I received a letter from the Human Rights Institute (College voor de Rechten van de Mens) this week informing me that I'm obligated to appear at the next and apparently final hearing in the intersex discrimination case against my former Dutch health insurance company, Univé. This regarding Univé's decision to not fully cover a therapy for me which they fully cover for transsexuals. Their reason for doing so was that supposedly the Dutch Minister of Health as well as the central health insurance organization CVZ have only specified full coverage for the latter group and not intersex individuals. During the discovery phase the past months it turned out that this was not the case. CVZ has made it clear that this therapy coverage can also apply to intersex individuals.
The hearing itself is on the 25th of March, at 11.00 AM at the Institute's office in Utrecht (Kleinesingel 1-3) and is open to the public. This means that I will have to travel to Utrecht on the 24th and spend the night somewhere as the trip from Karlsruhe takes about 6 hours, which would force me to board an ICE around 3 AM to make it to Utrecht in time. I'm still sorting out the logistics of how and where I'll stay. Any help with this would be most welcome. Somewhere in Utrecht would be the most practical, I'd imagine.
This will also be my first time back in the Netherlands after migrating to Germany in December last year. To me it brings back many painful memories and feelings, both positive and negative. It reminds me of how much I miss the Netherlands in some ways, but also of why I had to leave it. Dealing with these contradictory feelings combined with my PTSD and having to organize the logistics of the whole trip is putting me pretty much at the limits of what I can take emotionally.
At the end of the hearing on the 25th it will be announced when the Institute will pronounce their official conclusion in this case. Though they can not enforce Univé to do anything, it would nevertheless set a strong precedent for any future legal case, whether by myself or others. I do not think that there is a reasonable chance that I will see back the around six-thousand Euros I should have received back with full coverage, but it is something which has to be done nevertheless. Justice is more important than anything else.
Maya
Sunday, 16 March 2014
Saturday, 15 March 2014
All That I'm Worth
I don't know what is reality. Either it's those moments when I feel energetic and can see my life slowly taking something of a shape, or it's moments like right now when I know with overwhelming, crushing certainty that this is how far I'll get and that anything more is a fool's dream. So far the last type is in the overwhelming majority for as long as I can remember. I'm just living in the overtime granted to me by not actually dying in that suicide attempt, three years ago. Technically I seem to be undead.
Anything I decide upon to buy or do for myself is based upon how much I feel my existence is worth at that point or what kind of future I think I will have. Looking at how I haven't bought a single piece of clothing for myself since arriving in Germany even though I barely have any winter clothes and just keep wearing the same week after week. I still don't have a functional washing machine at this point, though. Another sign to myself that I'm not worth it. The barely functional kitchen I have assembled and failed cooking attempts so far also underline that I'm not worth it.
Finding a place to live in Germany has been a downright nightmare. I'm not sure it's really any better here than in the Netherlands. Either meant paying a lot of money for little in return. I of course ended up in an apartment of which I can not use part of the rooms because the floor in them has to be replaced and where the rolling shutters are so old that the insulation is gone so that cold air keeps flowing into every single room, making using the heating system somewhat futile. And did I mention the ticking from the heating system which forces me to sleep with earplugs in every night?
I'm sleeping on a mattress in the one room of my apartment I actually live in, because I do not have money for a real bed. I'm not sure I will buy one, though, because I do not feel I'm worth it. Same for food, I eat little and nowhere near as healthy as I used to, but I can not care too much, because it's all I'm worth.
Within two weeks I'm having a hearing in a discrimination case against my former Dutch health insurer back in the Netherlands. Though it's become a bigger case than I had anticipated, I still don't expect anything from it. Same for my autobiography. Nothing will happen and nothing will change, because I'm not worth it. All I can do is turn off my feelings and fulfill my obligations.
I will not get that final surgery as no surgeon can be found willing to help me. Because I'm not worth it. There'll be no help for my PTSD, because I'm not worth it.
I'm a little cog in life, only expected to keep turning happily. I'm supposed to grit my teeth and smile in public, while I cry in unbearable pain in private, because I'm worth it. I'm not supposed to strive to be happy or have dreams for the future.
Because I'm not worth it.
Maya
Anything I decide upon to buy or do for myself is based upon how much I feel my existence is worth at that point or what kind of future I think I will have. Looking at how I haven't bought a single piece of clothing for myself since arriving in Germany even though I barely have any winter clothes and just keep wearing the same week after week. I still don't have a functional washing machine at this point, though. Another sign to myself that I'm not worth it. The barely functional kitchen I have assembled and failed cooking attempts so far also underline that I'm not worth it.
Finding a place to live in Germany has been a downright nightmare. I'm not sure it's really any better here than in the Netherlands. Either meant paying a lot of money for little in return. I of course ended up in an apartment of which I can not use part of the rooms because the floor in them has to be replaced and where the rolling shutters are so old that the insulation is gone so that cold air keeps flowing into every single room, making using the heating system somewhat futile. And did I mention the ticking from the heating system which forces me to sleep with earplugs in every night?
I'm sleeping on a mattress in the one room of my apartment I actually live in, because I do not have money for a real bed. I'm not sure I will buy one, though, because I do not feel I'm worth it. Same for food, I eat little and nowhere near as healthy as I used to, but I can not care too much, because it's all I'm worth.
Within two weeks I'm having a hearing in a discrimination case against my former Dutch health insurer back in the Netherlands. Though it's become a bigger case than I had anticipated, I still don't expect anything from it. Same for my autobiography. Nothing will happen and nothing will change, because I'm not worth it. All I can do is turn off my feelings and fulfill my obligations.
I will not get that final surgery as no surgeon can be found willing to help me. Because I'm not worth it. There'll be no help for my PTSD, because I'm not worth it.
I'm a little cog in life, only expected to keep turning happily. I'm supposed to grit my teeth and smile in public, while I cry in unbearable pain in private, because I'm worth it. I'm not supposed to strive to be happy or have dreams for the future.
Because I'm not worth it.
Maya
Why DSD Is Destructive For Human Rights
The last few weeks the world media has been covering the outrage surrounding Uganda's decision to make homosexuality illegal, narrowly missing its original goal of making it punishable by death. Instead anyone found to display homosexual behaviour is sentenced to life in prison. According to President Museveni of Uganda his inquiry into whether or not homosexuality is genetic or social behaviour was answered by 'medical experts' that it's fully learned behaviour [1]. In countries such as Iran, Mauritania, Saudi Arabia, Sudan and Yemen, as well parts of Nigeria and Somalia homosexual behaviour is punishable by death. In another seventy countries people are imprisoned for such behaviour [2].
As exemplified by the statements by Uganda's president, the entire witch hunt against individuals with homosexual or bisexual preferences is based on misinformation, the spreading of fear and outright lies. The most remarkable and least reported on part of this is the reasoning behind such decisions to make something which does not affect society as a whole into something on the same level of criminality as murder and terrorism. Here conservative religious values on sexuality combined with a political agenda appear to be the most likely culprit for inciting such blatant and horrific violations of human rights.
Yet it doesn't end with homosexuality. Many other types of behaviour are also punished in a similar manner, and astoundingly around the world including in the most rich, prosperous Western countries millions of infants and children undergo forced surgery to remove unwanted features from their bodies. Not for medical reasons, but simply because society deems them to be 'unwanted' and 'uncomfortable'. These are the individuals who were unlucky enough to be born with a body configuration which differs from a biologically male or female body in genotype, phenotype or both. Those born with such an intersex condition only rarely need any kind of medical help during their life and are generally unaffected by it, health-wise. Human rights activists have been fighting for their right to decide about their own body as well, albeit in a far more limited fashion than for homosexuals.
Quite recently this struggle for human rights for intersex individuals took a sharp turn for the worse, as supposed physicians decided to change the terminology for intersex, indicating that from then on it should be called 'DSD', or Disorder of Sex Development. While seemingly a minor change, the implications of this is astounding, especially on a psychological level. Just imagine how it changes how an individual can present and be perceived by its environment.
With intersex you can say 'I am intersex' and 'our child is intersex'. With DSD this becomes 'I have DSD', 'I have a disorder', or 'Our child has a disorder'. The automatic stigma is obvious. To society it seems clear at that point that the child was born with some horrific mutilation but that surgery and therapy will take care of it, and that the individual who reports to have DSD has something on the level of a mental or physical deficiency, as though they are some kind of retard, if you'll excuse my language. This whole naming scheme completely nullifies any attempts made by intersex activists to make it a discussable, socially acceptable thing to be.
As an intersex activist myself this is exceedingly disheartening to watch, especially when some intersex individuals also assume this DSD term, as though it will somehow improve their situation. To me this is more an indication of how horribly medical society treats intersex individuals, that the mere promise of better treatment or a reward will have them crawling back to their masters. I have been in this situation myself with the Dutch physicians long enough to know how it works. In the end it just leaves the affected individual scarred and traumatized. We don't need more victims.
It all comes down to scientific facts, whether it's about sexual preference or the phenotype of one's body. One is born with it and nothing but unwanted, invasive surgery is going to change this to some extent. Sexual preference is hard-coded in the layout of a specific part of the brain and the complex interaction between genes during development makes it more astounding than not that so many children are born with a phenotype which gaves at least the appearance of them being male or female. This is also a part where I have been extremely lucky.
Being born in the Netherlands, where so-called 'normalization surgeries' on intersex infants are common place, if it had been discovered at birth that I also have female genitals I would have a scar now on my abdomen through which they would have ripped out any kind of female organs they could find, including the vagina, ovaries and the like. I wouldn't have been told about this until maybe as a teenager or adult, if at all. I would have had to deal with this intense feeling of loss and of being violated. This is why getting this reconstructive surgery is also so important to me: I was lucky enough to escape such barbaric surgery as in infant, but without this reconstructive surgery I might as well have been the victim of it.
That I want surgery is not due to an immediate medical need or urgency. It is my personal choice to shape my body the way I want it, using the organs I was provided with. What I desire is far less significant than what a transsexual person would undergo with a sex-change surgery, which makes it ever so more bitter that it is so hard for me to find a surgeon for it. In the end it is all about personal choice with intersex, homosexuality and transsexuality. If you know absolutely certain that something will make you happier and you don't harm others with it, then it should be nobody else's business.
Yet this is exactly why DSD is so harmful: it removes the option of choosing for oneself, as by designating it a 'disorder' which medically means 'a disruption of normal physical or mental functions' (Oxford, 12th edition). If strictly interpreted this would make anyone who is infertile, has reduced fertility or anything even vaguely related to anything which could be the result of genetics or development issues a DSD sufferer. It would also mean that anyone who is intersex yet fertile not affected by DSD. This shows why it is sheer lunacy to use such a term instead of the more accurate 'intersex'.
A disorder is by definition something which has to be acted upon and treated, to restore normal functioning. Looking at my own case, however, if I had grown into the role of being a hermaphrodite from a young age and would just have had those few surgical 'tweaks' to steer things into a direction I would feel more comfortable with, then I would not be suffering from severe PTSD and have an innate distrust against medical professionals. The past decade to me has been the most horrific I could imagine, completely thanks to the Dutch medical system. Yet it's not just the Netherlands. While I fled to Germany to escape the persecution I suffered in the Netherlands with so far mixed results, places like for example the United States are also quite hostile against intersex individuals. Take for example this entry from the FAQ at the North-American Accord Alliance, a self-professed intersex organization:
"“Hermaphroditism” and “pseudo-hermaphroditism” are outdated terms that used to be employed for some forms of disorders of sex development (DSD). These terms have been abandoned because they were misleading and stigmatizing." [3]
There are many things wrong with these two sentences. First of all, the medical term used for my intersex condition here in Germany as displayed on all of my medical documents is 'Hermaphroditismus', or hermaphroditism. The term DSD is not used in Germany in any significant sense. Hermaphroditism is not an outdated term and has not been abandoned. I also vehemently disagree with the 'misleading' and 'stigmatizing' parts. The misleading parts because the formation of the word in Greek mythology is extremely fitting, with a hermaphrodite being formed out of a male and female as a single being, which is exactly what the condition is. There is no stigma either. What stigma would this be, anyway? People generally view hermaphrodites in wonderment, amazement and in some cases even a kind of reverence. True, there is the occasional individual who just can not comprehend a single individual possessing both male and female genitals, but those are the exception.
Further on the Accord Alliance site we find further claims that DSD is the perfect term and that a child afflicted by this horrible condition can be saved through the proper surgery and therapy. Guess who will benefit the most from these expensive undertakings? Hint: it's not the parents or the child. The skeptic in me finds it hard to deny the possibility that ultimately the term DSD was invented as a mixed result of religious conservative fears for the unusual and the desire for more money by medical and psychological 'professionals'.
To most intersex individuals it is clear that 'DSD' is a horrible offence, though, and we refuse to apply it to ourselves. Organizations such as Accord Alliance do not represent intersex individuals. They are more like president Museveni: touting scientific nonsense as an excuse for their continued existence and relevance. Their existence neither benefits nor sustains humanity's progress towards an accepting and progressive society, instead forcing it down towards a medieval-level of ignorance and suffering.
Maya
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uganda_Anti-Homosexuality_Act,_2014
[2] http://www.bbc.com/news/world-25927595
[3] http://www.accordalliance.org/faqs/what-is-hermaphroditism/
As exemplified by the statements by Uganda's president, the entire witch hunt against individuals with homosexual or bisexual preferences is based on misinformation, the spreading of fear and outright lies. The most remarkable and least reported on part of this is the reasoning behind such decisions to make something which does not affect society as a whole into something on the same level of criminality as murder and terrorism. Here conservative religious values on sexuality combined with a political agenda appear to be the most likely culprit for inciting such blatant and horrific violations of human rights.
Yet it doesn't end with homosexuality. Many other types of behaviour are also punished in a similar manner, and astoundingly around the world including in the most rich, prosperous Western countries millions of infants and children undergo forced surgery to remove unwanted features from their bodies. Not for medical reasons, but simply because society deems them to be 'unwanted' and 'uncomfortable'. These are the individuals who were unlucky enough to be born with a body configuration which differs from a biologically male or female body in genotype, phenotype or both. Those born with such an intersex condition only rarely need any kind of medical help during their life and are generally unaffected by it, health-wise. Human rights activists have been fighting for their right to decide about their own body as well, albeit in a far more limited fashion than for homosexuals.
Quite recently this struggle for human rights for intersex individuals took a sharp turn for the worse, as supposed physicians decided to change the terminology for intersex, indicating that from then on it should be called 'DSD', or Disorder of Sex Development. While seemingly a minor change, the implications of this is astounding, especially on a psychological level. Just imagine how it changes how an individual can present and be perceived by its environment.
With intersex you can say 'I am intersex' and 'our child is intersex'. With DSD this becomes 'I have DSD', 'I have a disorder', or 'Our child has a disorder'. The automatic stigma is obvious. To society it seems clear at that point that the child was born with some horrific mutilation but that surgery and therapy will take care of it, and that the individual who reports to have DSD has something on the level of a mental or physical deficiency, as though they are some kind of retard, if you'll excuse my language. This whole naming scheme completely nullifies any attempts made by intersex activists to make it a discussable, socially acceptable thing to be.
As an intersex activist myself this is exceedingly disheartening to watch, especially when some intersex individuals also assume this DSD term, as though it will somehow improve their situation. To me this is more an indication of how horribly medical society treats intersex individuals, that the mere promise of better treatment or a reward will have them crawling back to their masters. I have been in this situation myself with the Dutch physicians long enough to know how it works. In the end it just leaves the affected individual scarred and traumatized. We don't need more victims.
It all comes down to scientific facts, whether it's about sexual preference or the phenotype of one's body. One is born with it and nothing but unwanted, invasive surgery is going to change this to some extent. Sexual preference is hard-coded in the layout of a specific part of the brain and the complex interaction between genes during development makes it more astounding than not that so many children are born with a phenotype which gaves at least the appearance of them being male or female. This is also a part where I have been extremely lucky.
Being born in the Netherlands, where so-called 'normalization surgeries' on intersex infants are common place, if it had been discovered at birth that I also have female genitals I would have a scar now on my abdomen through which they would have ripped out any kind of female organs they could find, including the vagina, ovaries and the like. I wouldn't have been told about this until maybe as a teenager or adult, if at all. I would have had to deal with this intense feeling of loss and of being violated. This is why getting this reconstructive surgery is also so important to me: I was lucky enough to escape such barbaric surgery as in infant, but without this reconstructive surgery I might as well have been the victim of it.
That I want surgery is not due to an immediate medical need or urgency. It is my personal choice to shape my body the way I want it, using the organs I was provided with. What I desire is far less significant than what a transsexual person would undergo with a sex-change surgery, which makes it ever so more bitter that it is so hard for me to find a surgeon for it. In the end it is all about personal choice with intersex, homosexuality and transsexuality. If you know absolutely certain that something will make you happier and you don't harm others with it, then it should be nobody else's business.
Yet this is exactly why DSD is so harmful: it removes the option of choosing for oneself, as by designating it a 'disorder' which medically means 'a disruption of normal physical or mental functions' (Oxford, 12th edition). If strictly interpreted this would make anyone who is infertile, has reduced fertility or anything even vaguely related to anything which could be the result of genetics or development issues a DSD sufferer. It would also mean that anyone who is intersex yet fertile not affected by DSD. This shows why it is sheer lunacy to use such a term instead of the more accurate 'intersex'.
A disorder is by definition something which has to be acted upon and treated, to restore normal functioning. Looking at my own case, however, if I had grown into the role of being a hermaphrodite from a young age and would just have had those few surgical 'tweaks' to steer things into a direction I would feel more comfortable with, then I would not be suffering from severe PTSD and have an innate distrust against medical professionals. The past decade to me has been the most horrific I could imagine, completely thanks to the Dutch medical system. Yet it's not just the Netherlands. While I fled to Germany to escape the persecution I suffered in the Netherlands with so far mixed results, places like for example the United States are also quite hostile against intersex individuals. Take for example this entry from the FAQ at the North-American Accord Alliance, a self-professed intersex organization:
"“Hermaphroditism” and “pseudo-hermaphroditism” are outdated terms that used to be employed for some forms of disorders of sex development (DSD). These terms have been abandoned because they were misleading and stigmatizing." [3]
There are many things wrong with these two sentences. First of all, the medical term used for my intersex condition here in Germany as displayed on all of my medical documents is 'Hermaphroditismus', or hermaphroditism. The term DSD is not used in Germany in any significant sense. Hermaphroditism is not an outdated term and has not been abandoned. I also vehemently disagree with the 'misleading' and 'stigmatizing' parts. The misleading parts because the formation of the word in Greek mythology is extremely fitting, with a hermaphrodite being formed out of a male and female as a single being, which is exactly what the condition is. There is no stigma either. What stigma would this be, anyway? People generally view hermaphrodites in wonderment, amazement and in some cases even a kind of reverence. True, there is the occasional individual who just can not comprehend a single individual possessing both male and female genitals, but those are the exception.
Further on the Accord Alliance site we find further claims that DSD is the perfect term and that a child afflicted by this horrible condition can be saved through the proper surgery and therapy. Guess who will benefit the most from these expensive undertakings? Hint: it's not the parents or the child. The skeptic in me finds it hard to deny the possibility that ultimately the term DSD was invented as a mixed result of religious conservative fears for the unusual and the desire for more money by medical and psychological 'professionals'.
To most intersex individuals it is clear that 'DSD' is a horrible offence, though, and we refuse to apply it to ourselves. Organizations such as Accord Alliance do not represent intersex individuals. They are more like president Museveni: touting scientific nonsense as an excuse for their continued existence and relevance. Their existence neither benefits nor sustains humanity's progress towards an accepting and progressive society, instead forcing it down towards a medieval-level of ignorance and suffering.
Maya
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uganda_Anti-Homosexuality_Act,_2014
[2] http://www.bbc.com/news/world-25927595
[3] http://www.accordalliance.org/faqs/what-is-hermaphroditism/
Thursday, 13 March 2014
The Convoluted Mind: How Experiences Distort Our View Of Reality
As a hobbyist AI researcher I have often found myself pondering on the exact workings of the human mind, and biological neural networks in general. The most fascinating aspect about it I have always found that of the creation of what I have come to call an 'internal universe', or IU. Essentially it's an internal representation of reality which doesn't necessarily match up with the actual reality. This IU can also contain completely imaginary things which in actuality do not exist, or distortions of factual processes to give it another interpretation.
Before I dive into this topic of internal universes, though, allow me to first address the nature of a biological neural network (BNN) and the way experiences and memories affect it. The essential aspect of a BNN and neural networks (NN) in general is that of input. Without input (the 'brain in a jar' example) there's no point to an NN. The basic and most essential function of an NN is to transform or convolute input. Lack of input will generally lead to self-destruction in NNs with active internal feedback mechanisms (see sensory deprivation experiments).
This input we can refer to as 'experiences' and the recollection of such input as 'memories'. They form the foundation and corner stones of the functioning of a BNN. Their role in the BNN is both formative and functional, in that the input (I) and recollection (R) are required during the formation of a BNN to form the proper structures. This process can be observed in infants, for example, where the type, intensity and duration of input they are exposed to during their first months and years can lead to the formation of a BNN which produces very distinct and quite predictable output (O).
A NN is by definition very unlikely to respond by itself in a manner which can be considered logical. Instead it appears to become 'programmed' by the input, which modifies and adds to the convolutions applied to the input signal. Most of the resulting behaviour (output) is simply handled by fixed parts of the network, resulting in what is referred to as 'instinct' or behaviour routines. This results in a predictable, fixed response (convolution, or C) to a certain type of input, in the form of I -> C -> O.
Naturally, the intriguing and defining part of a NN is its self-modifying functionality, which is of varying capability in different individuals. This process takes place in different parts of the BNN, from the lower, less advanced sections of the network, to the newer, more complex sections. In the former sections we see the above process, of input directly modifying the structure of the network. In the latter sections we encounter what is commonly referred to as 'intelligence' or 'reasoning', but can also be called more broadly as self-awareness (SA).
SA is the ability to reflect upon and predict the consequences of a course of action. It is a reasoning process involving the awareness of oneself and also the essence of what AI researchers are trying to emulate. SA is also the core of the IU. Imagine SA at the core of this universe, with recollections, input, convolutions and active feedback (AF) surrounding it. This model is essentially the model of a personality, as it's referred to. In this model, SA is a semi-passive presence in the NN, monitoring its surroundings and trying to compose a functional model of the reality outside the NN. This leads to the IU.
In short-hand form: C(I + R + AF) -> SA(IU) -> O.
The interesting thing about this model is that it seems to form an adequate model for human behaviour and interactions, including in large groups. It explains why the old adage that no two people will ever fully agree on anything is theoretically true, as the possibility of the IUs of two individuals matching up fully is extremely remotely. While the SA can semi-directly access the I by suppressing convolutions and thus validate the IU against reality (the underlying principle of the scientific method), this is a limited and intensive process. Only a strong SA can sufficiently do so, and may then still be blocked by the limitations of the IU due to previous input. This is the underlying principle behind psychological trauma, where a sufficiently strong input can cause a strong AF process involving R. This is what happens for example in PTSD, where the AF result can be overpowering, even for the SA and its IU.
Soon I hope to further test this model using software and FPGA-based implementations. The prospect of this theorem making it into a replacement for psychology and foundation for AI seems promising at this point.
Maya
Before I dive into this topic of internal universes, though, allow me to first address the nature of a biological neural network (BNN) and the way experiences and memories affect it. The essential aspect of a BNN and neural networks (NN) in general is that of input. Without input (the 'brain in a jar' example) there's no point to an NN. The basic and most essential function of an NN is to transform or convolute input. Lack of input will generally lead to self-destruction in NNs with active internal feedback mechanisms (see sensory deprivation experiments).
This input we can refer to as 'experiences' and the recollection of such input as 'memories'. They form the foundation and corner stones of the functioning of a BNN. Their role in the BNN is both formative and functional, in that the input (I) and recollection (R) are required during the formation of a BNN to form the proper structures. This process can be observed in infants, for example, where the type, intensity and duration of input they are exposed to during their first months and years can lead to the formation of a BNN which produces very distinct and quite predictable output (O).
A NN is by definition very unlikely to respond by itself in a manner which can be considered logical. Instead it appears to become 'programmed' by the input, which modifies and adds to the convolutions applied to the input signal. Most of the resulting behaviour (output) is simply handled by fixed parts of the network, resulting in what is referred to as 'instinct' or behaviour routines. This results in a predictable, fixed response (convolution, or C) to a certain type of input, in the form of I -> C -> O.
Naturally, the intriguing and defining part of a NN is its self-modifying functionality, which is of varying capability in different individuals. This process takes place in different parts of the BNN, from the lower, less advanced sections of the network, to the newer, more complex sections. In the former sections we see the above process, of input directly modifying the structure of the network. In the latter sections we encounter what is commonly referred to as 'intelligence' or 'reasoning', but can also be called more broadly as self-awareness (SA).
SA is the ability to reflect upon and predict the consequences of a course of action. It is a reasoning process involving the awareness of oneself and also the essence of what AI researchers are trying to emulate. SA is also the core of the IU. Imagine SA at the core of this universe, with recollections, input, convolutions and active feedback (AF) surrounding it. This model is essentially the model of a personality, as it's referred to. In this model, SA is a semi-passive presence in the NN, monitoring its surroundings and trying to compose a functional model of the reality outside the NN. This leads to the IU.
In short-hand form: C(I + R + AF) -> SA(IU) -> O.
The interesting thing about this model is that it seems to form an adequate model for human behaviour and interactions, including in large groups. It explains why the old adage that no two people will ever fully agree on anything is theoretically true, as the possibility of the IUs of two individuals matching up fully is extremely remotely. While the SA can semi-directly access the I by suppressing convolutions and thus validate the IU against reality (the underlying principle of the scientific method), this is a limited and intensive process. Only a strong SA can sufficiently do so, and may then still be blocked by the limitations of the IU due to previous input. This is the underlying principle behind psychological trauma, where a sufficiently strong input can cause a strong AF process involving R. This is what happens for example in PTSD, where the AF result can be overpowering, even for the SA and its IU.
Soon I hope to further test this model using software and FPGA-based implementations. The prospect of this theorem making it into a replacement for psychology and foundation for AI seems promising at this point.
Maya
Saturday, 8 March 2014
Frustratingly Not Like Everyone Else
As I attempt to integrate back into regular society I'm met with a lot of frustrating realizations. My unusual body, for one, is making for sometimes awkward conversations with others, something I have written about before. Then there is the inability to squeeze the reality of my life into the confines of an 'every day person'. Between doing interviews for newspapers, magazines, radio and TV on a regular basis, writing my autobiography and handling a number of court cases related to my intersex condition, I already have a full-time job just there. Add to that the full-time job of managing my PTSD condition and arranging the last major parts of the highly unpleasant medical chapter of my life.
To then pretend that I'm just a regular 'nine to five' person with only a minor interest in activities beyond working and hanging out with friends and family is frustrating me. Worse, it makes for a disconnect between it and reality which is exceedingly stressful. My past and current reality is and will forever be an intrinsic part of who and what I am. I don't even want to change it, regardless of how often I have wished to just be 'normal'. My goal in life isn't just to be like everyone else. My experiences the past decade has given me a new mission and goal, involving the prevention of the kind of suffering I went through. I can not just live out my life ignoring this. There is no happiness that way.
I don't know what my future will look like. A big problem in advancing is money and having to rely on the help from others, which both are tedious and slow processes. It's not very puzzling that I generally do not feel like I even belong in this world. Beyond a few people I have met it doesn't seem like my life overlaps with that of virtually anyone on this planet. I'm a perfect stranger in a strange world.
By the end of this month I'll be visiting the Netherlands again for a hearing in Utrecht at the Human Rights College involving the intersex discrimination case against me by my former Dutch insurance company Univé. I still have to see about the logistics for this, as it's about a 6-hour trip from Karlsruhe to Utrecht one way. At least I'm making some progress on a medical level as I should have an introduction appointment with my new GP next week. I hope that she can help me speed up the communication with the surgeon. This, too, would mean a number of train journeys, hopefully surgery and a recovery period of a few weeks at least.
For me this all is reality. Anything else is secondary to it. Not because I want it to be, but because I have no choice in this matter. My life's course was set in stone already before I was even born. To be born intersex means living a tough, lonely life, fitting in nowhere and facing ridicule at every point. All I can do is to try and change this. Living a life like everyone else with a regular job, home, family and such is not part of this. Where I gain something, my PTSD makes it abundantly clear that none of it will last. None of it ever has.
Maya
To then pretend that I'm just a regular 'nine to five' person with only a minor interest in activities beyond working and hanging out with friends and family is frustrating me. Worse, it makes for a disconnect between it and reality which is exceedingly stressful. My past and current reality is and will forever be an intrinsic part of who and what I am. I don't even want to change it, regardless of how often I have wished to just be 'normal'. My goal in life isn't just to be like everyone else. My experiences the past decade has given me a new mission and goal, involving the prevention of the kind of suffering I went through. I can not just live out my life ignoring this. There is no happiness that way.
I don't know what my future will look like. A big problem in advancing is money and having to rely on the help from others, which both are tedious and slow processes. It's not very puzzling that I generally do not feel like I even belong in this world. Beyond a few people I have met it doesn't seem like my life overlaps with that of virtually anyone on this planet. I'm a perfect stranger in a strange world.
By the end of this month I'll be visiting the Netherlands again for a hearing in Utrecht at the Human Rights College involving the intersex discrimination case against me by my former Dutch insurance company Univé. I still have to see about the logistics for this, as it's about a 6-hour trip from Karlsruhe to Utrecht one way. At least I'm making some progress on a medical level as I should have an introduction appointment with my new GP next week. I hope that she can help me speed up the communication with the surgeon. This, too, would mean a number of train journeys, hopefully surgery and a recovery period of a few weeks at least.
For me this all is reality. Anything else is secondary to it. Not because I want it to be, but because I have no choice in this matter. My life's course was set in stone already before I was even born. To be born intersex means living a tough, lonely life, fitting in nowhere and facing ridicule at every point. All I can do is to try and change this. Living a life like everyone else with a regular job, home, family and such is not part of this. Where I gain something, my PTSD makes it abundantly clear that none of it will last. None of it ever has.
Maya
Thursday, 6 March 2014
Hospital Again, Or: Lucky And Unlucky
Yesterday I had the unexpected pleasure to visit another one of Karlsruhe's fine hospitals. I had just finished up everything at home with the replacement parts for the refrigerator I ordered via Redcoon being delivered, did a check-in of my code for my current project for Synyx and had let colleagues know that I was heading to the office now. It was a bright, sunny day, so when I got on my bicycle I also put on my sunglasses.
Everything went fine up till the Durlacher Tor area of my route. Everything there is construction due to the subway construction work. The paths for bicyclists are a bit improvised for that reason. On this occasion I took one possible path which led me closer to the cars also driving there. I had driven there before on my occasions without problems. This time however, things didn't go the same way. From the corner of my eye I saw a black car heading my way, so I diverted more to the right so that the car narrowly missed me. Unfortunately this led my bicycle's front wheel straight into a tram track. Unable to steer any more I thus crashed into a construction barrier and landed heavily onto the road.
My first thought was one of embarrassment, me crashing in such a silly way. I got up, noticing a bad pain in my left arm, but ignoring it. Some people had noticed my fall and came to assist. One of them must have taken my bicycle to the sidewalk. I just limped to the sidewalk, cradling my arm, as dizziness threatened to overtake me. I felt sick to my stomach as I sat down on the sidewalk, to then just lie down. I guess I have must slipped into a bit of shock due to the pain. Around me people were being busy, calling an ambulance, taking off my sunglasses, trying to pour tepid water into my mouth. Then some firemen came to assist. They stabilized my left arm after I indicated that it hurt a lot.
These firemen took control of the situation until the ambulance arrived. I don't remember too much of this part, fading briefly into unconsciousness now and then as many thoughts passed through my mind. Strangely enough I didn't feel too bothered by the whole situation beyond my arm hurting so much, feeling quite detached from things. It almost seemed routine to me. Me having something happen to me again and being taken to a hospital. Story of my life, or something.
As the ambulance personnel and the firemen managed to get me on the stretcher and my backpack and shoulder bag removed from my person, I was wheeled into the ambulance where they assessed me. Here I switched to speaking English for the first time since the accident, managing to answer questions in German up till that point. As far as we could figure out together I had fallen onto my left arm and it was possibly broken, but nothing else seemed to be hurting. I was taken to the hospital and arrived in the ER. There a doctor made another assessment, with the female assistant helping me undress and change into a hospital gown. I received a tetanus boost shoot and an IV drip. After that I was carted off to the radiology department for an x-ray.
I was lying there in the hallway for a while until the x-ray was made, then got wheeled to another room which was the plaster room. At this point I was quite convinced that my arm was broken and I'd be receiving a cast. It took another ten minutes or so before the assistant arrived and as she wheeled me out of the room she told me the good news: I did not have any broken bones or fractures. Back in the ER the doctor did tell me that possibly the tissue around the elbow joint which keeps it lubricated might be damaged or burst, but I should give it a few days and see whether it still keeps hurting. If it did I should see another specialist.
After getting dressed again with some help from the assistant I received some strong painkillers and the required stomach protectors. I then noticed that my sunglasses were missing. Probably left at the accident site and now most likely gone. After thanking the doctor and assistant I proceeded to shamble out of the hospital. Fortunately it wasn't that far too the Synyx office, so I walked there. There I wrote an email about what had happened and that I would be going home for the day, with no promises about tomorrow. Only then did colleagues begin to realize that something had happened. Strange feeling to just come out a rather unpleasant situation and then not having anyone notice it. I also took the first batch of the painkillers there before making my way back home.
I still had to pick up my bicycle at the site of the accident, where it was chained up. On my way there I had this woman call out to me. As she approached me on her bicycle with child in tow on its own bicycle, she explained to me that she was the one who had called the ambulance earlier that day for me. She was right behind me when the accident happened, but was too shocked to remember the license plate of the black Audi which nearly hit me. We talked a bit about who I was, my German skills and cycling in Karlsruhe. As we said our goodbyes I thought that maybe I should have given her my business card so that we could have stayed in touch. Then I figured that we'd see each other more often, as we often cycled the same route.
After getting home I found myself thinking about how lucky and unlucky I am, to the extent that they almost seem to cancel each other out. With every accident I have been in I have never suffered anything too serious. The first time I had a major accident with my bicycle was over a decade ago when I hit the tarmac at about 60 km/h and suffered nothing more serious than some lost skin on the palms of my hands and a mild concussion. My most recent accident could easily have resulted in broken bones, a head injury or worse. Yet as I'm typing this, nearly a day after the accident, I'm feeling relatively okay, aside from an extremely sore left elbow and general bruising and soreness all over amidst a few minor wounds on my left hand and knee.
In many ways I'm lucky, being gifted, ambidextrous and always finding a way out of any situation, no matter how difficult. Yet these same situations I end up in due to a severe lack of luck. Having been born in a country where the body I was given was considered unacceptable leading to me having to suffer for many years, and where similarly my giftedness was more of a curse than a blessing. Always meeting the wrong people and getting hurt by them, yet also meeting people who get me out of difficult situations. It's as though my life doesn't know any middle ground. It either has to be extremely negative or extremely positive.
Yet the negative seems to win out in one way at least: via my PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). Imagine the world around you as you normally see it, then overlay a filter which interprets everything around you as a possibly or definite negative thing. Imagine always feeling a sense of dread and terror, as though anything positive will soon turn out to be negative. Always feeling hunted and watched. Never being able to trust others, always suspecting them of either not really caring about you or having a hidden agenda. It sucks out every single bit of joy one could have in life. There is only bleakness, death and decay. True, I can push away the filter with some effort, but it's like holding back a heavy curtain. At some point your strength will fail and the curtain slides back into place. This way I'm trapped inside this world I hate with all of my soul.
People have been trying to reassure me a lot lately that things are going fine for me, that my future is looking bright. TO them I had to explain that the problem isn't with my future. The problem is my past and the daemons living in it. Whenever I try to get down to the reason why I feel so terrified and unable to do many normal things all the time I can feel this 'something' inside my head, like a large immobile object. I can however not figure out what it is or what to do about it. I know it's the source of all these psychological problems I'm dealing with, but I can not do anything with it until I know what it is exactly.
This is the reason why I'm often working on my autobiography as it helps me to remember things, and why I am pushing for this final surgery as ending that medical chapter of my life should also dislodge a lot of suppressed memories and feelings. Yet the former is also very tough on me and this last surgery isn't coming any closer. The surgeon is currently too busy to answer the questions I sent him weeks ago and it is becoming increasingly less likely that I'll have surgery this year. This also means that my autobiography will end on a negative note if it will be published this year. Still the same uncertainty and fears, with the completing of my body still unattainable.
I'm just terrified of what is lurking in my past, but I know I need to confront it, something which is impossible without dealing with the medical issue first. It seems I'm deadlocked again at this point. Very unlucky...
Maya
Everything went fine up till the Durlacher Tor area of my route. Everything there is construction due to the subway construction work. The paths for bicyclists are a bit improvised for that reason. On this occasion I took one possible path which led me closer to the cars also driving there. I had driven there before on my occasions without problems. This time however, things didn't go the same way. From the corner of my eye I saw a black car heading my way, so I diverted more to the right so that the car narrowly missed me. Unfortunately this led my bicycle's front wheel straight into a tram track. Unable to steer any more I thus crashed into a construction barrier and landed heavily onto the road.
My first thought was one of embarrassment, me crashing in such a silly way. I got up, noticing a bad pain in my left arm, but ignoring it. Some people had noticed my fall and came to assist. One of them must have taken my bicycle to the sidewalk. I just limped to the sidewalk, cradling my arm, as dizziness threatened to overtake me. I felt sick to my stomach as I sat down on the sidewalk, to then just lie down. I guess I have must slipped into a bit of shock due to the pain. Around me people were being busy, calling an ambulance, taking off my sunglasses, trying to pour tepid water into my mouth. Then some firemen came to assist. They stabilized my left arm after I indicated that it hurt a lot.
These firemen took control of the situation until the ambulance arrived. I don't remember too much of this part, fading briefly into unconsciousness now and then as many thoughts passed through my mind. Strangely enough I didn't feel too bothered by the whole situation beyond my arm hurting so much, feeling quite detached from things. It almost seemed routine to me. Me having something happen to me again and being taken to a hospital. Story of my life, or something.
As the ambulance personnel and the firemen managed to get me on the stretcher and my backpack and shoulder bag removed from my person, I was wheeled into the ambulance where they assessed me. Here I switched to speaking English for the first time since the accident, managing to answer questions in German up till that point. As far as we could figure out together I had fallen onto my left arm and it was possibly broken, but nothing else seemed to be hurting. I was taken to the hospital and arrived in the ER. There a doctor made another assessment, with the female assistant helping me undress and change into a hospital gown. I received a tetanus boost shoot and an IV drip. After that I was carted off to the radiology department for an x-ray.
I was lying there in the hallway for a while until the x-ray was made, then got wheeled to another room which was the plaster room. At this point I was quite convinced that my arm was broken and I'd be receiving a cast. It took another ten minutes or so before the assistant arrived and as she wheeled me out of the room she told me the good news: I did not have any broken bones or fractures. Back in the ER the doctor did tell me that possibly the tissue around the elbow joint which keeps it lubricated might be damaged or burst, but I should give it a few days and see whether it still keeps hurting. If it did I should see another specialist.
After getting dressed again with some help from the assistant I received some strong painkillers and the required stomach protectors. I then noticed that my sunglasses were missing. Probably left at the accident site and now most likely gone. After thanking the doctor and assistant I proceeded to shamble out of the hospital. Fortunately it wasn't that far too the Synyx office, so I walked there. There I wrote an email about what had happened and that I would be going home for the day, with no promises about tomorrow. Only then did colleagues begin to realize that something had happened. Strange feeling to just come out a rather unpleasant situation and then not having anyone notice it. I also took the first batch of the painkillers there before making my way back home.
I still had to pick up my bicycle at the site of the accident, where it was chained up. On my way there I had this woman call out to me. As she approached me on her bicycle with child in tow on its own bicycle, she explained to me that she was the one who had called the ambulance earlier that day for me. She was right behind me when the accident happened, but was too shocked to remember the license plate of the black Audi which nearly hit me. We talked a bit about who I was, my German skills and cycling in Karlsruhe. As we said our goodbyes I thought that maybe I should have given her my business card so that we could have stayed in touch. Then I figured that we'd see each other more often, as we often cycled the same route.
After getting home I found myself thinking about how lucky and unlucky I am, to the extent that they almost seem to cancel each other out. With every accident I have been in I have never suffered anything too serious. The first time I had a major accident with my bicycle was over a decade ago when I hit the tarmac at about 60 km/h and suffered nothing more serious than some lost skin on the palms of my hands and a mild concussion. My most recent accident could easily have resulted in broken bones, a head injury or worse. Yet as I'm typing this, nearly a day after the accident, I'm feeling relatively okay, aside from an extremely sore left elbow and general bruising and soreness all over amidst a few minor wounds on my left hand and knee.
In many ways I'm lucky, being gifted, ambidextrous and always finding a way out of any situation, no matter how difficult. Yet these same situations I end up in due to a severe lack of luck. Having been born in a country where the body I was given was considered unacceptable leading to me having to suffer for many years, and where similarly my giftedness was more of a curse than a blessing. Always meeting the wrong people and getting hurt by them, yet also meeting people who get me out of difficult situations. It's as though my life doesn't know any middle ground. It either has to be extremely negative or extremely positive.
Yet the negative seems to win out in one way at least: via my PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). Imagine the world around you as you normally see it, then overlay a filter which interprets everything around you as a possibly or definite negative thing. Imagine always feeling a sense of dread and terror, as though anything positive will soon turn out to be negative. Always feeling hunted and watched. Never being able to trust others, always suspecting them of either not really caring about you or having a hidden agenda. It sucks out every single bit of joy one could have in life. There is only bleakness, death and decay. True, I can push away the filter with some effort, but it's like holding back a heavy curtain. At some point your strength will fail and the curtain slides back into place. This way I'm trapped inside this world I hate with all of my soul.
People have been trying to reassure me a lot lately that things are going fine for me, that my future is looking bright. TO them I had to explain that the problem isn't with my future. The problem is my past and the daemons living in it. Whenever I try to get down to the reason why I feel so terrified and unable to do many normal things all the time I can feel this 'something' inside my head, like a large immobile object. I can however not figure out what it is or what to do about it. I know it's the source of all these psychological problems I'm dealing with, but I can not do anything with it until I know what it is exactly.
This is the reason why I'm often working on my autobiography as it helps me to remember things, and why I am pushing for this final surgery as ending that medical chapter of my life should also dislodge a lot of suppressed memories and feelings. Yet the former is also very tough on me and this last surgery isn't coming any closer. The surgeon is currently too busy to answer the questions I sent him weeks ago and it is becoming increasingly less likely that I'll have surgery this year. This also means that my autobiography will end on a negative note if it will be published this year. Still the same uncertainty and fears, with the completing of my body still unattainable.
I'm just terrified of what is lurking in my past, but I know I need to confront it, something which is impossible without dealing with the medical issue first. It seems I'm deadlocked again at this point. Very unlucky...
Maya
Sunday, 2 March 2014
Unexpected Hospital Visit
I just returned from the hospital as I'm typing this. The reason for this sudden hospital visit was me collapsing a few hours ago as I was leaving the hackerspace. As I was making my way down the stairs I began to feel very emotional, with me having to seek support by leaning against the wall and sitting down on a step of the stairs. I found myself crying as well as making unintelligible sounds. I kind of knew what was coming next, and I wasn't disappointed. Before I knew it I was lying on the stairs, staring at the part of it which was right in front of me.
I could hear the others talking upstairs, then after a while people coming downstairs. I remember feeling so embarrassed and ashamed that they would find me lying like this. Helpless and foolish. Before I knew it so many people were standing around me and tugging at me. Someone was holding my hand and telling me it would be fine. I tried to answer their questions as well as I could by faintly shaking my head or nodding. All I could utter were faint sounds. The logical course of action for a bystander in such a situation is to call emergency services. At least I think it was clear to those with me that I hadn't fallen but 'merely' suffered a psychological/psychosomatic event.
I recall seeing this police woman talking to me but no details, as though it was all a far-away dream. Then EMS personnel who tugged on me, telling me to stand up, but only getting me to collapse as I had no control over or strength in my legs. They were yelling at me and I didn't understand it, but got scared. As they lifted me up with hands grabbing me everywhere I felt like I was being arrested again like those years ago. Then I was put on a stretcher. I remember seeing the familiar surroundings pass by from this weird perspective. Then I was in the ambulance. There was some commotion from the others. I guess they wanted to come with me.
In the ambulance I got questioned about some kind of identification and got even more scared. Then the police woman found my wallet in my shoulder bag and apologized. More questions. All of it a blur. At some point I began to regain my senses and control over my muscles. After that I was gradually able to speak again. I noticed that the police woman was gone and we were driving. I was able to inform the EMS guy sitting next to me about what had happened. Then we arrived at the hospital. Just for a check-up by a doctor.
The doctor was pleasant enough as I tried to put together my story in an understandable manner. How to compress a decade worth of experiences and the implications of being born with a rare physical condition into a few paragraphs worth of text. Also to explain how my PTSD was formed and that it together with the stress I'm under due to the whole migration thing probably triggered this incident. He seemed to understand though, and just did a few simple tests and had a sample of my blood tested for the usual parameters.
The results of the blood test showed no weird results and also confirmed that I had not been drinking any alcohol. After this I was free to go, just before 3 AM. This left me to find public transport back to the hackerspace where I could pick up my bicycle and ride back home. During this a couple of guys made lewd remarks at me, presumably while intoxicated. No guy in his right mind would make kissing sounds at a random girl on the street or call one a 'la chicka' out of nowhere. Weird indeed.
Adding some irony to this whole situation is that this afternoon I hooked up my new stove/oven combo to the available 3-phase connection and managed to not electrocute myself. After verifying that it worked as it should I congratulated myself on a job well done. While at the hackerspace I made a point out of mentioning this accomplishment to others, joking about not having put myself into the hospital. Little did I know.
The EMS guy in the ambulance asked me whether I had any indication beforehand that I would collapse like this. To this I could only reply that it was almost impossible to predict. I always start feeling emotionally numb before it happens, but I don't collapse every time I feel emotionally numb. I do suspect that in the cases where I feel numb but no collapse occurs I am storing up the emotional stress until enough has built up to make such a collapse possible. I wasn't feeling very happy by the time I left the hackerspace. My current situation is highly stressful in addition to the many worries about my immediate and long-term future, especially medically.
I really hope that solutions can be found for the sources of my stress, help with my PTSD and a quick resolution of the medical uncertainties, specifically the surgery and the exact workings of my periods.
It's 4.30 AM now. I really should try and get some sleep... goodnight.
Maya
I could hear the others talking upstairs, then after a while people coming downstairs. I remember feeling so embarrassed and ashamed that they would find me lying like this. Helpless and foolish. Before I knew it so many people were standing around me and tugging at me. Someone was holding my hand and telling me it would be fine. I tried to answer their questions as well as I could by faintly shaking my head or nodding. All I could utter were faint sounds. The logical course of action for a bystander in such a situation is to call emergency services. At least I think it was clear to those with me that I hadn't fallen but 'merely' suffered a psychological/psychosomatic event.
I recall seeing this police woman talking to me but no details, as though it was all a far-away dream. Then EMS personnel who tugged on me, telling me to stand up, but only getting me to collapse as I had no control over or strength in my legs. They were yelling at me and I didn't understand it, but got scared. As they lifted me up with hands grabbing me everywhere I felt like I was being arrested again like those years ago. Then I was put on a stretcher. I remember seeing the familiar surroundings pass by from this weird perspective. Then I was in the ambulance. There was some commotion from the others. I guess they wanted to come with me.
In the ambulance I got questioned about some kind of identification and got even more scared. Then the police woman found my wallet in my shoulder bag and apologized. More questions. All of it a blur. At some point I began to regain my senses and control over my muscles. After that I was gradually able to speak again. I noticed that the police woman was gone and we were driving. I was able to inform the EMS guy sitting next to me about what had happened. Then we arrived at the hospital. Just for a check-up by a doctor.
The doctor was pleasant enough as I tried to put together my story in an understandable manner. How to compress a decade worth of experiences and the implications of being born with a rare physical condition into a few paragraphs worth of text. Also to explain how my PTSD was formed and that it together with the stress I'm under due to the whole migration thing probably triggered this incident. He seemed to understand though, and just did a few simple tests and had a sample of my blood tested for the usual parameters.
The results of the blood test showed no weird results and also confirmed that I had not been drinking any alcohol. After this I was free to go, just before 3 AM. This left me to find public transport back to the hackerspace where I could pick up my bicycle and ride back home. During this a couple of guys made lewd remarks at me, presumably while intoxicated. No guy in his right mind would make kissing sounds at a random girl on the street or call one a 'la chicka' out of nowhere. Weird indeed.
Adding some irony to this whole situation is that this afternoon I hooked up my new stove/oven combo to the available 3-phase connection and managed to not electrocute myself. After verifying that it worked as it should I congratulated myself on a job well done. While at the hackerspace I made a point out of mentioning this accomplishment to others, joking about not having put myself into the hospital. Little did I know.
The EMS guy in the ambulance asked me whether I had any indication beforehand that I would collapse like this. To this I could only reply that it was almost impossible to predict. I always start feeling emotionally numb before it happens, but I don't collapse every time I feel emotionally numb. I do suspect that in the cases where I feel numb but no collapse occurs I am storing up the emotional stress until enough has built up to make such a collapse possible. I wasn't feeling very happy by the time I left the hackerspace. My current situation is highly stressful in addition to the many worries about my immediate and long-term future, especially medically.
I really hope that solutions can be found for the sources of my stress, help with my PTSD and a quick resolution of the medical uncertainties, specifically the surgery and the exact workings of my periods.
It's 4.30 AM now. I really should try and get some sleep... goodnight.
Maya
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