In an earlier article I touched upon the functioning of the human brain, in particular the 'inner universe' which surrounds the conscious mind. This inner universe is what filters, pre-selects and fills in gaps in the information trickling in via one's senses. This IU is also what gets modified when one suffers trauma, causing the whole process to derail significantly. This is the particularly troubling thing I experience when it comes to my post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Simply put I regularly lose touch with reality.
Where things begin to go wrong for me are with my expectations and responses. This particularly when anything I attempt goes wrong it serves as a massive feedback loop, reinforcing the major concept in the IU that something is wrong with me, that I'm incapable of doing things right, that I'm a failure. This same feedback loop occurs when I interact with people, where everything is interpreted in the most negative way possible with the ever-present expectation that people will always want to hurt and/or abandon me. I call it a feedback loop because after it gets triggered it doesn't just destroy my self-confidence and ability to appreciate being alive, this reduction in motivation will more readily cause further negative responses.
After a decade of essentially just suffering through extreme misery following an earlier fifteen or so years of social rejection due to being 'different' I can only say that I would be more surprised if I hadn't ended up like this. Of course I cannot trust others when they never trusted me, including many of my own family members. Of course I hate this body I was born in when it's the subject of so much controversy and has led to me getting tortured in so many interesting ways. If I didn't feel like this something would be truly wrong with me. Being this heavily traumatized is normal and expected, albeit far from healthy.
Of course it's all lies. Everything my brain tells me is twisted and manipulated, barely resembling reality in any form or shape. Of course there are people who I can trust and of course things can turn out fine with the medical help I'm seeking. Yet that's just my intellectual side which is capable of seeing beyond the IU's lies and deceptions. My emotional side is completely incapable of this, a mere toy for these manipulations. This is why I have come to loathe emotions and feelings in general. For no matter what my intellectual side tells me, my emotional side will be completely in the thrall of the IU's imaginations and will be hurting.
As the emotional side is also linked to the centers of the brain responsible for feeling pain and as recent studies have shown that there is no appreciable difference in the way the brain experiences physical and emotional pain, the pain I experience on a virtually daily basis is beyond excruciating. In a sense it's like being terminally ill. Suffering agonizing pains which keep you from functioning at all. There is only the overwhelming pain, as its own micro-cosmos.
The isolation from society which PTSD sufferers report is due to the attunement of their IU not matching up with that of their surroundings. Where their surroundings are focused on happy, joyful things, the IU of a PTSD individual has become attuned to what can be summarized as misery. That's why they can no longer truly feel happy or experience joy, yet they will respond very strongly to both negative experiences (e.g. suffering of others) and highly positive ones such as kindness.
This is why one of the best ways for me to deal with PTSD is actually not to focus on happy things, but to watch a movie or play a game in which there is a lot of suffering. For some reason this matches up with the expectations of my IU: everything is about suffering, most people will betray you, death is right around the corner, hope is a futile delusion. It may sound negative and pessimistic, but it calms me down.
Of course, fixing the causes of my PTSD is even better, especially in the long-term. This is where hopefully the upcoming surgery will make a first sizeable dent by destroying most of the uncertainty and trauma of the past decade by giving me some real, proper medical facts to embrace and come to terms with. Even if the results of the surgery will be disappointing, at least it should end those horrible ten years with some kind of conclusion instead of letting it fester on like a never-ending nightmare.
It's probably the only way I'll ever be able to tweak my IU back into proper working order.
Maya
Thursday, 8 May 2014
Sunday, 4 May 2014
Shopping Around For Major Surgery
Yesterday I made an appointment at a nearby women's clinic. As it turns out, there are many places in Germany where they treat cases like mine. Instead of having just the one option in Erding I now seem to have this second option opening up and possibly a third one as well later next week. The first appointment I have at the nearby clinic is on the 13th this month at any rate. Just two months before my scheduled surgery date. It's definitely going to be a race to see which place can offer me the best surgery prospects.
In many ways I'm glad that I am getting all these options now, though I'm still intensely bitter regarding my experiences in the Netherlands. It's only through actually living in a medically sane country like Germany that I realize just how horrific the Netherlands truly was. Virtually all of the physicians and other medical professionals here are honestly intrigued by my case and are doing their utmost to help me. No more being treated like an annoyance and a delusional boy.
Not that I have a lot of contact with other intersex people in Germany, though. So far I have established exactly zero contacts and I am not really interested in contacts either. I'm not sure whether it's because of their damaging experiences growing up, or it's simply the few German intersex individuals who approach me, but I can find no common ground with them. I actually had to 'unfriend' one yesterday on Facebook after a message informing me that she was certain that I have PAIS based on 'looking at your pictures'. Right. PAIS for those who forgot is a form of AIS (Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome) which results in various degrees of female development despite having a male genotype.
I know that I don't have a form of AIS because a) the symptoms don't match up and b) so far four German teams have confirmed genital duality, which doesn't occur with AIS. Yet this hasn't kept various people from making this claim over the years. The thing for me is of course that I do not have absolute certainty about this female side of mine in the sense that I can not drop my pants and confirm it beyond a shade of doubt that way. When people then claim that I'm basically deluding myself again, it's painful.
I know I have touched upon this a lot in my past posts, and I probably won't shut up about it for a while still. To know what I am is what I am looking for at this point. In the midst of so much contradicting 'evidence', opinions, statements, proclamations, and heavens know what else, it's reached a point where I cannot honestly look at myself in the mirror and know what it is I am seeing there. When then a friend tells me that I'm 'a pretty girl', I feel both happiness and a lot of pain and confusion. Because I don't know whether it's true.
Honestly, I feel as incorporeal as some mist. A wisp of smoke. Linked with it my horrible sense of insecurity. About my body. About my skills. About how people see me. About everything. It's a miracle I can still function in public at this point. I know that most of it is just part of my brain forcing the rest of said brain and with it my body to get along with the program for now and see where it all ends.
That said, I have managed to burden myself to the point of bursting from stress. With a full-time job, another full-time job writing a technical reference book, the shopping around for a good surgeon and the few moments of relaxation it's a miracle I haven't burned myself out yet. At least I have put the writing of my autobiography on hold for now after the writing of it in English didn't work so well for the Dutch publisher. As I don't have a contract with this publisher yet, I may just find an international publisher instead. With the surgery settled I could then use the time that frees up to resume work there.
In some way it would be a relief to not have a Dutch publisher any more. Having it only published in Dutch and sold in the Netherlands would be so utterly disappointing and useless. It's a story which concerns everyone in every part of the world. What happened to me is something everyone should be aware of so that no one else who has the misfortune of being born like me has to suffer the same kind of agony. Especially not those born in tyrannical countries such as the Netherlands.
It's been about half a year since I left the Netherlands and every week I feel a little better about it. Leaving there was the best decision I have made in my life. While there are many things I still have to fight for in Germany, at least they're not medical things and they're not dehumanizing. I as a person am allowed to exist here and hopefully I will also finally be able to find myself here.
Maya
In many ways I'm glad that I am getting all these options now, though I'm still intensely bitter regarding my experiences in the Netherlands. It's only through actually living in a medically sane country like Germany that I realize just how horrific the Netherlands truly was. Virtually all of the physicians and other medical professionals here are honestly intrigued by my case and are doing their utmost to help me. No more being treated like an annoyance and a delusional boy.
Not that I have a lot of contact with other intersex people in Germany, though. So far I have established exactly zero contacts and I am not really interested in contacts either. I'm not sure whether it's because of their damaging experiences growing up, or it's simply the few German intersex individuals who approach me, but I can find no common ground with them. I actually had to 'unfriend' one yesterday on Facebook after a message informing me that she was certain that I have PAIS based on 'looking at your pictures'. Right. PAIS for those who forgot is a form of AIS (Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome) which results in various degrees of female development despite having a male genotype.
I know that I don't have a form of AIS because a) the symptoms don't match up and b) so far four German teams have confirmed genital duality, which doesn't occur with AIS. Yet this hasn't kept various people from making this claim over the years. The thing for me is of course that I do not have absolute certainty about this female side of mine in the sense that I can not drop my pants and confirm it beyond a shade of doubt that way. When people then claim that I'm basically deluding myself again, it's painful.
I know I have touched upon this a lot in my past posts, and I probably won't shut up about it for a while still. To know what I am is what I am looking for at this point. In the midst of so much contradicting 'evidence', opinions, statements, proclamations, and heavens know what else, it's reached a point where I cannot honestly look at myself in the mirror and know what it is I am seeing there. When then a friend tells me that I'm 'a pretty girl', I feel both happiness and a lot of pain and confusion. Because I don't know whether it's true.
Honestly, I feel as incorporeal as some mist. A wisp of smoke. Linked with it my horrible sense of insecurity. About my body. About my skills. About how people see me. About everything. It's a miracle I can still function in public at this point. I know that most of it is just part of my brain forcing the rest of said brain and with it my body to get along with the program for now and see where it all ends.
That said, I have managed to burden myself to the point of bursting from stress. With a full-time job, another full-time job writing a technical reference book, the shopping around for a good surgeon and the few moments of relaxation it's a miracle I haven't burned myself out yet. At least I have put the writing of my autobiography on hold for now after the writing of it in English didn't work so well for the Dutch publisher. As I don't have a contract with this publisher yet, I may just find an international publisher instead. With the surgery settled I could then use the time that frees up to resume work there.
In some way it would be a relief to not have a Dutch publisher any more. Having it only published in Dutch and sold in the Netherlands would be so utterly disappointing and useless. It's a story which concerns everyone in every part of the world. What happened to me is something everyone should be aware of so that no one else who has the misfortune of being born like me has to suffer the same kind of agony. Especially not those born in tyrannical countries such as the Netherlands.
It's been about half a year since I left the Netherlands and every week I feel a little better about it. Leaving there was the best decision I have made in my life. While there are many things I still have to fight for in Germany, at least they're not medical things and they're not dehumanizing. I as a person am allowed to exist here and hopefully I will also finally be able to find myself here.
Maya
Saturday, 3 May 2014
One Doesn't Just Leave Trauma Behind
"Posttraumatic stress disorder is classified as an anxiety disorder in the DSM IV; the characteristic symptoms are not present before exposure to the violently traumatic event. In the typical case, the individual with PTSD persistently avoids all thoughts and 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. The characteristic symptoms are considered acute if lasting less than three months, and chronic if persisting three months or more, and with delayed onset if the symptoms first occur after six months or some years later. PTSD is distinct from the briefer acute stress disorder, and can cause clinical impairment in significant areas of functioning." [1]
Last night I was forced to relive the memories of early 2011. Memories I had managed to suppress for a while, to the point where when I saw a police officer the past months here in Germany I'd only experience a brief feeling of discomfort and wariness without consciously realizing why. Last night the memories of the brutal police beating and torture I experienced those years ago resurfaced for no discernible reason, however. Maybe it was just the brief pain in one of my wrists combined with a few other loosely related triggers which brought it all back, but once the flood of memories started, there was no end to it.
Recollections of footsteps behind me, of being thrown to the ground, of metal objects very nearly piercing the skin on my wrists. My screaming and begging. Someone sitting on top of me or banging my head violently against a car door. The forceful removal of my clothes and being thrown virtually naked onto a prison cell bed. Spending a night alone in a cell with the bright lights never turned off while watched on cameras. Screaming and crying the whole night until falling asleep from exhaustion. The assessment the next morning by a team of Dutch psychologists that I was doing fine and could easily spend another few days in the cell like that. Hours of uncertainty, of being let out to air. Watching the sky through the metal grid above the airing grounds and hearing cars and other noises. Having police officers force one back into the cell while feeling only terror. Being released at long last and knowing that you'll never be the same person again.
The next months I would spend recovering from my ordeal. Physically at least. From the nerve damage in my right wrist to the bruised bone of my right knee and the many scrapes and bruises I had suffered from the brutal treatment. The charges against me gradually got dropped one by one, as I had done nothing wrong. All of my actions before the arrest were due to the years of psychological abuse by Dutch physicians, something even the judge presiding over my case found hard to deny. Thus things got slowly smoothed over as my scars and bruises faded. Yet the psychological trauma never faded.
I think that my recent advances in Germany in getting the medical treatment I need are partially responsible for triggering these memories, as it's all related. I have one surgery appointment in over two months already and am working on two other appointments for a second opinion on the surgery. It's all going so smoothly, it's amazing. Here in Germany no physician calls me crazy, or pretends that I'm just a silly transgender person with delusions. Both my GP and gynaecologist have expressed how interesting they find my case and how they enjoy dealing with something new. Yet even through these positive experiences the traumas can and will get triggered, for the simple reason that it's all linked.
Earlier today I figured that maybe I shouldn't be writing this post. That writing about my traumatic experience with the Dutch police would be a bad idea. Maybe it isn't a good idea. I already found out a few paragraphs ago that I can not write about it without beginning to cry. Maybe it's a good idea, as it gives the pain a way out. I do know that this is the point where I need to actively find help for my PTSD, as it's far too much for a single individual to deal with. I also expect the flashbacks to get worse over the coming months in the run-up to the surgery and with the second opinions.
Finally I hope to not have to visit the Netherlands this year any more. I would like to forget for a while that such a country exists and with it maybe reduce the impact of the traumatic experiences I suffered there.
Maya
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Posttraumatic_stress_disorder
Last night I was forced to relive the memories of early 2011. Memories I had managed to suppress for a while, to the point where when I saw a police officer the past months here in Germany I'd only experience a brief feeling of discomfort and wariness without consciously realizing why. Last night the memories of the brutal police beating and torture I experienced those years ago resurfaced for no discernible reason, however. Maybe it was just the brief pain in one of my wrists combined with a few other loosely related triggers which brought it all back, but once the flood of memories started, there was no end to it.
Recollections of footsteps behind me, of being thrown to the ground, of metal objects very nearly piercing the skin on my wrists. My screaming and begging. Someone sitting on top of me or banging my head violently against a car door. The forceful removal of my clothes and being thrown virtually naked onto a prison cell bed. Spending a night alone in a cell with the bright lights never turned off while watched on cameras. Screaming and crying the whole night until falling asleep from exhaustion. The assessment the next morning by a team of Dutch psychologists that I was doing fine and could easily spend another few days in the cell like that. Hours of uncertainty, of being let out to air. Watching the sky through the metal grid above the airing grounds and hearing cars and other noises. Having police officers force one back into the cell while feeling only terror. Being released at long last and knowing that you'll never be the same person again.
The next months I would spend recovering from my ordeal. Physically at least. From the nerve damage in my right wrist to the bruised bone of my right knee and the many scrapes and bruises I had suffered from the brutal treatment. The charges against me gradually got dropped one by one, as I had done nothing wrong. All of my actions before the arrest were due to the years of psychological abuse by Dutch physicians, something even the judge presiding over my case found hard to deny. Thus things got slowly smoothed over as my scars and bruises faded. Yet the psychological trauma never faded.
I think that my recent advances in Germany in getting the medical treatment I need are partially responsible for triggering these memories, as it's all related. I have one surgery appointment in over two months already and am working on two other appointments for a second opinion on the surgery. It's all going so smoothly, it's amazing. Here in Germany no physician calls me crazy, or pretends that I'm just a silly transgender person with delusions. Both my GP and gynaecologist have expressed how interesting they find my case and how they enjoy dealing with something new. Yet even through these positive experiences the traumas can and will get triggered, for the simple reason that it's all linked.
Earlier today I figured that maybe I shouldn't be writing this post. That writing about my traumatic experience with the Dutch police would be a bad idea. Maybe it isn't a good idea. I already found out a few paragraphs ago that I can not write about it without beginning to cry. Maybe it's a good idea, as it gives the pain a way out. I do know that this is the point where I need to actively find help for my PTSD, as it's far too much for a single individual to deal with. I also expect the flashbacks to get worse over the coming months in the run-up to the surgery and with the second opinions.
Finally I hope to not have to visit the Netherlands this year any more. I would like to forget for a while that such a country exists and with it maybe reduce the impact of the traumatic experiences I suffered there.
Maya
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Posttraumatic_stress_disorder
Monday, 28 April 2014
Terrified Of Being Transgender
Today was my first visit to the office of my new gynaecologist. Originally I was only going there to make an appointment, but the gynaecologist had time for me, so I had my first appointment today as well. It was my first time visiting a gynaecologist's office. I have been examined by gynaecologists before, of course, though this was in the Netherlands and they were just part of a larger team. Here I was sitting in a waiting room surrounded by women with children, expecting one or with something else which most would put under 'perfectly normal'. Also lots of pictures of newborn babies everywhere and reading material on pregnancies. It was in many ways a new experience.
The appointment with the gynaecologist went well. He appears to be a very nice person and much like my GP seemed genuinely interested and even somewhat fascinated by my case. He offered to perform an ultrasound examination to see whether he could maybe see a uterus which could be the source of my monthly cramps. Unfortunately he didn't find anything, so the source of my monthly pains remains still a mystery. I also got switched by him to a new source of hormones, with a gel-based source of estradiol and pure form of progesterone instead of the pill. The former should be less stressful on my liver and such due to being transdermal. It's also more convenient. Whether taking pure progesterone is better than the pill should be an interesting experiment.
Despite having four teams of German physicians saying that I am a hermaphrodite and have a closed-off vagina, I still felt horribly put into place when the gynaecologist said that he could not readily see a uterus or vagina on the ultrasound. He didn't make a big deal out of it, fortunately, but it did bring back all my doubts in a major way. Thinking about it during the rest of the day I could only conclude that the essence of my fear is that of it being found out that I am in fact a transgender person and have always been one. Biologically male with no female characteristics except maybe a more feminine appearance. Watching the video log I recorded yesterday I got a similar sensation, feeling as though I'm looking at a transgender male.
To be found out. To discover that I really have been deceiving myself. For what? Why? How could I be so caught in a delusion? Someone like me, who prides herself on being so rational and only focused on the facts, to be caught in a maze of lies and wishful deception. To have everything I have built up the past years about me as a public figure, as a person and personality, suddenly crumble like that. A mere mea culpa would not suffice. Not to myself and not to others. To admit that the Dutch physicians really were the ones who knew best and were right, while the German physicians merely confused and deceived me.
Yes, it doesn't make sense. Not that the Dutch physicians would deceive me. Not that the German physicians would do so. Yet only one group can be right. Assuming that the latter group is correct, then the former group did its utmost to brainwash me into believing that I had to be transgender, and this very brainwashing attempt is now making me feel so horrible, as though I'm trying to deceive physicians here in Germany into believing that I am intersex. Knowing how pervasive brainwashing is, it would be exceedingly hard for me to distinguish between what's real and not real. Deprogramming this brainwashing would be a major effort, something pretty much only achievable through a successful vaginal reconstructive surgery.
If the Dutch physicians were right, though... then I'm just a transgender person who doesn't realize it, has no connection with the concept and wouldn't know what to do with it. And that's why it frightens the hell out of me.
Just two and a half months left until it is figured out who was right.
Maya
The appointment with the gynaecologist went well. He appears to be a very nice person and much like my GP seemed genuinely interested and even somewhat fascinated by my case. He offered to perform an ultrasound examination to see whether he could maybe see a uterus which could be the source of my monthly cramps. Unfortunately he didn't find anything, so the source of my monthly pains remains still a mystery. I also got switched by him to a new source of hormones, with a gel-based source of estradiol and pure form of progesterone instead of the pill. The former should be less stressful on my liver and such due to being transdermal. It's also more convenient. Whether taking pure progesterone is better than the pill should be an interesting experiment.
Despite having four teams of German physicians saying that I am a hermaphrodite and have a closed-off vagina, I still felt horribly put into place when the gynaecologist said that he could not readily see a uterus or vagina on the ultrasound. He didn't make a big deal out of it, fortunately, but it did bring back all my doubts in a major way. Thinking about it during the rest of the day I could only conclude that the essence of my fear is that of it being found out that I am in fact a transgender person and have always been one. Biologically male with no female characteristics except maybe a more feminine appearance. Watching the video log I recorded yesterday I got a similar sensation, feeling as though I'm looking at a transgender male.
To be found out. To discover that I really have been deceiving myself. For what? Why? How could I be so caught in a delusion? Someone like me, who prides herself on being so rational and only focused on the facts, to be caught in a maze of lies and wishful deception. To have everything I have built up the past years about me as a public figure, as a person and personality, suddenly crumble like that. A mere mea culpa would not suffice. Not to myself and not to others. To admit that the Dutch physicians really were the ones who knew best and were right, while the German physicians merely confused and deceived me.
Yes, it doesn't make sense. Not that the Dutch physicians would deceive me. Not that the German physicians would do so. Yet only one group can be right. Assuming that the latter group is correct, then the former group did its utmost to brainwash me into believing that I had to be transgender, and this very brainwashing attempt is now making me feel so horrible, as though I'm trying to deceive physicians here in Germany into believing that I am intersex. Knowing how pervasive brainwashing is, it would be exceedingly hard for me to distinguish between what's real and not real. Deprogramming this brainwashing would be a major effort, something pretty much only achievable through a successful vaginal reconstructive surgery.
If the Dutch physicians were right, though... then I'm just a transgender person who doesn't realize it, has no connection with the concept and wouldn't know what to do with it. And that's why it frightens the hell out of me.
Just two and a half months left until it is figured out who was right.
Maya
Sunday, 27 April 2014
Vlog: Remove Sexuality And Everything Unravels
- Remove sexuality, 'woman' vanishes too.
- Remove woman, 'human' vanishes too.
- Can't define 'human' in any sensible way.
- Can't be an organism, because of sexuality.
- Surgery can partially restore sexuality, birth defect remains.
- Still feeling like a freak.
- Pain about sexuality causes withdrawal from it.
- Subsequent unravelling of the 'self'.
- Needs labia to complete sexuality, and start healing process.
- Looking for second opinion and further help.
- An end to the medical process has to be possible.
Maya
Friday, 25 April 2014
Progress Yet Another Impossible Surgery Required
Today was the day of my appointment with the surgeon at the clinic in Erding. I managed to get up despite barely sleeping at all last night. I headed there with a friend with him driving the car. We arrived at the clinic after about four hours, just in time. There it turned out that for some reason my appointment had been scheduled in on Tuesday the next week. This wasn't a big problem, fortunately, as the surgeon would have time for me after the surgery he was in at that time. This gave me time to fill in the usual permission and information forms and handle the related formalities.
The chat with the surgeon was in many ways brief and to the point. To my relief there was no real physical examination, with the surgeon just taking some photos of the area he would be working on as reference during the preparations. During the discussion afterwards he explained that while he could give no guarantees about the result since he didn't know whether he would find a usable vagina or just related tissue, he was nevertheless ready to give it a go. This did lead to one major issue, however.
To create the labia during the reconstructive he would need more skin than the now empty scrotum can provide. Normally he would use the recycled penile tissue for this (with transgender sex reassignment surgery), but as I had indicated that I wanted to keep that side, this would not be possible. This left me with the options of no surgery, having just a hole without labia or giving up the penis after all. Having decided years ago already that I feel the most happy keeping my body intact without giving into society's concept of 'right' and 'wrong', this third option left me quite upset, as did the thought of the first option.
Not having surgery at this point would be unacceptable to me. Having come this far and to give up on what - thinking about it - essentially is merely decoration around the vagina entrance would be unwise. The surgeon after some discussion agreed to this surgery and then we moved onto the topic of the health insurance: whether the Krankenkasse will actually cover this, as the surgeon explained that they tend to cover surgeries involving someone going from one side to another, not keeping both sides. My surgery might not get covered.
In the end it was agreed that the clinic will send a letter with the request for coverage to the Krankenkasse with a reply expected in about three weeks. A surgery date also got scheduled, for July 14th, so in about 2.5 month. Not very soon, but it will have to do. Wondering about what the surgeon will actually find the surgery and will be able to do with it will likely consume much of my thoughts and energy of the past months. There is also the possibility of the Krankenkasse refusing coverage, requiring me to cover the about 10,000 Euro surgery myself.
Assuming that the surgery goes well and I end up with a connected vagina, I will be essentially at the point where many hermaphrodites start at, with an externally visible and accessible hole to the vagina. The next step will be to somehow create labia, the only method for which I am aware of which will work is that of having the proper type of skin grown from stem cells, something which is decidedly experimental and even then only in places like the USA. The possibility of getting this surgery performed is slim to none. I may have to accept that I will never have labia, as a kind of poignant reminder of my imperfect birth.
In the end today means progress, but also the first of what will undoubtedly be many bitter pills to swallow. I will forever be reminded of my birth defect. Maybe giving up this lunatic dream of being a hermaphrodite is something I should honestly consider. It would make so many things so much easier if I just became a regular woman and had this horrendous part of myself chopped off and recycled for parts. There is no joy or point in being a hermaphrodite. It only means fighting for every single scrap while being terminally unhappy.
I just don't know. Some choices and situations are just too big, too much to be handled by a single human being.
Maya
The chat with the surgeon was in many ways brief and to the point. To my relief there was no real physical examination, with the surgeon just taking some photos of the area he would be working on as reference during the preparations. During the discussion afterwards he explained that while he could give no guarantees about the result since he didn't know whether he would find a usable vagina or just related tissue, he was nevertheless ready to give it a go. This did lead to one major issue, however.
To create the labia during the reconstructive he would need more skin than the now empty scrotum can provide. Normally he would use the recycled penile tissue for this (with transgender sex reassignment surgery), but as I had indicated that I wanted to keep that side, this would not be possible. This left me with the options of no surgery, having just a hole without labia or giving up the penis after all. Having decided years ago already that I feel the most happy keeping my body intact without giving into society's concept of 'right' and 'wrong', this third option left me quite upset, as did the thought of the first option.
Not having surgery at this point would be unacceptable to me. Having come this far and to give up on what - thinking about it - essentially is merely decoration around the vagina entrance would be unwise. The surgeon after some discussion agreed to this surgery and then we moved onto the topic of the health insurance: whether the Krankenkasse will actually cover this, as the surgeon explained that they tend to cover surgeries involving someone going from one side to another, not keeping both sides. My surgery might not get covered.
In the end it was agreed that the clinic will send a letter with the request for coverage to the Krankenkasse with a reply expected in about three weeks. A surgery date also got scheduled, for July 14th, so in about 2.5 month. Not very soon, but it will have to do. Wondering about what the surgeon will actually find the surgery and will be able to do with it will likely consume much of my thoughts and energy of the past months. There is also the possibility of the Krankenkasse refusing coverage, requiring me to cover the about 10,000 Euro surgery myself.
Assuming that the surgery goes well and I end up with a connected vagina, I will be essentially at the point where many hermaphrodites start at, with an externally visible and accessible hole to the vagina. The next step will be to somehow create labia, the only method for which I am aware of which will work is that of having the proper type of skin grown from stem cells, something which is decidedly experimental and even then only in places like the USA. The possibility of getting this surgery performed is slim to none. I may have to accept that I will never have labia, as a kind of poignant reminder of my imperfect birth.
In the end today means progress, but also the first of what will undoubtedly be many bitter pills to swallow. I will forever be reminded of my birth defect. Maybe giving up this lunatic dream of being a hermaphrodite is something I should honestly consider. It would make so many things so much easier if I just became a regular woman and had this horrendous part of myself chopped off and recycled for parts. There is no joy or point in being a hermaphrodite. It only means fighting for every single scrap while being terminally unhappy.
I just don't know. Some choices and situations are just too big, too much to be handled by a single human being.
Maya
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Hermaphrodites In Tech
There is a massive shortage of hermaphrodites being employed or active in areas ranging from politics to technology sectors. Despite there being over a million of hermaphrodites around the world, the reported number of hermaphrodites active in these areas is essentially zero. It's not impossible that many of those who are active in these areas have to do so while pretending to be either male or female, thus forcing them to disguise their true identity and live a stressful double life. While the technology sector is generally the most accepting and tolerant of all, even here the practice of hidden identities continues.
---
All kidding aside, the above is a semi-realistic portrait of the actual situation inspired by the many 'women in politics/tech' etc. articles and rants. Taking the whole concept of an antagonistic group of individuals who are somehow being singled out in an industry and applying it to a group hitherto not high-lit in this fashion. Women, transgenders, people of colour and/or with various religons and such have all been treated in this fashion. How does being what they are affect their prospects of a happy life, of getting hired and the like? As the whole area of intersex is far too inclusive to apply the same principle to (too many differences between intersex conditions), I'll limit myself here to just the condition I was born with, being hermaphroditism.
Growing up as a boy while my body gradually transformed into that of a female during puberty was confusing at the best of times, yet I found that while in a male gender role, society was very appreciative of my interest in the sciences and computer technology, saying things like that I would get very far in it and how smart I was. Then as I switched gender roles and I found solace in a gender role which better befit my body and feelings, I found that the way society regarded the same interests I had in a very different manner.
Explaining to various people that I am a software developer did not evoke the general grunts of appreciation for someone smarter than them, but instead got me comments generally coming down to that they had not expected a girl to do such a thing and that they thought it was a-ma-zing that I could do something like that. It did give me appreciation for what regular women have to go through on a daily basis if they have decided for a career in IT, engineering or other sciences. To be treated like some kind of bloody curiousity is fun on one hand but rather annoying at the other. It doesn't surprise me that this kind of attitude is keeping girls away from pursuing such a type of career when their environment makes them feel like they're doing something weird.
For me having started off in a male role this felt even more ridiculous to me, considering that I as a person hadn't changed, only that what I called myself in public: male or female. While the male and female brain differ in a variety of ways (the latter actually being better suited for analysis and the like), I did not change my brain, so if society appreciated what I did while 'male', they better darn well appreciate me in the same way while 'female'.
This kind of points to how hermaphrodites do not fit into the 'men in tech' or 'women in tech' exclamations or groups. We literally populate both sides of this trench war and neither. Those of us who live in a female role and those who live in a male role still have had many experiences which regular men and women will not have had, making us different in ways which go beyond just the physical differences. It's not much different from how most of us regard ourselves in daily life. We fit into society and yet we fall completely outside of it.
All of this has led me to the pragmatic point of view that it's not about 'men', 'women', 'transgenders', 'homosexuals' or whatever the label in whatever the category, be it 'tech', 'politics', 'waste disposal' or 'professional Santa Claus actor'. What it's all really about is about not discriminating against someone who is clearly suitable for the position or job. Many politicians in history including famous US presidents were absolute sleaze bags in their private life, often keeping up relations with multiple mistresses, yet this never disqualified them for running the country. If one can overlook such behaviour for such an important position, then what is against simply ignoring everything else about a person at a job interview aside from their qualifications?
At my previous job in the Netherlands I felt that it was necessary that I told the person interviewing me about my intersex condition, asking him whether he had an issue with it. Though they said they didn't, it most definitely was a consideration in their decision to hire me. At my current job here in Germany it's quite different. During the hiring process my physical condition never once was an issue nor did it ever get discussed. While many of my colleagues know about it, they tend to be discreet about it, not ashamed to ask me questions about it, but mostly treating it as just an interesting thing about me as a person, not as a kind of liability.
That said, being treated like a person is all that I desire. Though through the past years I have come to be known as 'the hermaphrodite', 'the intersex activist' and such, I prefer to not think of myself that way. I'm just another human being with a fond interest in science and technology, preferring to geek out over some new project or gadget. The way I was born should not in any form or shape affect this, nor should it do so for anyone else, regardless of how they refer to themselves.
Maya
---
All kidding aside, the above is a semi-realistic portrait of the actual situation inspired by the many 'women in politics/tech' etc. articles and rants. Taking the whole concept of an antagonistic group of individuals who are somehow being singled out in an industry and applying it to a group hitherto not high-lit in this fashion. Women, transgenders, people of colour and/or with various religons and such have all been treated in this fashion. How does being what they are affect their prospects of a happy life, of getting hired and the like? As the whole area of intersex is far too inclusive to apply the same principle to (too many differences between intersex conditions), I'll limit myself here to just the condition I was born with, being hermaphroditism.
Growing up as a boy while my body gradually transformed into that of a female during puberty was confusing at the best of times, yet I found that while in a male gender role, society was very appreciative of my interest in the sciences and computer technology, saying things like that I would get very far in it and how smart I was. Then as I switched gender roles and I found solace in a gender role which better befit my body and feelings, I found that the way society regarded the same interests I had in a very different manner.
Explaining to various people that I am a software developer did not evoke the general grunts of appreciation for someone smarter than them, but instead got me comments generally coming down to that they had not expected a girl to do such a thing and that they thought it was a-ma-zing that I could do something like that. It did give me appreciation for what regular women have to go through on a daily basis if they have decided for a career in IT, engineering or other sciences. To be treated like some kind of bloody curiousity is fun on one hand but rather annoying at the other. It doesn't surprise me that this kind of attitude is keeping girls away from pursuing such a type of career when their environment makes them feel like they're doing something weird.
For me having started off in a male role this felt even more ridiculous to me, considering that I as a person hadn't changed, only that what I called myself in public: male or female. While the male and female brain differ in a variety of ways (the latter actually being better suited for analysis and the like), I did not change my brain, so if society appreciated what I did while 'male', they better darn well appreciate me in the same way while 'female'.
This kind of points to how hermaphrodites do not fit into the 'men in tech' or 'women in tech' exclamations or groups. We literally populate both sides of this trench war and neither. Those of us who live in a female role and those who live in a male role still have had many experiences which regular men and women will not have had, making us different in ways which go beyond just the physical differences. It's not much different from how most of us regard ourselves in daily life. We fit into society and yet we fall completely outside of it.
All of this has led me to the pragmatic point of view that it's not about 'men', 'women', 'transgenders', 'homosexuals' or whatever the label in whatever the category, be it 'tech', 'politics', 'waste disposal' or 'professional Santa Claus actor'. What it's all really about is about not discriminating against someone who is clearly suitable for the position or job. Many politicians in history including famous US presidents were absolute sleaze bags in their private life, often keeping up relations with multiple mistresses, yet this never disqualified them for running the country. If one can overlook such behaviour for such an important position, then what is against simply ignoring everything else about a person at a job interview aside from their qualifications?
At my previous job in the Netherlands I felt that it was necessary that I told the person interviewing me about my intersex condition, asking him whether he had an issue with it. Though they said they didn't, it most definitely was a consideration in their decision to hire me. At my current job here in Germany it's quite different. During the hiring process my physical condition never once was an issue nor did it ever get discussed. While many of my colleagues know about it, they tend to be discreet about it, not ashamed to ask me questions about it, but mostly treating it as just an interesting thing about me as a person, not as a kind of liability.
That said, being treated like a person is all that I desire. Though through the past years I have come to be known as 'the hermaphrodite', 'the intersex activist' and such, I prefer to not think of myself that way. I'm just another human being with a fond interest in science and technology, preferring to geek out over some new project or gadget. The way I was born should not in any form or shape affect this, nor should it do so for anyone else, regardless of how they refer to themselves.
Maya
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)