There’s a trans-kid out there who could use some words of support and encouragement right now. (There are many trans-kids out there who need help; here’s one way you can make a direct impact!) Tell Ollie your story and how you get through hard times related to depression and gender dysphoria, by sending him an email at email@example.com. I sent one in last night!
It started with, on Tuesday, I read an email that was dispersed through a closed Facebook group I am a member of, and I contacted the writer, Aldana, to see if I could share her message. The following is posted with her permission. Please do forward to specific people who might be interested, via email! If you would like to re-blog or share on social media, please contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org first… Aldana has conveyed that it’s a fine balance between wanting to get the word out and get more letters sent in, and on the other hand, the potential of it spinning out of control, having the message get watered down, and possibly having the surprise no longer be a surprise.
Aldana, a friend of Ollie’s father, wrote, (Edited version.)
I apologize for an email coming out of left field but I need some help and I hope you might be able to point me in the right direction. My name is Aldana and I have a very close friend who has a 17 year old transgender son named Oliver. Ollie just came out the end of last year and suffers from extreme gender dysphoria and depression. He has been going through a really rough time for a while now. He needs help and support so badly, and his dad does too.
I looked up local mentorship programs to send to his dad because I really believe that if Ollie had a mentor in his life, he would have someone to relate to and to talk about what he is going through. Besides sending mentorship information, I thought there might be another way to help Ollie feel love and support right now. It might be a long shot, but I wanted to put it out there just in case you might be able to help me make this happen!
I thought that it would be so great and powerful if people who went through similar hard times and came out the other side, were able to write a letter to Ollie telling him their story and how they overcame their challenges. This young soul is in desperate need of acceptance and love and I would appreciate any help or guidance you can give me in helping me make this “Letters 2 Ollie” project happen.
I went ahead and created an email account that I can give to his dad to share with him once people start writing him letters. The email address is email@example.com. I am hoping to get about 30 but would be grateful for any amount to be honest.
I know this is an ambitious project and I want to thank you in advance for any help or guidance you can offer. You have my permission to forward this email to anyone you think might be able to help me make this “Letters 2 Ollie” project a reality. Thanks for your time!
Here’s what I wrote to Ollie:
My name is Kameron, and I’m a 34 year-old trans-person. (Oh man, that makes me twice your age!) I wanted to write to you, share a little bit about myself, and hopefully learn more about you.
When I was 17, I was going through a really rough time too. I felt depressed, and stressed out about trying to make friends, plus juggling school, cross-country running, and a part-time job. (I worked at McDonald’s. It sucked.) On top of all of this, I was putting a lot of pressure on myself to figure out my sexual identity (gender identity questions ended up coming later for me) and to be more open and honest. I was really shy.
I decided that I must be a lesbian, since I was so masculine and it seemed like I would probably date women, although I wasn’t so sure about that. I didn’t know about transgender identities. I didn’t know of anyone who was trans, or even what that really meant – it wasn’t talked about at the time, and I didn’t know about any resources. I could barely come to terms with the idea of being gay, anyway, so maybe it was for the best! To end up exploring these things in stages…
After a couple of months of feeling such intense pressure in my senior year of high school, I broke down and ended up in a psychiatric hospital for three weeks. The rest of that school year was really really hard. I had to drop out of a few of my classes. I went to more study halls and art classes, but that didn’t really help. I was not able to focus on my school work or anything else, not even TV!
Things did get better though, slowly but surely. I don’t want to sound too cliche, but it does get better. At least for me it did. And I think if you were to really ask people who struggle with depression and gender dysphoria and everything else, most of them would tell you the same thing.
My mom was supportive, and she found out about an LGBT youth group that I started going to every Sunday morning. (It prevented me from going to church with my parents, but I was secretly happy about that.) I will say that I found it difficult to connect with people at first, because I was so shy, but I at least started to feel a little bit more confident at my school. At the time, my school didn’t even have a gay-straight alliance or any club like that! Does your school?
When I went to college, a lot changed for me, largely because it was an opportunity to re-invent myself. Everyone was new. Also, I learned about so many things I was not aware of, including gender identity. Do you have plans to go to college? Even if you don’t, there are all sorts of opportunities to be the person you see yourself as, even if most people know you as someone else right now. Whether you join a new gym or start a new job or join a new group, I feel like people are more and more accepting and understanding about transgender identities, by the minute, these days. It’s really incredible how fast things are changing.
I would not have believed I could be where I am today, when I was 17 (the year you were born! Were you born in 1999?) I changed my pronouns to he/him/his about 10 years ago. I changed my name socially, and I want to change it legally too. I was on testosterone for a few years. I just had top surgery 3 weeks ago! My transition has ended up not being as straightforward, partly because I identify as non-binary, but that’s a different story. Also, I got married to a totally amazing person, and I have a blog, and I’m a radio DJ, and despite having some bouts of depression at different times, I am usually happy and want to get as much out of life as I can!
I’ve been thinking about you and hoping that things are at least getting a little better, every day. I wonder if you’d want to write back and forth more? I’d love to hear about what kinds of stuff you like. I just talked a whole lot about myself, but I’m actually more interested in learning more about you! Also, if you want to ask me something, go for it! I doubt I will think anything is “too personal.” I’m pretty open!
Your pen pal,
Three years ago today, I took a huge leap, not at all sure this was what I wanted to be doing, but fully positive I needed to try just to find out. Even though I’m not currently on T, this date is still a really big deal for me.
When I started, I felt, almost immediately. that this was the right decision, and that I could have benefited from testosterone way sooner, if I hadn’t been so unsure I could just take a low-dose to see what it felt like. Those first few weeks, I wrote a lot in my journal, things to the effect of: “feel hungrier, more energized, had to get up at 5AM because I was doing overtime [Saturday morning]. Buzzed through the 8-hour area, as if I didn’t lose any sleep and am in fact on speed. Floated through the rest of the day in a cozy, mellow cocoon.”
About 4 months later, I stopped writing just privately, and decided to start this blog!
First post: low-dose testosterone for the rest of my life
At the time, I thought about testosterone and it’s effects all the time. I was hyper-aware of any physical changes (mostly not wanting anything to change) and also my internal states. It’s impossible to inhabit that way of being, long-term, of course, and other life events happened, causing roller-coaster-like mental states. And I started to wonder what testosterone was doing for me anymore.
I had been treating testosterone like a psychotropic drug, in my mind. And, in a way, it kind of is (a naturally occurring one). I wasn’t on any medications, and I kind of saw it as the solution to my mental health issues. Until it wasn’t. (But it did feel like it was for quite a while.)
When I did go back on medications (a little over a year ago), the purpose of taking testosterone started to feel like it was getting diluted. And the reason to stay on it became, “I need to keep as much as I can the same, right now, so that I can stabilize” rather than, “Testosterone is stabilizing me.”
Right around the end of December, I finally switched to a medication that seemed to be working (maybe for the first time ever, for me). And right around that same time, I decided to stop taking testosterone. Was the timing coincidental? No. It felt like I found a substitute, actually. And I’m still feeling really really good.
I’m still undecided about how much more masculine I would like to look and sound, and if I would want to use testosterone to get me there. It’d be awesome if I could pick and choose… (probably most trans-people wish this). I would pick a moderately lower voice, a little more muscle mass, and a higher sex-drive. I would toss the facial hair and balding, the acne, the feeling too hot, and the other body hair.
This will probably be my last update in this series “___ years on testosterone without noticeable masculinizing changes,” since I’m not currently on testosterone. It doesn’t make sense! Most definitely I’ll start it right back up if I decide to go back on. And I imagine, where I am right now, that my reasons will be different. Less of, “what would testosterone feel like?,” and more of “how much do I want my body to change?”
From my experience, I kind of feel like, if you’re on the fence about hormones, and you’re not sure about how you feel, gender-wise, it’s worth a try (if you can get access). It might take you to a new place on your journey. It might jump-start something inside you. It did for me. Or, on the other hand, it could help you rule something out. I know someone who was unsure about starting estrogen, but they kept obsessing over it. Once they went through the steps, and had the estrogen on hand, they suddenly strongly felt they did not want to continue to pursue that path (after taking only one day’s worth of the hormone.) So, either way, you may learn something about yourself…
Right around this time of day one year ago, I was just getting out of the hospital. I remember the out-take process was long / we had to wait on meeting with certain people first. I was so antsy to go, that once we finished something at the front console, I went to open the door to leave. I didn’t think about the fact that you had to be buzzed out! Oh yeah, no coming and going as we please – I forgot…
I got coffee at a snack bar on the way out, and we went home. I was super up and psyched to be out of there. It wasn’t till later that I got depressed. For a full year, more or less.
Within the past month, I’ve made some major changes that are impacting my mental health. I currently feel better than my baseline. We’ll see if this lasts.
I changed medications: I had been on Geodon, Wellbutrin, and Klonopin (for sleeping). I didn’t think the drugs were doing anything; I still felt shitty, and in December, it was getting worse again. I was having vague suicidal thoughts and was having trouble making it through my daily routine. I talked about this in therapy, and my therapist asked if I would talk to my new psychiatrist about it. I said, “Yeah, but what can she do? What else is there to try?” It seemed hopeless – I’ve been on so many drugs, and overall nothing had ever worked out long-term. My therapist just said that she might have some ideas. So at my next appointment, I did talk to her, and she suggested switching off of the Geodon onto something else. She listed a few, told me about what they work best for and what side effects accompany them, and left it up to me to pick one, basically. I said Seroquel, but I couldn’t really tell you why. I didn’t have much faith. I did the tapering off /ramping up thing, and surprisingly, right when I hit a certain dose of the Seroquel, my day got way way better. And then the next day. And the next. And now it’s been 23 straight days where I have felt free of crippling anxiety and vague suicidal thoughts. I feel present in my body, and I am looking forward to simple things that make my day more interesting / better. Like listening to a radio show, or going to get a bagel, or just, anything that previously would not have brought me any extra joy. I’m kind of floored by this. I’ve never had this experience with a drug before. We’ll see if it lasts…
I went off testosterone: I had been increasing my dose for a while, but it was a fine line between looking for more masculinizing changes and worrying about my hairline receding. (It had started to.) I found myself obsessing about my hairline and feeling negatively about testosterone. I felt stuck and stressed. Eventually, I decided, why don’t I just go off it for now and stop all the worrying. I have my whole life to figure out if I want to look more masculine or not – it doesn’t have to happen right now. So I stopped, and I felt better. I worried I might hate feeling colder or having less energy or having more aches and pains or experiencing a drop in mood. But none of those things happened. I haven’t been looking for anything to be different, and as a result (partly) nothing feels different. (I’ve been reading this book about expectations and beliefs and how much our judgement gets clouded – maybe testosterone hadn’t been doing much for me if I hadn’t been looking at what I thought it was doing. This is convoluted, and of course there’s more to it – it’s a powerful hormone! – but so far, so good.)
I stopped going to therapy: I have been going to therapy consistently for 4 years. Much of that time was weekly, sometimes we scaled back to every 2 or 3 weeks. The past few times recently, I didn’t know what we were doing / didn’t know what to talk about / we were going in circles. All of a sudden, it occurred to me that maybe I didn’t need to go. And instead of that thought freaking me out, it settled in and felt right. So on Tuesday, I talked to my therapist about it, and she said it sounded like a great idea. We wrapped some things up for now, with little fanfare, and she made sure the door was open if I ever want to go back. I imagine I probably will, but for now, I had just been spinning my wheels, and it feels good to put an end to that. Maybe I can focus more on other areas of my life…
Considering how unstable I’ve been for a long time, these are some pretty huge changes. And I am finally starting to look forward to what’s ahead!
2015 has been one of the hardest years of my life. I was majorly depressed for 4 months of it. I was moderately depressed for the vast majority of the rest of it. I was out of work for a total of 2 months due to mental health issues. I was in the hospital, and I was also in a partial hospitalization program. I did do some fun things (like camping, going to Pittsburgh, marching in the pride parade, adopting 2 cats, going to the beach 3 weekends in a row, becoming a radio DJ, seeing Sleater-Kinney) but they failed to feel like much fun. I’m only now starting to feel like myself for extended periods of time. For example, today and yesterday (but not the day before), I felt like a person in a normal mood, and that felt great. I hope tomorrow feels like that too! I started on a new medication 2 weeks ago, and I’m really hoping something clicks…
I wrote a similar post last year, and I summed up gender-related stuff this way:
“I continued to settle into a new and improved place with hormone therapy and talk therapy, but I’m finding I still have a LONG way to go until I really am where I see myself. I want to be out as non-binary in all areas of my life. I want to go by a different name. I want all the people who know me to use male pronouns in reference to me, not just most of the people… I might want top surgery…”
I made some pretty big strides – I started to go by a different name, and now all my friends and about half of my family use that name. It’s still growing on me – it feels about equally as strange as my former name feels, now, but that is actually progress. Currently it feels like neither name really is my name, but I think that’ll shift with more time.
This year I went from feeling like I might want top surgery to scheduling a date! This feels like my biggest accomplishment, based on the amount of mental headspace this topic has been taking up. I’ll be going to Dr. Rumer on June 1st. I chose this date because I purposefully want to miss certain things by being out of work. I really do not like working in the summers, and I especially have a hard time with the transition from school-year to summer. I have a lot of sick time accrued, and I plan to use a lot. Often, people can be back at a desk job 2 weeks after surgery, but since my job is so physical, I plan on being out for 8 weeks, as of now. Why not?! That’ll allow me to miss the last 3 weeks of school plus half of the summer. That would be really amazing.
So if I were to sum up gender-related stuff now, a year later, it’d look like this: I want to be out as non-binary in all areas of my life (still). I want to come out at work, so that pretty much everyone will be using my new name and male pronouns in reference to me. No more dual identities. I want to get through the ordeal of surgery without too much psychic pain (physical pain is fine). I want to wear t-shirts! I want to make up my mind about testosterone – take more? take less? go off of it? I want to legally change my name at some point…
These are not resolutions, but it will be neat to go back and see if I made more progress or not.
Other things I’d like to focus on in the coming year:
– Getting back to being more social. Being social this year was too difficult, so I didn’t push it. I’ve been a little more talkative with teachers at work lately, and I’d like to re-connect with some people, both locally and through writing letters to far-away friends.
– Enjoying the summer. I never enjoy the summer – I usually get depressed. But since I’ll be most likely out of work for half of it, maybe I’ll feel it more. I’d like to do a road trip, more time at the beach for sure, maybe some backyard fires, weatherproof our picnic table and actually use it, and go on walks.
– Taking more photos. My dad gave me a new camera for my birthday/xmas, and I want to use it!
– Giving myself a break. I’ve been pretty hard on myself, and I’m going to try not to be (as much).
Around this time, 16 years ago, I voluntarily admitted myself to a psychiatric unit, but then I got stuck there for 19 days without knowing what was going on. The lack of communication was horrendous. I suffered a psychotic break and left with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. I accepted this for years, and I internalized that I have a mental illness in some pretty detrimental ways. This has always stayed with me, always felt like something I needed to work through and get past.
Two years ago, I wrote about how I came to finally acquire my medical records from my hospital stay, and how I started to process things differently with the help of my therapist:
Continuing to work through a specific trauma
Last year, I wrote about finally bringing that record into therapy and how it felt to have her go through it. I was starting to realize that maybe I didn’t need to pick it all apart; maybe my perspective was shifting naturally, over time.
That specific trauma is still there
This year, although I’m acknowledging the anniversary, it feels like just the slightest emotional blip on my radar. I talked about it in therapy yesterday. I finally got my hospital records back from my therapist (she had been holding onto them for me for a whole year!) I looked through them again last night – there was always one page I skipped over. It was handwritten by me, explaining what had been going on in my social life that led me to feel like I needed to be hospitalized. I read it and felt OK about it.
Although this seems counter-intuitive, I think it helps that I was hospitalized in January. Where everything went wrong the first time around, everything went right(?) (maybe not right, but it went smoothly) this time around. I can overlay this experience on top of my shitty traumatic experience, and things make more sense.
I resisted the diagnosis of bipolar disorder for a long time, I’d been off all meds for 9 years; I felt relatively stable. When it was re-affirmed that I have bipolar disorder by the psychiatrist I was assigned, (“Once a bipolar, always a bipolar.”) I bristled at that. Actually, I bristled at him in general every step of the way. Appointments with him lasted a mere 2 minutes. He was inflexible and adamant I stay on meds forever. He forgot pertinent information about me. (At one point he told me I needed to stay on meds because I had been hearing voices.) After 6 months, I just stopped making appointments with him. With all his intensity toward me staying on meds, it was surprising how easily he let me just get away. Maybe he didn’t even notice I left.
My therapist helped me find a new psychiatrist; she’s awesome! She’s willing to follow my lead on what I want to do about drugs, and she’s willing to dialogue with me instead of ordering me what to do. I still don’t know what to do about drugs, but at least I have the space to feel supported with whatever I do choose to do. For now, I’m staying on them, but I can’t pinpoint why.
I respect this new psychiatrist. When she (also) told me I fit the criteria for bipolar type I, for the first time in a very long time, I felt like I could accept that. I don’t need to incorporate that in any particular way into my identity; it doesn’t need to mean I view myself differently. Personally, it’s not a core part of who I am. It just is an aspect of me that can just be, and I can leave it at that.
And I can finally integrate the difficult journey toward mental health as parts of myself, rather than things that happened to me.
Yesterday was World Suicide Prevention Day. I didn’t know this till today, but looking back on yesterday, unknowingly, I was thinking a lot about the idea of suicide – something I don’t think a lot about. It’s been an annual day on September 10, since 2003; this year’s theme is Preventing Suicide: Reaching Out and Saving Lives.
I’ve been thinking about this book that Kate Bornstein wrote called, Hello Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks, and Other Outlaws. I haven’t read this book in its entirety, but the gist is that there are so many things you can do other than suicide – some of them might be extreme, some might be unhealthy, some might be even self-destructive. But if it gets you through the moment, and you’re still here, that is good enough for the the time being. I think that’s a great message. Sometimes when someone is in so much psychological pain, nothing sounds appealing. But if you just try something different, something way out there, it might be enough to even just temporarily jump-start you out of the mode you’re in.
When I was in high school, one day I heard an after-school announcement for a “yellow ribbon club.” I really wasn’t doing well, and I decided to see what it was about. It was run by school psychologists, and there were maybe 5 students who showed up. We went around the room stating why we came. I basically said I came because I was worried I might attempt suicide; I came to get help. The other students had come for other reasons – either they had been affected by the suicide of someone they knew, or they just wanted to help. After I said why I was here, one of the psychologists reiterated what I had said. I remember feeling embarrassed and selfish. I didn’t go back to any more meetings. No one ever followed up with me. I did not end up attempting suicide, but things did get worse, and I ended up in the hospital not that much later on. I partially blame the psychologists for never checking back in with me.
This is a hard post to write because suicide is such a loaded subject. I’ve never attempted suicide or had an actual plan or had serious suicidal ideations. But there’s another way to feel suicidal – just kind of vaguely feeling like you cannot go on. Like you cannot keep living your life. Like you want to just stop existing, or just sleep forever. I’ve definitely felt that. With all the rough mental health – related stuff I’ve been through lately, I’ve felt that even recently. It’s a dull, nebulous, insidious, recurring, empty heavy veil, a lens to see the world through – a hindrance for sure, because there’s not much to be able to see, through all those layers. I don’t really know how to address it, other than to hope it will pass.
I think that what I’m learning is that rather than fighting those types of thoughts and feelings or trying to distract or re-route, it is possible to just give them less emphasis, to live with them, and to just focus on doing what you want to do, despite them. Just let them cycle through your brain, acknowledge them, but don’t give them any more power than what they are – just thoughts and feelings that come and go…
Kinda easier said than done, but I am trying to adopt this practice…
*Back to school is in quotations because as a janitor, I didn’t actually leave school. We’re just gearing up for everyone else coming back.
I spent this summer waking up at 5:20AM every day, working to get the school ready for students and teachers. We are winding down from that (we’ve been wound down for a while – we started out really fast and got done early). I’m back to late nights (2-10:30PM) without much to do other than dump the trash of the few teachers who have been coming in to set up every day. It’s been nice that the cleanliness of the school is at a standstill. We can just look around and say, “we got all that done.” And we don’t yet have to work to maintain it. Kids start back on Wednesday, so that will all change in a couple days.
While we were busy though, we were rushing through things. We scrubbed every desk and chair. We cleaned surfaces in the rooms, shined the sinks, dusted. We scrubbed the old wax up off the floors. I single-handedly waxed every floor. 3 times over. I’d like to know how many square feet that was. Tens of thousands? Maybe even a hundred thousand? Or a lot more?
It has been a relief to drop back to the later shift and not feel like I’m stumbling, half-awake, in the mornings, just to come home and start dreading about waking up early again. I had been going to bed at 8:30PM! My mental health has been better overall, but not great. I’ve been mildly depressed all summer.
Going back to late nights has been lonely, and strangely, a lot of my worries have centered around what to eat before work. I need to fit in breakfast and lunch. I don’t know what to eat. I also don’t really know what to do, all by myself, other than oversleeping. I’m forcing myself to do some things I don’t really feel like doing, as of now. I guess the hope is I will grow into it; I will like it once I’m doing it. I’m going to be a radio DJ starting pretty soon. I’m also going to take a writing class.
I’ve been realizing that I’m living with a lot of dread lately. Whether that’s residual from mental health issues earlier in the year, or whether that’s just me being me, I can’t really figure out. It’s been helpful to notice it while it’s happening though, and just focus on the here-and-now. Remind myself that I’m actually fine in whatever I am doing presently, so just be more involved in that, rather than thinking about all the perceived horribleness ahead.
For example, I’m dreading going back to doing the exact same thing, at work, every day. But, it really is what I make it, from moment to moment. Unlike most jobs, I don’t have unpredictable things pop up daily, or new challenges to tackle, or people to deal with. It’s just me, in my head. I need to remember that it’s important to change what’s on my iPod frequently – new music, new podcasts… And to talk to people on the phone. And although I don’t believe her, my therapist keeps telling me that I’m actually in control of my own thoughts. So I can choose to keep obsessing about something negative, or I can move on to more interesting topics. In my mind, I am powerless to whatever my brain ends up dwelling on, and I get stuck feeling whatever feelings those thoughts conjure up. I should work on that…
I drew this picture to illustrate the jumble I feel is going on. Just to recap, 6 months ago, had a manic episode and was hospitalized. I previously was not on any medications, but suddenly I was thrown back into all of that – psychiatric visits, side effects, adjusting dosages, trying different drugs. I’d definitely say the hardest part of the past 6 months was being depressed for a good chunk of that time. But almost equally hard, just in a different way, is the long term.
Early on, I was cavalier. I was sure that I’d get off of all these medications within 6 months – just go back to the way things had been. I was even reluctant to add an antidepressant – things had to get really bad for me to go there. Now that it’s been 6 months, I can easily say that time frame was way too short. And I’m also not so sure anymore: Which drugs are helping? Which side effects can I tolerate? How long will I be seeing this psychiatrist? Do I potentially want to stay on any of these long term? (That last question scares me – it’s almost as if being med-free has been a part of my identity…)
Some of this journey has felt crazy. I was having hot flashes and cold sweats, my mouth tasted metallic, I threw up a few times (and I have a stomach of steel). At one point, I went on a drug called Cogentin. Its purpose was not to help with symptoms, but rather to help with side effects. One of the other drugs, Geodon, typically causes hand tremors and a stiffening of facial muscles. When a nurse practitioner asked if I was experiencing these things, I said, “I guess so.” So she prescribed yet another thing to add to the mix. After 3 days of taking it, my nearsighted vision became blurry. Overnight. One day was fine, the next day, I couldn’t read the computer screen. I wasn’t reading books at the time, so that wasn’t an issue, but I remember eating food and not being able to see it and just feeling enormous sadness on top of depression. I didn’t put the pieces together, but luckily I had an appointment with my psychiatrist 2 days later, and when I mentioned the blurry vision, he said, “Oh, that’s common with Cogentin.” What?
I also cycled through 4 different antidepressants within a short amount of time. Celexa, Zoloft, and Lexapro were making me feel famished all the time, which was just making me feel anxious. I got on Wellbutrin, and luckily that’s been side effect – free as far as I can tell.
Ideally, I don’t want to be medicated. And it was so easy when it felt like that wasn’t on my radar. But now I am faced with all these decisions and timelines. And although there is strong input from other people (mostly my psychiatrist, who thinks I need to be on at least something for forever), it’s all ultimately up to me.
For now, I just advocated for myself to lower the amount of Geodon (mood stabilizer / antipsychotic) that I’m taking. I feel really happy about that. I have plans to tackle Klonopin (anti-anxiety medication that I’m using as a sleep aid) next. As for Wellbutrin (antidepressant), I’m not quite decided. I’m just going to take these things one step at a time.
I could easily write a 5,000 word essay on this topic; maybe one day I will. This is an abbreviated version:
Over night, my brain became a frenzied jumble of free associations. Every system I could imagine (friendships, technology, routines) opened up, and I was in the center of all of it, connecting all the dots.
I thought that Leelah Alcorn, the trans-teen from Ohio who committed suicide, was an elaborately staged message created by a group of people on Tumblr. Meaning, I thought she was not a real person – more of a call to action, one more thing to add to “The Transgender Tipping Point,” and finally really make some changes happen.
But I thought a lot of things right around this time period, for a couple of days. I believed I’d been chosen for amazing things, I was choosing my own adventure, and the further I could get before running into a dead-end setback, the more rewards I would gain. If I made it to my therapist’s office, she was going to give me this new phone I’ve had my eye on. If I made it through the entire day, I’d be going to a party thrown by everyone I know. I briefly had the thought, “My partner wouldn’t like that; that’s too much.” So my logic led me to believe I shouldn’t make it through the day at this rate. I should definitely get the new phone, but I should see what my therapist thought after that. Maybe.
Some things were already in motion, and there was no stopping me! My social media outlets were blowing up! My blog was going to get huge at this rate, and I was going to get a book deal out of it. Should I quit my job? I kinda like working there, as a janitor, so I’ll keep my job. I better write a note so that everyone will know I wanna go back to work. I pulled out one of those Mr. Sketch scented markers – it was Blue Raspberry – and scrawled out really big and doodle-y on a piece of artist’s paper, “I will want to go back to work.” It was barely legible. When I showed my therapist a few hours later, in fact, she couldn’t read it, so I just had to tell her I want to go back to work. I wouldn’t want to be someone who sits around all day, writing their book. I would get bored!
I called my therapist at 2AM and asked her, “Can you just come over?” I called her again at 7AM, just to see if she’d drop by instead of me meeting her at her office at 9. I was making some really cool displays in the house, and I wanted her to come check them out. I was playing a record – The Days of Wine and Roses by The Dream Syndicate, and everything was clicking into place. (Actually, the record is still on my turntable, untouched 4 months later – I’m playing it right now.) The lyrics were making perfect sense and informing me of things I should write down. “You say it’s a waste / not to learn from mistakes.” “Textbook case.” “It’s Halloween.” “She remembers what she said.” These messages were of utmost importance. This record was THE record to end all records.
By 8AM I was so bored and fidgety from doing stuff all night long, that I decided to take off for my therapy appointment early. I had everything I needed packed – My toothbrush and toothpaste, notes from work, and 6 bottles of hoarded Androgel (my prescription allows me to get more than I need, so I just collect them). I had no clue what would be happening next or how long I’d be gone after therapy (I might be put up in a hotel!), but I could figure out clothes and other stuff later.
Driving was a bit tricky. I was relying on intuitive cues, more than the rules of the road. Fortunately, my gut was telling me to slow way down and put my hazard lights on, rather than try to drive at the speed my mind was racing. I still got there early; when I arrived, I slammed my backpack into the corner of the waiting room, above the door. To alert the security cameras that I knew all about it. A man briskly walked past me and out the door. He was planted there to exit when I arrived. I proceeded to be loud and messy. I dumped out a bin of toys. I knocked over a chair. I said, “I’m borrrred!” I talked loudly about a Mazda advertisement on the back cover of a magazine. I finally understood how advertising worked – they weren’t fooling me! In fact, this whole magazine was rigged. I should just take it with me – I’ll need it later. I stuffed it into my backpack. One other therapist was there (this was a Saturday) and she tried to gently corral me until my therapist got there. She picked up the toys. She said she’d call my therapist for me. She talked to me in a steady and soothing voice. She wasn’t patronizing me.
Finally, my therapist arrived. We engaged in a delicate dance around each other. I knew on some level that I was going to the hospital. But I also knew that wasn’t necessary, and she was totally going to come over and check out my displays and then I’d be reunited with my partner to proceed with the most fun day ever! In reality, my partner was on her way to North Carolina with family (I’d successfully convinced her everything was fine / I believed she was just out with friends and I’d see her in a couple hours.) My therapist started calling hospitals for availability, and I conveniently went to the bathroom to shield myself from that stuff. I came back and dumped out all the contents of my backpack. This would be more fun. She immediately sorted things into piles to make sense of it. She called my partner and left a message. She asked me what my best friend’s phone number was and I told her. I left the room again while she talked on the phone. Before I knew it, my best friend was there! Magic! Everything was going my way.
I talked to my friend about the displays and we played Rubix cube. Suddenly we were all leaving. They led the way, and I went into the bathroom again. I wasn’t so sure anymore. I yelled out, “I set some things in motion, and I don’t know if I want it to go this far.” We were still just going to my house, right? My therapist replied, with forced enthusiasm, “Come on!”
I got in the car with her; my best friend went separately. I curled up into a ball and shielded my eyes from the world. I started to feel sad; I verbalized what I thought about Leelah Alcorn. I said, “I don’t know much about it. I know her name, where she’s from, and that’s about it.” She had been on the news. That was big. What I was trying to convey was that no one knew much about it. If everyone just saw her picture, her name, and her suicide note, maybe she wasn’t real. And maybe this kind of stuff happens all the time. What is real in the media? Scattered thoughts breaking down. My therapist said, “I don’t actually know where you live.” I replied, desperately, “Yeah, but you can find out.” She had a smart phone. People with smart phones seamlessly glean information all the time.
We weren’t going to my house. When we stopped and I uncurled myself, we were at the hospital. But it still wasn’t too late. If I just told her this is where it ends, and we go to my house from here, everything could still be OK. I looked her straight in the eye; I put my face two inches from her face. I said, “This is where it ends.” This had worked with my partner a few hours earlier. I looked her straight in the eye and said, “Everything’s going to be OK.” I gave her the green light to go on her trip. This time was different. My therapist probably interpreted that as, “The journey ends here, at the hospital.” I meant here in the car. Still though, I complied and followed her. After all, my best friend showed up here too, so it probably was all OK.
Five hours later, I was on the psych ward. I’d been in the emergency department. My mom had shown up. I had talked to my partner on the phone – it finally sunk in she was 6 hours away, and she and her family were turning straight around. My best friend had been with me. My therapist had left at some point. I’d peed in a cup. I’d gotten blood drawn. I’d signed some papers by drawing big loops over the entire page, not knowing what I was signing, exactly. But now, it was just me, and suddenly my choose your own adventure had come to a dead halt. There was no more choosing. I started yelling, panicking. “I NEED MY VITAMIN D PILL AND ELDERBERRY SUPPLEMENT!” I needed to maintain my body’s delicate homeostatic state. I was given a pill and took it; it was Haldol. It knocked me out for 18 hours. Before I faded out, the nurse was talking to me really sternly. She was really butch. “Do not start shouting on my unit – we don’t do that.” “I know I know it’s not like me at all…” “Also, you smell really strongly bad so I’m going to shut your door.” Then she started yelling. “He gets whatever he wants!” And I was out.
This post is going to be a little bit of a bummer. If you want to read more uplifting posts in the series, here are a couple:
I guess I feel like I don’t really know what I’m doing with testosterone. I consider stopping it. I consider just remaining on the same dose. I consider doubling my dose. All these options seem like good ideas, and I can’t really forsee what’s next.
If I stopped taking testosterone: At this point, I’ve gotten used to all the good things I’ve felt from testosterone. And I’m partially convinced the effects have worn off. But that is probably the depression talking – I have been through a lot in the last 6 months, and testosterone couldn’t save me from depression and anxiety. Which makes me wonder what effect it is having. A part of me wants to discontinue it just to be reminded why I am on it. I’ve felt this way about psychotropic drugs in the past – what are they actually doing for me? I feel relatively sure I’ll remember pretty quickly that testosterone is good – a part of me feels like I need that reassurance. Also, I’m starting to notice I’m losing some hair at my temples, so a knee-jerk reaction is to stop before I lose more hair. I’m on such a low dose that I believe this change will plateau out like other changes have plateaued out, but I gotta admit it’s freaking me out.
If I stayed on the same dose: This is working for me, so why not stay with the status quo? Everyone (my doctor, my therapist) is telling me that because I’ve had so much instability and med changes, I should stay on the same dose for continuity – don’t mess with one more thing, physiologically and psychologically. Makes sense.
If I doubled my dose: I have been wanting to do this. I am curious to see. It’d be nice to see some more changes happening. I’d like to see my voice get a little deeper. I’d like to see myself gain a little more muscle mass. I want to be seen as male by strangers more than I currently am. I want to see if it’ll make me feel even more warm and fuzzy and at peace, internally. Just, I want something new! (I’m afraid of more facial hair and a receding hairline though).
It just feels like I’m at an impasse. Of course you don’t get to pick and choose what changes happen. But, I do feel like I can control the rate, which is nice. If I had to make a plan of action, I’d say I’ll be staying on the same dose for a while (a few months), during which time I’ll be aiming to get myself off of some of these medications and continue to stabilize (hopefully). Then I’ll double my dose, at least for a little while, and I’ll obsessively be checking my hairline…
Lastly, for now, a couple of comparison photos: