Let this cup pass Lord.
Curled up in agony, rolling back and forth, back and forth, caught in the horrendous torture of a mind out of control, a mind that won’t stop, why me why me why me. Stop it stop it stop it, get control “our father who art in heaven” nononono not me not me not me.
Hours and hours and days and days.
I am not a woman, I am not a woman, I am not a woman.
Functioning, when out of my room, but barely.
Trips to therapists, with and without my spouse my love, who is going through this with me.
One therapist I hire because she is specialist in this world, the world of the transsexual, the world of people who never fit in. The other I hire because he is the exact opposite, a Devil’s Advocate, someone to tell me there is no such thing, you have other issues, snap out of it. Or in the words of my wife’s best friend, “Oh stop it. Suck it up, live with it for 30 years and die.” And she was a liberal from Swarthmore, which is a double adjective, with both words meaning the same thing.
And yet the agony, the pain, the thoughts the thoughts the thoughts. Get thee away from me Satan. This is impossible, mental illness, suck it up, suffer, you can’t change from a man to a woman. You’re trying to escape, it’s irresponsibility, yes it is Satan…
