Today I bought new sandals. Really nice ones made by a Spanish brand with a minor heel and an overall very elegant design. With the current temperatures around 30 degrees Celsius during the day it's nice to feel cool and look fancy while doing so. This time I wisened up and got EU size 40 as for some reason I used to buy things size 41 which always turned out to be a tad too big. Now I'm all happy with these new sandals.
Looking at the sandals again, though, it occurred to me that I bought those because of my struggle to find myself. It's only because I figured out that I have a female physique and with it female sizes that I'm dressed the way I am now. Today I'm wearing jeans shorts and a black top with a bit of black lace around the top part. It really brings out my figure and when looking at myself in the mirror I have to admit it looks good. The looks I get in public are telling too, even if they make me feel uncomfortable more than anything else.
Yet what does it truly mean to me? I do express myself through the way I dress, just like everybody else does. I go for a rather basic style, with mostly primary colours and generally no prints, pre-destroyed clothes or accessories. I do like skin-hugging clothes, though, and dislike loose clothes. This seems to mean that I'm extroverted, but not seeking attention. I'm present, but would prefer to draw attention to me by my personality rather than my looks. I'm okay with that.
With all that I guess everything that can be said about my body and everything around it which doesn't touch upon traumas has been said. This year seems to have been the one which broke the proverbial camel's back, pushing me firmly away from sexuality, relationships and my intersex body. It also pushed me into the big wild yonder, as I am forced to grudgingly accept that there is absolutely no way I could conceivably stay in the Netherlands. Much like my body is traumas and traumas are my body, so the Netherlands in many ways stands for everything which has gone wrong the past almost nine years.
Amsterdam to me means the VUmc, AMC and OLVG hospitals and the terrors and humiliations I had to suffer there. Same for Utrecht, Rotterdam, Groningen and Breda. The Hague with its politicians means the gross violation of human rights to me. The public transport systems, other places... everything seems to hold a piece of the trauma which is just called 'the Netherlands'. If I stay in this country I'll forever be surrounded by the reminders, causes and ruins of my traumas. I have to escape. Break free. Even if it hurts and forces me to leave part of myself in this country.
The Netherlands is the place where I was born and grew up. I learned its language and customs from a young age. I was a good student at school, breezing through everything and generally considered exceedingly polite, intelligent and well-spoken. Somehow, somewhere along the way this country changed, like how a gentle, caring husband changes into a violent, gambling drunk. This made the other transformation I had to deal with even harder, namely that of my psyche and self-image. In a way what happened to this country and its treatment of me was the inverse of me learning the truth about my body and the joy at learning the truth, hard as it was at times.
So now I'm left with again the rejection of free will and choice. There is no future, no existence for me in the Netherlands. For all eternity the physicians, psychologists and politicians will keep denying that I'm intersex and refuse to provide me with the medical and psychological care I require. At this point there is nothing else for me to concern myself with but pure survival. Staying in this country will mean having to hide in crevices like some small critter, terrified of the next predator to swoop or run past. It would be not something compatible with a humane existence. Thus I have to move, which won't be easy either.
Germany seems to be the obvious country for me to move to. I work for a German company after all, the German physicians have been very helpful and honest and in socio-economic perspectives Germany is a very attractive choice as well. It won't be easy of course, because I'm not familiar with all systems in Germany and do not speak very good German yet. I have given myself a few months to work on the latter through reading books and the like. Unless after the public hearing against the VUmc in September something changes, I will finalize my arrangements to move myself and my company to Germany. Just a matter of which area and city then.
It is my hope that in Germany I can finally find myself again. At this point I'm feeling so worn out and emotionally numb that I barely respond to triggers any more. It's nice because it allows me to focus on my work more, but also disturbing because I know that I'll have to pay the bill for it soon enough.
All I hope for at this point is to find myself in a place where I do not have to fight for my life and existence any more, but where I can be an actual human being. Maybe even the woman I keep dreaming of, with the final restorative surgery finished and never having to worry about MRI scans, physical examinations and hospitals again. As usual hope is dangerous for me as it triggers depressing, suicidal thoughts directly opposing any hopeful thought.
It's easy for me to know when I'm happy and in the right place. That will be when I do no longer feel this pain inside and the thought of ending my life doesn't fill me with an intense longing any more. If only...
Maya
No comments:
Post a Comment