After nearly seven years I finally have most of the medical answers I have been looking for. To be honest I'm not really sure what to do next.
I know why I had to get those answers and the recognition for my intersex condition: to understand and come to terms with a disastrous puberty and surrounding years during which my body turned into something I could not understand, with mixed male and female secondary developments taking place and my emotional side being caught completely off-guard.
I was twenty-one years old when I started with this. I'm now twenty-eight. Seven years just seem to have vanished. Years during which I not only got lied to and brainwashed by Dutch hospitals and psychologists, but during which I also got raped, sexually assaulted, abused, harassed, beaten up by the police and refused by various Christian family doctors for being intersex. I'm now looking at the last years of my twenties with severe PTSD, DID and an urgent need to leave the country which has inflicted this upon me.
I know all this, and yet I am powerless to do anything about it. I know roughly what my options are. Struggle through a year or more of searching for a job in Canada or so directly, go via an EU branch and hope I can get relocated to Canada, or hope for a miracle. I also know that such a job search is the last thing I am capable of. Why?
For nearly seven years I have had to defend myself and my situation against physicians, psychologists, politicians and regular people. Not being trusted is what I know best and am the most afraid of. In this regard a job search is far too similar and thus places far too much emotional stress on me. Just at the thought of a job search I feel like crying uncontrollably. I'm not good enough...
I'm trying to ignore my lack of a future at this point by focusing on my work, but I know quite well that my chances of getting out of this situation on my own range between negative and very, very slight. I just have to consult the dull headache and feeling of weary exhaustion I carry along with me ever since I returned from Germany. Typical burn-out.
No time to recover, though. No chance to get my PTSD treated. No chance to live. Just got to fight and make more compromises while ending up with less each time.
I can't do it any more...
Maya
1 comment:
Come and have a beer or two with me. We can sit on the roof and throw beer caps at the people down below who don't realize all their lives are on one track. :)
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