Monday, 30 September 2013

All My Belongings Destroyed By Psycho, But It's Not a Crime

Today I had contact with my insurance company regarding my legal options as far as the theft of my belongings go. Yesterday I was at the police office where I was informed that despite the psycho ex-housemate having admitted to the police officers present that she had destroyed all of my belongings, this did not count as any kind of criminal offence and never would. As far as my insurance today went, they'd only represent me legally for the damage amount of the belongings I did not use for my company, which counted out much of the more expensive items. Whether I wish to proceed down this path is something I still have to decide upon, or whether there's a better solution.

At any rate it means that I'm out of thousands of Euros worth of equipment, furniture, musical instruments, clothing, etc. Not to mention the irreplaceable information on the hard-disks of some of the computer systems and the gifts which I received over the years. The full list is a grand five pages. It's over 95% of everything I owned at the beginning of this year.

Considering that it took far less damage to have police arrest me in early 2011, brutally beat and humiliate me in addition to solitary confinement for an entire night, it is now quite incomprehensible that virtually all of my belongings getting destroyed including virtually of my company's physical assets gets brushed off by the same police as a 'mere disagreement' between me and this psycho. It defies belief and makes me wish I even more strongly I could already leave the Netherlands. I hate this country so much...

Here's a fairly complete list of everything stolen, some of which I can replace, some of which is gone forever:

  1. Archive shelves (Steel archive shelves)
  2. Business administration (Business data, financial data, proof of purchases, etc.)
  3. Personal administration (proof of purchases, medical files, map of books I read maintained since my youth, etc.)
  4. Computer monitors (2 Dell Ultrasharp U2412M 24” LCD monitors)
  5. Computer (Intel Q6600 CPU, 8 GB Corsair RAM, Corsair 550D case, Corsair VX550 PSU, MSI 660 Ti videocard, 80 GB, 250 GB en 750 GB HDDs)
  6. Server (AMD 3800+ (AM2) CPU, 4 GB RAM, CoolerMaster Elite case, Enermax Galaxy 550 Watt PSU, Gigabyte Nvidia 8500 GPU, 320 GB HDD)
  7. Network switch (3Com 26-ports 100 Mbit managed network switch with 2 Gbit uplinks)
  8. Emergency power supply (APC 650 VA Back-UPS UPS)
  9. Emergency power supply (APC 800 VA Back-UPS UPS)
  10. Emergency power supply (Sweex 1.000 VA UPS)
  11. ADSL modem/router (LevelOne modem/router combination with 4-ports switch)
  12. Shelves (Ikea Gorm shelves)
  13. Computer (2006 Apple Mac Mini)
  14. Desk (Ikea Jerker 160x80 cm desk)
  15. Desk (Ikea Galant 160x80 cm bureau)
  16. Whiteboard (80x50 cm whiteboard)
  17. Blackboard (200x100 cm blackboard)
  18. Drawer blocks (2)
  19. Dictionaries (Oxford Concise English dictionary (10th edition), Kodansha Learner's dictionary (jp/en, en/jp), Kodansha Kanji dictionary)
  20. Reference books (The C++ Programming Language (Bjarne Stroustrup), Java, C)
  21. Scanner (Canon LiDE A4 scanner)
  22. Fan (Bestron 1 meter tall fan)
  23. Videocards (GTX275, GT8800 Ultra, 8800GX2, 8800 GTS 320)
  24. Computer (Intel Q6600 CPU, 4 GB RAM, 500 Watt PSU, Antec 300 mid-tower case)
  25. Computer (Intel Celeron 400, 1 GB RAM, compact case)
  26. Computer (AMD X2 CPU, 4 GB RAM, 500 GB HDD, Aopen case)
  27. Computer (AMD X2 CPU, 4 GB RAM, 500 GB HDD, server case)
  28. Office chairs (2)
  29. Smartphone (Huawei U8850 Vision Android smartphone)
  30. Headset (Corsair HS1A Gaming headset, analogue)
  31. Headphones (AKG K-77)
  32. Speakers (Logitech 5.1 speaker set)
  33. Keyboard (Microsoft Comfort Curve 3000)
  34. Muis (Logitech LS1 laser mouse)
  35. Drawing tablet (Wacom Bamboo A5 tekentablet)
  36. Desk pads (Desk pad with English world map (received as a child), desk pad, pink with cat)
  37. External HDD (Samsung Story Station Plus 1.5TB, USB3.0)
  38. External soundcard (Terratec Aureon Dual USB Soundcard)
  39. Cables (Boxes with power supply, network and other computer cables)
  40. Expansion cards (various audio, network, video, etc. expansion cards for PCI, AGP, PCIe computers)
  41. Photo camera (Canon PowerShot A550)

  1. Nintendo 64 (blue/white transparent, two controllers, some games (Zelda: Ocarina of Time, Donkey Kong 64, Pokemon Snap, etc.))
  2. Nintendo 64 (grey version, 1 controller)
  3. Super Nintendo (grey SNES, two controllers, Nintendo Yoshi's Island game)
  4. Nintendo DSi (pink DSi handheld with Hello Kitty pink/white bag and flashcard)

  1. Bed
  2. Wardrobe (Ikea Dombås)
  3. Wardrobe
  4. Drawers (Ikea Kullen drawers)
  5. Clothing (jeans, tops, underwear, dresses, etc.)
  6. Jackets & coats (summer jacket, trench coat, sport jacket and winter coat)
  7. Boots (Gabor high boots, other boots)
  8. Sandals (2 pair)
  9. Alarm clock
  10. Shoulder bag (Kipling)

Living room
  1. Sofa (three-seater)
  2. Book shelves (2 Ikea Billy book shelves)
  3. Shelves (self-made)
  4. Dinner table (2x1 meter)
  5. Dinner table chairs (4)
  6. Halogeen standing lights (2)
  7. Chair (Ikea Poäng chair)

  1. Cupboard (Ikea Lillången, 194x30x38 cm)
  2. Shelves (Ikea Molger stellingkast, 140x37x37 cm)
  3. Laundry dryer (Miele)

  1. Microwave (Samsung GE82VSS)
  2. Garbage bins
  3. Water boiler
  4. Toaster
  5. Scale (retro mechanical)
  6. Rack (Ikea Omar steel rack, 184x92x36)
  7. Dishes, cups, etc.
  8. Cutlery Serving tray
  9. Pans

  1. Soldering station
  2. Multimeter (Voltcraft multimeter (auto-ranging))
  3. Multimeter (Voltcraft multimeter (manual))
  4. Storage solutions (storage solutions for a desk with small trays. Filled with electronics parts)
  5. Parts (boxes with broken power supplies etc. for parts)

Musical instruments

  1. Electric guitar (Squier Strat)
  2. Amplifier (10 Watt Squier)
  3. Acoustic guitar (Spanish)
  4. Lectern (metal, black)
  5. Violins (2, one from 1940s, other modern)

  1. Wheel of Time (6 parts)
  2. Discworld (~12 parts)
  3. Shakespeare, collected works
  4. Atlases (4)
  5. Dictionaries, other fiction and non-fiction works

  1. Backpack
  2. Suitcase (American Traveler medium suitcase, blue)
  3. Bicycle (sport model, 6 gears)

  1. Hammer drill (Bosch)
  2. Toolbox (large, plastic, filled with screwdrivers, hammers, etc.)
  3. Battery-powered drill (Black & Decker)

  1. Nintendo plastic turtle (plastic turtle figure by Nintendo. From 1980, received from Canadian friend)
  2. Various plushies (most received from friends or as a child. Hello Kitty, hare, bear, etc. Also Canadian Mounty with horse)
  3. CDs (various music & data)
  4. Ring (ring with precious stones from inheritance)
  5. Lego (4 moving boxes full, including Technic, trains, etc.).


Saturday, 28 September 2013

Sexuality: Mind Versus Body

In the sciences it's a common saying that the best way to learn how something works is from a malfunctioning system. In many ways I as a human being with an unusual physiology can be considered an excellent research subject, specifically when it comes to sexuality and related. Things first went sideways for me as a young child, when I skipped the separation into 'boys' and 'girls' around age five. After that I similarly got stuck physically during puberty between 'male' and 'female' when both male and female secondary characteristics began to develop. Combined with the lack of any emotional development due to this, I never really got into this whole 'sexuality' thing.

While I was aware of how things were supposed to work due to both scientific and less scientific 'information' available to me during puberty, my primary sensation when it came to sexuality was one of confusion, resulting in a growing sense of resentment and dissatisfaction with these physical urges and resulting thoughts which came unbidden to me. Early during puberty I began to actively suppress these feelings, hoping that they would vanish at some point. They never did.

After puberty I ran into the by now well-documented issue with the Dutch medical system regarding my body's physical state. It gave me this utter sense of bitterness regarding anything to do with physical sex and gender. The rape and sexual abuse I suffered during those years from others due to my lack of self-esteem further both gave me a look at the purely physical experiences of sexuality while not blinded by the emotions commonly referred to as 'love' and 'affection', let alone the disgusting sensation of 'lust'.

Let me first get this out of the way: I hate sexuality. I hate sex. I hate gender. Nothing would make me more happy than to see all of it vanish. I do not believe in things such as love or physical relationships, let alone ridiculous things such as polygamous relationships. In the end they're all just about lust. It's just the body acting without the mind.

The mind is reason and logic. It decides what its response or next course of action is based upon a reasonable evaluation of the available facts at that moment. Contrary to it, the body is just the pre-programmed, primitive responses of the less evolved brain sections. The body is what decides that things such as physical attraction and the need to have sex exist. It drives individuals to such preposterous actions such as mating attempts in bars, using the most pathetic pick-up lines imaginable. It is what makes picking up a human from the relevant sex seem like a good and desirable thing. It is what leads to relationships and procreation in most cases. It also leads to divorces and violence.

Through my years of wrestling with a body which in no way, form or shape resembles that of a 'regular' human being and suffering sexual abuse and mishaps in addition to regular medical humiliations, I have come to realize that the body offers nothing good or desirable. There is no such thing as 'love' if you ignore the body going off on its pre-programmed, gene-induced rampage. Lust is the carnal desire to copulate, also pre-programmed through genetics. There's no satisfaction to be found in following the body, just short-lived moments of satisfaction followed by increasing chaos, dissatisfaction and pain. Relationships, whether mono- or polygamous, are also the mere result of the body's programming, and serve no significant purpose, beyond procreation and the stilling of the existential angst present in most self-aware beings.

Despite this awareness it's not easy, though. The body doesn't care whether I realize any of this or not. It keeps following its programming, trying to drag the mind along through the carnage. I loathed the sensation of lust when I first began to experience it during puberty and I still have to keep fighting it. Despite the increase of trauma and the severity of my sexuality-related PTSD triggers preventing my mind from gaining any enjoyment from sexuality and related, the body keeps whispering, trying to seduce me. I often feel like an abuse victim, with my body as my tormentor. All I can do is to keep fighting back and stay firm in my realization of reality.

Many may think it ironic that I would think like this despite fighting to have my official name and gender changed to that of a female. To them I would like to point out that there is more to a female role than just sexuality, sex and procreation. It represents to me the soft, gentle and intellectual role I always felt more comfortable in. I have always known deep inside that I was infertile and that sexuality would never matter to me. The disappointing run-ins with sexuality and the total lack of enjoyment experienced there only reinforced that point.

Sexuality and all that it incurs are the shackles which keep me from being free. Freeing myself from it is essential.

At this point some are likely to point out that I'm in contact with a German surgeon regarding a surgery which should restore use of my female side. Here I would like to point out that the primary concern I have here is that of medical health and long-term concerns. The past months I have begun to suffer more severe pains in the lower abdominal region. This month has been particularly bad and likely a major cause of me feeling so incredibly tired. The skin on the inside of my thighs is even more painful to touch, and the area under which the vagina entrance is located is painful to touch as well, with even slight pressing causing a major increase in pain. Infection or similar is possible, making medical care essential.

Which brings me to the final issue, namely that of Dutch physicians anywhere denying that I have female organs and thus concluding that I could have any such issues. On this point I also find my mind agreeing with my body for once: the latter is in pain and begging for it to stop, while my mind has logically concluded at this point that it's most likely not a fluke and not some silly exaggeration or imaginary pain. With sepsis and such as a possible complications, it's better to be sure than getting rushed an ambulance to the nearest ER for resuscitation.

In many ways it's impossible for my mind to conclude that I exist in a world which is either reasonable or sane, with all the proper actions and configurations unavailable, leaving them only as theoretical options. Never mind me, I guess. I'm just this insignificant mind over here in the corner, mumbling to itself :)


Thursday, 26 September 2013

Aftermath Of Hearing Against VUmc Gender Team

Two days ago was the hearing against the VUmc gender team as previously announced on my blog. That I haven't written about it yet has multiple reasons, mostly that I needed some time to process it all and due to being quite busy with the efforts involved to leave the Netherlands. Long story short, I got virtually everything arranged there now. All services I was subscribed to have been cancelled where appropriate, I have no official place of residence in the Netherlands any more, and I have all the necessary paperwork to settle in Germany. Only blemish on this all is having to deal with the theft of my belongings, but this too should soon see some police and legal action.

Anyway, with all of that out of the way, I finally am able to write this summary of the hearing. Of course to me it's been something which is more than a day. Since the previous hearing on February 10th this year I have been more or less living towards this hearing. It's also in many ways the culmination of the nearly nine years I have had to suffer, the wasted decade of dealing with physicians refusing to be physicians. Yet despite the importance of the whole event I couldn't find myself to be nervous or apprehensive in any sense. If anything it was more of a 'let's get this over with' kinda thing, what with the low chances of success I have written about before.

On the day itself I travelled to Amsterdam together with my mother. We arrived just a few minutes before my lawyer, Yme Drost, joined us fresh out of another hearing at the same courthouse. He and I spent the minutes before the hearing started reading up on some parts of the massive piles of medical evidence and letters collected as well as discussing a few items of importance. Two friends also had arrived at this point and were waiting in front of the doors to the room where the hearing would be held. Shortly after 2 PM we were all let in and the hearing started. There was a surprisingly large audience, according to my lawyer. Nearly half of the seats were filled.

An interesting and pleasant surprise was the commission presiding over this hearing. The chairman was a female jurist, flanked by two physicians and two psychologists. This was unusual because psychologists aren't normally a part of the medical disciplinary commission, for quite obvious reasons. The chairman explained that because of the involvement of psychologists (Ms. Cohen-Kettenis) in the case, as well as the general psychological aspects, their presence was warranted. She also started the hearing by asking me how I was doing, after which I told her that I'm in the process of moving to Germany, for work and personal reasons, including my hope to have the final surgery there soon.

The general theme during the hearing which would take close to two and a half hours was that the VUmc members kept repeating the same mantra that it was their task to prevent unnecessary surgeries, that their approach of having only psychologists talk with patients even if they indicate being intersex is the right one, that their use of a blood test and quick external examination is sufficient to rule out intersex (or 'DSD' as they kept calling it), and that I was the one who had refused psychological help instead of them not having offered such help. They also insisted that I had normal male blood levels at the time and a normal functional set of male reproductive organs. The radiologist, Dr. Van Waesberghe, insisted that he had not seen any female organs on the scans, in addition to claiming that there had been no reason to contact the German radiologists, scoffing at the notion.

As the two physicians of the commission began to ask their questions, they asked me a number of informative questions, including on this restorative surgery I hope to have soon in Germany, the effects of testosterone blocker on prostate and testicle size as well as on the presence of the sperm-producing tissue (absent in my biopsy report). They also asked me questions about how I had experienced the help from German physicians, where I answered truthfully that I had loved it with their quick, efficient and personal attention. During their questioning of the VUmc physicians the latter were quickly forced to surrender on a few points and admit grudgingly that there were indeed a number of things they could have checked, including genotype (chromosomes, mosaicism), have performed an ultrasound and in general have paid more attention to the list of points I had brought to the VUmc's attention in the form of letters which were also part of the evidence.

The psychologists mostly had questions for me, especially on my drive for answers, whether I wasn't trying to prove that I had to be intersex or such. I told them about how until quite recently I'd regularly be standing in front of a mirror looking at myself and not knowing what I was seeing. How frustrated I felt at this, and how much I wanted to have a self-image. Some idea of what I was looking at instead of just facing endless questions. This was the only part where I actually became somewhat emotional.

During the final round of statements and questions my lawyer asked Dr. De Ronde of the VUmc whether the testosterone value measured of 21 nmol/L couldn't just have been a measuring error, considering the low amount of testosterone blocker I had to take (25% of what a male-to-female transsexual takes). De Ronde here upon dodged the question, saying that the exact amount of the blocker taken differs per patient. Besides, as he pointed out the other values which should be affected by a low testosterone level would have to be affected too, such as LSH, which were also 'normal male levels', according to De Ronde. I would like to note here that there is no way to verify the VUmc's measured values in any form or shape at this point. The testicular tissue biopsy results and testosterone blocker medication levels seem to put reasonable doubt there.

Yme also pointed out in his closing statement that it should be obvious to anyone in the room that even to his not medically trained eyes an intelligent woman was sitting next to him. That I would get referred to as 'male' by the VUmc seemed bizarre to him.

The gynaecologist of the VUmc, Dr. Trotsenburg, said in his final speech that all they wanted to do at the VUmc gender team was to avoid that people got unnecessary surgeries which wouldn't make them happy (despite me never have discussed surgery there). He also addressed me directly, saying that he had no idea where I found this current German surgeon, but told me to be careful. After this the lawyer of the VUmc gender team went on what I can only call a rant, distributing a stack of A4 pages to everyone with on it the reasons why I was a bumbling fool, couldn't be intersex, had arrogantly refused psychological help at any point and that all of the complaints against the VUmc should be summarily be dismissed. She sounded so angry at some points that I found myself thinking how much I disliked this person if she truly meant what she said.

After this I got a chance to say my piece. In my closing statement I mentioned how confused I still felt. I pointed the commission to how in 2010 a Dutch judge had approved my request for a first name change based upon having a female appearance, followed by the approval of my gender change to female by another Dutch judge in 2012. This, I said, showed that the justice system in the Netherlands agrees with me a) having a female appearance and b) being intersex, specifically a hermaphrodite. It also means that Dutch judges agree with the German physicians and not the Dutch ones. The only ones who do not agree here are Dutch physicians for some reason. I finished by saying that this was all I wanted to point out.

With the hearing over, Yme and I said goodbye to the commission and went outside along with everyone else. I felt pretty exhausted by then. Fortunately I could go home almost right away together with Yme. Before leaving, one of the friends who had arrived to watch the hearing gave me this plushie he had brought for me. I liked Yme's response to this: "That's part of it too, I guess." referring to me being female, I think.

Once back home I felt initially pretty good about things, what with Yme being more positive about our options of winning the case than ever before. Gradually I began to feel more depressed, though, until I couldn't stop myself from crying for a while. Even though I did very well at the hearing, with my lawyer complimenting me a number of times on my performance, it is as I pointed out in my final statement a ridiculous situation. To hear people who have ruined my life for so many years already say the same hurtful things again, defending their decisions and using the crude term 'Disorder of Sex Development' as though people with an intersex condition are some kind of freak, in addition to vehemently accusing me from exaggerating things and being a selfish little bitch... yes, it hurts. A whole lot.

I really hope that I do win this case. That those involved will have to eat some humble pie for once in their arrogant, infallible little lives. That life for people like me won't be turned into a living hell over and over again. Things have to stop here. If there's any justice left in this god-forsaken country, I hope it will be dished out here.

Whatever happens, though, I hope to be living safely in Germany by the time the verdict is made official. I still have to find house in the Karlsruhe area, but I have good hope that within two months it should all be arranged. Hopefully sooner. And please let this current German surgeon end the medical nightmare. I'm so sick of being 'special', 'different', 'unique' and whatever other sickening terms keep getting thrown at me. I want to be a plain, boring as hell person who just happens to be female. Pretty please?

The ruling will be made public on November the 19th this year.


Monday, 23 September 2013

Public Hearing Against VUmc Gender Team Tomorrow In Amsterdam

Tomorrow, Tuesday September the 24th, the first public hearing against the VUmc gender team will take place in the case I started via my personal injuries expert Yme Drost last year at the medical disciplinary commission in Amsterdam. Complaints against the VUmc gender team include lack of psychological care and lack of any proper diagnostics aimed at diagnosing my intersex condition.

The hearing will take place at the Courthouse Amsterdam at the Parnassusweg 220 in Amsterdam at 14.00 hours. I will be present with my lawyer, Yme Drost. Of the VUmc gender team the following will be present: Mr. van Waesberghe (radiologist), Mr. van Trotsenburg (gynaecologist) and Mr. de Ronde (endocrinologist). Not present will be Ms. Cohen-Kettenis, who will be represented by the VUmc gender team's lawyer.

Any interested in following this hearing can report to the main entrance of the courthouse for the exact location of the hearing.


Thursday, 19 September 2013

Today I Lost Almost Everything I Own

Today was a nightmarish experience, courtesy of someone I mistakenly ever gave my trust and who abused it to the fullest extent possible. As I posted on Google+ and Facebook earlier today:

"Well, so I went back to the apartment today to get my stuff and it's all gone. My mom and I also got assaulted by the ex-housemate. We had to call in the police just so that I could look around the place to see whether anything was left. Virtually nothing.

No idea what happened to it. Sold and destroyed is my guess. It means that I lost my full business and personal administration, my PCs, other equipment, all furniture, bicycle and far too many personal items of great emotional value to me.

Passing this all by my insurance company now. May get money to replace the replaceable items. Can never replace the items I treasured, some from a young age. At the end of the day all my mom and I have to show for this are scratches on our necks and a limp for my mom from the assault right after the door opened.

I just want to cry =/"

What I'm left with now are my old and new laptop and the clothes I bought after escaping the place earlier this year. That's all. The amount of items I lost is unimaginable. Though this person claims that it's 'stored somewhere', she refuses to say where. I have serious doubts whether that's true since lying comes so natural to her. The police officers I talked to recommended that I'd launch a full lawsuit against this person, which I intend to do. Such a heinous, despicable act deserves nothing less. This person even changed the lock on the apartment door without permission from the owner of the building, just so I couldn't get in any more.

Some people have already told me to consider it a 'fresh start'. No. Way. This is as much a fresh start as having your house burn down with every single of your possessions and valuables inside. Not only does this hit my company hard, it also means that everything of emotional value is gone. The lucky turtle I got from my friend Trevor. The angel doll I got from this nice lady at this talk show I was at last year. The Hello Kitty plushies and other gifts people sent me over the years. My music instruments. The game consoles. My electronics and soldering equipment. Every single last of my tools, some I got as a child. All gone.

I guess the natural response in this situation is to either grieve or be angry. For me it feels like mostly the first mixed with a whole lot of tiredness. After all I have gone through, this subhuman being goes and has to do one of the lowest possible things by destroying everything a person owns and treasures? Worse is that she also keeps pursuing me on the internet, stalking me and harassing not only me but others as well. It's a kind of sick obsession I just can not grasp. On one hand it's like she despises me, while on the other it's like she still wants me to love her.

I just want her and every single sick, twisted person like her to go away. It makes it impossible for me to enjoy life in any measure. If anything people like her drive me closer to just giving up on trying to build up an existence. If it's so easy to wipe away everything one builds up, one might as well not try...

Yes, I'm angry. And sickened. At least the scratches on my neck aren't hurting so much any more from where this person grabbed me by the throat today. I feel bad for my mom whose leg is really hurting now, though... she didn't deserve this.

I wish today never happened...


Sunday, 15 September 2013

Vlog: Moving To Germany And Angelic Kittens

  • Moving to Karlsruhe, Germany.
  • Angelic Kittens.
  • Next week's vlog: hearing against VUmc's gender team.


Saturday, 14 September 2013

Finding The Peace Of A Proper Home Once Again

Train journeys tend to the be the time when one has the most opportunity to reflect upon matters and life in general. While in the train from Munich yesterday and again today when leaving Karlsruhe to travel back to the Netherlands I definitely had such time to reflect. Yesterday I began to entertain the notion that I just might find a home again after all these years. In a few very different ways.

As a child I had my own room. I'd have my toys in there, my bed and desk. I'd spend time playing indoors or outdoors on the farm my parents owned. I'd feel safe in my room, but outside it as well. The village I grew up in felt just big enough, but I did feel quite safe there. I got bullied at primary school and generally felt like the odd one out there. Yet there always was my home to return to. Even if my room was an explosion of toys with just a few meandering paths through it, and the walls and beams never properly got painted since the house was built, it was still my home.

I don't recall the house before it, which stood on the same place but burned down when I was still very young. It wasn't my home, so I did not miss it. Yet even the place I called home slowly changed as I became a teenager, eventually finishing high school. As I lost my direction after finishing high school this home became more and more restrictive. My room became something it should never have become, namely my world. Internet was literally my only connection with the outside world. It was still my room, but it was my prison in a sense.

Things gradually went downhill from there. My parents' divorce didn't come as a shock to me. I had felt the atmosphere in the house change long before that, with my dad becoming very distant. I just took it with the rest of everything. Moving to another home with my mother was tough. I had lost every connection with the place I once called my home. Clinging to the possessions I had taken with me I dreamed of a day when I'd have a real home again. During that time I completely lost interest in my outward appearance. My hair grew very long, looking unhealthy, with my skin and general appearance emulating a ghost. I got my driver's license during that time, but I have no idea how I managed that in such a state.

Moving again, I thought maybe I'd find a home there. Instead it became another prison, though I also found out what was the matter with me, physically at least. During the next years, as I travelled to Norway, Canada and through the Netherlands I never once found a home. There were just places where I stayed while I tried to protect the other home I had kept up till that point: my physical body. As Dutch physicians and psychologists launched assault after assault at my sense of self, it began to crack and crumble. I had thought for over two decades that I was a boy, until I found out otherwise, then those findings got cast into doubt. Instead it was me who was being delusional.

What could I do? I found some solace in Germany where a clear and concise conclusion told me everything I needed to know about my body. Finally things seemed to resolve themselves.

Looking back, the first thing I should have done back then is leave the Netherlands. The sad part is that migrating costs money, and I had virtually none. Canada didn't work out, Australia didn't either. I just kept drifting. Maybe these two weeks I was in Germany reminded me of that, with me staying in two locations during this week. Getting used to a new environment, dealing with house and flatmates. Knowing that you're just there for the moment.

The past one and a half decade I haven't had a place to call home. Maybe my medical efforts wouldn't have scarred me so deeply if I had had a home and a loving family and/or friends. While my mother supported me all the way, that didn't make it a home or family. Just another place to stay until the next move.

The upcoming move to Germany will be my... let's see, moved twice in the Netherlands, to Canada and back, five moves within the Netherlands... tenth move. On average that means moving once every year since 2003.

I really need this migration to Germany to be the final one for a very long time. This time it may actually work out too. I have a well-paying job, the company I work for is helping me find a house in the Karlsruhe area and everyone there is very supportive. On top of that it's the only country so far which has actually provided me with real medical care. It was kind of tough for me to leave today for the train station, as I don't know how it'll go from here. When I'll be back.

I'm sure it'll work out with finding a house. It may even be the new home I have been looking for for so long. One thing which makes me apprehensive is the judgement of the current German surgeon I'm in contact with as he looks through my medical file and MRI scans. To me this is even more important than the secondary home. I so need my body back.

In the ICE train back from Köln to the Netherlands I sat next to a law student from Amsterdam. I ended up talking with her about things and as always seems to happen also about my situation. It's just impossible to avoid the elephant in the room, I guess. She was very nice about it, though. The way I described it to her was that I started off with a medical question and it should essentially end with the resolution of this question, which should be with this final surgery. The legal matters and such... that's all secondary. What matters is that I leave the Netherlands, get real medical help and rebuild my life.

That way I'll both have my primary (body) and secondary (house) home back.

I don't like to think that I may have to keep drifting for another decade or longer...


Saturday, 7 September 2013

Required Preparations To Get A Home Again

Before I can start living in Germany these are the items on the check list:

- Finding a place to rent.
- Setting up internet, water, electricity, etc. there.
- Moving my stuff out of the old place in Almere.
- Cancelling rent, insurance, etc.
- Moving said stuff to the new place in Germany.
- Requesting confirmation that I can stay in Germany (Aufenthaltserlaubnis).
- Things I forgot.

The first part is going to take a bit of time to get arranged, but there should be no problems there. Obtaining my stuff from the apartment in Almere is going to be the part I'm absolutely not looking forward to in any way or sense, but it has to be done if I want to get most of my possessions back. The rest is just tedious, really.

I looked around a bit already in the direct area of Karlsruhe and it's looking quite promise. I think I'm nearly over the positive sticker shock effect of the super-low renting prices here compared to in the Netherlands.

I'm really hoping that I can move into my new place before the end of this year.


Friday, 6 September 2013

It's Impossible To Live With PTSD

Today it happened again. After work my colleagues and I were just going to hang out a bit and socialize at a local cafe. Yet while waiting while they were chatting with each other at the office, drinking beer and smoking, I began to feel increasingly less comfortable. First moving away due to the cigarette smoke irritating my eyes and airways, I began to feel increasingly less wanted. I felt threatened. I had to get away. After hanging on for a while I just started walking back to where I'm staying at the moment. All the way I felt frightened. Of someone running after me. Of a phone call asking me where I had gone to. Yet I had no choice.

While walking I felt sad and bitter, that there's no place for me. That I do not matter. I didn't feel like I should further attempt to socialize with people at the work place. Back at my room I just closed the door, vowing to not leave it any more until Monday. Sitting down in front of my laptop I just started watching videos. I felt numb. I also felt certain that this was just the proof I needed that there is nothing for me here either. That there is no place for me anywhere on this planet. I can not keep running forever.

Then my head started clearing up again after maybe an hour or two. All of those convictions and the super-strong sense of fear and terror I had felt up to that point began to fade. I'm still feeling it to some extent, but I mostly bitterly regret not staying, missing one of the few chances I have to talk to my colleagues before I am supposed to move here. I can't tell at which point the PTSD took hold of me. It happened so gradually, tweaking my way of thinking so subtly that I honestly did not notice that anything about my way of thinking had changed until just now.

I hate PTSD.

I also know that it is being triggered by so many things, the thought or suggestion of being unwanted just one of them. There is no warning for most triggers. Some I can recognize in advance. This one I didn't. The most horrible thing is that for a few hours I literally wasn't myself, that I completely lost control over my very thoughts and body. How am I supposed to function like this in heaven's name?! How can I be expected to pull off all the details around moving to a new country when at every time things like this happen? And even if by some miracle that all works out, it'll just keep happening after that. Forever.

With no medical and/or psychological help forthcoming it keeps pushing me towards the uncomfortable realization that there simply is no way I can continue this existence. It's better to end it while I'm still myself at times.

I don't know any more... I just can not see a way out of this living hell any more.

Not that it matters that I write any of this. It won't change anything. All of these words are meaningless. My blog is meaningless. My life and everything I have suffered and done means nothing. I didn't change anything. Nobody will jump in and save me.

Observe closely, for this is what it looks like when the last tiny flame of hope flickers and dies.


Thursday, 5 September 2013

Personality Optional

On my way back from the office today I was walking alone for the first time this week. The difference compared to when I was walking around with my male colleague was quite... interesting. Beyond the extensive looks I got from a few women, I had men staring at me intensively. Two even made pretty lewd remarks in German, basically amounting to that they found what they saw to be quite interesting.

I can't say it made me feel flattered or special. More like weirded out and disgusted. The clothes I am wearing today are for comfort, not for looks: skin-tight jeans and black top with the top part lace because it's awesome in summer time, accompanied by the slightly heeled sandals I bought recently. The way people responded to me I felt more like I was in some kind of freak show. Maybe that's what those two guys were referring to, though. I don't know. I don't think I'm attractive. Not that I care about such matters.

Inside this body lives a mind which wants to live freely and feel at ease. Something went wrong, though, as instead it feels trapped and hunted. There's only the constant awareness that I as a person am in no way relevant. Nobody truly cares about whether I feel happy or at ease. Maybe it's just because they do not understand and feel it. I do keep up this facade of a successful and relatively care-free person, but that's more because the alternative is to be a complete emotional wreck. At times this does come to the surface, though.

Right now I feel just incredibly sad. I won't end up living in Germany, but end up homeless if I don't commit suicide first. That's how my story is supposed to go. There is no such thing as a happy ending in reality. Those who are happy stay happy, those whose lives were ruined by others will toil among the ruins until they die or end their own existence. I was never meant to be happy. I wasn't happy as a child. I was miserable as a teenager. After that everything turned into an absolute hell.

I'm a mere cog in the ruthless machine of society. Easily ignored and forgotten. Easily replaced. Ergo no reason to worry about any discomfort I may experience while I strive to be a useful addition to society.

Part of me wishes reality was just that black and white. The few touches of kindness make life so much harder for me. When I get back to the Netherlands in two weeks time I'll have this gift waiting for me from a friend. It's a sweater with angel wings on the back. He bought it for me after I mentioned that I thought it was really cute. As I type this tears are streaming freely over my face. It's both very pleasant to realize that I'm not a total reject and that at least some people care about me, but at the same time it's the most horrible thing in the world.

How can I end my existence if I can not say farewell to life without some regrets left? Part of me longs for the feeling of complete peace when I took those pills a few years ago which should have ended my life. I fear I won't ever get it back.


Born Into Confusion And Pain

Last Monday I travelled to Germany for my work as I mentioned before. It was a pretty harrowing journey, with both the Dutch and German train systems giving me grief. In the end I arrived at my destination, however. I'm staying at a colleague's place, who is sharing it with a number of other people. It's a busy but kinda fun place. Today and yesterday I spent working at the office, preparing for the meeting with the people from BMW in Munich next week. I'm performing an analysis of the current application to be used for optimizations. It's pretty all right work, really.

It's the second time I'm here in this city of Karlsruhe. First time was early this year, when I was just being introduced into the company and to my current colleagues. Back then I didn't really know how things were going to end up or what would happen for me. After months filled with chaos and pain, shattered promises and the bitter taste of injustice in the Netherlands I find myself here in Germany with the knowledge that I am going to be living here soon. It's really more of a rational choice, though.

I don't know what use my emotional side is in this all. I still obviously do not have a proper self-image, with the requirement to adjust it regularly by analysing comments made by others as well as through observations in mirrors and the like. The insistence by Dutch 'specialists' that I am still just biologically male isn't helping here, nor the frequent addressing of me as 'sir' during phone calls. Earlier I took a shower, and the big mirror in the bathroom was quite hard to ignore. Do I see a female in the mirror? I don't know. Do I see a male? I don't know. I do know that I keep being afraid of people finding out and insulting or discriminating against me. I do not enjoy having this body in any way.

There's just a lot of uncertainty. Moving to what is still a quite unfamiliar country and city to me is tough enough. Not knowing what is awaiting me with a very uncertain future. I do want to find a happy future here, to end the uncertainty. I just don't know whether it's possible. I do know that I have been harming myself significantly by keeping up a brave face. I'm socializing as is expected from me. Yet do I really gain anything from it? I hear myself talking and joking as though there's nary a care in the world. It's as though I am two people, one extroverted personality and the introverted personality keeping to the background. Which one is really me?

Every day continues like this; filled with uncertainty and recollections living their own lives like cancerous growths. Everything emotional just hurts. Others being happy and apparently carefree shock me with this horribly bitter feeling I have come to loathe so much. All I seem to be able to do is feel horrible about myself, my body, my life and my future. Until I push it all away again for a while.

Today happens to be my birthday, but there's nothing joyous about it. I feel more pain, frustration and sadness than what should be compatible with life.

I wish I had never been born into this horrific, disgusting 'body'. Without it I could maybe have been happy.

I don't know... life has never felt entirely real to me. Any attempt to fully experience has always been blocked off. I still don't feel I ever grew past the emotional age of maybe 8 or 10 or so. Simply because I can't. I just fake it all via my intellect. I'm pretty sure that is the truth. Opening up my emotional side has been and still is impossible, as doing so would utterly destroy it. There are no nice people out there. It's only a cruel world where not being a stone-cold killer means signing your own death warrant.

Living for as much as possible in this surreal dream world, shielded by intellect, is how I can keep existing. Living in the illusion of happiness and a world where doing one's best actually means anything.

It still hurts so much, though...

Is there salvation? I have no idea. Most of my life seems to consist out of loss and people turning out to either forget about me, not providing promised help, or just outright hurting me. I do not think I can start trusting people any time soon. Until then, there's the constant expectation of betrayal and pain.

Happy birthday to me.


Sunday, 1 September 2013

One Person Living Two Lives Which Are One Life

Most people of my generation will be familiar with that scene from The Matrix, where Agent Smith tells our protagonist the following:

"It seems that you've been living two lives. One life, you're Thomas A. Anderson, program writer for a respectable software company. You have a social security number, pay your taxes, and you... help your landlady carry out her garbage. The other life is lived in computers, where you go by the hacker alias "Neo" and are guilty of virtually every computer crime we have a law for. One of these lives has a future, and one of them does not."

A life of two identities, two lives lived by the same person, keeping up a different face for each of them, as one can not bear the other. Both separate, and yet intertwined.

I feel like this too, only there was no free choice for me. The 'Thomas' part, of being a law-abiding citizen is a given. That's what you need to be accepted in society. I got that pat down, with the identity of a capable software developer thrown into the mix as well, making for a respectable identity. It's an identity people can admire and approve of.

Then the 'Neo' part for me is not so much that I chose to go into the dark side myself, but something which happened. There are a lot of 'if's here. If physicians would have helped me right away. If psychologists had helped me at all. If politicians I contacted had done something. If society had known more about intersex already. If I hadn't been born intersex. If I hadn't been born at all. If the medical specialists had done their job I wouldn't be writing this. I wouldn't be in court on September the 24th in a hearing against the VUmc gender team. I never picked any of it.

Worst of all is that it has forced my life to take two distinctly different paths simultaneously. Two identities to keep up. The 'Thomas' identity can not reveal anything of the 'Neo' identity. The other way around the 'Thomas' identity has no relevance to the 'Neo' identity. Living two lives like this is hard. One life is hard enough to live, but living two lives which directly contradict and oppose each other... it's trying to achieve the impossible. One makes the other look like a mere dream, while the other way around it makes the former look like a twisted nightmare.

The past years I have more and more often elected to get rid of the side which I feel has no future: specifically the 'Neo' identity. It's a dead-end, in the most literal sense. It's a life of total despair, of hate, blood, gore, suicide and mutilation. In comparison the 'Thomas' identity is about as close to the 'perfect family with white picket fence' stereotype one can get.

As I'm heading out tomorrow on a two-week trip to Germany for my work including to the BMW offices in Munich I'm reminded of this ever so strongly again. While I'm there in the capacity of a team member on this project. There's no room for any 'Neo'. It can not exist or show itself.

One could say that this 'Neo' is merely a magnification of one's personal life, and this wouldn't be incorrect. However, the average person has a personal life which hardly gets more exciting than picking the right brand of pasta sauce at the store after work. My personal life is more akin to a hefty medical thriller. It's become larger than life.