Around this time last year the situation at the previous place where I lived was reaching a climax, with my then housemate and I pretending that things were fine while we were unpacking the XMas gifts under the tree. It was a forced charade which quickly worsened as my now ex-housemate and the girl (now one of my stalkers) he was dating back then putting more and more pressure on me to make me leave the place, and to humiliate and degrade me by insisting that I wasn't intersex but a crazy guy and other unpleasantness.
Early January the constant bullying led to me taking an overdose of sleeping pills. I will never forget the incredible peace I felt while I was swallowing them down with some water. Before I did all that I had brushed my hair and done my usual morning chores in the full realization that it would be the very last time I would ever do that. The last time I would see my face in the mirror. The last time I would brush my hair. The last time I'd worry about the condition of my skin. I do not remember passing out.
Waking up in the hospital afterwards was the most horrible experience ever, though I didn't realize this until the next day when the effects of the sleeping pills had worn off. I wanted to go back so badly to that peaceful feeling while I was taking those sleeping pills.
Since that suicide attempt things have changed, some good (surgery in Germany) others bad (beaten up by police for no reason and suffering permanent health consequences). Looking back I can't say that my life on the whole has significantly improved. Moving on from the medical madness I have now entered into the legal madness as I try to come to grips with what in heaven's name has happened to me and why those Dutch physicians and psychologists felt the need to abuse and torture me like that. I still don't understand it one bit, nor do I understand why the police felt the need to hurt me inside and outside.
When I did the interview with Sarah Hill a few days ago she paraphrased from part of my blog:
"Above all I know, I feel, I realize, I am aware, I am pained, I want to run away from the fact that I am a freak.
Maybe I'm not a freak, but I can not convince myself that I am not. The questions of what I am and what my place in society is are too strong and too fundamental to be shoved aside, or answered with external help.
This morning I did manage to take a shower even though it's still hard to see my own body in a mirror. It's my own small victory. For a brief moment."
I think that with this bit Sarah really captured what lies at the heart of my struggles. I can not accept myself nor my situation and my environment has to help me with this, while it isn't capable of doing so.
The past weeks I have had to state what I think about social networks like Google+ and how they have and are helping me. I will admit that Google+ has led to some useful contacts, resulting in the interview with Sarah Hill, but as a whole it's mostly negative. There are some people on Google+ who are suffering from an inflated ego and have hurt me by being ignorant. Yesterday and earlier today I had to leave a video chat Hangout on Google+ because they were talking rather vulgarly about sexuality, setting off my traumas. It makes me feel like I'm just a small, hurt child at those moments.
Last Friday I was returning from an appointment in the nearby city of Deventer when I was waiting to cross a busy road. I found myself wondering how much damage those speeding cars could do to my body if I jumped in front of one. With a cold, analytical and emotionally detached feeling I imagined how it'd crush my bones and probably leave me crippled.
I don't think I have progressed much from that moment in early January of this year. I still search for that peaceful feeling, the feeling that everything is finally the way it should be. I'm not sure I'll find it anywhere but in death.