Monday, 11 January 2016

Dreams to highlight all that is wrong

For the past months I have had lots of dreams, usually without me being able to remember much more than just a few fragments or a sensation when I wake up. Those I do remember are vivid and stay with me for a while, such as the dream I had last night. As seems to be common, it was yet another nightmare.

In this particular nightmare I was being haunted and finally chased by these two men who somehow got me to sign some kind arrest warrant or confession document, which I then realised and tried to desperately escape. This all in the setting of the house where I grew up. By the time I woke up I was drenched in sweat and feeling rather uncomfortable.

After waking up like that, my thoughts continued pretty straight into a similar train of thought which has been playing in my mind over the past weeks or months, namely the temptation of not giving in to the humiliation of financial punishment by the Dutch state and instead continuing my decade-long resistance by just having them imprison me for a number of months.

It may sound stupid, but just thinking about paying up after more than four years and with it basically confessing that I was guilty of purposefully destroying those works of art which were on display at that doctor's office, even after years of physical and psychological torture, a suicide attempt, being diagnosed with PTSD and DID, and suffering a blackout while at said office. Things which the judges say they agree with and officially I wasn't punished. I just have to pay a large sum of money, thereby admitting my guilt and the wilful destruction of said items. It's a disgusting, back-handed way of hurting me even more through a so-called 'justice system'.

When I put up that crowdfunding campaign in order to allow others to pitch in and share the financial and with it the psychological burden, I knew I was setting myself up for judgement by the general public as well. Now that after weeks have passed and a handful of people have donated I do not feel better about things. Sure, it is great that a large sum has been donated, and I do draw comfort and strength from this fact. Those who wanted to donate, but lack the means have shared the campaign and provided kind words.

Yet the fact remains that I feel that an even larger group of people have chosen to either ignore said campaign because they do not care either way, or worse, feel that I was at fault and wilfully chose to vandalise said items, despite all of the circumstances and background. The latter is perhaps the worst feeling of all. Whether it's true or not I do not know, but it is one of the reasons which underlie this urge to just submit myself to even worse punishment than just to surrender a large part of my savings for no good reason aside from supporting a corrupt system and hateful people who do not care in the slightest about those who are unfortunate enough to be 'different'.

That I fled the Netherlands isn't just because of some disagreements and/or financial reasons. This last lawsuit is the third one. The first two were started by me, to sue the doctors at the first, Amsterdam hospital who mistreated my intersex case, and to address the discriminating behaviour of my insurance company towards intersex people with myself in particular. Both of those two cases were rejected or manipulated such that I stood no chance of winning. I lost. Intersex people in the Netherlands lost. Human rights in the Netherlands got dealt a big setback.

And nobody cared.

The feeling that all of this that I do to fight for my own rights and of everyone like me who isn't 'standard' and doesn't fit into these neat little boxes society likes to puzzle together, that all of this is for naught troubles me a lot. Why is it that we have the same ridiculous idiocy as with homosexuality and transsexuality, where one seeks to 'fix' something which isn't a problem? Why is the existence and acceptance of something that is perfectly natural and not harmful in the slightest treated as something shameful, to be 'fixed' with surgery and the medical files hidden or destroyed?

I spend a fair bit of my time on interviews on intersex with a wide variety of people, from journalists to students and even authors who wish to include intersex in an upcoming book. My website and blog with a wide variety of information on intersex is at the top of search results related to intersex. I like to think that what I do matters.

Maybe that's why I also feel so strongly about the lukewarm response I have received over the past four years since the event happened. I only had to suffer severe PTSD, DID, get beaten up by the Dutch police, suffer through one hateful, accusing court case after another, and feel utterly alone throughout the whole ordeal.

People have often said to me that they admire me for being such a strong person, but I am not. I already gave in once and tried to escape from this life. Hit the 'abort' button. The thought of ceasing my struggle, of just surrendering to the inevitability of doctors, psychologists, politicians and even regular people hating me, wanting people like me to cease existing through whatever means necessary. It's a tempting thought, indeed.

What has defined my life over the past decades is not wanting to find answers about my body. It has been about being regarded as a freak, as a disorder. As something that is wrong and cannot or should not be. As a result I have pretty much always been unhappy and alone. Never understanding, never feeling understood or cared for. Even as a child and teenager this feeling was ever-present. I am not alive today because I wish to be a human, or part of human society. I care nothing for either, because neither mean anything positive to me.

All that I receive is the judgement from others. I cannot simply be or exist. I cannot live my life. I cannot be not 'different'. I cannot ignore the reality of my situation. I cannot change things to simply be possible.

There is only the heaviness of the burden of being alive and the numbing pain of dissociation at the realisation of the preceding.

At this point in time I await this dreaded moment where I will have to pay up or face jail time. I also await further medical results which can make my life either very easy, or very difficult, or just add to the string of utter disappointments that has been the sum of my experiences with medical professionals so far. Suffice it to say that the resulting stress levels are high. Far too high to be healthy.

Yet I cannot do anything but wait. Just push it away. Just wait. Ignore it. Maybe it will be fine. Please wait. There's nothing else to be done.

Those moments when you realise that you would be so much happier trading one's body for an artificial one, because there is nothing to be gained by trying to live with a body which doesn't make one happy and will die and rot away before long anyway. Utter disappointment.


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