Where there should be happiness, there is just exhaustion

A new home has been secured, the necessary forms have been filled out and submitted, and financial obligations have been handled. Next week should see me moving into a new place. It's big and spacious, with a large conservatory, multiple terraces and a garden. It's located in a quiet area, with a nearly completely unobstructed view from the living room windows across the fields.

I notice that I do find comfort in the thought that I'll soon be living in this new place. Yet at the same time I find it hard to commit to any thought like that until it's become reality. And even then there's still this massive backlog of... things and feelings of the past years that have to be processed. Not just from when I first moved to Germany, but also so many years of living in the Netherlands, but not really living.

Earlier today my mom sent me more pictures of my youth she had found and wanted to show me. Pictures of me with my brothers on the farm, working on our projects in the mud, amongst the fields and wide open spaces. Looking at a picture like that brings memories flooding back and makes me realise just how much I miss all of that. The village where we grew up, our neighbours and friends, the school and everything else.

It made me realise strongly just how much I am not a city person. That's why this new place that I'll be moving into is the right choice, I think. Away from the city, back into a more rural environment, with more of the space and nature with which I grew up. It should provide a healthy environment for me to do all of this catching up, as well as to finally finish writing that first part of my autobiography.


Rationally I'm all onboard with this, and I can see myself plotting a course through all of this, finally leaving the misery of the past years behind me. Yet emotionally it will all take much longer. There's only so much one can take before burning through one's emotional reserves. After the brutality of the now finished legal eviction battle, it's clear that there were no victors there, with both sides incurring massive financial losses. Maybe if I had switched to that better lawyer sooner I'd have come out better, but that's all too late now.

It's also hard not to feel largely alone, either. Recent events have shown me that sadly the same kind of bullies who have harassed and terrorised me before will likely always keep popping up. The type who'll try to find whatever weakness they can find in you and exploit it for their own sick games. Like the bullies who'd harass me in 2011, both before and after my failed suicide attempt. It's often hard to tell whether they have a real goal, other than to live off the misery of others.

I'm at least grateful that such... people do not really get to me any more. They'll try to spread rumours and try to character assassinate you, but the people who really know you, and who aren't afraid of actually talking to you and ask questions will no fall for such tricks. It's just a matter of finding those decent human beings with whom it's actually a pleasure to interact.


At this point my faith in humans in general has quite obviously been diminished significantly, with me being hardly any further as far as my intersex condition and its treatment goes than when I moved to Germany in late 2013. It saddens me to think that perhaps I'll never know the answer to any of my questions, receive medical help and live out my life just as invisible as an intersex person as I do today.

My sincere hope that this raw, bleeding wound inside my very psyche can heal over time, with everything else that causes me grief resolving itself as well. Because I don't want to be always occupied with myself. There are far more interesting things out there, after all, and so many people to meet and sights to behold.

And maybe, just maybe, in the near future I'll feel that spark of happiness again.


Maya