When There's Nothing Left But Crying In The Midst Of Exhaustion

The past weeks I have found it harder and harder to be around other people. The causes for this appear to be manyfold. First of all there was the letter I got via my family rights lawyer from the courthouse on my legal gender change. Seems like it might not be possible at all to have my gender changed, as the number 1:28 law requires one to be transsexual and have thereto qualified specialists backing you up, which would be the same people who tried to brainwash me into believing I had to be transsexual. No go there, then.

The number 1:24 law is aimed at intersex people, but in the letter from the courthouse they seem to interpret it as meaning that it should have been obvious at birth that I was intersex (both male and female genital formation visible). Since this wasn't the case for me, it appears that they want to deny me this way too. This despite the fact that there is no one in this world who would think I'm male and it's a horribly embarrassing and humiliating experience for me and others every time I have to identify myself at a hospital or elsewhere. Where possible hospitals and such have already changed my official gender to female to adjust to this. It's just the Dutch government and justice department holding out at this point.

Moving on, I further can't shake off the feeling that I got rejected at Google because of me being intersex and vocal about it. It makes me controversial, and that's not something they'd want there. What company doesn't want its employees to be as dull and boring as possible? Without any indication from their side anything is possible, I guess.

It's still so hard to imagine a future for myself. Even if more and more people are beginning to realize that I may end up being the Martin Luther King Jr. for intersex human rights, I can only remember what has been said by such forefighters and those close to them. Namely that it's a lonely place to be at. It may take years before I assemble the kind of following required to allow me to take a break. Everything seems to indicate that I'll have to continue fighting like this, without a chance at a job due to being controversial and people keeping their distance for the same reason.

Last night I couldn't sleep again. I was lying awake, trying not to think about things while ignoring my hyper-sensitivity to any sounds around me (curse those thin walls of this place I'm living in...). Suddenly I started crying, then sobbing, then I was clawing at my arms, my torso, before I noticed that my hands were trying to strangle me again. Realizing how much I want to die made me cry even more. Then I gave in and allowed my hands to try and strangle me again. Passing out from oxygen deprivation hurts. Yet it doesn't hurt as much as these torn-up insides. With the continued rejection by my environment all I can do is focus on myself, which means self-mutilation and ultimately death... I feel so helpless...

This coming weekend an article on my situation should get published in many regional newspapers here in the Netherlands. I hope it'll mean the beginning of much needed improvements and acknowledgements. There's nothing more I'd like right now than to move to my own place, where I'm not bothering my mother and with the proper financial backing can relax a bit and not have to fight off attempts to strangle myself on a regular basis.

One can hope, just not after seven years of fighting with no end in sight.


Maya