. Makes me wonder what I did wrong, whether it's because I'm just a freak. Crushes my spirits.

Relationships, people talking about it:

- your significant other: you have a boy-/girlfriend? Splendid. Just don't mention it to me. I feel lonely and miserable enough already.
- married: please, kill me with your happiness.

Sights in general:

- pretty women: I have to compare myself with them, and feel depressed thinking about how much better or at least more normal their life must be, doing stuff I can't even physically or otherwise do.
- children: they make me often think about my confusing youth, and what an incredible mess my life has always been and still is. Sad and somewhat jealous feeling.


- transsexuals: being called one without reason for nearly four years have made me hate these... people, especially because they do get treatment for it, while I'm being left to rot in Hell.
- specialists in general: they're only out to hurt or ignore me and hurt me that way. They are incapable of compassion.


- aging: I feel like my life so far has been totally wasted, with nothing to show for the 25 years I have been on this world. I don't want to die just yet.


Depressing list, isn't it? I probably missed quite a few items as well, but I think that the most important things are on it. They're all items which will trigger the effects I listed every single time without failing. As it is my subconsciousness which seems to be the source of the triggers, there is nothing I can do against it. Once a trigger goes off, all I can do is damage recovery.

Finally, I would like to apologize to all the people I have said or written things about which hurt them. I know I screwed up, and the way I have treated my friend Ane in Norway (if she still considers me to be a friend) is something which weighs heavily on my conscience.

There are others, in the US, here in Almere and other places, who I have hurt too, unwittingly. To them I'd like to say: I'm sorry, I didn't know what in the world I was doing or saying. I won't make excuses, but do know that I know virtually nothing anymore about those events and that they were never meant personally.

The risk of getting close to me with all the right intentions is to get hurt by me flailing about wildly, I guess... It feels terrible that I can not seem to trust anyone, that only as a young child I was that open if I am to believe my mother. Right now everything inside me is apparently sealed off, much of it even to myself. There hasn't been a moment I can remember when I felt totally comfortable and relaxed. Lately I feel more like a fox pursued by dozens of dogs and their hunters, with no escape, nowhere to hide. This means frayed nerves, more stress and more severe responses to the items on the above list.

I must work if I am to become independent financially, but focusing on it is hard. There are only a few moments every day that I can start working and do alright for an hour or two, but if I miss that opportunity, the day is as good as wasted. I simply feel too tired. Is it the anemia (if I have it)? Could be, it could also be that plus the continuous stress and pressure.