When the hardest thing one can think of is to hang on to life

It's hard to say exactly why, or to point at a singular thing and say that 'if only that was different...', thus indicating the source of why one feels like being alive is the single most terrible thing one can think of at that time.

I cannot say such things either. Lots of things have happened or are happening which all at least serve to make me feel upset, depressed or like I'm the most hated person on this planet.

Earlier I had to return some money to the company which owns the place I rent, because they had miscalculated how much I had paid in advance. It's half a thousand Euros I now have less, due to said miscalculation. Fair is fair, but it upset me because initially I didn't know whether they really had made a mistake, or that they suddenly want me to pay the full amount for this place again, despite countless things being broken.

Such as hearing everything from the neighbours, including their toilet activities and when they get into or out of bed, also the heating system making so much noise that I cannot use the living room, and of course the constant access to fresh air due to there literally being holes in the walls to the outside. Then there are the water pipes in my apartment busily rusting away, leading to fun situations like this one yesterday:

Living in a place that's poorly insulated, noisy, sorely behind on maintenance and still expensive wouldn't be healthy for anyone's mood, yet it's not just that. Even if through some miracle I was able to move into a great place, I still wouldn't be happy. Happier, of course, and a lot further away from the edge of giving up on life altogether, but still not in the green zone.

With week after week passing without hearing anything from the endocrinologist after the last appointment and blood samples that were taken, while I'm suffering through one episode of different physical pain after another brings back the dark expectations of the past. The rejection of reality and the insistence that everything I feel, not to mention what I see in the mirror, are all just part of my own delusions.

For weeks now my lower abdomen hurt, more so when I lightly press on it. I have also had the usual range of painful symptoms from ovulating (right side hurting like hell, right leg going numb), which subside into more mild cramps until it's quiet for a little while before worse cramps start and sitting, going to the toilet and such become painful to an agonising experience. From reading up on things it seems that estradiol gel may actually protect against depression during and after ovulation. It might just be another thing alongside the pain which gets me down so much.

In the end nothing about my life is easy, aside from probably my day job. Even if something might be positive, it'll be coloured darkly by past experiences, making that I cannot look forward or feel joy at anything any more. Even if many seem to disagree with this assessment of my life, what matters to me is my own assessment, not what those who haven't and aren't living this life of mine may think of it.

Really, what is there to look forward to? A better place to live in? Unlikely to happen with this housing market. A medical solution to my intersex condition and associated symptoms? Over a decade of experiences say it won't happen and keeping up hope is the definition of insanity. A happy life with family and friends? Starting my own family? The facts just make me seem like a complete misanthrope there.

There's just emptiness, day after day, just filled with the despair as one realises that all that keeps one alive is money and a shortage of people who demand too much from you. It makes one wonder whether things like happiness, love, joy and freedom are nothing but terrible lies none of us can truly accept for just what they are.

Who cares about another dawn when all it brings is the same painful repetition?


Maya