You say you care about me. You say you love me.
You hug me. You embrace me. Closer together isn't possible.
You say you care about me. You say you love me.
You hug me. You keep a bit of distance.
You say you care about me. You say you wish me the best.
You hug me. You keep your distance.
You say you care about me. You wish me the best.
We shake hands. We'll probably never see each other again.
You say you care about me. You wish me the best.
We never so much as shake hands. The smile might be true.
You say you care about me. You wish me the best.
We just randomly met.
You say you care about me. You wish me the best.
You sent me a message and never follow-up on my response.
You say you care about me. You wish me the best.
You live at the other side of the world. They're just words.
You say you care about me. You say you'll help me.
I don't know who you are. Who am I?
You say you care about me. You say you'll help me.
You vent your frustrations on me. I feel miserable now.
You say you care about me. You say you'll help me.
I'm feeling so terrible right now. Where are you?
You say you'll be there for me. You say life is worth living.
I couldn't take the pain of life any more.
Where were you?
Maya
Monday, 11 July 2011
Sunday, 10 July 2011
The Many Questions In The Agony Of Being Intersexual
Today I have fallen ill again. Unsteady legs, dizzyness, difficulty focusing both my eyes and my thoughts. Only a general feeling of misery. Yesterday I was sneezing and coughing constantly. In this all I'm quite certain it's the result of the chronic stress I have been suffering from for at least six and a half years which is now manifesting itself in a gradual decay of my immune system and general health. The official term for this is decompensation [1], which is part of the third and final stage in the General Adaptation Syndrome (GAS) stress model [2] as developed by the discoverer of stress, Hans Selye.
In Selye's original article [3] he describes an experiment on rats which got exposed to stressors. During the first stage (Alarm) they suffered severe physical degradations in their organs to the induced stress, which they mostly recovered from during the second stage (Resistance). After a certain period the third stage (Exhaustion) sets in. During this final stage the rats began to show symptoms similar to those in the first stage, yet instead of eventually improving many of the rats died before the experiment was stopped. This indicates that chronic stress is in fact lethal due to the physical degradations it effects.
Looking at my own case, it's not hard to identify stressors. First of all there are the countless questions, each of which cause a significant emotional response:
And so on and on and on...
If the GAS model is correct, then I am probably in the third and final stage now of Exhaustion. After six and a half years of constant presence of stressors this isn't too surprising. It took the rats in Selye's experiment only 1-3 months to move from phase 2 into phase 3. The stressors of getting arrested and spending a night in a jail cell with all the uncertainty about whether I would get out on the second day must have really pushed me over the edge.
Why did all of this have to happen? Is there a quick way to get me into a stressor-free environment? It seems essential based on the available evidence that something is done soon. I'm not so much talking about suicide, although that is a distinct possibility considering past behaviour, but mostly about the severely negative effect on my immune system, presence of harmful visceral fat [4] and other health issues.
Another stress factor got added yesterday when I learned that while Australia is a lot better for intersexual people, there are still stupid and backwards limitations, all of which act as additional stressors for me, and clearly overburdening my system. I can notice that I am in the Exhaustion stage, as I can not find a way to deal with it, put it aside or just accept it.
A voice in my head, one which sounds quite calm and reasonable, keeps stating that it is a much more reasonable and logical option to take my own life than to continue this struggle which I obviously can not handle any more. It's literally too much for me to take at this point and only rapid external help can save me at this point.
I'm Exhausted. End of the line.
Maya
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decompensation
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stress_%28biological%29#General_Adaptation_Syndrome
[3] http://neuro.psychiatryonline.org/cgi/content/full/10/2/230a
[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Visceral_fat#Physiology
In Selye's original article [3] he describes an experiment on rats which got exposed to stressors. During the first stage (Alarm) they suffered severe physical degradations in their organs to the induced stress, which they mostly recovered from during the second stage (Resistance). After a certain period the third stage (Exhaustion) sets in. During this final stage the rats began to show symptoms similar to those in the first stage, yet instead of eventually improving many of the rats died before the experiment was stopped. This indicates that chronic stress is in fact lethal due to the physical degradations it effects.
Looking at my own case, it's not hard to identify stressors. First of all there are the countless questions, each of which cause a significant emotional response:
- Why was the possibility of me being intersexual never entertained by Dutch physicians?
- Why was the possibility of me being intersexual never entertained by Dutch psychologists?
- Why did I have to wait half a year for the first appointment at the VUMC hospital and call myself when they said it would take 4 months and they'd call me?
- Why did they keep asking/telling me that I wanted to become a woman?
- Why did the VUMC hospital only perform a quick physical check-up by someone inexperienced with IS?
- Why was the diagnosis of hermaphrodite by German clinics ignored by all Dutch hospitals?
- Why didn't the Dutch hospitals discuss their findings with those German clinics?
- Why did the UMCG hospital fake a mosaic test, pretending that one tissue would suffice for it?
- Why does every Dutch radiologist have another interpretation for the tube which is clearly visible on MRIs?
- Why did at least one Dutch radiologist mention the presence of two testicles in the scrotum where only one was visible?
- Why were all the clinical symptoms regarding the prostate, palpable structures underneath the skin, hormone balance etc. ignored?
- Why did the AMC hospital come up with the not-existing diagnosis autoparagynaecophilia, pretending it was all in my mind?
- Why did the VUMC hospital want to have me taken into a psychiatric place instead of perform examinations?
- Why is the lack of existing medical protocols a reason to not perform appropriate examinations?
- Why did the Dutch politicians not care about this situation?
- Why did one Dutch politician accuse me of lying instead of the doctors lying to me?
- Why don't I know yet what my body is like?
- Why can't I live a normal life?
- Why isn't there a safe place for someone like me?
And so on and on and on...
If the GAS model is correct, then I am probably in the third and final stage now of Exhaustion. After six and a half years of constant presence of stressors this isn't too surprising. It took the rats in Selye's experiment only 1-3 months to move from phase 2 into phase 3. The stressors of getting arrested and spending a night in a jail cell with all the uncertainty about whether I would get out on the second day must have really pushed me over the edge.
Why did all of this have to happen? Is there a quick way to get me into a stressor-free environment? It seems essential based on the available evidence that something is done soon. I'm not so much talking about suicide, although that is a distinct possibility considering past behaviour, but mostly about the severely negative effect on my immune system, presence of harmful visceral fat [4] and other health issues.
Another stress factor got added yesterday when I learned that while Australia is a lot better for intersexual people, there are still stupid and backwards limitations, all of which act as additional stressors for me, and clearly overburdening my system. I can notice that I am in the Exhaustion stage, as I can not find a way to deal with it, put it aside or just accept it.
A voice in my head, one which sounds quite calm and reasonable, keeps stating that it is a much more reasonable and logical option to take my own life than to continue this struggle which I obviously can not handle any more. It's literally too much for me to take at this point and only rapid external help can save me at this point.
I'm Exhausted. End of the line.
Maya
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decompensation
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stress_%28biological%29#General_Adaptation_Syndrome
[3] http://neuro.psychiatryonline.org/cgi/content/full/10/2/230a
[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Visceral_fat#Physiology
Saturday, 9 July 2011
OII Australia To The Rescue?
Yesterday I got into contact with Karin Gottschalk of OII Australia. OII stands for Organisation Internationale des Intersexues, the international organization for intersexual people. The Australian site can be found at http://oiiaustralia.com/. Her response was so matter of fact and friendly that I found myself wondering why I hadn't contacted OII before. Maybe it were my previous negative experiences with such organizations, I guess.
What OII Australia can apparently offer me is support for my intersex condition, help with finding a job and getting settled in Australia. It's all volunteer-driven, so it won't be an easy ride, but at least these are people who know what is like to be intersexual. So far it's a stark contrast with my contacts with transsexual people, including those in Australia. I'm not sure where this difference comes from, all I know is that I much prefer the intersexual side. Maybe it's because intersexual people aren't so desperate to belong to one of the strictly defined groups of males and females? I don't know.
Anyway, things are looking up a bit now, for which I am grateful. Now to see whether this is just a breathing space before things go south again, or that it's finally up from here.
Things I do not really like so far about the picture being painted for me is the difficulty is getting hormones for Hormone Replacement Theory. Most seem to order them online as I used to do as well. It's much easier to get them locally instead of waiting a month for them to arrive. I'll have to see about this.
There is also the matter of getting the examinations and tests I require. For surgeries everyone seems to go to Thailand, which fortunately is only a small hop from Australia. For examinations and such I'm not sure where I could go to and who would pay for it. These uncertainties ruin my mood, still. Some physician has to be interested in a unique case like mine, right? Right? :(
Above all I notice how incredibly tired I am, and how little it takes for me to start crying and shut out the world. I am pretty sure this is what they call a burn-out. It really makes it extremely difficult to cope with every-day life, let alone complex things such as a relocation. There can be no opportunity to recover from this burn-out, though. Not here in the Netherlands where I can't keep from flinching every time I see a police uniform and medical help won't arrive until intersexuality is officially recognized by the Dutch government by perhaps 2050.
Once in Australia I will need someone to hold my hand as well, as silly as it may sound. Just to help me get settled into a routine and to consult with about medical things.
Just please... no more setbacks. I am sick of feeling filled with agony and despair. It hurts so bloody much. Make me believe that life can be fun and relaxing instead. Last time I felt like that I must have been 5 years old or so...
Maya
What OII Australia can apparently offer me is support for my intersex condition, help with finding a job and getting settled in Australia. It's all volunteer-driven, so it won't be an easy ride, but at least these are people who know what is like to be intersexual. So far it's a stark contrast with my contacts with transsexual people, including those in Australia. I'm not sure where this difference comes from, all I know is that I much prefer the intersexual side. Maybe it's because intersexual people aren't so desperate to belong to one of the strictly defined groups of males and females? I don't know.
Anyway, things are looking up a bit now, for which I am grateful. Now to see whether this is just a breathing space before things go south again, or that it's finally up from here.
Things I do not really like so far about the picture being painted for me is the difficulty is getting hormones for Hormone Replacement Theory. Most seem to order them online as I used to do as well. It's much easier to get them locally instead of waiting a month for them to arrive. I'll have to see about this.
There is also the matter of getting the examinations and tests I require. For surgeries everyone seems to go to Thailand, which fortunately is only a small hop from Australia. For examinations and such I'm not sure where I could go to and who would pay for it. These uncertainties ruin my mood, still. Some physician has to be interested in a unique case like mine, right? Right? :(
Above all I notice how incredibly tired I am, and how little it takes for me to start crying and shut out the world. I am pretty sure this is what they call a burn-out. It really makes it extremely difficult to cope with every-day life, let alone complex things such as a relocation. There can be no opportunity to recover from this burn-out, though. Not here in the Netherlands where I can't keep from flinching every time I see a police uniform and medical help won't arrive until intersexuality is officially recognized by the Dutch government by perhaps 2050.
Once in Australia I will need someone to hold my hand as well, as silly as it may sound. Just to help me get settled into a routine and to consult with about medical things.
Just please... no more setbacks. I am sick of feeling filled with agony and despair. It hurts so bloody much. Make me believe that life can be fun and relaxing instead. Last time I felt like that I must have been 5 years old or so...
Maya
Monday, 4 July 2011
Hospital Appointment And The Things I Gladly Leave Behind
The thing I like about traveling by train and other public methods of transport is meeting new people. On my way towards the hospital I ended up chatting with this girl about her notebook, DSLR cameras, the HKU school where I was yesterday since she wants to become an interior designer and she didn't know about this school yet, and of course my troubles in this country. I handed her my business card before she had to leave the train. I talked with a few other people as well, and got some very grateful 'thank yous' after assisting others, but that first conversation was the most remarkable, I think.
At the hospital itself I ended up talking about my issue as well when I had to register. Two ladies behind the counter were quite interested in my story so I gave them my business card as well. Ditto for the girl behind the plastic surgery department counter. All quite interesting and pleasant.
The actual appointment was less fun. The surgeon in question was a very twitchy, absent-minded person. Soon into the discussion it became clear that he was taking an offensive stance and I was back to defending myself, as I have gotten used to with Dutch physicians and such. This attitude would not change at all during the appointment. What I found annoying was that this surgeon kept pushing me towards having an artificial vagina installed, without any apparent interest in finding out whether I already have one. Finally he also called in other patients when I had left for a minute to go to the toilet, meaning that I had to wait ten minutes or so in front of a closed door with my belongings still inside.
There was no mention of the scan or x-ray with contrast dye and when I steered towards the subject, he stayed dismissive, and jumped to various conclusions. I didn't get the impression that he really believed my story, and wasn't particularly interested in examining me. What he did suggest was to have an ultrasound performed, but after a lot of calling back and forth with the radiology department it was decided that they just needed the MRI scans which I had with me on an USB stick. Then some confusion when I arrived at the radiology department as the people at the front desk didn't know about this request to have them read in the MRI scan data.
After spending more time waiting I got told that they couldn't use the JPEG files included in the scan data I have, but require the original DCOM format. Ergo they have to ask for this data at the OLVG and Erasmus MC hospitals. My presence clearly wasn't needed or required. The surgeon's conclusions based on the MRI scans will also be discussed by phone, two weeks from now. Good thing that the journey was kinda fun.
It was a good thing that I didn't have any expectations for this appointment, as otherwise I'd surely have felt disappointed. As things stand now, I merely feel that it is a confirmation of the reasons why I am leaving this country. Another confirmation are the frequent flashbacks I suffered today, with details like a side table design reminding me of the table in my jail cell, and a dress a little girl was wearing at the hospital reminding me of the bag they made me wear at the jail. Very unpleasant memories and still far too real.
Hopefully the last pieces before I can go to Australia will fall in place during this and next week. I got one friend helping me with that politician and the professor we got referred to, and the asylum request, and another with the housing part. Other friends are helping me with various details around finding a job and such. Ideally I would like to get a chance to heal up once I'm in Australia. Spend a month or so adjusting, and letting the bad memories fade somewhat while adding new, fun memories. Professional help might be welcome too, considering that I do suffer from PTSD and such, not unlike a soldier returning from a war zone.
We'll see.
Maya
At the hospital itself I ended up talking about my issue as well when I had to register. Two ladies behind the counter were quite interested in my story so I gave them my business card as well. Ditto for the girl behind the plastic surgery department counter. All quite interesting and pleasant.
The actual appointment was less fun. The surgeon in question was a very twitchy, absent-minded person. Soon into the discussion it became clear that he was taking an offensive stance and I was back to defending myself, as I have gotten used to with Dutch physicians and such. This attitude would not change at all during the appointment. What I found annoying was that this surgeon kept pushing me towards having an artificial vagina installed, without any apparent interest in finding out whether I already have one. Finally he also called in other patients when I had left for a minute to go to the toilet, meaning that I had to wait ten minutes or so in front of a closed door with my belongings still inside.
There was no mention of the scan or x-ray with contrast dye and when I steered towards the subject, he stayed dismissive, and jumped to various conclusions. I didn't get the impression that he really believed my story, and wasn't particularly interested in examining me. What he did suggest was to have an ultrasound performed, but after a lot of calling back and forth with the radiology department it was decided that they just needed the MRI scans which I had with me on an USB stick. Then some confusion when I arrived at the radiology department as the people at the front desk didn't know about this request to have them read in the MRI scan data.
After spending more time waiting I got told that they couldn't use the JPEG files included in the scan data I have, but require the original DCOM format. Ergo they have to ask for this data at the OLVG and Erasmus MC hospitals. My presence clearly wasn't needed or required. The surgeon's conclusions based on the MRI scans will also be discussed by phone, two weeks from now. Good thing that the journey was kinda fun.
It was a good thing that I didn't have any expectations for this appointment, as otherwise I'd surely have felt disappointed. As things stand now, I merely feel that it is a confirmation of the reasons why I am leaving this country. Another confirmation are the frequent flashbacks I suffered today, with details like a side table design reminding me of the table in my jail cell, and a dress a little girl was wearing at the hospital reminding me of the bag they made me wear at the jail. Very unpleasant memories and still far too real.
Hopefully the last pieces before I can go to Australia will fall in place during this and next week. I got one friend helping me with that politician and the professor we got referred to, and the asylum request, and another with the housing part. Other friends are helping me with various details around finding a job and such. Ideally I would like to get a chance to heal up once I'm in Australia. Spend a month or so adjusting, and letting the bad memories fade somewhat while adding new, fun memories. Professional help might be welcome too, considering that I do suffer from PTSD and such, not unlike a soldier returning from a war zone.
We'll see.
Maya
It Doesn't Really Matter Any More
In a few hours I'll be leaving for a hospital appointment at the other side of the country for an x-ray with contrast dye which should indicate whether or not I have a vagina there. A friend arranged this for me via a surgeon.
Just like yesterday's visit to the photo exposition, today's appointment is an - even stronger - confrontation with everything that is wrong about me and my life. I don't even care what the result of this examination is. All I can feel is sick, nauseous and completely miserable. My emotional state is distinctly unstable and I can't stop crying.
I did some reading up on Australian asylum and humanitarian protection programs. They might be an option. I don't know. I will have others look into it for me. Much as I need others for everything else. A job. Housing. Everything. There's nothing I can do myself.
I feel so worthless. Weak. All I can do is feel miserable and cry. Part of me insists that I'll never make it to Australia. Not in my current state and not with the limited help I'm getting at the moment. I'm actually beginning to feel extremely suicidal again today. I simply can't take the facts of my existence any longer. By hitting and inflicting physical pain upon myself I can draw myself away from a suicide attempt somewhat, but it's a losing battle.
There's nothing I would like more right now than to take a pill, vitally injure myself with a knife or otherwise cause my own death. Everything is better than to suffer like this.
No one cares. Or I wouldn't be writing this. What am I hoping for anyway... I should just get this over with instead of wasting more time and energy on writing useless posts like these. F*** this all. F*** all of you useless people. F*** this useless world. I'm through with it. Just...
I'll struggle on anyway, until this last thread of sanity snaps.
*winches in pain as she hits herself on the chest and abdominal areas some more*
*cries*
Maya
Just like yesterday's visit to the photo exposition, today's appointment is an - even stronger - confrontation with everything that is wrong about me and my life. I don't even care what the result of this examination is. All I can feel is sick, nauseous and completely miserable. My emotional state is distinctly unstable and I can't stop crying.
I did some reading up on Australian asylum and humanitarian protection programs. They might be an option. I don't know. I will have others look into it for me. Much as I need others for everything else. A job. Housing. Everything. There's nothing I can do myself.
I feel so worthless. Weak. All I can do is feel miserable and cry. Part of me insists that I'll never make it to Australia. Not in my current state and not with the limited help I'm getting at the moment. I'm actually beginning to feel extremely suicidal again today. I simply can't take the facts of my existence any longer. By hitting and inflicting physical pain upon myself I can draw myself away from a suicide attempt somewhat, but it's a losing battle.
There's nothing I would like more right now than to take a pill, vitally injure myself with a knife or otherwise cause my own death. Everything is better than to suffer like this.
No one cares. Or I wouldn't be writing this. What am I hoping for anyway... I should just get this over with instead of wasting more time and energy on writing useless posts like these. F*** this all. F*** all of you useless people. F*** this useless world. I'm through with it. Just...
I'll struggle on anyway, until this last thread of sanity snaps.
*winches in pain as she hits herself on the chest and abdominal areas some more*
*cries*
Maya
Sunday, 3 July 2011
Photo Exposition And The Things I Leave Behind
I guess today was all about feeling torn about my decision to leave the Netherlands. This morning I felt a bit nervous about the photo exposition in Utrecht I would be visiting, which made my stress levels spike and made me feel nauseous and miserable. I still dragged myself to the train station, though, and once I arrived at the HKU school building things improved rapidly.
Being among people who are interested in me and above all feeling part of something, belonging to a group and purpose is amazing. I talked to a number of people there, including the photography student herself. Most interesting person I met there was this Muslim girl from the fashion part of the school. Her project was about analyzing and dissecting the 'world of fashion' to discover the authentic identity of a fashion product. I.e., whether there is a point where an article of clothing or shoes are just that and not a brand or a model or an ideal world. Imagine plain deodorant versus Axe with its 'Axe effect', whereby application of this deodorant will draw hordes of sex-crazed women to the guy in question. Ideal world versus reality. I thought it was fascinating and I was pleasantly surprised to encounter such a project among those at what is after all a school for the arts.
Also fun was this project by a Chinese student, involving glass structures which while balancing on a central point would lead water from a reservoir to a plant on the other side of the central point, causing a balancing effect between the two sides which could be very telling depending on what you set it up to measure. I thought it was very elegant in its simplicity and I expect to see this product in stores soon :)
As for the exposition involving my pictures, it was set up slightly different again than from what was described to me last time I talked to the photography student, Milou. Aside from it being a tad dark it was very well set up, with one having many different angles to look at things, and a need to search for the next photograph and piece of text. Milou had also used some pictures from my photo gallery I took a few years ago to complement her own pictures. I thought it was a nice touch. As for responses from people, when they leave the exposition they are generally 'shocked', in the sense that they didn't expect it, and are impressed by it. Although my name or the name of my condition is never mentioned, it does make it clear that such a physical condition exists. And that's where it all starts from, I guess.
Near 5 PM it neared closing time and Milou walked me to the bus station. When the bus arrived we said our goodbyes. I don't know when or if I will see her again. It's been about a year since we started working together on this project and it's been a lot of fun, and an anchor point for me. The positive reception of the project at her school, both by her teachers as well as her classmates, most of whom I have talked with, was amazing. I'm so glad that Milou contacted me for this project and that I had the honour of being part of it. It didn't make it easy for me to return home from Utrecht. Nor did the severe headache I was suffering from at that point.
I'm not sure whether it was the headache which made it hard to keep my eyes open and impossible to read in my book, but as I was sitting there in the train home I began to recall the things which are good in this country. The people I met at the HKU today, for one. But also so many little things I have grown accustomed to, like the trains, the landscapes... it's hard to express it really, but I nearly started crying while sitting there in the train. I guess part of me will miss this country, but as with everything nothing is absolute. I will miss the good parts of this country, while being grateful I'll be rid of the bad parts.
What I need the most now is to find a home in Australia. I'm not sure what it'll look like, and it'll probably change during the first few months that I'm there. But a home it shall be nonetheless, with a little bit of help from my friends and acquaintances. Getting dumped straight into a 40-hour a week work schedule doesn't work, if only because of the massive jet lag and the emotional turmoil I will undoubtedly feel as I adapt to my new surroundings.
Uncertainty is no fun, especially not while I feel this torn inside.
Maya
Being among people who are interested in me and above all feeling part of something, belonging to a group and purpose is amazing. I talked to a number of people there, including the photography student herself. Most interesting person I met there was this Muslim girl from the fashion part of the school. Her project was about analyzing and dissecting the 'world of fashion' to discover the authentic identity of a fashion product. I.e., whether there is a point where an article of clothing or shoes are just that and not a brand or a model or an ideal world. Imagine plain deodorant versus Axe with its 'Axe effect', whereby application of this deodorant will draw hordes of sex-crazed women to the guy in question. Ideal world versus reality. I thought it was fascinating and I was pleasantly surprised to encounter such a project among those at what is after all a school for the arts.
Also fun was this project by a Chinese student, involving glass structures which while balancing on a central point would lead water from a reservoir to a plant on the other side of the central point, causing a balancing effect between the two sides which could be very telling depending on what you set it up to measure. I thought it was very elegant in its simplicity and I expect to see this product in stores soon :)
As for the exposition involving my pictures, it was set up slightly different again than from what was described to me last time I talked to the photography student, Milou. Aside from it being a tad dark it was very well set up, with one having many different angles to look at things, and a need to search for the next photograph and piece of text. Milou had also used some pictures from my photo gallery I took a few years ago to complement her own pictures. I thought it was a nice touch. As for responses from people, when they leave the exposition they are generally 'shocked', in the sense that they didn't expect it, and are impressed by it. Although my name or the name of my condition is never mentioned, it does make it clear that such a physical condition exists. And that's where it all starts from, I guess.
Near 5 PM it neared closing time and Milou walked me to the bus station. When the bus arrived we said our goodbyes. I don't know when or if I will see her again. It's been about a year since we started working together on this project and it's been a lot of fun, and an anchor point for me. The positive reception of the project at her school, both by her teachers as well as her classmates, most of whom I have talked with, was amazing. I'm so glad that Milou contacted me for this project and that I had the honour of being part of it. It didn't make it easy for me to return home from Utrecht. Nor did the severe headache I was suffering from at that point.
I'm not sure whether it was the headache which made it hard to keep my eyes open and impossible to read in my book, but as I was sitting there in the train home I began to recall the things which are good in this country. The people I met at the HKU today, for one. But also so many little things I have grown accustomed to, like the trains, the landscapes... it's hard to express it really, but I nearly started crying while sitting there in the train. I guess part of me will miss this country, but as with everything nothing is absolute. I will miss the good parts of this country, while being grateful I'll be rid of the bad parts.
What I need the most now is to find a home in Australia. I'm not sure what it'll look like, and it'll probably change during the first few months that I'm there. But a home it shall be nonetheless, with a little bit of help from my friends and acquaintances. Getting dumped straight into a 40-hour a week work schedule doesn't work, if only because of the massive jet lag and the emotional turmoil I will undoubtedly feel as I adapt to my new surroundings.
Uncertainty is no fun, especially not while I feel this torn inside.
Maya
Saturday, 2 July 2011
A Foothold In Australian Politics
Last Tuesday an Australian friend (I guess I should start saying 'mate' by now) sent an email on my behalf to a politician in Melbourne, regarding the issue of intersexual and similar people who leave their country due to intolerance and persecution for their condition. With this politician also being intersexual my hope was that I could get some help or advice from this side as well. What I didn't know was whether I would get a response at all, or if I did, how long it would take and what the contents would be. My only experience with politicians regarding this issue has been with Dutch politicians, which as described before has ranged from near- to complete disinterest, so while I had some hope my expectations weren't that high.
Naturally I was aware that Australia is a lot more considerate and aware of sexual diversity in its attitude and laws, and for crying out loud, the politician receiving the message is quite like me. Still, I had no real idea of what to expect.
A few hours ago I received an email from the friend... sorry, mate who sent the email with news about the response he had received from the politician. Not only did this politician inquire about more details, a reference was also provided to a professor at a local hospital. Only took about four days. Not bad. And the response itself was far beyond what I could have imagined. The follow-up from our side is now to provide the requested details, mainly about my case. I'm quite thrilled to see how this will develop from now on.
In other news, I'm awaiting news on a job in Sydney and got a very real job offer waiting for me in Newcastle. With a bit of luck I'll get to choose between jobs next week and begin to make final arrangements for my move to Australia. A slight sticking point in this is Dutch bureaucracy: my beautician has called my insurance company a number of times about the price quote they demand for approving full coverage for electrolysis treatment, but each time the person who supposedly handles such things wasn't present. It's silly because first of all such a price quote is impossible as treatment duration differs per person and is unpredictable, and because they don't have the right person available on this special phone number during office hours, and second it's silly because everyone who qualifies has to go through this futile routine.
What I should get once this request is approved is close to 4,000 Euro, which I have saved up over the past three years. Not that I'm financially in such a tight spot, but it would give me some more breathing space with such a big change in my life coming up.
Maya
Naturally I was aware that Australia is a lot more considerate and aware of sexual diversity in its attitude and laws, and for crying out loud, the politician receiving the message is quite like me. Still, I had no real idea of what to expect.
A few hours ago I received an email from the friend... sorry, mate who sent the email with news about the response he had received from the politician. Not only did this politician inquire about more details, a reference was also provided to a professor at a local hospital. Only took about four days. Not bad. And the response itself was far beyond what I could have imagined. The follow-up from our side is now to provide the requested details, mainly about my case. I'm quite thrilled to see how this will develop from now on.
In other news, I'm awaiting news on a job in Sydney and got a very real job offer waiting for me in Newcastle. With a bit of luck I'll get to choose between jobs next week and begin to make final arrangements for my move to Australia. A slight sticking point in this is Dutch bureaucracy: my beautician has called my insurance company a number of times about the price quote they demand for approving full coverage for electrolysis treatment, but each time the person who supposedly handles such things wasn't present. It's silly because first of all such a price quote is impossible as treatment duration differs per person and is unpredictable, and because they don't have the right person available on this special phone number during office hours, and second it's silly because everyone who qualifies has to go through this futile routine.
What I should get once this request is approved is close to 4,000 Euro, which I have saved up over the past three years. Not that I'm financially in such a tight spot, but it would give me some more breathing space with such a big change in my life coming up.
Maya
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