Story I couldn't use the gun, so it's on to plan B.

[Csmith8827]

Hey be(e)autiful people. I'm new, and I wanted to take a second to offer my own story with trying to ctb, and where I'm going from here.

So a not-so-tl;dr on my background: I spent my entire teen years deeply depressed. I had no idea why at the time, but I hated myself and had no real vision for who or what I wanted to be. Into my 20's I finally realized that I'm trans. I denied it for a few years, but it's not something you can bury forever. Transitioning was the best decision I every made in my life, and I was happy to finally have a vision for who I wanted to be. To add to this, I got a great new job, my own apartment, an awesome doctor and therapist. As part of my transition, I really kicked my weight-loss efforts into overdrive. I suffered from childhood obesity, and I never really had the motivation to actually kick it entirely.

As I really started to lose weight, I came to the realization that ended my dream. Skin. The fucking skin. When you're too heavy for too long, your skin doesn't shrink when you lose weight. The end results are hideous. I'm down 60 pounds off peak, with 20-30 pounds left to get to the upper-end of my goals. Sadly, my body is already fucked, and it's only going to get worse as I continue losing weight. Plastic surgery can help, but it's expensive, leaves massive scars, and is ultimately a highly-flawed process that has barely evolved since its inception. No matter how much effort, money I put in, I'll never have anywhere near the body I could have had. I tried so hard to find hope, but there's none to be found. It seems like all the other trans girls my age are thin and gorgeous, something I'll never get to have. Every time I see them, it's like a dagger into my heart. I don't want to live my life watching others have a happiness that I'll never know. Having weighed my options, I ultimately decided to CTB - a final, "fuck you" to my body, and an end to the mourning of the life I'll never get to have.

My original plan was to go out by firearm. I put in a purchase for a Glock 21 Gen5. The ordering process in WA isn't too bad - it's a two-week wait and an online course that I completed in about a minute. I wrote my notes, made arrangements where possible, and waited. After the two-week period, I picked up the Glock along with a box of hollowpoints. With my new die-button in my hands, I set my sights for the following weekend and continued on until that point. I printed out my notes, leaving them on the table in my studio before retreating to the bathroom. The first attempt was a wash - I didn't even put the gun to my head. I called 988 with the intention of telling them that I was CTB'ing so that my family wouldn't be the first ones to find me (I live alone, but they're close enough to check on me if I go missing.) Sadly, the conversation with 988 went on a little too long, and I ended up cancelling my plans. I talked to them, talked to a local mobile crisis. Nothing came of this - no detention, no hospital visit. A small blunder, but I'd kept my ticket out, so I just needed to choose a new date.

That new date was two days later. I did my previous routine, retreating to the bathroom. I put down a towel, sat on the floor, put on some music, and scheduled a text to 988 to go out in two hours after that point. After this, I put the Glock to my head. I am experienced with firearms, an ode to my dad being somewhat of a redneck. This was a problem. I knew guns, I knew the moment I pulled the trigger, it was going to be a loud, violent death. Realistically, I wouldn't remember it at all, but the anticipation of that, "bang!" stopped me from going through with my plans. (Hindsight says I could've tried drinking or smoking weed to calm my nerves.) For some fucking reason that I still don't understand, I called mobile crisis and told them to come get my gun. I wasn't going to be able to use the fucker anyways, so what's the harm in that?

Turns out the harm was the police coming to my house. They were nice enough, I guess? They took my firearm and escorted me to the hospital (I work at this hospital, and nobody there really knew I was transitioning until now. Terrific!) The experience at the hospital sucked. It was noisy, bright, and not particularly comfy. I felt like I was being punished for having the audacity to actually reach out to somebody for help. My county's crisis responders tried talking me into voluntary admission, which I refused on the basis that my issues are not strictly psychiatric and are beyond helping. We agreed on a safety plan and they ran off. I was then informed that the more serious crisis responders would be getting involved to try and involuntarily detain me. This turned into a fucking 12-hour slog where I lied through my teeth and had to get my sister involved to get out without being shoved into a fucking cage. I was exhausted at this point, having not slept for 30 hours.

Since that point, I researched my alternatives. I came across this forum, came across SN, and was able to find a link to SD through a different forum site. I made my order for SN, which I'm waiting on now. My current plan is to get the SN, go to a walk-in clinic for some antiemetics, and gear up for round three. I won't make the same mistake that I did last time - I don't intend to be held against my will and sleep deprived again. I won't talk to my friends or therapist about it anymore because it will only bring them pain and potentially create problems for me. Instead, I'm writing write this post, both to get things off my chest and to maybe offer a cautionary tale to anyone that stumbles across it.

Thanks to anyone who read this far. I appreciate all of you.

I'm in the same boat so don't feel bad. I need a life-changing/altering surgery as well and it's like been this haunting thing for like 15years. It's been the money in the past but I'm making money now. Now it's just the results. Like I don't know if it's gonna come back botch or if it'll be successful/I'll get the results I want. It's kinda nerve-wrecking to think about so I'm honestly just trying to move forward with my life and not get my hopes up too high? It's like if you don't get your hopes up then they can't get shot down. This whole life has been such a fucked up thing. Like I completely and totally understand how you feel about not being able to look the way you'd like to. So I just wanted to let you know you're not alone. It sucks but like....I mean...the only thing we can do is go forward. Which is what I'm trying to do. Not to say I'm not going to eventually have the surgery, it's just like I'm not going to get my hopes up too high about these "perfect" results. I'm finding out more and more that like it's childish and foolish to think that you can just erase something or somehow go back to how things were before. I don't know if that's even possible. We just press on and keep going forward. It's all we can do. Either that or manage to CTB. SN is pretty legit. If i had gotten to have access to a gun I would have gone out like that. Back when I was trying to get one I was in the right head space for it...I was going to do it in the woods underneath the stars though, get really drunk and liquored up before and put on a playlist. And at the right moment, put the shotgun in my mouth, close my eyes, and pull the trigger. Or go gazing at the stars. Either way I don't think I'd survive the blast and I think it probably just destroys your brain/head and so it's like an instant lights out kinda thing. But SN was my second choice and I was able to get my hands on it. Covid just broke out and so all this crazy shit was happening and i had to fly "home." I hope you find a solution to your problem(s). Even if that solution is CTB. Fuck suffering and existing in some detrimental state of existence. It's just not worth it. But that's my life everyday. I hope I can escape it one day. or fix it. Lol, until then I'm trapped in an unending nightmare. It's horrible. Good luck to you though, I hope you find a way out of your situation.

 

[FallFromGrace]

I'm in the same boat so don't feel bad. I need a life-changing/altering surgery as well and it's like been this haunting thing for like 15years. It's been the money in the past but I'm making money now. Now it's just the results. Like I don't know if it's gonna come back botch or if it'll be successful/I'll get the results I want. It's kinda nerve-wrecking to think about so I'm honestly just trying to move forward with my life and not get my hopes up too high? It's like if you don't get your hopes up then they can't get shot down. This whole life has been such a fucked up thing. Like I completely and totally understand how you feel about not being able to look the way you'd like to. So I just wanted to let you know you're not alone. It sucks but like....I mean...the only thing we can do is go forward. Which is what I'm trying to do. Not to say I'm not going to eventually have the surgery, it's just like I'm not going to get my hopes up too high about these "perfect" results. I'm finding out more and more that like it's childish and foolish to think that you can just erase something or somehow go back to how things were before. I don't know if that's even possible. We just press on and keep going forward. It's all we can do. Either that or manage to CTB. SN is pretty legit. If i had gotten to have access to a gun I would have gone out like that. Back when I was trying to get one I was in the right head space for it...I was going to do it in the woods underneath the stars though, get really drunk and liquored up before and put on a playlist. And at the right moment, put the shotgun in my mouth, close my eyes, and pull the trigger. Or go gazing at the stars. Either way I don't think I'd survive the blast and I think it probably just destroys your brain/head and so it's like an instant lights out kinda thing. But SN was my second choice and I was able to get my hands on it. Covid just broke out and so all this crazy shit was happening and i had to fly "home." I hope you find a solution to your problem(s). Even if that solution is CTB. Fuck suffering and existing in some detrimental state of existence. It's just not worth it. But that's my life everyday. I hope I can escape it one day. or fix it. Lol, until then I'm trapped in an unending nightmare. It's horrible. Good luck to you though, I hope you find a way out of your situation.

Fuck suffering indeed. Thank you for your story and your kind words. You're amazing and I appreciate you.

 

[FallFromGrace]

Update: doctor unfortunately prescribed meclizine. I have one more backup plan that I'll try in a few weeks. Barring that, I'll just have to do my protocol without an AE. C'est la vie.

 

[R2DNico]

From someone, eventually. You're rather new (I'm not even sure you can DM yet?), and I don't know the norms for giving out SN source information on here anyways, so it'll be a no from me right now. Sorry.

no worries just checked back in on the thread so i just saw this, ill probably just end up making it myself this whole process is absolutely ridiculous because of the SN "ban" the other reason i didnt wanna make it is because im too lazy to do it tbh lmfao

 

[Shakespeare&Company]

I feel you with the loose skin thing. im 25 and have gone up and down in weight drastically my entire life. The last time i lost almost 100 lbs, and i was finally skinny and oddly enough i had no loose skin or scars... lmfao well then i gained it all back and some, so even if i lose it again i will DEF have a shit ton of loose skin and scars. My boobs and arms have so much loose skin without even losing weight yet again :( I dont have good advice, but i feel you. i really dont wanna go in more debt for loose skin.

 

[Kokomi_20]

Hola, sean (e) personas hermosas. Soy nuevo y quería tomarme un segundo para ofrecer mi propia historia sobre cómo intenté ctb y hacia dónde voy a partir de aquí.

Entonces, algo no tan tl; dr en mis antecedentes: pasé toda mi adolescencia profundamente deprimida. No tenía idea de por qué en ese momento, pero me odiaba a mí mismo y no tenía una visión real de quién o qué quería ser. Cuando tenía 20 años finalmente me di cuenta de que soy trans. Lo negué durante algunos años, pero no es algo que puedas enterrar para siempre. La transición fue la mejor decisión que tomé en mi vida y estaba feliz de tener finalmente una visión de quién quería ser. Además de esto, conseguí un nuevo trabajo fantástico, mi propio apartamento, un médico y un terapeuta fantásticos. Como parte de mi transición, realmente puse a toda marcha mis esfuerzos por perder peso. Sufrí de obesidad infantil y nunca tuve la motivación para dejarla por completo.

Cuando realmente comencé a perder peso, me di cuenta de que mi sueño había terminado. Piel. La maldita piel. Cuando pesa demasiado durante demasiado tiempo, su piel no se encoge cuando pierde peso. Los resultados finales son espantosos. He bajado 60 libras del pico, y me quedan entre 20 y 30 libras para llegar al límite superior de mis objetivos. Lamentablemente, mi cuerpo ya está jodido y solo empeorará a medida que siga perdiendo peso. La cirugía plástica puede ayudar, pero es costosa, deja cicatrices enormes y, en última instancia, es un proceso muy defectuoso que apenas ha evolucionado desde sus inicios. No importa cuánto esfuerzo o dinero ponga, nunca tendré el cuerpo que podría haber tenido. Intenté con todas mis fuerzas encontrar esperanza, pero no la encontré. Parece que todas las demás chicas trans de mi edad son delgadas y hermosas, algo que yo nunca podré tener. Cada vez que los veo, es como una daga clavada en mi corazón. No quiero vivir mi vida viendo a otros tener una felicidad que yo nunca conoceré. Después de sopesar mis opciones, finalmente decidí hacer CTB: un último "jódete" a mi cuerpo y el fin del duelo por la vida que nunca podré tener.

Mi plan original era salir con arma de fuego. Hice una compra para una Glock 21 Gen5. El proceso de pedido en WA no es tan malo: es una espera de dos semanas y un curso en línea que completé en aproximadamente un minuto. Escribí mis notas, hice los arreglos necesarios y esperé. Después del período de dos semanas, tomé la Glock junto con una caja de puntas huecas. Con mi nuevo troquel en mis manos, fijé la mira para el siguiente fin de semana y continué hasta ese punto. Imprimí mis notas y las dejé sobre la mesa de mi estudio antes de retirarme al baño. El primer intento fue un lavado: ni siquiera me apunté con el arma a la cabeza. Llamé al 988 con la intención de decirles que estaba haciendo un CTB para que mi familia no fuera los primeros en encontrarme (vivo solo, pero están lo suficientemente cerca para controlarme si me pierdo). Lamentablemente, la conversación con 988 se prolongó demasiado y terminé cancelando mis planes. Hablé con ellos, hablé con una crisis móvil local. Nada resultó de esto: ni detención, ni visita al hospital. Un pequeño error, pero había dejado mi billete fuera, así que sólo necesitaba elegir una nueva fecha.

Esa nueva fecha fue dos días después. Hice mi rutina anterior, retirándome al baño. Dejé una toalla, me senté en el suelo, puse algo de música y programé un mensaje de texto al 988 para que saliera dos horas después de ese momento. Después de esto, me puse la Glock en la cabeza. Tengo experiencia con armas de fuego, una oda a que mi padre es algo así como un campesino sureño. Esto fue un problema. Conocía las armas, sabía que en el momento en que apretara el gatillo, sería una muerte ruidosa y violenta. Siendo realistas, no lo recordaría en absoluto, pero la anticipación de ese "¡bang!" me impidió seguir adelante con mis planes. (En retrospectiva, podría haber intentado beber o fumar marihuana para calmar mis nervios). Por alguna maldita razón que todavía no entiendo, llamé al móvil de crisis y les dije que vinieran a buscar mi arma. De todos modos no iba a poder usar al hijo de puta, entonces, ¿qué hay de malo en eso?

Resulta que el daño fue que la policía vino a mi casa. Fueron bastante amables, ¿supongo? Tomaron mi arma de fuego y me escoltaron al hospital (trabajo en este hospital y nadie allí sabía realmente que estaba en transición hasta ahora. ¡Fantástico!). La experiencia en el hospital fue una mierda. Era ruidoso, luminoso y no particularmente cómodo. Sentí que me estaban castigando por tener la audacia de pedir ayuda a alguien. Los socorristas de crisis de mi condado intentaron convencerme de que aceptara un ingreso voluntario, lo cual rechacé basándose en que mis problemas no son estrictamente psiquiátricos y no sirven de nada. Acordamos un plan de seguridad y huyeron. Luego me informaron que los socorristas de crisis más serios se involucrarían para intentar detenerme involuntariamente. Esto se convirtió en un jodido trabajo de 12 horas en el que mentí entre dientes y tuve que involucrar a mi hermana para salir sin que me metieran en una maldita jaula. En ese momento estaba exhausto, ya que no había dormido durante 30 horas.

Desde ese momento, investigué mis alternativas. Encontré este foro, encontré SN y pude encontrar un enlace a SD a través de un sitio de foro diferente. Hice mi pedido de SN, que estoy esperando ahora. Mi plan actual es obtener la SN, ir a una clínica sin cita previa para recibir algunos antieméticos y prepararme para la tercera ronda. No cometeré el mismo error que cometí la última vez: no tengo la intención de que me retengan contra mi voluntad y me priven del sueño nuevamente. Ya no hablaré más con mis amigos ni con mi terapeuta sobre esto porque solo les traerá dolor y potencialmente me creará problemas. En cambio, estoy escribiendo esta publicación, tanto para desahogarme como para quizás ofrecer una advertencia a cualquiera que se tope con ella.

Gracias a cualquiera que haya leído hasta aquí. Yo aprecio todo de ti.

Me siento en parte identificado contigo, actualmente soy un niño pero si mi papá no me hubiera amenazado básicamente cuando tenía 12 años, tal vez ahora sería una niña y mi vida no sería perfecta, lo sé, pero sería más feliz conmigo mismo (esto lo escribí con el traductor, perdón si está mal escrito)
No sé qué vas a hacer pero espero que encuentres la paz y la felicidad que buscas contigo mismo

 

[Wolf Girl]

Your post moved me to tears. I am so sorry for your suffering. I have the same issue perhaps to a slightly lesser extent along with many other similar problems. I would also like you to know that if you have any interest in living, it is still possible. If you are interested in hoping, looking for support for young women with physical disabilities may be helpful, e g. support groups about sex for women with disabilities, etc.

Please reach out to me if you would like peer support.