There are many times that I wish I could just experience life like everyone else. I vaguely remember a time when the way I saw and experienced the world around me like everyone else does. Back then the world around me wasn't filled with dark shadows and monsters; invisible threats ready to leap out at me from every corner and angle. At this point pretty much anything about life has some kind of traumatic event attached to it. Even daily life kind of things such as finding a place to live are a complete nightmare to me. Even though it shouldn't be. I should be happy right now.
The first time I had to find a place to live on my own was back in 2007 when I was going to be moving to Canada, as I needed to escape from the Netherlands. It was a desperate attempt and ended me up in this run-down apartment with paper-thin walls. I also inconvenienced my best friend a lot during that time with having to arrange and pay everything for me. It wasn't a pleasant experience, generally speaking.
The second time I had to find a place for myself I was being chased and bullied out of the place I had been staying at for about three years. It was early 2011 and I found myself with virtually no money. The place I ended up renting was completely run-down as well and cost way too much for what it was. I felt horrible about moving like that. Though I kept telling me that I would make it on my own just fine, deep inside I knew I wouldn't make it. Before I could move into that room, however, I found the only real way out of that situation in the form of an overdose of sleeping pills. Unfortunately I survived the attempt and woke up in the hospital. To me it felt that I'd spend the rest of my life on borrowed time.
The third time it was 2012, I had a job and thus no major money issues. Unfortunately I moved in with a psychopath and had to endure months of verbal and physical abuse until I had to flee. Returning after a few months, I discovered that all my belongings had been stolen, sold off and/or destroyed by said psychopath.
Now it's time for attempt number four.
Not that I want to be seen as a whiner, or complaining about nothing serious. Fact of the matter is simply that even with just the above experiences it'd be very hard for me to have completely faith in it working out. What worsens things for me is that I have been afflicted with severe post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) [1].
While only those who have PTSD or have experienced its temporary cousin (acute stress disorder) can fully understand what it's like to live with it, those who have loved ones or friends with PTSD may also be able to grasp the full impact of it. Most important thing to remark about PTSD is that it's a physical condition, directly affecting the brain in a physical, measurable manner and permanently changing the response of the brain to a variety of situations, the so-called triggers. As summarized by [1]: "[..] during high stress times the hippocampus, which is associated with the ability to place memories in the correct context of space and time, and with the ability to recall the memory, is suppressed. This suppression is hypothesized to be the cause of the flashbacks that often plague PTSD patients. When someone with PTSD undergoes a stimuli similar to the traumatic event the body perceives the event as occurring again because the memory was never properly recorded in the patients memory"
The essence of PTSD is thus that an unprocessed traumatic event or events which thus to the person affected will keep occurring over and over again every time a trigger is provided. To the person's brain it's as real as it can be. With no feedback from the hippocampus or the prefrontal cortex to suppress the amygdala's fight-or-flight response the traumatic memories will not be processed or suppressed. As the definition in the DSM-IV notes, typically the individual with PTSD persistently avoids all thoughts, emotions and discussion of the stressor event and may experience amnesia for it. However, the event is commonly relived by the individual through intrusive, recurrent recollections, flashbacks and nightmares.
To me 'daily life' seems to be an accurate summary of what entails my triggers. It is the primary reason why the only escape I have from the stress caused by my PTSD consists out of intellectual pursuits and science and technology in general. They are generally devoid of any triggers. Outside that, however... let's just say that even just seeing, hearing or talking about 'humans' and their escapades is stressful to me, as it is in so many ways connected to everything horrible that way done to me over the years for which I can not help but blame this body I was born with and humanity in general for its cruel and wholly unfair response to my apparently inexcusable existence.
As I type this I'm fairly in control of my PTSD. I can feel it gnawing at my mind, attempting to force its way out and flood my mind with the same sensations of utter frustration, anger, despair, fear, terror and ultimately the comforting lure of suicide. I had to type this text to analyse it for myself yet again but also to hopefully explain a bit more to others why my situation is so unlike that of others who get to just pick a place to live. To them it's maybe pleasant, a tad stressful. It shouldn't be a struggle to prove one's worthiness of existing and the validation of one's existence in general. It shouldn't drive one to a suicidal depression.
Yet to me it does. I am not sure how much more I can take there. I know already that I can not do this on my own. Without any offered help I'd just quit looking right away and slide back into the comforting embrace of death. I'm not saying this to be dramatic. Even if I tried to put up a brave face - and heavens know it's what I'd like to do best - I have to admit here that I am here in a situation where without help from others it'll quite literally be my end. After everything I have been through and with the constant struggle inside my head I can not bring up the energy or effort to care about continuing to live any more beyond the bare minimum.
I wish I wouldn't have to write all this. I wish I was just like everyone else. People who'll read the above and just shake their head or shrug in disbelief, or worse, tell me to look at the positive side of things. Looking at the positive side of life is for people who aren't being tormented on a daily (and nightly) base by their own brain. Many respond in disbelief at the news of veterans who take their own lives after struggling to live with PTSD and failing. They can not comprehend what went on in the head of the person. Those close to the person did notice the change after he got back from his campaign, but struggled to come to terms with the sudden bursts of anger, sadness and general tendency towards isolation.
PTSD requires immediate and constant care until the symptoms have subsided to an acceptable level. I'm more than convinced of that through my own experiences. Sadly for many veterans and others affected by PTSD it's simply not available. I have tried to get PTSD therapy in the Netherlands, but could find no therapist who even remotely understood what I had gone through, which just led to more frustration.
For me living with PTSD is a daily struggle. I'd therefore truly appreciate any help from other people for the more mundane things. Fortunately I'm getting some help with finding this home in Germany right now, but I'm not even going to attempt to stop the voice telling me that it's never going to work out. I used to keep it suppressed, but now I lack the energy for that. Being positive and hopeful is hard. As hard as actually living.
I guess I have said everything I wanted to say by now, though I still don't feel like I have really put it down in a way which will actually make people understand the chaos inside my head. How it's like a constant buzz, harassing me and making me feel horrible, uncomfortable, or worse. As I said before, you really need to have experienced it yourself.
I don't want to end up back in that situation where I was in early 2011 when the only way out of the pain of existence was to terminate it. I do want to live. I just don't want to suffer any more.
Maya
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Posttraumatic_stress_disorder
Saturday, 26 October 2013
Thursday, 17 October 2013
The Commonalities Between Finding A Body And A House
Before 2005 I didn't have a body. While others said I did, I couldn't tell you anything about it which wasn't based on what others said about it, some of which even contradicted. Deep down, the part of me which was connected to the body still firmly believed that it was the body of a child, not that of a teenager or adult. In my daily experiences I only encountered this body when there was a need for items like clothing, personal hygiene and a haircut, but that was as much related to me as playing with a doll is.
In 2003 I lost my home and most of my family when my parents divorced. It would be the first of many times moving to a new place, on average moving once a year. It also meant that I had to become completely self-reliant as I didn't have any parents any more with an income who could take care of me. I'd also keep losing more and more of my possessions with each move, until the complete loss of everything that remained this year. All that remained to me was finding my body.
I think I have found my body at this point, even though the Dutch medical system still contests this. Their claim that I am a biological male is something which seems so patently absurd at this point that I won't even bother with it any more. Thus remains what both the Dutch courts and German physicians agree on: I'm a hermaphrodite, with a primarily female build. It's really all I wanted to know, back when I was 5 years old already. If I had known it back then it could have saved me from the horrific and traumatizing years that would follow, from the run-up to puberty, to puberty itself and the years afterwards. Yet now I finally know. This is my body. It's what I am. It seems so inconsequential, but it's actually the most important thing to a human being. Everything else arises from it.
Thus what is left is to find that house and with it a home. How is this similar to finding one's body, one might ask? Both are highly personal things with tremendous meaning and consequences to one's future and happiness. Missing one makes the other seem rather insignificant.
The past nine years that I was looking for my body I spent many days researching medical and other topics. Anything that might help me. Even if reading about such things would make me feel horrible and sickened. Even if I felt depressed and suicidal afterwards. I had to push through without relenting, because it had to be done. There could be no existence for me without it. The attempts by Dutch physicians and psychologists to push me away and into their preconceived notions did untold damage to me, as I had to resist, or forever lose myself. I could be living as a transsexual right now, going happily along with whatever Dutch physicians told me. But I didn't believe them, because I felt it wasn't right. It was an immense struggle between specialists and me in there somewhere. Separating fact from fiction.
Now that I'm looking for a home I find that it reminds me unpleasantly of the search for my body. Again I get the nay-sayers, the ridicule, the often well-meant distractions and suggestions. Again I have to confront myself with the question of what I am looking for, what it is that I want. Digging through piles of information and having to foresee any issue which may crop up later. Again I feel like regularly throwing up my arms in despair and just let things for what they are. Before I told myself I was content with dying as I wouldn't find my body anyway. Now I sometimes find myself thinking that I don't really care any more, that I won't find a home ever again anyway.
I have had to adjust my house search radius to just the Karlsruhe outskirts and direct surroundings as I'd get completely overwhelmed by options. I hope it works out now. I really don't know any more. If this works out I can finally put this all behind me. Right now I'm just reliving the same nightmare I have lived in since I was five years old, being lost and alone, with emotions and feelings as the most undesirable thing imaginable. Without emotions life would be so much easier. Unfortunately I don't have the mental strength to control or suppress my emotions in any meaningful manner. I haven't slept well in months, just pushing myself to keep going, but bitterly realizing that it may be all too little, too late.
Maya
In 2003 I lost my home and most of my family when my parents divorced. It would be the first of many times moving to a new place, on average moving once a year. It also meant that I had to become completely self-reliant as I didn't have any parents any more with an income who could take care of me. I'd also keep losing more and more of my possessions with each move, until the complete loss of everything that remained this year. All that remained to me was finding my body.
I think I have found my body at this point, even though the Dutch medical system still contests this. Their claim that I am a biological male is something which seems so patently absurd at this point that I won't even bother with it any more. Thus remains what both the Dutch courts and German physicians agree on: I'm a hermaphrodite, with a primarily female build. It's really all I wanted to know, back when I was 5 years old already. If I had known it back then it could have saved me from the horrific and traumatizing years that would follow, from the run-up to puberty, to puberty itself and the years afterwards. Yet now I finally know. This is my body. It's what I am. It seems so inconsequential, but it's actually the most important thing to a human being. Everything else arises from it.
Thus what is left is to find that house and with it a home. How is this similar to finding one's body, one might ask? Both are highly personal things with tremendous meaning and consequences to one's future and happiness. Missing one makes the other seem rather insignificant.
The past nine years that I was looking for my body I spent many days researching medical and other topics. Anything that might help me. Even if reading about such things would make me feel horrible and sickened. Even if I felt depressed and suicidal afterwards. I had to push through without relenting, because it had to be done. There could be no existence for me without it. The attempts by Dutch physicians and psychologists to push me away and into their preconceived notions did untold damage to me, as I had to resist, or forever lose myself. I could be living as a transsexual right now, going happily along with whatever Dutch physicians told me. But I didn't believe them, because I felt it wasn't right. It was an immense struggle between specialists and me in there somewhere. Separating fact from fiction.
Now that I'm looking for a home I find that it reminds me unpleasantly of the search for my body. Again I get the nay-sayers, the ridicule, the often well-meant distractions and suggestions. Again I have to confront myself with the question of what I am looking for, what it is that I want. Digging through piles of information and having to foresee any issue which may crop up later. Again I feel like regularly throwing up my arms in despair and just let things for what they are. Before I told myself I was content with dying as I wouldn't find my body anyway. Now I sometimes find myself thinking that I don't really care any more, that I won't find a home ever again anyway.
I have had to adjust my house search radius to just the Karlsruhe outskirts and direct surroundings as I'd get completely overwhelmed by options. I hope it works out now. I really don't know any more. If this works out I can finally put this all behind me. Right now I'm just reliving the same nightmare I have lived in since I was five years old, being lost and alone, with emotions and feelings as the most undesirable thing imaginable. Without emotions life would be so much easier. Unfortunately I don't have the mental strength to control or suppress my emotions in any meaningful manner. I haven't slept well in months, just pushing myself to keep going, but bitterly realizing that it may be all too little, too late.
Maya
Sunday, 13 October 2013
Chasing Through The Same Nightmare Again
After this week's attempt to find a house to rent in Germany and me sinking into a depression by the end of the same day, I figured that by today I was over the worst of that negative mood. Until someone started talking earlier about being so happy to move into her new place and triggering something ugly inside of me. Now my head is bruised again and my hands hurt. Beating out the monster that threatens to swallow me, I guess. Even right now I feel still very restless and highly agitated. I'd rather just cry, curl up somewhere quiet and die. Rather than to type all this. Rather than to wade through the horrible pain again as I continue my attempts to find that place to rent.
Part of the frustration and agitation I experience is due to the conflicting information I get from people. Such as one person informing me that he asked around and telling me that there's no way I can get anything for around 800 Euro in the Karlsruhe area. Then to find many options which do qualify. Having to explain to otherwise very helpful people that I'm not looking for an apartment because I do not wish to have people living above or below me. The constant noises from people moving about, talking, watching TV, vacuuming, taking a shower, going to the toilet, etc. agitate me and make it hard for me to get a good night's rest.
I did get a few reasonable options this week. What I am looking for is something between the nearly perfect house I saw in a quite remote area. Nicely wooded garden, standalone and for far less than 800 Euro a month. Only disadvantages being so remote with no central heating and likely poor internet access as well as no easy access to public transport. The other options I got were in cities, still for a similar price, but of course without much of a garden and some of them quite... cozy inside.
Ideally I'd like to find something a bit more in between these two sets of options. Still slightly remote, but still within the reach of civilization. It should actually help to keep the price down. Worst case I'll have to settle for something temporary as fortunately Germany doesn't know forced 1-year contracts for a rental house, so I'd just have to spend about 3 months there. Whoever I rent it from won't be very happy with that, of course. I'd rather not be moving more than once either. This is the 9th or 10th time already for me since 2003. I'm beyond sick of moving.
This month I'll have to find something to rent. Next month is the last full month I should have at the place where I'm currently staying. After that I'll have a major problem. As I can not count on others to provide me with the perfect options, I have no choice but to ignore the swirling darkness inside my head and do my best to sort through the available options this month, regardless of the emotional instability this will cause. It can't be worse than exposing myself to the horrors of the Dutch medical system, I guess. *laughs bitterly*
I guess that the 'living happily ever after' part will have to wait until some time next year at the earliest.
Maya
Part of the frustration and agitation I experience is due to the conflicting information I get from people. Such as one person informing me that he asked around and telling me that there's no way I can get anything for around 800 Euro in the Karlsruhe area. Then to find many options which do qualify. Having to explain to otherwise very helpful people that I'm not looking for an apartment because I do not wish to have people living above or below me. The constant noises from people moving about, talking, watching TV, vacuuming, taking a shower, going to the toilet, etc. agitate me and make it hard for me to get a good night's rest.
I did get a few reasonable options this week. What I am looking for is something between the nearly perfect house I saw in a quite remote area. Nicely wooded garden, standalone and for far less than 800 Euro a month. Only disadvantages being so remote with no central heating and likely poor internet access as well as no easy access to public transport. The other options I got were in cities, still for a similar price, but of course without much of a garden and some of them quite... cozy inside.
Ideally I'd like to find something a bit more in between these two sets of options. Still slightly remote, but still within the reach of civilization. It should actually help to keep the price down. Worst case I'll have to settle for something temporary as fortunately Germany doesn't know forced 1-year contracts for a rental house, so I'd just have to spend about 3 months there. Whoever I rent it from won't be very happy with that, of course. I'd rather not be moving more than once either. This is the 9th or 10th time already for me since 2003. I'm beyond sick of moving.
This month I'll have to find something to rent. Next month is the last full month I should have at the place where I'm currently staying. After that I'll have a major problem. As I can not count on others to provide me with the perfect options, I have no choice but to ignore the swirling darkness inside my head and do my best to sort through the available options this month, regardless of the emotional instability this will cause. It can't be worse than exposing myself to the horrors of the Dutch medical system, I guess. *laughs bitterly*
I guess that the 'living happily ever after' part will have to wait until some time next year at the earliest.
Maya
Saturday, 12 October 2013
Relative Reality And A Personal Hell
It's often said that reality is a relative thing. It's not. Reality is as fixed as anything in a quantum-based universe can be. The only relative thing here is that of the interpretation of said reality by individuals. A cow has its version of reality, as does a dog, as does a human. Each has their own priorities and assignment of relevance. Added to this is something else, something going beyond mere instinct and the like: memory. An individual learns what is good and bad, what is tasty and icky. What is pleasurable and what is painful or worse. Each of these learning experiences go on to colour one's interpretation of reality for the rest of that individual's lifespan.
There is often the debate on nature versus nurture: whether one's genes are more important than the way one was raised. It should be obvious that beyond severe neurological issues the impact of these aforementioned memories have to be significantly more important. It determines how a soldier responds and behaves during his or her first real battle. No training can prepare one for the actual experience of knowing that every fraction of a second between now and infinity someone near you or yourself is going to get wounded horribly or die gruesomely. It's the kind of terror which will make many just outright snap. Those who survive and return are no longer the person they used to be.
Many have said and written that war isn't a thing, but that it's something inside minds. Inside the heads of politicians, generals and soldiers. They're right. Same as for other types of (violent) traumatic events. Beyond physical injuries and destruction there is no trace of it. It's something which never existed as such in reality.
Upon returning to a 'normal' life after such a traumatic event, things usually go completely wrong. Former soldiers who act aggressive, even violent towards their own family and friends. Abuse and rape victims who start abusing others or who come to reject any form of physical contact. Their minds have forever been coloured by their experiences. Yet nobody around them can see it. They look at the person and in their uncoloured interpretation they see a healthy, regular person. They can not grasp the terrible reality of what has occurred inside the mind of that person. The resulting lack of understanding then pushes the affected individuals even more towards unhealthy, irregular behaviour.
Did my traumatic events end? Is it over? I'm on the verge of leaving the Netherlands and can go see a German surgeon for the final surgery any time I wish. The hearing against one of the Dutch medical teams which mistreated me for so many years went well. Even if nothing comes out of it they can no longer touch me.
And yet... while the rational side of my mind calmly composes this list, I can feel and hear the rest of my mind ranting and raging against it. It's not over. Not by far. Not inside my head. Not with all these unwanted memories forcing themselves upon me, and colouring my mind in a horrifically dark and bleak way. I'm not sure how to describe what I'm feeling. Some analogies I came up with involve a massive gale, with ripping, cold winds and freezing rain and sleet permeating every millimeter of dry skin. I'm walking through it, every step feeling as lead, draining my energy, my head just feeling numb and any thought of comfort or happiness a cruel joke to worsen my torment. Whenever I'm engaged in some intellectual undertaking is when I have found temporary shelter, where I can at least for a moment forget about the gale outside. Yet I'll have to go back into it eventually. To walk on until all my energy is gone and I die.
The other way to describe it is as an assault of threats. A constant barrage. Every request, every letter, phone call, decision, change... they're all threats. Some are easily dealt with, while others become too painful when trying to deal with it. I'll either get this numbing headache, or when I lose hope this feeling of frustrated surrender, of falling and surrendering to the realization that it's all impossible. This followed by depression, thoughts of suicide and so on. I'll eventually get out of it for a bit, but only until the next time a threat arrives which knocks me down again.
To the average person the world is just a semi-random series of events, objects and people. To someone like me with an interpretation of reality strongly coloured by traumatic events, it's nothing like that. I have to actually, consciously focus to see the world like that. What I normally see is the world as seen through three decades of rejection, bullying, abuse, rape, feeling different, humiliation, homelessness, abandonment, and a complete lack of a self-image. I described this before in a number of blog posts as the leering, angry faces surrounding me and a constant sensation of being threatened. Even at the best of times it's all there, just at the edge of my conscious mind.
At this point I'm between two worlds... one the cruel, inhospitable world of the Netherlands where virtually everything which haunts me happened. The other the world of Germany where so far I have been treated as a human being and where I have collected virtually only positive memories, even if it aren't many yet. And yet I'm so terrified to make the final step; to start living in Germany. I'm so terrified that it'll only just turn out to be another illusion which will shatter the moment it's all over and done with. I'm not sure I can make this step yet, or ever. Yet I will have to, because within two months I'll have no place to stay any more.
Still, I can't do it... not like this.
Part of me is embracing the thought that hopefully this increasing abdominal pain I'm experiencing the last few weeks is going to turn into something fatal. It both terrifies and fascinates me to embrace death. I could not commit suicide that easily, but dying due to medical complications somehow seems like a fitting end of my unhappy, unwanted existence.
Maya
There is often the debate on nature versus nurture: whether one's genes are more important than the way one was raised. It should be obvious that beyond severe neurological issues the impact of these aforementioned memories have to be significantly more important. It determines how a soldier responds and behaves during his or her first real battle. No training can prepare one for the actual experience of knowing that every fraction of a second between now and infinity someone near you or yourself is going to get wounded horribly or die gruesomely. It's the kind of terror which will make many just outright snap. Those who survive and return are no longer the person they used to be.
Many have said and written that war isn't a thing, but that it's something inside minds. Inside the heads of politicians, generals and soldiers. They're right. Same as for other types of (violent) traumatic events. Beyond physical injuries and destruction there is no trace of it. It's something which never existed as such in reality.
Upon returning to a 'normal' life after such a traumatic event, things usually go completely wrong. Former soldiers who act aggressive, even violent towards their own family and friends. Abuse and rape victims who start abusing others or who come to reject any form of physical contact. Their minds have forever been coloured by their experiences. Yet nobody around them can see it. They look at the person and in their uncoloured interpretation they see a healthy, regular person. They can not grasp the terrible reality of what has occurred inside the mind of that person. The resulting lack of understanding then pushes the affected individuals even more towards unhealthy, irregular behaviour.
Did my traumatic events end? Is it over? I'm on the verge of leaving the Netherlands and can go see a German surgeon for the final surgery any time I wish. The hearing against one of the Dutch medical teams which mistreated me for so many years went well. Even if nothing comes out of it they can no longer touch me.
And yet... while the rational side of my mind calmly composes this list, I can feel and hear the rest of my mind ranting and raging against it. It's not over. Not by far. Not inside my head. Not with all these unwanted memories forcing themselves upon me, and colouring my mind in a horrifically dark and bleak way. I'm not sure how to describe what I'm feeling. Some analogies I came up with involve a massive gale, with ripping, cold winds and freezing rain and sleet permeating every millimeter of dry skin. I'm walking through it, every step feeling as lead, draining my energy, my head just feeling numb and any thought of comfort or happiness a cruel joke to worsen my torment. Whenever I'm engaged in some intellectual undertaking is when I have found temporary shelter, where I can at least for a moment forget about the gale outside. Yet I'll have to go back into it eventually. To walk on until all my energy is gone and I die.
The other way to describe it is as an assault of threats. A constant barrage. Every request, every letter, phone call, decision, change... they're all threats. Some are easily dealt with, while others become too painful when trying to deal with it. I'll either get this numbing headache, or when I lose hope this feeling of frustrated surrender, of falling and surrendering to the realization that it's all impossible. This followed by depression, thoughts of suicide and so on. I'll eventually get out of it for a bit, but only until the next time a threat arrives which knocks me down again.
To the average person the world is just a semi-random series of events, objects and people. To someone like me with an interpretation of reality strongly coloured by traumatic events, it's nothing like that. I have to actually, consciously focus to see the world like that. What I normally see is the world as seen through three decades of rejection, bullying, abuse, rape, feeling different, humiliation, homelessness, abandonment, and a complete lack of a self-image. I described this before in a number of blog posts as the leering, angry faces surrounding me and a constant sensation of being threatened. Even at the best of times it's all there, just at the edge of my conscious mind.
At this point I'm between two worlds... one the cruel, inhospitable world of the Netherlands where virtually everything which haunts me happened. The other the world of Germany where so far I have been treated as a human being and where I have collected virtually only positive memories, even if it aren't many yet. And yet I'm so terrified to make the final step; to start living in Germany. I'm so terrified that it'll only just turn out to be another illusion which will shatter the moment it's all over and done with. I'm not sure I can make this step yet, or ever. Yet I will have to, because within two months I'll have no place to stay any more.
Still, I can't do it... not like this.
Part of me is embracing the thought that hopefully this increasing abdominal pain I'm experiencing the last few weeks is going to turn into something fatal. It both terrifies and fascinates me to embrace death. I could not commit suicide that easily, but dying due to medical complications somehow seems like a fitting end of my unhappy, unwanted existence.
Maya
Monday, 7 October 2013
The Urgency In Moving
Just a quick heads-up that time is running out for me before I absolutely have to have finished moving to Germany. There are multiple reasons for this. First one is that officially I do not have a place of residence any more; officially I left last month already to Germany. I can not fully finish some things before I get a place of residence in Germany, however, such as the last dealings with the Dutch tax office.
Beyond that there's the medical issue which I have alluded to on multiple occasions already, specifically the abdominal pain. I have absolutely no idea how serious it is or how it'll develop. I do know that it's developing ever more rapidly since about a week ago, however. There's no way that I can get medical help for it in the Netherlands, ergo I'll have to wait with that until I have moved. I have the strong suspicion that these complications are related to my intersex condition, the same condition which is still being denied by all Dutch physicians, but not the German ones. I'd like to move, get things in order and visit a German GP or the like to get this diagnosed.
Why don't I just get off my fat ass and take care of it myself then, you may ask? Because between dealing with work, my PTSD and this constant abdominal pain plus the lack of proper sleep and the resulting migraines I don't really have the emotional strength left to filter, browse, search and sort through listings of houses. It's too much right now. I'd really appreciate some help just picking out a few good houses. I'm not even thinking of how to get a bed and other furniture/necessities at this point.
Once again, what I'm looking for is a house in the Karlsruhe area in Germany. A radius of 20 km around Karlsruhe is fine, but I'm not picky, especially if public transport (S-bahn) is nearby. A quiet place is appreciated. Most important is that it's not a flat but a proper house, with at least 3 bedrooms (for bedroom, home office, guest/junk room). Also a shed for a bicycle and if at all possible a workbench or the like. Rental price of around 800 Euro a month, but I'm quite flexible there.
I'll try to record a vlog this week with some more details of what I'm looking for and why. Feel free to add comments/questions/feedback on my requirements before then.
Thanks :)
Maya
Beyond that there's the medical issue which I have alluded to on multiple occasions already, specifically the abdominal pain. I have absolutely no idea how serious it is or how it'll develop. I do know that it's developing ever more rapidly since about a week ago, however. There's no way that I can get medical help for it in the Netherlands, ergo I'll have to wait with that until I have moved. I have the strong suspicion that these complications are related to my intersex condition, the same condition which is still being denied by all Dutch physicians, but not the German ones. I'd like to move, get things in order and visit a German GP or the like to get this diagnosed.
Why don't I just get off my fat ass and take care of it myself then, you may ask? Because between dealing with work, my PTSD and this constant abdominal pain plus the lack of proper sleep and the resulting migraines I don't really have the emotional strength left to filter, browse, search and sort through listings of houses. It's too much right now. I'd really appreciate some help just picking out a few good houses. I'm not even thinking of how to get a bed and other furniture/necessities at this point.
Once again, what I'm looking for is a house in the Karlsruhe area in Germany. A radius of 20 km around Karlsruhe is fine, but I'm not picky, especially if public transport (S-bahn) is nearby. A quiet place is appreciated. Most important is that it's not a flat but a proper house, with at least 3 bedrooms (for bedroom, home office, guest/junk room). Also a shed for a bicycle and if at all possible a workbench or the like. Rental price of around 800 Euro a month, but I'm quite flexible there.
I'll try to record a vlog this week with some more details of what I'm looking for and why. Feel free to add comments/questions/feedback on my requirements before then.
Thanks :)
Maya
Sunday, 6 October 2013
The Pain That Just Won't Stop
Yesterday I had another especially bad PTSD episode. It's hard to point to something specific which triggered it, though I suspect that one of the main triggers probably was the decision by a US hardware forum I frequent to add a sub-forum to its off-topic section in which 'everything goes'. This mostly meant posting pornographic material, the viewing of which is a very significant PTSD trigger. I wasn't kidding in previous blog posts when I said that I loathe sexuality. It's a major cause of my traumatic disorders.
While the exact experiencing of PTSD is different for everyone, and largely depends on the types of experiences which underlie the disorder, it can in general terms be described as the playing back of the sensations, thoughts, feelings and visuals of those events in a continuous. It basically disconnects the individual experiencing it from reality, with the traumatic recollections taking over. Feelings of fear, panic, anger, rage, frustration and such negative emotions play a major role. There is no clear way for the conscious mind to interject or interfere in this process. It just continuous, like a migraine attack.
For me the recollections of uncertainty, humiliations, the tearing away of emotional and physical safeties and comforts, as well as the slow loss of contact between one's mind and body play a major role. I feel unsafe, hunted, hated, disgusted with humans while feeling powerless anger towards humanity in general. I feel isolated, lonely, unimportant, kept away from things. Ridiculed. I know for a fact that there's no future for me, that suffering is all that is intended for me by humanity. By my environment. That trying to find a safe place or a home is ridiculous. All of this together with the countless recollections of the past decades including my youth and teenage years just keep spinning through my head. It never stops.
I can't run. I can't escape. There's no way I can free myself of this. I'm doomed. I'll always be the laughingstock for others. I was the shy, bumbling kid at school nobody wanted to be friends with. After that it just got worse. I do not feel human any more. And yet it's what I'm supposed to be.
I want to end this existence. It's for the best. There's no future. There can't be. Three decades have to prove as much. I'll happily end this. My way. Just offer me the method and I'll gladly accept it. I'll finally be free of this facade. This mockery of an existence.
...
And then the pain subsides slowly after hours... or days. I'll see the things again I do wish to live for. I don't see the leering, mocking, hate-filled faces any more. I cease to have to keep myself from mutilating this body which I HATE during a PTSD episode. I stop actively seeking to commit suicide, even if it remains there as a comforting silken voice in the back of my mind. The one thing nobody can take away from me, after everything else has already been stolen from me. The sanctity of my mind and body are gone. Raped and humiliated in a filthy back alley. Everything tangible I owned is gone, destroyed by psychopaths and the like.
It's not much to own, but ironically it's the only thing I possess which has never been defiled or taken away from me. That alone makes it something precious to me. It helps to offset the regular mental pain I feel outside PTSD episodes.
Talking about pain... the physical pain I have been feeling for over a year now in the lower abdominal/groin region keeps getting worse. Since a few days it's taking on new forms. Now a severe, burning and numbing pain has formed in the area between my lower abdomen and right leg. Pressing gently in that area results in often unbearable pain. It radiates out into the leg, often numbing it to the point where I'm having trouble walking.
I won't be seeking any medical help for it, however. Not while I'm in the Netherlands at least. I can not link these symptoms with anything significant or potentially lethal, removing the urgency. There's also that I do not, will not and never will trust Dutch physicians ever again. Not until I have moved into that home in Germany can I even begin to consider such things. My PTSD will not allow it any other way.
I only have to listen and obey.
I do hope I find a house soon...
Maya
While the exact experiencing of PTSD is different for everyone, and largely depends on the types of experiences which underlie the disorder, it can in general terms be described as the playing back of the sensations, thoughts, feelings and visuals of those events in a continuous. It basically disconnects the individual experiencing it from reality, with the traumatic recollections taking over. Feelings of fear, panic, anger, rage, frustration and such negative emotions play a major role. There is no clear way for the conscious mind to interject or interfere in this process. It just continuous, like a migraine attack.
For me the recollections of uncertainty, humiliations, the tearing away of emotional and physical safeties and comforts, as well as the slow loss of contact between one's mind and body play a major role. I feel unsafe, hunted, hated, disgusted with humans while feeling powerless anger towards humanity in general. I feel isolated, lonely, unimportant, kept away from things. Ridiculed. I know for a fact that there's no future for me, that suffering is all that is intended for me by humanity. By my environment. That trying to find a safe place or a home is ridiculous. All of this together with the countless recollections of the past decades including my youth and teenage years just keep spinning through my head. It never stops.
I can't run. I can't escape. There's no way I can free myself of this. I'm doomed. I'll always be the laughingstock for others. I was the shy, bumbling kid at school nobody wanted to be friends with. After that it just got worse. I do not feel human any more. And yet it's what I'm supposed to be.
I want to end this existence. It's for the best. There's no future. There can't be. Three decades have to prove as much. I'll happily end this. My way. Just offer me the method and I'll gladly accept it. I'll finally be free of this facade. This mockery of an existence.
...
And then the pain subsides slowly after hours... or days. I'll see the things again I do wish to live for. I don't see the leering, mocking, hate-filled faces any more. I cease to have to keep myself from mutilating this body which I HATE during a PTSD episode. I stop actively seeking to commit suicide, even if it remains there as a comforting silken voice in the back of my mind. The one thing nobody can take away from me, after everything else has already been stolen from me. The sanctity of my mind and body are gone. Raped and humiliated in a filthy back alley. Everything tangible I owned is gone, destroyed by psychopaths and the like.
It's not much to own, but ironically it's the only thing I possess which has never been defiled or taken away from me. That alone makes it something precious to me. It helps to offset the regular mental pain I feel outside PTSD episodes.
Talking about pain... the physical pain I have been feeling for over a year now in the lower abdominal/groin region keeps getting worse. Since a few days it's taking on new forms. Now a severe, burning and numbing pain has formed in the area between my lower abdomen and right leg. Pressing gently in that area results in often unbearable pain. It radiates out into the leg, often numbing it to the point where I'm having trouble walking.
I won't be seeking any medical help for it, however. Not while I'm in the Netherlands at least. I can not link these symptoms with anything significant or potentially lethal, removing the urgency. There's also that I do not, will not and never will trust Dutch physicians ever again. Not until I have moved into that home in Germany can I even begin to consider such things. My PTSD will not allow it any other way.
I only have to listen and obey.
I do hope I find a house soon...
Maya
Friday, 4 October 2013
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