It's quite a cliche of stories: a character whose main desire is to simply be human, but failing at reaching that goal due to that character's appearance, psychological/traumatic issues. Being physically different imposes a heavy tax on the character and its environment, even if said character is gentle and caring. Assumptions are easily made and reinforced, while observations get twisted.
Worse is a deep-seated trauma in a person's mind. Whether due to abuse, childhood neglect, conflict or a combination of these, it leaves thorny black roots deep inside that person's mind, slowly suffocating it with its putrid growths. The mood-swings, episodes of negative and fatalistic thoughts and outbursts of rage they cause will lead to that person's environment to avoid him or her. The label of 'crazy' is all too easily applied, and the character banished from society.
Today I had to experience yet again those growths injecting their venom into my mind, as the traumas I discussed before regarding relationships and sexuality got triggered very strongly. It's only now as I am typing this that I can feel its effect slowly vanishing from my mind until the next time.
All I want to be is a normal person with a body that is seen as 'normal' and not as a medical marvel. To feel like my giftedness has a place. To be a person whose body isn't the center of world-wide controversy. To see sexuality as a normal thing. To see a couple, especially a heterosexual one, as something normal and healthy instead of as an outrage triggering every dark thought my mind can come up with.
Yet none of this seems to be possible. The coming years I will have to keep fighting to establish that someone with an intersexed body like mine isn't an affront to society and everything that is holy. There's no guarantee that I'll ever feel that a body like mine is anything but something to be looked and poked at by the curious. I somewhat enjoy it when I interact with people who do not know about my story and just see me as a regular woman, even if I know that this is a fleeting thing.
I also feel tortured by the knowledge that I'm mostly woman physically, that I walk around with a more or less functional vagina, but that it is also closed off and that no physician is going to bother to help me with it. No one. Ever. In my nightmares I can see the leering faces of all those surgeons and physicians who have rejected, denied and ridiculed me. I feel humiliated. Violated. Yet I can only howl in sheer frustration. Another part of my humanity denied. More feelings killed off in self-protection.
After my first and possibly last relationship which was both traumatic and ended disastrously, I think I can finally get into many of the songs and stories written about bad break-ups. I also think that I agree that it will take a very long time to get over it. Combined with my other issues I feel safe to think that I might as well give up on the thought of finding that 'one person'. Just not going to happen.
Not having feelings and emotions would be nice at these times. Yet I feel torn in the knowledge that returning to the emotionless state I was in eight years ago would make me less human again, while trying to deal with these emotions and feelings I am going through on days like these can easily kill me.
Feeling this... thing inside my head, gnawing its way around, making me think things I do not want to think and feel things I do not wish to feel, it's almost enough to try and kill it, even if it would mean my own demise. I do want to live, but I do not want to feel this kind of trauma. I want to be human, but I do not want to feel this kind of trauma.
I wish I could just be human.