*waves frantically*
tl/dr: hi, i'm an omnishambles abomination of a specimen that needs entombing. i'm grateful to be here. thanks for peeking, sorry you're here.
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i'm 36/f/australia and have been a mainstay of my city's best and worst psychiatric institutions for >20 years, gracing their halls with my wit and wisdom and generally being an exemplary patient. i'm always quick with a compliment to the medicos tasked with the tedium of hauling me in or with a light-hearted jab at the police if it's their turn. well, when i'm "well". when i'm "not well" i'm completely dissociating -- and i go Actually Insane with alacrity, but that's a whole other soul-splintering thing.
my pro-life/-death vantage is balanced.
i don't want to die 100%. i've come to know of much beauty in the world, using a transient/homeless period in my 20s to check the public library's history, art, science, and whatever held my interest through the daze. i've enjoyed philosophy: mostly mainländer, literature: kafka/heine/cioran/borges/kafka/kafka/etc., and music: debussy/szymanowski/godowsky and the artist whose work i love playing more than anything else in life -- chopin. but i always feel i'm betraying something when i'm engrossed in these things (not merely the fact that i couldn't even finish year 10 in high school).
then again, i certainly don't want to live, and the scales have always sagged far more heftily on this side. having been gifted with and consistently losing some truly noble and beautiful friends, i'm left to admire the galactic clockwork skyshow that plays out without all the heartache. i had some trauma in my early life but given how much the resulting dissociative disorder controls my existence, i can't bring myself to care about that anymore.
the core of my troubles are simpler. i'm transgendered, something i've never had an opportunity to explore in life -- and never will, because the dissociative disorder rules the roost, period. this is something i can't handle. it's hard enough to accept my brain and its derangements let alone my squalid heart, which twitches with laughable immaturity. shouldn't i be able to transcend this too? i can't. in a "reality" as fragile and blistering as mine, it's something cool and solid to hold onto: the glaring signpost that signals my having trespassed my entire life.
as to my body, well, it's a bit broken owing to a couple of violent suicide attempts that have left me with permanent pain and tinnitus so, coupled with my trans identity -- we're not on speaking terms.
solution? my saint of a psych (for 14 years now!) is out of ideas. the truth is that there's no easy road to take, and my resilience has finally worn too thin for the rougher tracks. i've tried to carry my difficulties with grace and flippance, but the simple act of looking in the mirror these days is... well, halloween's coming up.
i'm presently passing my days flooding my gaba-b receptors with abandon, starving myself, and depriving myself of sleep. there's something stubbornly liberating in lying to myself about being in control of delirium for a change, but i'm running out of time.
practical issues are in play too, most significantly the fact that i share a house with my precious younger brother, who'll find himself in a lurch after i'm gone. i've got some assets he can sell when i go. my parents were alcoholics but they got themselves fixed about 15 years after i was born, and have been largely supportive for the last half of my life. i'm not close with either of my brothers, but i love them dearly, my parents too. they've been with me through some interesting times and don't deserve my resignation.
but i do.
and that's where you come in... if you could educate me in ways to soften the final blow, it would mean a great deal and provide some much-needed comfort. thank you. sorry you're here.