Monday, 5 March 2018

The worst part about dying is when you still want to live

After last month's surgery I found myself struggling with thoughts regarding the futility of what I'm trying to do, with getting answers about and a resolution to my intersex condition. This along with the sense of emptiness after the last hope of getting an easy resolution got squashed. Nothing about my body is easy to explain or understand. Nothing seems to match up with standard physiology.

I spent so many hours just staring aimlessly at the ceiling while lying in bed, or looking at people around me, feeling even more distance between them and myself as ever before. The sensation was of losing myself even further. Naturally the gynaecologist saw fit to dismiss me as well when I next saw him, without so many as a referral or helpful advice.

Then, as I found ways to deal with this somewhat - along with the new chronic pain symptoms - I got an update from my lawyer for the eviction case against me. This in the form of a big pack of paper containing the summary of evidence in the case, which the court will use to decide on a ruling. First I thought it was the actual ruling already, then noticed what it was about. The request from my lawyer was to look through it and send in suggestions and corrections before the deadline in less than two weeks.

I cannot do that. I cannot open the document and read through it. I physically cannot do this. Merely holding this document had my heart pounding and me feeling like I was going to be sick. For the rest of that day I felt absolutely terrible. The past days little changed. The feeling was one of impending doom. The certainty that the game was up, and these past years of relative peace and quiet were about to come to an end, with forceful eviction and again the loss of all my belongings and money. Just like before.


Then, today I didn't feel as bad about it any more. I seem to have mostly stopped worrying. I still cannot look at the legal document, but the panicked feeling and feelings of terror have mostly subsided, to be replaced with something like acceptance.

Yet what it reminds me of is the similar sense of dread and terror the days before I was forced to leave a room which I was renting in 2010. These were the days leading up to my suicide attempt. Yet I wasn't feeling those panicked sensations when I decided to kill myself. Instead this decision was made when I calmed down. Stopped clinging onto the hope that somehow I could get out of the situation which I was in.

Stopped clinging onto the idea of continuing to live.

What is interesting is that if I ask myself right now whether I would be okay with dying right now, I could totally accept it. I don't really care either way any more. What happens will happen. I'm powerless to stop it anyway. My dreams and aspirations are useless. I can accept this now.

In some ways that's a tell-tale sign of an impending suicide: when someone goes from being depressed to suddenly seeming much happier and cheerful. That's the point where they have accepted that things won't get better, and that it is okay to let go of life. Of existing. Where one has made peace with one's inescapable circumstances. In some ways it's a really positive thing. To end life on a high note.


I have lost my body. Again. I will soon lose even more. Again. No matter what I do or try, I'll always slide back and have all my efforts nullified.

But that's okay. I don't care either way. I can accept this now.


I would like to stop fighting. I want my body to stop being a battlefield. I don't want to keep searching for a home that doesn't exist. I don't care if I'm giving up and surrendering. At least I'll be at peace.


Maya

4 comments:

Tom Farrier said...

I read this post a few hours ago. I've been thinking about what to say to you ever since.

So many of your writings speak to pain and isolation. No one knows exactly what anyone else is going through, but we are all obliged to listen and to help if we can.

You're tired. You hurt. You are facing repeats of some of the worst things you have faced before. Your intelligence, honesty and integrity don't seem to matter.

But they do.

You made decisions for yourself many years ago that allow you to look in the mirror today and say, "I was right." You still are. You can make people thousands of miles away care about you through your gift of humor and your natural ability to teach.

So many people feel detached from the world or society around them for so many reasons. So many people are aware of how different they are from others and feel the pain of not being "part of it all." The older I get, the more I wonder just how much if "normal" society truly is normal. It seems more like a lowest common denominator, an agreement that "This is how things should be." I reject that, and so do you.

I think Maya Posch is an amazing person. I'm glad to have discovered her. There are very few true polymaths in the world. You're tired of being tested, but you always pass the tests. That's your most special gift.

We have doctors in the U.S. who specialize in pain management. They don't care about what hurts so much as to making it stop hurting. I go to one sometimes. I hope you can find someone like that and get some relief. If you suspect you have a fistula of some type, have someone take a look -- the gastrointestinal system seems pretty gender-neutral.

Just get help so you can live instead of just surviving. I know that's what you've been doing for years, but your doctors always seem to be looking for things they recognize instead of the person as a whole. I can't think I'm the only person in the world who is willing to meet you on your own terms.

Maybe you are a unicorn -- lovely,magical and rare. Then again, maybe you are a proud horse in a pointy party hat. Either way, please celebrate yourself the way others do.

Stay.

JohnT said...

Dear Maya,

I could hardly say better than Tom Farrier's kind and true words.
Please stay, Maya.

Medical doctors are like any other profession: there is a high proportion of them who try to force the pre-determined pictures they were taught when they were students, into reality, but there are still quite a few who do honestly examine their patients with an open mind and try to understand what is going on and find the right treatment.
Couldn't you try and meet a doctor who has a bit of experience with intersex people? There are quite a few, at least in England. And the British are usually more open-minded and respectful than Germans.
Maya, please stay.
If I could help...
You are young and beautiful and clever. Not many ingredients missing to have a long, beautiful and fulfilling life!
Take care. Don't leave us. I pray that you find the right doctor as soon as possible.
John.

Maya Posch said...

@JohnT - I actually tried to find help in the UK a couple of years ago. Contacted a number of supposed professionals, and even had some UK folk contact doctors on my behalf.

Every time the result was the same: communication would be rudely cut off, appointments ignored and help denied on account of me not being a UK person within the NHS.

I have quite literally tried to find help around the globe over the past 13 years, but to no avail. People keep telling me that there has to be help out there, but I'm pretty sure that there's none.

Jim Cornette said...

Please hold on to life honey. I dearly hope you feel better physically shortly. Let the eviction woes for what they are. There will come a solution for that anyway. As for your pains, keep some faith they will vanish after some time goes by, as you are a young and otherwise healthy person. Please remember you are an unique individual, like every person, perhaps even more so. You look like a lovely person with great capabilities and interests, to me that ticks all the boxes of a potentially great partner, so you will definitely find that special one, just have some more patience. Wish I could do something for you besides commenting on a blog. Take care