Gawd I spoil you lot….so many updates….so little time between them. Says sommat about how dull my life is really….
This is to be a depressing one. I’m not actually down at the moment – but I feel like expanding a bit of my history…..what brought this on? Well I read Natalies comments about suicide and I thought back to my near misses….and felt like depressing everyone.
As I sit here listening to Dustin the Turkey and Geldof (thanks Aoife) – an odd selection for talking about ending your life….actually it’s just finished. Anyway….
There was the near miss which was just because I didn’t care any more. It was the day I recieved my ‘A’ Level results. I had always dreamed of being a doctor, working in A & E. None of the Casualty/ER cr*p – I knew exactly what I wanted to get into. Stress, emotional pain, trauma. I knew I’d be perfect, yeah – I can’t handle stress all that well after all – I just get ill, but I still believe I’d have made an excellent doctor.
There was one problem. For the first time after joining the school I had some friends, most of them female, and I was desparately pretending to be male at school, and in my social life. I drove fast, (okay I still go pretty quick, but nothing like I used to), I smoked, I drank, but most of all I partied. I got drunk at them – because otherwise I’d have become so morose it would have been unbelieveable. Infact I don’t remember all that much about most of the parties I went to. Generally there was half an hour of getting drunk and that’s it.
I actually almost enjoyed them. The problem was after 5 years of being shunned I’d found some people who’d ceased to shun me, indeed they claimed to quite like me….I don’t know how true it is – I’m no longer in touch with any of them…which possibly says something.
Anyway, drifting again. Because of this I basically overdosed on going out – and although in real terms I did fairly well in my A levels, in my own terms it was a disaster. Not only was I not female, now I wasn’t even going to get to be a doctor. I wouldn’t get into uni to do medicine. My life was over. I managed not to cry until I was away from school. That’s not to say I actually saw anyone. I got my results – had the helpful comment from one of my teachers (who I later found out had not put the grades they’d agreed to put on my UCAS form – so it’s little wonder I didn’t get any interviews) – that there were other careers – and walked out the building.
To clarify – there was an external brick staircase leading up to the upstairs lab – which meant no-one could see me come out. So, I walked around the back of the building, got in my car and did almost the stupidist thing I’ve ever done. I drove home. Except I didn’t.
With tears pouring down my face I zig-zagged out of the town and down country lanes at speeds in excess of 60 mph. I simply didn’t care – I didn’t want to be me anymore – infact I didn’t want to be anymore – full stop. The car slid on a corner, and apparently my desire for survival outwayed my desire to die – as I just missed two pedestrians and a tree, and brought the car to a stop a couple of hundred yards down the road.
For the first time in years I simply cried. I cried for what felt like hours. I know how near I came to death simply by not caring….I just missed several cars during that journey. I nearly killed myself and some other people. And even when I went home I was still considering ending it. I have one person to thank for being alive. That’s David Newland – who I rang – still crying, and he managed to persuade me that it wasn’t that bad, that it was still worth living.
So…that was a near miss. Not so much deliberate suicide – but quite close. There were incidents before then, but I that was the nearest.
Then, at university – well, infinate near misses…. In the first year when the head of Computer Science lied to me (Jim Yandel). Simply failed to tell me that my acceptance onto the CS course was dependent on my grades in Biochemistry. Sorry? Please repeat that! Unfortunately he told me this about 2 weeks before my 1st year exams – only I went to see him about ½ way through the first term to see about changing and it wasn’t mentioned then – so do we think I worked at a course I was finding soul destroying or did I skip class, relax, and try to enjoy this half year of dossing? I’ll leave it with the fact I ended up completing a degree in Biochemistry.
When I realised I wasn’t going to get onto the CS course I sat in my room and did something which I used to do a lot. Listened to depressing music. Only I didn’t I just had it so loud to cover my crying. That day, with the medical kit in my room I looked at them, all the tablets and considered it again and again. Could I? Yet again I could see nothing to live for. I still hadn’t accepted myself as TS – infact I considered myself somewhat of a freak. I crossdressed whenever I could – but I hated myself for it.
I’m not quite sure what stopped me…I just didn’t do it. Perhaps I fell asleep – I can’t remember. I just remember darkness…
Then there was the day I recieved my results. I knew my finals weren’t stonkingly good – but I thought I was in 2:2 terratory. I still hadn’t accepted that I was TS – I had more or less accepted TV, and was coping reasonably – altough I was still periodically getting very, very depressed for no apparent reason.
So, I wandered in, we did the whole thing that my Uni did, photo’s ‘n’ all, and then wandered back to our department to get the results. There it was – a third. okay – I know now that it’s a degree, not a brilliant one – but probably about concomitant with the amount of work I put in. But there it was – on paper. And I thought I’d got a 2:2, maybe even scraped a 2:1. What made it worse is no-one seemed surpried that I’d done so badly. I kind of expected someone to say something. But no – it was taken as normal.
The thing was – and is – I’ve not had even a resonable self image – and now it felt like everyone had been expecting me to do badly….again…just like my school. What made it even worse is that I was predicted a first when I arrived. I left. Alone – again, no one from my department checked if I was okay….
I felt so very, very alone. Everyone else had done well, and here was I with a lousy third. I managed to get into my room, already crying – and took with me a bottle of vodka….and something else. When I get really stressed I smoke. Not a lot. Less than 1 a week! The craving has been there when I’m stressed since ‘A’ Levels – but I’d managed to hold it at bay until my finals, when I decided that I had quite enough stress without trying to deny this – so I’d bought a pack of cigarettes….
And smoked about 4
So I sat there, vodka, coke and ciggs. And I tried to drink myself into oblivion. Leaning out of the window – and trying to decide if 2 floors up was high enough to kill me. The tears still pouring down my face.
I think no-one quite knew how to deal with me – I left my room once, went to the loo and came back – James asked if I was okay and I simply said “No”. And walked back into my room.
And I lent out of my window thinking what’d happen if I died. My parents would undoubtly find my stash of clothes. Oh great….so I’d be a tranny after death. Wonderful. And my failure to achive anything worthwhile would be universally acknowledged. But I couldn’t do it. Mostly I couldn’t hurt my friends and family. I (erroniously or not) believe that they’d miss me.
And I called in help in the form of the SO – but she was just a very good friend then…… I simply needed someone to cuddle me, and hold me. And she did – despite the reak of drink and fags….
Now….what about now?
Perhaps there’s a little bit of self-confidence in me, and I actually quite like some aspects of myself. I wouldn’t call myslef exactly gods gift to anything – but perhaps I’m okay.
Since taking the ‘mones it must be said I’ve not been on quite such a rollercoster ride. It’s more a kind of uneven road now….which is a hell of a lot better for me. And for those around me. Although I’ve always hidden my true emotions fairly well (another aspect of being TS that people don’t think about)….so perhaps they wouldn’t notice.
However the problem either with the ‘mones or accepting myself is simply that I’m now desparate to tell my parents. As in dying to. Despite the fact I feel like throwing up whenever I even consider it – I’m actually shaking at the thought….I just want to get it done. I’ve told all my friends – or at least they all know. I’ve done that one. I’ve been to a party as me. I just want to get going on the rest of it….I want to stop the testostorone in my body doing anymore damage.
Perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t yet….I have this feeling it’s all going to come tumbling out at some point….
Anyway – that’s enough I feel….a big HI to Brian, because I forgot his birthday for the first time in years, and I’m still REALLY REALLY SORRY!!!!
Okay….
Night night…
Kate
PS. If anyone can work out an easy fix to the Nav-Bar problem on PC Browsers – tell me, I’ve been fiddling with the pages for a while, and I’m not getting any joy with making the table stick together. Even specifying the size of the cells doesn’t seem to work…..ahhhh crud….
