dearest forsaken

the things you love to hide

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I’ve been in the psych ward for a month. Nothing is better. They let me have a CPAP machine for the nocturnal panic attacks and all I can think about now is hanging myself with the cord. I initially always planned to take pills but I disposed of my obscene amount of leftover morphine like a fucking idiot about two months ago during a brief moment where I thought it was a good idea. Since then I’ve been researching other methods.

It takes roughly ten minutes to die from strangulation. Ten minutes of suffering for all my suffering to end. I think I’m getting closer.

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I don’t have much time to reflect on it now but I’m having a new, horrifying issue that’s making me want to die: nocturnal panic attacks.

Basically the second I start to fall asleep, my body has a panic attack. Doesn’t matter if it’s nighttime or daytime- my body simply will not let me sleep. So far the only thing that’s been even mildly helpful is Ativan, which is a benzodiazepine. I can’t take it every day because it has addictive and dependent potential and is just as terrifying to withdrawal from as opiates! My psychiatrist and therapist in residential treatment think it’s trauma related but I’m worried it’s a straight up medical issue. I have no idea but it is torturous and severely tanking my mental health. They’re also giving me clonodine to try and help with the physiological symptoms of panic, TBD if that’s helpful or not.

I’m working so hard to get well and recover. It’s BRUTAL to continue facing new and horrifying challenges. If I wasn’t in an institution I think I might’ve killed myself this week because I genuinely cannot live like this. Being in full blown panic all night and not sleeping is fucking purgatory.

I don’t know why I have to suffer so much in life. I don’t know why things still aren’t just starting to get better and easier and safer and calmer. I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.

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It’s been 77 days since I last took an opiate and I am still DEEP in the throes of Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome (PAWS). Detoxing off of opiates has completely altered my brain chemistry and dismantled my entire life. After a month of intense and scary suffering at home, I decided to admit myself to a residential mental health facility. Today’s day 2 of at least 30.

-

Most days my cognitive functioning is so low I can hardly form coherent thoughts, let alone communicate them. People say PAWS lifts with time (6mo-2yrs post detox), but many folks start to experience “windows” where symptoms lighten and “waves” where symptoms are severe again. Today I happened to hit a window and feel more like myself than I have in months! I have no idea how long it’ll last or when my brain will be mush again, but today is evidence that all hope isn’t lost and even after months of debilitating trauma, I’m still fucking here. I’m here and I’m doing everything I possibly can to save myself and get my life back. Today there is hope that I will be okay, will be able to function and do my job again, and that perhaps I won’t be severely anhedonic forever!

In the spirit of recovery I wanted to post something less bleak here so that when I log on to post next time, I’m reminded that I’ve had at least one day (in three fucking months) where I wasn’t a flat, empty shell of a person.

Oh, sleep is still atrocious though. I’m getting 3 hours, 4 if I’m lucky. Managing mental health is reeeeeeeally hard while sleep deprived for literal months. I have not slept more than 4 hours in a single night since September of last year. I fucking WISH I was exaggerating. I have tried damn near every sleep med on the market including Ambien, Lunesta, and Sonata- which all did absolutely nothing. Ambien didn’t even make me mildly drowsy. I’m also having nocturnal panic attacks that may never go away post opiate detox (fun to learn that’s a thing) so when I wake up at 2 or 3am, there is no chance of falling asleep again. The doctor here put me on a med last night to try and help with the panic attacks but I had one at 2:30am and have been up since. I’m working on scheduling a sleep study but waitlists are very long (I have one booked for October right now).

Having a “window” of clarity where I feel like myself is encouraging because I’ve been wondering like:

1) is this all PAWS and it will lift in time and I’m essentially still sane and myself?

2) is some of it PAWS and some of it simply my mental health deteriorating regardless of PAWS?

3) have I had a psychotic break/has the accumulation of trauma in my life finally just taken me out and destroyed my cognitive functioning? maybe PAWS has nothing to do with this at all?

4) is some element of this simply that I’m not sleeping and therefore either:

a- I will not be cognitively functional or emotionally well until I start sleeping more, which could take months (terrifying thought esp because the longer I go without good sleep the worse off I am. I do worry about the long term health impacts of sleep deprivation)

b- I have suffered permanent brain damage/trauma from almost four months of sleep deprivation and even if/when I start sleeping again my cognitive functioning won’t return (also terrifying)

-

The fact that I can feel like myself while sleep deprived is a relief because it means I am not irreparably damaged from the lack of sleep (or at least not to the extent I’ve worried I might be)….yet 🙃

That’s the update! If I recover from all of this I am going to be so loud about the opiate crisis and how fucked it is that doctors can prescribe this shit without even telling a patient what getting off of them is like or can do to a person! I have been through a lot of trauma in my life and nothing has taken me down mentally and cognitively the way opiate detox has. I took medications my doctor gave me, as prescribed, and it literally derailed my entire life. Fuckin’. Wild.

[writingonourwalls]

If you ever would like to talk or text with an old friend from Grey times...I am here. Never want to add to the struggle but want you to know that I am here and do care...

When I posted that I was trans I got an anonymous message saying something like, “as an old friend I’m telling you you’re making a mistake and you’re a beautiful woman”. I thought you might’ve sent it because so few people even know about my tumblr and I couldn’t fathom who else might refer to themselves as an “old friend” of mine. You and I hadn’t spoken in so long. I wouldn’t peg you as someone transphobic or unsupportive but I also don’t care to engage anyone who tells me not to be my authentic self, so I didn’t think much of it. Was that you?

Regardless, I’m shocked you still pop in here and appreciate you reaching out to connect- especially given how obvious and immense my suffering has been lately. Thank you.

[writingonourwalls]

Still struggling so intensely to just survive each day.

The more I read about opiate PAWS it seems so glaringly obvious that this is what’s wrong but holy fuck, surviving it is like a relentless purgatory. People say it will definitely pass but I keep waiting and waiting and waiting. It’s been three months since I started tapering off of opiates and two whole months off of them. Some people are better in a couple weeks! I’ve read some people don’t recover for years but that’s usually with really long term use at much higher amounts than I had! People with situations like mine are usually better already or at least finding noticeable improvements in some areas. For me: I’m still barely sleeping, my self esteem is shot, my cognitive functioning is impaired, I can’t focus on anything, I’m crying every day, my anhedonia is as strong as ever, I’m still physically lethargic and weak, and I’m extremely suicidal. No improvements anywhere!

I mean, my doctor had me on a pretty high dose of morphine but only for four months! Like when will this end?! Why is it taking so long for my brain to heal from this?! How much longer can I do this?

I meet with my psychiatrist tomorrow and I know we’ll start meds. Whether they’ll help or not is a whole unknown but I’m trying so hard to hang in longer. Give it another month, start meds…try not to abandon all hope. People keep telling me it’s going to get better and I don’t believe them anymore but fuck I want it to be true. I just want to wake up and feel like a person again- not a shell. I miss my brain. I miss joy. I miss love. I miss literally anything making me feel calm or comfortable. I miss working. I miss having interests and wanting to do things. Halfway through January and it’s all still so fucking grueling.

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My life feels like the depiction of something that could potentially be unbelievably good yet just never is. Never can be. Never will be. Never would have been. Get real close sometimes, but it’s so temporary anyway.

I don’t really want to do it anymore if I’m being honest- and I’ve been feeling that way for awhile now. I’m sticking around for a select few, whom I’m mostly trying to push away at this point so they can become unburdened by me someday. Existing like this is torture every day. I feel useless and like my life has amounted to nothing. I feel like my best days are far, far behind me and the only thing left is suffering. Letting people who believed that I was great down. Just not being cut out for all of this. Not actually being as strong as everyone thought. Being small and selfish and needing relief. Giving up. Squandering my life instead of trying harder. Being too ungrateful to want to live. I don’t know. I don’t know how much longer a human is supposed to exist like this but I have to be reaching a serious breaking point, don’t I?

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I still can’t sleep and it feels like it’s gonna kill meeee. If I don’t sleep for two more nights I have to check myself into the ER because the lack of sleep is so bad for my mental health that it’s not safe for me to be home alone while this sleep deprived.

My doctor is supposed to prescribe Ambien for me which is kind of terrifying but I am truly desperate and need to fucking sleep so, here we are. It’s not ready at the pharmacy yet though so I have nothing for tonight. I’m on day 4 now of being wide awake all night long. I sure hope she sends it tomorrow! I really don’t know how people deal with this level of insomnia. I don’t feel real today, my anxiety is off the charts, and my body simply will *not* let me sleep.

Can’t wait for all of this to be over. I want to be recovered and healed and to stop feeling like I’m going backwards. All because I took meds as prescribed by my doctor. So fucked.

[writingonourwalls]

I’ve been off of opiates for a month now. Maybe someday I’ll say more about that experience but suffice to say it was an absolute hell unlike any I’ve ever known.

The aftermath feels almost worse though? The anhedonia is so brutal- I feel no excitement, no joy, no interest in anything at all. I’ve been depressed my entire life and never experienced anything quite like this. It’s almost as if I’ve never had any hobbies or liked anything at all about the world or myself. It’s bizarre and disorienting.

I’m also still hardly sleeping and the last two nights I was up all fucking night.

I’m trying to stay hopeful, especially now that the opiates are out of my system, but it’s challenging. I don’t feel like myself still and I’m beyond tired of it. I’m grateful for the people in my life who continue to stick by me even though I feel more like a dependent than I do a friend or partner. I hope all this shit passes and it’d be great if that happens sooner rather than later. I’ve heard from folks that the post acute withdrawal symptoms can last months- mainly the insomnia and anhedonia. Blahhhhhh.

[writingonourwalls]

My brain is mush at this point. Haven’t slept in literally 6 days.

Went to detox for opiates after taking them exactly as prescribed earlier this year for my Endo shit. My body became dependent and trying to get off them has ruined me and my entire life.

I was cold turkey’d off of them in detox and then sent home only to be at the very worst of it all. If I stay home and try to battle this I’m going to kill myself, so returning to the very sub-par, fairly terrifying detox facility that cold turkey’d me in the first place is my best option right now.

It’s been horrific how the medical field has no help for someone like me to safely get off of opiates that I took *as prescribed* by my own doctor. Anyone who’s known me knows the person I’ve been. I am now jobless, borderline homeless, and my best option is returning to a dodgy and kind of nuts substance use facility 3 hours from home. I have been reduced to nothing by these fucking drugs.

I’m scared I’m going to die there. The lack of sleep alone is so immensely brutal. My guts hurt. It feels like someone put hot glue all over my chest and back. My heart is endlessly racing. I am now 120lbs and only getting smaller. I know people survive this but god, I don’t know how.

Tapering off the opiates at home the last 1.5 months has been why my mental health is so fucked as is and I’m still just endlessly suffering every moment. I feel like this is the real end of me and my life. I can’t believe I spent my entire life not using drugs like my family only to end up suffering through this. Please, if you love me, pray that this will end and someday I’ll be functional again. Or pray for a quick death. I’d take either at this point.

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It’s so hard existing when I feel like I spend most of my life wanting to die and then have these smaller patches of life feeling worth it.

For weeks, since I’ve been sick really, I just rotted on my couch in silence doing nothing. I’m almost 6 weeks post op but I’m still mentally and emotionally fucked. I thought I might feel sad processing everything I’ve been through but I mostly am just so acutely aware of how empty and lonely my life is. I don’t think I’m just processing almost dying or feeling this way because of what I went through.

I feel like I have missed out on any kind of life that doesn’t feel this way. I’m 33 and basically single. I have a partner who is very good to me, but married with a kid. He has his life partner and living partner- everyone I’ve met out here does. Monogamy isn’t the exact right fit for me but I can’t find a poly person who isn’t already married or living with their main person to save my life. I’m always the secondary partner, never the life partner. I’m never going to find mine. There is no person out there who just wants me or wants to be my partner in life. I live in this expensive city where single income is so hard. Like even for practical reasons I don’t know what I’m going to do. The idea of paying rent in a 500sq ft box for the rest of my life, alone, makes me want to die.

I’m so tired of rotting alone in my apartment. I’ve been feeling suicidal a lot again lately. Nothing feels good or worth it. I’m exhausted and alone and can hardly do anything for myself anymore. I don’t eat. I’m not sleeping. I’m just barely getting through each day and life is really feeling not worth it if I’m going to go through it alone forever. For weeks I’ve spent every day sitting on my couch in silence. I can’t tolerate music or tv. I have no desire to engage in anything. When I’m with my partner, who’s really the only person I see, I feel disconnected and shut down.

My family doesn’t love me. Even my sister, who I raised and thought would always be by my side, completely abandoned me. Everyone who’s abandoned me has a family and partner and gets to be happy while I just stay alone. I’m tired of trying to convince myself that life is worth it. Maybe it just isn’t. Maybe I’ve done enough and felt enough pain and should just let it all fade away. I want that so badly.

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My surgery saved my life. I’ve generally been doing so well it’s shocking to everyone that saw me dying a month ago. I’m happy and trying to process it all.

I did, also, wake up from a dead sleep to the worst kind of Endometriosis pain I ever get. It’s this intense, deeply internal rectal pain. Every time I asked non-Endo people about it people looked at me like I’m crazy and told me they’ve never had that pain. When I met more people with Endo and asked them, they all have known what I’m talking about. The closest thing I can relate it to is anal rape except it’s much, much, much worse.

I had fallen asleep fine. Had a lovely day and was relatively pain free (I’m still on 60mg of morphine and plenty of tramadol every day, but I was on that pre surgery and still in horrible pain. Now it manages my pain effectively). I woke up to the pain and I…it physically paralyzes me. Most of the time it comes in a short little burst where I feel it coming on, there’s a severe peak for about 30 seconds, and then it goes away.

In 2019, 5 months before my first excision surgery, it lasted for 20 minutes. I remember writhing around on the floor with endless tears coming out of my eyes. My partner at the time was horrified and wanted to call 911- I just kept saying no to that because I knew it was Endo pain and a hospital could do nothing. I also knew it passed, but it kept not passing. I obviously got through it.

After my first excision I hardly ever had the pain and if I did, it was those short bursts.

Two months ago, at my worst health and after literally not pooping for an entire month (a huge part of my hospital stays was emptying my body of a month’s worth of stool), I had that pain for an hour. An hour. I had taken a bunch of laxatives and done an enema and I just…it came on and lasted sooooo long. I was on my friend’s floor in a crescent moon shape, unable to do anything but scream and heave and cry out in pain. I shoved a towel in my mouth to bite and muffle the sounds.

That’s what I experienced again last night. I’m less than two weeks post op and I didn’t think I’d have that kind of pain now that my uterus is gone. And they hardly found any new Endometrioma when they did the hysterectomy!

Last night was the worst it’s ever been. I could hardly breathe and was trying to call out for my aunt (who’s been staying with me bc of the surgery) and I couldn’t even call out to her really. I intentionally fell out of bed and tried to crawl out of my bedroom so she could hear me. When I got to the door she did, and she sat with me and rubbed back the entire time. I was covered in tears and snot and drool- it is a pain unlike anything else I’ve ever known. She gave me two tramadol and eventually it passed. I asked her for a towel and I think she thought I would wipe my face with it, but I needed to shove it in my mouth to muffle my screaming.

I’m scared I might’ve messed something up internally regarding my surgery. Everything hurts more than it has in a week. I have a deep pain in my abdomen and think I messed up my shoulder rolling out of bed. I’m scared and traumatized and very tired.

I’m going to message my surgeon today and likely spend the whole day in bed. I can feel a faint bit of the rectal pain now and I’m worried it’s going to come back. I’m going to try and stay calm and relax my body today.

If anyone else with Endometriosis happens to read this and has this pain, please don’t hesitate to reach out. How do you manage it? If it’s unmanageable, I will cry with you and empathize with your experience and pain.

Endometriosis almost killed me and it should be taken much more seriously as a disease. I’m eternally grateful for people who talk to me about their Endo because that’s how I learned I had it and began to get help. We need to stick together.

Fuck Endometriosis.

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I’m still here. I’m still here. My body is failing me and my life is an endless shit show of disaster and trauma and suffering. I’m still here.

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Getting yelled at on my birthday is 10/10. Just another shit day.

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It’s 2:00am. I can’t sleep bc I’m in too much pain, which is just normal for me now. I’m in the hospital again. Guess that’s becoming normal, too.

The friend who had been helping me out most started kind of being a jerk last week and hasn’t even asked once today how I’m doing or if I’m okay, despite knowing I left our shared apartment building via ambulance 17 hours ago. He also knew I was super sick yesterday because our building’s power went out and all I asked is for him to return my camping cooler (that I have been asking him to return for a month) so I could put ice in it and not have to throw out $100 of perfectly good food (which I had to do earlier this month after HE left my fridge open one night). He got pissy with me when I requested he get the cooler to me. The elevator to our building was non-operational because the *power was out* so I couldn’t physically go down to his unit and get it. I couldn’t take my rotting food to the trash, and I couldn’t have gotten downstairs to grab a bag of takeout if I needed to! I ended up not eating at all bc I was in way too much pain but all the man had to do was return something that belongs to me, to me.

I’ve also basically been bedridden and fucking halfway dead every single day of my life since before I went to the hospital the first time. I didn’t get better when I left the hospital- I got worse. Which is why I’m back.

Anyway Jim, who was feeling like a long lost brother to me, basically up and decided he doesn’t need our friendship anymore? This is directly tied to him meeting a girl/dating her. All Jim did before he met his new partner is talk ENDLESSLY to me about his ex’s- both of whom he is convinced are in love with him and he’s actively trying to wear one of them down. Not a fan of that plan and don’t love it for him, but whatever. I needed my other friend Brett to collect my spare keys from Jim tonight so Brett could feed my cat and bring me a hospital bag, since my neighbor apparently has no desire to even be a pal let alone help me out while I’m this in need. Jim didn’t even like shoot a text to say he hopes I’m okay. He didn’t ask Brett how I’m doing or if I’m okay. Nada. Real fucking shitty.

On top of that about 5 days ago my partner told me that his wife of 15 years cheated on him a decade ago. Why did this come out now? Because she told him two weeks ago she “reconnected with a friend from their past”. He was so thrilled about this he called ME, while I was in the hospital, to tell me. He felt bad she had not met anyone yet even tho they have an open marriage. His wife told him, “I reconnected with Adam and he’s going to fly into town. We’d like to spend 4 days together at an Airbnb” J was happy; this meant he and I could see each other more/maybe do overnights. We hadn’t even discussed sleepovers bc it hadn’t come up yet, but his wife being connected to someone elated him bc it meant he and I could do sleepovers or weekend trips guilt-free.

But just 5 days ago she finally revealed to him that a decade ago, she was actually cheating on him with Adam (who happened to be their neighbor, heh). For some absolutely fuck all unknown reason to me, J is now treating ME as if he has no clue how to date me and is incapable of considering my feelings. Today he came over bc I told him I couldn’t stop throwing up and was (as I am every day) barely surviving. I told him he didn’t feel very comforting to me lately bc he’s been invalidating my feelings and treating me so differently, but he pleaded for me to say yes. I guess I’m glad I did. Idk. Part of me wishes I was dead instead.

When he showed up to my house I was naked, covered in snot, vomiting into my toilet, and shitting liquid into a bowl. I mostly made pained cries between repeating, “I can’t live like this anymore. I don’t want to live like this anymore”. We didn’t say much.

Hours later, at the hospital he apologizes and tells me, “I was talking to Am [his wife] about our issues and I’m so sorry- I haven’t been fair to you” etc.

I’m jaw dropped like “I’m sorry, I spent 5 days saying exactly that to you but you went to your WIFE- the one who hurt you by cheating on you, which was the only event that happened before you started messing things up with ME, about “our issues” and HER saying the same things I’ve said all week is what got through to you??!

I love this man and I want to be with him badly and also like, what the actual fuck? The entire reason he suddenly can’t be a normal, considerate, attentive partner to me is bc his wife cheated on him yet he shut me out and went to HER to talk about how challenging I’VE been. Which, despite her at least understanding how he was truly being insensitive/suggesting he apologize to me, hurt my fucking feelings! That woman is the entire reason my relationship with J isn’t normal or right anymore, and he went to her to talk about OUR stuff? We don’t even have stuff! She cheated on him, he told me, and then he got upset when I tried to encourage him to honor his feelings and process the massive betrayal of your wife of 15 years cheating on you, keeping it from you for a decade, and then reconnecting with the dude she cheated on you with — oh not to mention she was doing that WHILE J’s dad was dying and he had been worried sick about me/I was in the hospital. J was in Michigan watching his dad die, on the phone with ME, while his wife was reconnecting with the man she cheated on him with. And that’s who was able to be the voice of reason after he started treating ME worse. He’s also adamant that her cheating on him isn’t the problem and he “doesn’t know why” he’s “messing things up” with me right now.

BRUH COME ON. I’m fucking dying and I thought I had these two very solid people around but nope, they’re both treating me like ass and I think my partnership might even be over after today. I’m trying to be generous with him- his dad did just die and he has been worried about me and his wife cheated on him, but if he’s going to insist that her betrayal and 10 years of deceit aren’t the problem? We aren’t going to work. I’m like “gee maybe you’re treating me completely differently than you have since the day we met because this huge bomb??” And he’s like, “nope that’s not it I just don’t know what it is or why!!”

And I’m like, “did you lose interest? Is it too hard watching me like this when your dad just died? Did Am cheating on you make you realize you want to dedicate all of your time and energy just to your marriage”

“Nope, nope, nope”

I mean I’m dying anyway so like what does it fucking matter but I thought I was truly done being with ppl who aren’t right for me and I feel like staying with J is me knowingly choosing to be much more hurt as this unravels. I want to believe him when he says he loves me and wants to be with me and yet ambivalence is one of the primary ways I identify someone being the wrong fit. He used to say and do what he meant. Now he says one thing and does another.

🤷🏼🤷🏼🤷🏼

cool. so cool.

I am going through a lot so maybe I’m the asshole here and it shouldn’t hurt my feelings that he shut me down and defended his cheating wife to me and then went to her to vent about “our stuff” the same week she revealed it? Maybe I shouldn’t see this ambivalence as evidence? I’m trying not to make a decision based on how things went with my ex but J’s shit with his wife is feeling more like Mark’s stuff with his ex wife! She was controlling and he loved it; was basically her cuck. Like am I in a relationship with someone who has an emotionally manipulative wife? They have separate bedrooms!! Her choice! She also told him she doesn’t have a libido anymore but has been sexting Adam and they were fucking a decade ago. Why is my partner defending this woman and listening to HER about my feelings but suddenly he can’t just act the way he’s acted with me since the day we met??

I’m debating calling a nurse in to ask about better pain management but I don’t have much hope at this hour. I can’t believe I’ve been going through all of this for months and my pain is still so intolerably bad- even taking 60mg of morphine a day.

I just want to get better and have my life back or kill myself and be done with all of this fucking relentless suffering. The pros stopped weighing out the cons about 3 months ago. Everything has only gotten worse since. Members of my bio family directly told me they don’t care I’m dying bc I’m trans. My sister, who I spent my entire life living for and taking care of, no longer speaks to me bc her girlfriend’s mom dislikes me, the person who’s been my closest friend all year has tossed me aside once he met a girl, and I’m either in a toxic relationship that’s going to continue causing me harm or I am out of a partnership.

And when I literally can’t do anything by myself- including walk most days- I can’t really afford to lose anyone else even if they’re a recently semi-crummy partner who can’t be honest with themselves about what they need after learning their wife cheated on them.

If I die this year it’s going to be for one of these reasons:

1) I kill myself bc I refuse to tolerate/finally just fucking can’t do any more of this fucked existence (endless physical pain, inability to move my own limbs, inability to consume water or medicine without vomiting, etc)

2) I die alone in my apartment for illness related reasons bc no one takes my debilitation seriously before it’s too late (internally, in my body, it feels like we already hit “too late”). The fact that I’m back at the hospital two weeks after being sent home feels like evidence of “too late”.

3) I kill myself bc I’m alone in my apartment with no groceries or a fridge full of rotting food I can’t get to the dumpster because I don’t even have a single fucking person in Seattle who cares about me enough to help me in a moment where I need help. I needed help yesterday and Jim didn’t help me and then was mean about it and then didn’t speak to me all day even after he knew I was taken away to the hospital via an ambulance. This was one of the primary people showing up for me lately.

4) I kill myself regardless of pain or medical issues because I continue to lose any and all of the people I’ve ever cared about, and after all of that loss AND my collective, eternal suffering I am fucking ready to opt out of this experiment.

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Idk, some updates I guess. I’m fighting so hard every day for my life while in pain and exhausted. I weigh less than I did in high school and the thing that makes me panic and sob most these days is catching my reflection and seeing, in particular, how fucking thin my arms are. Touching my own body scares me. It feels foreign and sharp. I have no ass anymore and idk how people with no ass survive without cushions because omg it hurts to sit on everything!! 😂

I’m going to figure this out. I’m going to get better, I’m going to make it to my 33rd birthday, I’m going to be well enough for my life saving surgery in September, and I’m going to make it to 2025. I am survivor. I have clawed my way to hell and clawed my way back out at least 20 times in my 32 years here. I’m not stopping now.

I’m going to survive this or die with this things’s throat between my teeth.

Someday I’m going to be able to just rest, but even post hospital my days are spent making phone calls and medication charts and care calendars and placing orders for medical supplies and making a gofundme and and and and…😅.

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6th day waking up in the hospital

I’m glad my room has a wall of windows (that don’t open) and also…I can’t believe I haven’t felt the sun or fresh air on my skin in a week.

Since my later 20s I haven’t been one to take things for granted. I have intentionally engaged in gratitude practices and mindfully connect with the beauty of life. Something about dying though? Something about not being able to ambulate in my own apartment and fainting while walking 20 steps from my couch to my bathroom? Something about being in the hospital for a week and not breathing in fresh air? Something about watching my brother die a couple years ago? All the endless grief that has truly made me sick (I feel it in my body)?

These things have made every aspect of life so fucking precious to me. Or I suppose that’s what I’ve done with these things. Maybe I should give myself more credit than the horrors and hell I’ve survived in 32 years.

I have always had childlike wonder, been easily excited by things, and very curious/playful. Somehow that has all amplified exponentially. I tear up at everything. When I touch something I close my eyes and really *feel* it. When I listen to someone’s voice it’s like their sound enters and weaves its way through my entire being, lighting up the places it touches. This happens in the midst of a genocide that I often feel immensely alone in calling attention to. This happens in the aftermath of Kaylee completely writing me off and not even reaching out to say she loves me as I’ve been dying in the hospital. This happens in the aftermath of watching my mother, two aunts, an uncle, a handful of friends, and my brother die. This happens while I begin to, for the first time in my life, be physically assaulted simply for being trans. This happens in my diseased body that’s full of morphine and often still in crippling pain.

- - - - - -

While I’m obviously still sick/dying, I think I might be able to leave the hospital today. And I’m feeling pretty safe about that. I think they’ve done all they can do for me at this point here. I was potentially going to go home yesterday evening but had an episode around 5:30pm, so they kept me for monitoring.

Whenever I leave here- and I’m going to leave here- stepping out into fresh air and daylight will likely bring me to full on sobbing. Even thinking about it has made me cry the last few days.

Here’s to day 6 being my last day waking up in the hospital, at least for this stretch.

[writingonourwalls]

I had a heart attack on Saturday, so I’ve now had two before the age of 35.

Been in the hospital since and in many ways have only gotten worse. Maybe I’ll write more detailed information later. I don’t know. There’s so much shit every day it’s hard to even stay on top of.

I keep saying I don’t know how much more fight I have left in me, and I’m somehow not dead yet. It feels equally as dangerous as pushing myself too hard. Except I’m not pushing myself, life is pushing me.

My entire life has been so traumatic, so full of grief, and so full of physical pain. Lately I feel like I was put on this earth to suffer and help people. I think I’ve done enough of both.

If I’m dying and the rest of my life is going to be this terrifying I’m ready to get it over with.

Let’s all hope I don’t wake up covered in my own vomit tonight. Oh, and maybe my right hand won’t be the size of a softball tomorrow but I know I’m pushing it by wanting both.

Thats the fucking bar.