Sunday, 15 May 2011

I Want To Kill. I Want To Cry. I Want To Die. I Want...

Waking up this morning feeling okay, aside from having had some dreams involving my former housemate again which is never pleasant. I then realized suddenly that I have been discriminated against by my health insurance company and basically the government by refusing coverage transsexuals would get. I told myself I would complain to the proper government instances and that made things calm down a bit.

At that point other ugly things began to stir inside me, however. There's this fragment I just call 'rage'. It's what I felt when I destroyed property at the VUMC hospital a number of years ago after they had casually dismissed the German MRI results. It's what I occasionally feel when I think about all those people who should be helping me but instead are taunting and torturing me.

I can see their faces as I destroy everything on the desk they're sitting behind. When I hit them repeatedly with something heavy and blunt. When I destroy everything. If they won't give me anything and are fine with destroying my life, then I'll destroy theirs. Heck, I'll kill them. It'd settle the score.

Other times I just feel so rejected and lonely that I want to curl up in a dark corner and cry myself to death.

And above all there are the memories. Each fragment inside me has its own set. One, like the violence fragment, has many of those times when I felt like striking out, something which I never really have. All that got damaged at the VUMC that time were some poor plants and waste bins.

Thinking about tomorrow's appointment with my GP where I was promised I would be told about the help I'll be getting, but where they'll tell me something disappointing again, I can feel the rising hatred and violence inside. There's also this fear of losing myself in that white-hot rage. It'd feel awesome, smashing up everything, strangling people, being in control. It'd not accomplish anything, of course, aside from me getting locked up and ending my life.

Still, I can not maintain control over these fragments. One of the characteristics of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is that these fragments can take over a person's behaviour completely, reducing the main personality to a back seat position. If I get disappointing news tomorrow there's a good chance I'll finally snap for real. It's been coming for a long, long time.

If there's anything the Dutch healthcare system has taught me is that it's wrong to be intersexual. I am wrong. My existence is wrong. I'm a blemish on this planet. They all hate me. They want me to die. They want me to suffer. These are all facts. Undeniable facts gathered during 6.5 years which have deeply embedded themselves into my psyche.

Welcome to my world. Welcome to Hell.


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