I am actually at the point in which I am consciously fighting off depression and suicidal thoughts.
This post is a big, huge, rambling rant. I sat down with the intention to tell you all about how much my father is ruining me at the moment, and we end with half a life's story. Don't read it, it will probably be a waste of your time.
In August, last year, I moved out with my (at the time) best friend of about 12 years. Within the first month he tried to kill himself four times. He one night blamed it on me, then disappeared, resulting in his father breaking into the Unit to confront me. My friend then completely blocked me out of his life until January. This time, though, he introduced me to another guy, and the two of them together had my life threatened, threatened me themselves, and robbed me twice. I lost every friend I had, which was never many to start with.
Last week, I moved back in with my parents. Now that I'm back home, I have to live with my Dad, and to put it simply, he thinks he's god. He continuously finds a way to blame me for everything that goes wrong, and it isn't even subtle that he doesn't like me at all. He's not your typical abusive father, he's never hit me, there was never any sexual abuse or clear signs of neglect, but there are things I remember so clearly that must have had an impact on me, because they are the only things I remember. That, or they were the mild things, and I should be glad they are all I remember. Like when I was six, I didn't put my pajamas away, so he carried me through the house by my upper arm and left a hand shaped bruise on my bicep. Like when I was 11, he slammed my head against a tiled wall because he wanted the muesli bar I was eating.
Throughout my entire life I have never done anything that was good enough. I am a gifted child, but I am a lazy child. I excelled academically in everything, and if I wasn't so lazy I could be very good at sport as well. As I grew older, past primary school, and I realized that school was sort of pointless to me, and I had much more important things (like self identity and The Sims) to be paying attention to. I don't remember the last time my father patted me on the back, and I don't think he has ever muttered the words 'I'm proud of you'. I know it would be a lot worse to have a parent who doesn't support your transition, but what is the point of going through all the effort to transition, if I will never even be an adequate son because I got C's, and that's not good enough, because I only got to brown belt in Karate (when I was about 10), and that's not black belt, or because I'm 17 and still haven't saved up for a car, or a family mansion made of gold on a sunny hill.
(TW begins)
I started self harming at 12 years old. My parents didn't find out until I was 14, Dad saw cuts and literally said 'You need to stop that.' Who knew I would hear those five words a lot, lot more. Every time I didn't cover up properly, I got the 'You need to stop that' speech, all about how stupid it is, and how I'm going to have scars forever. I was never asked why, I was never asked if I was okay, or needed someone to talk to. I guess they just thought that since I didn't seem depressed, it didn't matter. They should have known I was smart enough to hide something like that from them, surely? By 15, cutting had become like breathing. Natural. It happened, I felt better, the day kept moving.
In 2012 I had an argument with my Dad about the fact that I wasn't happy with Mum telling me that I didn't need a binder, and that I just needed to accept my body the way it was. He was taking mums side, saying that (even though he thought I should get a binder) she is completely right, and I need to 'humor' her and 'keep my mother happy'. The fight ended in him telling me screaming that if I wasn't going to respect Mum, I could 'get the f--- out of this house', and knocking my hat off my head. I locked myself in the room, phoned a friend, and overdosed on No-Doz (I have a caffeine intolerance), and chased that down by necking a quarter bottle of vodka. When I sat in a room with my parents judgemental faces, and a woman I'd never met in my life, I swore to them all that I was not, in fact, trying to kill myself, and I thought it would just be a good time. I got away with telling everyone at school I was in the hospital due to severe gastro. The one person I told the truth to, my English teacher, laughed initially. Her laugh made me wish I had succeeded.
At the end of 2012, I had started gaining weight. In 2013, I got fat, and my Dad noticed, and my Dad pointed it out. Not in the subtle 'oh here I got you some veggies' or 'Perhaps you should go for a run haha' kind of way that parents tend to. He straight out told me I was fat. That my arms were flabby, that my belly stuck out, that my face was too round and my binder wasn't working and I was so much fatter than my girlfriend and she must have felt bad about that. My sister joined in, I had to order a Large sized work short, I had to buy new pants and I hated myself more than I ever had.
In 2014 I broke up with my partner after a year, and I stopped eating. I didn't count my calories, I didn't water fast, but I cut back, and I smoked. I smoked so much that I can no longer tell if I'm hungry or not, my appetite has been completely destroyed. I lost 30 kilos in the year, albeit not healthily. It took a while to get from 89 to 79, but after that I just kept losing weight. I would lose a kilo a day for a week, and then not lose any for a month, and do the same again. I would go up and down between two numbers, I hated that the most. I wasn't bulimic during this time, although I was in earlier years (2010-2012).
In 2014, I drank a quarter bag of goon on a school night, and e-mailed my Indonesian teacher telling her I wanted to kill myself (in Indonesian). I attended school the next morning, drunk, to be told I would not be allowed to complete my Certificate in Animal Nursing, and I spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of an attack. The school told me to take two weeks off, because they didn't know how to handle my mental state. This was after they had literally banned me from the school's well-being center because of another student. They claimed he needed it more, even though many people would beg to differ. He began to emotionally blackmail his girlfriend, who was my best friend, and the teachers themselves. Every time she was with me, we were best friends at the time, he would demand her attention, and if she didn't reply to his texts, he would cut himself. If she said she wanted to leave him, he said he was going to kill himself. When she did leave him, he ended up with hospital, and she almost got back with him. He threatened to kill me in front of well-being staff, he wrote my birth name on my locker, referred to me as 'it' several times to myself, and other students, as well as writing in a public place that I am a girl. And so I got banned from well-being.
And now it's 2015. I haven't self harmed in over six months, but I can't go more than an hour without considering it. My old friends bore me, my music bores me, I don't even have the motivation enough to watch a movie let alone get out of bed in the morning. I wake up after five hours no matter what time I fall asleep, I'm most relaxed when I stop breathing, and dramatic changes in my life are not even registering.
I honestly just want to cry, all the time, about everything.
I know I should go and see someone, a counselor, I should tell my doctor.
But if I tell my doctor, if my parents find out, anything, my HRT gets stopped.
I crave friends, I need someone to talk to, I need someone who will at least pretend to give half a damn about what's going on in my life. I have a friend, but I'm so called 'in love' with her, and upon finding out my life is currently shattering around me, she completely disregarded it.
I crave physical contact, all the time. My father didn't hug me enough as a child, and now he is the last person I can stand touching me. But I am so freaking lonely. We all at some point have the stupid thought that we will never be loved, but honestly, I live in a little town and I am at 5'3", 12 year old looking adult, with chubby cheeks and a gap in my teeth. I work two jobs, I smoke too much, and my dog smells a bit. Not exactly the 'sexy' 'tanned' guy all the girls want.
I have so many work friends, HEAPS of work friends, but they're work friends because as soon as I leave work, I don't exist to them.
The customers that come through McDonald's are honestly the people I care about most. For some reason they're the only ones who give two half damns about me.
So there you go, a big, rambly rant about absolutely nothing. To sum it up, I have no friends, I'm hopelessly craving a love life, and my suicidal thoughts and intent to self harm are too close to return for my liking.
P.S. I noticed a few language-slip ups after posting, I'm fairly sure I've edited them all out now, apologies.
