Yesterday seemed like a pretty alright day. Second day of the weekend, with me working on projects for my company, including a fun cross-platform audio-related mobile project. By the end of the morning I began to suffer from a mild migraine, however. It felt like a painful, nagging feeling behind the eyes, worsened by exposure to light. I recognized it as the typical stress-induced migraines I tend to suffer from. Fortunately not the type which announces itself with the silver-grey aura prior to demolishing every part inside my skull, which is the type I suffered mostly from during high school. Also fortunate is that this mild type can be dealt with using paracetamol painkillers.
During the afternoon the migraine returned again and I had to take another painkiller to deal with it. I felt pretty worn out around 9 PM already as a result and went to bed early. Unexpectedly that's when I got one of those memory cascades, also known as PTSD attacks. Thoughts of the still unresolved situation regarding the apartment with my possessions in it which is off-limits due to being foolish enough to trust the wrong person, cascading into more and more memories of the time spent there, images of hypothetical situations and solutions to deal with that situation. Branching off into more and more memories of so many experiences, most of them beyond painful. So many things related to sexuality, relationships, people bullying me, physicians and psychologists ridiculing me. Just spinning around inside my head set to the tune of pure insanity.
I'm sane. I'm quite sure of that. That my consciousness tries to resist such a sudden influx of horrible recollections and scenarios is proof of that. It's a horrible experience, however. Unable to stop the torrent, one can only try to shut it out as best as possible and allow one's emotions controlled reign. Which mostly means crying and feeling mildly suicidal at this point. I do not have this sickening urge to mutilate my body beyond recognition and repair any more. From the island of reason one can only watch the churning waters pass by and recognize the immense pain in it. The frustration. The rage. The desire to just end this torture and be done with it. It all makes perfect sense in some fashion. I could so easily submit myself to it still, lose myself to this immense trauma.
I do not understand why I had to give up over eight years of my life to get some basic surgery to fix a relatively small oddity about my body. I do not understand why I had to suffer years of mental and emotional torture and blackmail. I do not understand why I had to be raped and abused. I do not understand why I'm living in limbo at the moment, without a fixed place of residence. I do not understand so many things. Each is a black hole in my psyche, just emanating pure pain. Each is a trigger for another attempt by my subconsciousness to assault me with images of all that hurts me more than I can take.
More than anything I hope that the surgery next month goes well so that the medical chapter can be closed after eight and a half year. I'll take not knowing my genetic makeup as a necessary sacrifice there. I also hope that the public hearing later this year in the case against the VUmc's gender team gets a lot of media attention and results in at least some of the answers to the 'why'. Finally I hope to regain access to my possessions again without too much mental anguish.
Finally, I hope to find enough peace outside and inside myself after all that to be able to just live. I'll gladly never be assaulted by my own mind again.
Here's to an exceedingly boring life.