LonelyKitten
Seeking one final escape
- Aug 13, 2023
- 283
Well, here we are. My very own goodbye thread.
I wasn't sure this was gonna stick, but after my recent experience with Sectioning, I think I have genuinely reached my limits.
This was sent with a delay, so by the time this is posted, I should be gone.
Otherwise, I'd have stopped it, unless I became unable to stop it - like an interrupted attempt.
But consider in the latter case, in case of survival, I would seek to return, likely as soon as I'd be able to again.
Please strikethru my account once this post goes up (I can ask to be reinstated, right?).
My phones are pin protected, btw.
My method?
While I was Sectioned, I tried everything I had to night-night, but it didn't work (I think I'd need a ratchet strap).
I am now using this newfound freedom to actually go to Beachy Head and jump.
I listened to this before I jumped:
These were my final sights:
It is a hidden post and anonymous email for the account album, if that is allowed to be shared.
If not allowed, I request to please edit just it out of the thread instead of downing all of it - this is all I am leaving behind.
My life had hit a really deep low point, and I struggled to decide on continuing.
I had methods (scalpel, cornhole bags + t-rex tape), but it felt too abstract just thinking.
So I came up with the idea to look at Beachy Head.
Yes, I travelled here all the way from Germany.
I wanted to see the decision, the idea to jump, right in front of me, vividly.
Contrasted with a beautiful ocean landscape...
Perhaps I see the ocean, and it's beauty convinces me otherwise. Or not.
Unfortunately, I got Sectioned on the way, before I even saw it.
But I made it out before being locked in a ward.
All of that played out like this:
sanctioned-suicide.net
sanctioned-suicide.net
sanctioned-suicide.net
I was there over a week, quivering in fear of being locked away again.
This ironically actually cornered me to the point of attempting multiple times inside the hospital.
I fear nothing more than being re-victimized, re-traumatized - my biggest trauma was landing in a psych ward when I came out as a trans woman at 16.
This experience got me thinking.
I am glad I managed to be free again.
But also, it reveals once again how unsafe I am now.
And how it, or other things like it, could easily happen again.
Maybe on some level I did need help.
The physical support (food) and diazepam was helpful.
But I know the kind of help I truly need is not out here in this world - to be able to reach a level of independence again so that I can feel safe enough to protect myself from victimization.
Without my Green Card, I can't be employed again, I can't be seeking education, I can't be consistently sheltered, have consistent access to my medication, etc. etc.
It was the core I needed for a life that could have kept me safe enough.
As an example of this... I was recently raped in the town I'd been living in in Germany.
Having no real supports in person, I went straight to the police after it happened.
Huge mistake.
They took, in spite of my begging, all my clothing on me, the only thing keeping me emotionally intact, as they were from my folks in the US.
Very expensive to replace, which is a big deal when you're not allowed to work, and partially, the coat, which is the most important piece (one of my beloved cats I lived with in the US loved it) and some other pieces, not possible from outside the US.
They waltzed into my apartment without my consent, and commented "you're from the queer scene, was this just some sex meetup that went wrong?", starting to interrogate me asking for my electronics (wanting to see things like meet up apps or online sites - these were not at play, it was strangers I never saw, met, or talked to previously!).
I started to fear they were looking at prosecuting *me* instead.
This event I can pinpoint as the moment I fully broke and wished to die.
In the days that followed, the police kept calling me almost every day, not giving me rest, asking for more and more testimony.
I requested repeatedly we stop the proceedings, but it was always refused, said it would all be forwarded as is to the prosecutor's office if I refuse a formal interrogation.
Some weeks later the police also randomly came to my apartment unannounced to take a DNA sample from me.
I can't, I can't be at risk of victimization in so many possible ways without any proper means to protect myself.
It triggers my cPTSD and BPD to no end!
In spite of my current tends toward ctb, I still hold/held a lot of beautiful feelings about life, based on my experiences in the US.
But I think I must make peace with the fact that I will never see that again.
I am now... alone. I pushed everyone and everything away, crashed and burned everything.
It was my own fault - I learned to distrust all forms of "help", from that horrible psych ward stay as a child when I came out as trans (which was really just throwing me away from society while milking the health insurance while gaslighting me the entire time), so I failed to trust anybody, anybody but myself.
Even those who genuinely wished to be kind and help me.
I never managed to form genuine, lasting connection with people.
Even if and when I wanted to be as close as possible to someone...
Now I am just alone and stranded, scared to think how I'll live to see the next day, the next week, the next month.
Let alone a safe, long-term, stable future...
And I will die like this, alone and away from any familiarity or love.
But at the very least, I want to thank all of you for having allowed me to take part in this forum.
This was the first space I was ever allowed to be *this* open about my suicidal thoughts.
I struggled with them since early childhood.
It is so relieving to for once have been able to express and explore these darkest corners of my mind, without fear of judgment or imprisonment.
I know it's merely been a brief brush.
I unfortunately only ended up joining this forum with one foot already in the grave.
Whether it was explicitly this forum, or the ctb-associated survival instinct, coming here made me think deeper about my long-term future than I ever had before.
It had me realize that ultimately, after I had received that miraculous save when I was 18, I did not truly want to die young anymore like I did as a child.
I think if I joined here sooner, perhaps life could have turned out different.
At least, my mind wants to think that way, right now.
I had no one to listen honestly to these thoughts, to these feelings.
This forum did come out in 2018 (I think?), 1 year after I arrived in the US.
I suppose my resource search game was off at the time.
In any case, even by the late time I joined here, there were still some seeds of hope left in me, and to be honest, there always will be, until my very last moment, as I am just a hopeless romantic at heart.
But dear god.
The more I learn about the reality of my situation, I just can not imagine continuing on.
I want to go home. United States.
There is no other way I can survive.
I can not rationally explain it.
But I can not realistically return home in any manner anymore. So I must die.
It hurts a lot because, this is the first time I fully realized that actually... sigh.
Yes life gets harder and harder, but... I would have loved ageing and moving alongside those I came to befriend throughout my adolescent years, my active years, after coming to the US.
The time I was finally allowed to participate in society.
I think that could have provided the sense of community I always sought - even if we all end up struggling, we struggle together, assist, and share joy with each other when possible.
Or, less deep than that, there are just faces around me that I recognize, still there, after many years, letting me feel connected and not alone in such a terrifying world.
Unfortunately, I have already heavily sabotaged my life before I reached this level of introspection.
I forced myself into misery over a year ago, with a horrible act of suicidal self-harm (getting rid of my Green Card) and no matter how much I have struggled since, I could not undo its damage.
The consequences of that action are still rolling in, and I can't picture a way out.
And especially after having been Sectioned now, I am terrified.
My life is falling apart, so I'm at highly elevated risk of being institutionalized for the majority of the rest of my life.
I knew this, before the Sectioning, but there is just nothing I can think of to reasonably protect myself.
I value nothing more than my freedom.
I have severe trauma related to being held against my will.
I can't live this life if I will be this vulnerable going forward.
I visited Beachy Head, talked about my experience here.
(https://sanctioned-suicide.net/thre...36-section-2-beachy-head.136591/#post-2196660)
Was alone there for 16 hours, completely free to do whatever I wanted.
I did not jump, and it was a beautiful experience.
Got a bit of a second wind after this but... I saw glimpses of the destitution I'm going to face.
Combine with the risk of imprisonment.
The loneliness, and vulnerability.
I don't want any of these anymore!
I have nowhere safe to be to pick my life back up!
All I do when I find warmth is just... sleep, and relish in the peace and safety.
Can't bring myself... to do the important tasks. Even with time, and decent ideas.
It's obvious what this means.
I need to sleep, forever, because there is no clearer claim to safety than that.
But all that aside, it should no longer matter soon.
I will be joining the other side, capping this life at 25.
Something I really loved about this space is that, well, let me use a common occurence to illustrate.
You know, when cats are at their end, suffering, they are put down usually, right?
Ending, not alone, into a peaceful slumber, in the presence of those who love you.
But humans do not receive the same kindness.
I have not found sympathy or understanding when it comes to my desire to die.
This forum however has acted as a sort of digital hospice for me.
I am really grateful for this.
Information in planning a humane exit, a space to vent some of my deepest frustrations, and overall judgment-free understanding of being suicidal and broken.
I truly feel like, thanks to you, that I am a lot less alone with these final moments.
I... needed that.
And with that, I've said it.
Good night everybody.
I wish you all that you can find your own peace too, whatever shape it may take.
As a bonus, I'll include some background about me.
It's nothing special, sophisticated, or was really something I planned to add.
But you know what? I'm going out.
Disappearing. Forever!
I just want to get it off my chest, whatever still comes to mind.
Leave some more pieces of myself somewhere out in the world.
I don't know, maybe it helps me cope with death.
I have cried my soul out over these final weeks and days. I don't want to go.
But I have to go. I'm so sorry.
If there is anything I regret.
It is that I failed to repay the kindness I was shown.
That I won't see more.
That I am dying alone, in darkness.
I'll put my story in spoilers, so it won't bloat your screen unnecessarily.
I wasn't sure this was gonna stick, but after my recent experience with Sectioning, I think I have genuinely reached my limits.
This was sent with a delay, so by the time this is posted, I should be gone.
Otherwise, I'd have stopped it, unless I became unable to stop it - like an interrupted attempt.
But consider in the latter case, in case of survival, I would seek to return, likely as soon as I'd be able to again.
Please strikethru my account once this post goes up (I can ask to be reinstated, right?).
My phones are pin protected, btw.
My method?
While I was Sectioned, I tried everything I had to night-night, but it didn't work (I think I'd need a ratchet strap).
I am now using this newfound freedom to actually go to Beachy Head and jump.
I listened to this before I jumped:
These were my final sights:
It is a hidden post and anonymous email for the account album, if that is allowed to be shared.
If not allowed, I request to please edit just it out of the thread instead of downing all of it - this is all I am leaving behind.
My life had hit a really deep low point, and I struggled to decide on continuing.
I had methods (scalpel, cornhole bags + t-rex tape), but it felt too abstract just thinking.
So I came up with the idea to look at Beachy Head.
Yes, I travelled here all the way from Germany.
I wanted to see the decision, the idea to jump, right in front of me, vividly.
Contrasted with a beautiful ocean landscape...
Perhaps I see the ocean, and it's beauty convinces me otherwise. Or not.
Unfortunately, I got Sectioned on the way, before I even saw it.
But I made it out before being locked in a ward.
All of that played out like this:
I got sectioned. Scared
Well guess who's not the brightest bulb. I got myself sectioned. 136. You see, I'm terrible at lying, because it feels inherently wrong to me. With police specifically I worry it can be a crime. And tbh I'm really lonely atm so I'm all vulnerable to the comforting speak. I really want to...
sanctioned-suicide.net
Rare opportunity to CTB before ward (UK)
Heyo. I uh, exploded in my other thread. I'm overall a little calmer now. Terrified on a rational level, but trying my best to try to brainstorm the situation for an escape, and take moments here and there to self-care a little to re-balance emotions. I got Section 136, then a mental health...
sanctioned-suicide.net
I am free??? (Section 136/Section 2/Beachy Head)
Holy jesus. I have been released?? I want to post about my experience as it relates to Sectioning and Beachy Head, so it may contain useful information for folks having to deal with those things in the UK. Here's the other threads...
sanctioned-suicide.net
I was there over a week, quivering in fear of being locked away again.
This ironically actually cornered me to the point of attempting multiple times inside the hospital.
I fear nothing more than being re-victimized, re-traumatized - my biggest trauma was landing in a psych ward when I came out as a trans woman at 16.
This experience got me thinking.
I am glad I managed to be free again.
But also, it reveals once again how unsafe I am now.
And how it, or other things like it, could easily happen again.
Maybe on some level I did need help.
The physical support (food) and diazepam was helpful.
But I know the kind of help I truly need is not out here in this world - to be able to reach a level of independence again so that I can feel safe enough to protect myself from victimization.
Without my Green Card, I can't be employed again, I can't be seeking education, I can't be consistently sheltered, have consistent access to my medication, etc. etc.
It was the core I needed for a life that could have kept me safe enough.
As an example of this... I was recently raped in the town I'd been living in in Germany.
Having no real supports in person, I went straight to the police after it happened.
Huge mistake.
They took, in spite of my begging, all my clothing on me, the only thing keeping me emotionally intact, as they were from my folks in the US.
Very expensive to replace, which is a big deal when you're not allowed to work, and partially, the coat, which is the most important piece (one of my beloved cats I lived with in the US loved it) and some other pieces, not possible from outside the US.
They waltzed into my apartment without my consent, and commented "you're from the queer scene, was this just some sex meetup that went wrong?", starting to interrogate me asking for my electronics (wanting to see things like meet up apps or online sites - these were not at play, it was strangers I never saw, met, or talked to previously!).
I started to fear they were looking at prosecuting *me* instead.
This event I can pinpoint as the moment I fully broke and wished to die.
In the days that followed, the police kept calling me almost every day, not giving me rest, asking for more and more testimony.
I requested repeatedly we stop the proceedings, but it was always refused, said it would all be forwarded as is to the prosecutor's office if I refuse a formal interrogation.
Some weeks later the police also randomly came to my apartment unannounced to take a DNA sample from me.
I can't, I can't be at risk of victimization in so many possible ways without any proper means to protect myself.
It triggers my cPTSD and BPD to no end!
In spite of my current tends toward ctb, I still hold/held a lot of beautiful feelings about life, based on my experiences in the US.
But I think I must make peace with the fact that I will never see that again.
I am now... alone. I pushed everyone and everything away, crashed and burned everything.
It was my own fault - I learned to distrust all forms of "help", from that horrible psych ward stay as a child when I came out as trans (which was really just throwing me away from society while milking the health insurance while gaslighting me the entire time), so I failed to trust anybody, anybody but myself.
Even those who genuinely wished to be kind and help me.
I never managed to form genuine, lasting connection with people.
Even if and when I wanted to be as close as possible to someone...
Now I am just alone and stranded, scared to think how I'll live to see the next day, the next week, the next month.
Let alone a safe, long-term, stable future...
And I will die like this, alone and away from any familiarity or love.
But at the very least, I want to thank all of you for having allowed me to take part in this forum.
This was the first space I was ever allowed to be *this* open about my suicidal thoughts.
I struggled with them since early childhood.
It is so relieving to for once have been able to express and explore these darkest corners of my mind, without fear of judgment or imprisonment.
I know it's merely been a brief brush.
I unfortunately only ended up joining this forum with one foot already in the grave.
Whether it was explicitly this forum, or the ctb-associated survival instinct, coming here made me think deeper about my long-term future than I ever had before.
It had me realize that ultimately, after I had received that miraculous save when I was 18, I did not truly want to die young anymore like I did as a child.
I think if I joined here sooner, perhaps life could have turned out different.
At least, my mind wants to think that way, right now.
I had no one to listen honestly to these thoughts, to these feelings.
This forum did come out in 2018 (I think?), 1 year after I arrived in the US.
I suppose my resource search game was off at the time.
In any case, even by the late time I joined here, there were still some seeds of hope left in me, and to be honest, there always will be, until my very last moment, as I am just a hopeless romantic at heart.
But dear god.
The more I learn about the reality of my situation, I just can not imagine continuing on.
I want to go home. United States.
There is no other way I can survive.
I can not rationally explain it.
But I can not realistically return home in any manner anymore. So I must die.
It hurts a lot because, this is the first time I fully realized that actually... sigh.
Yes life gets harder and harder, but... I would have loved ageing and moving alongside those I came to befriend throughout my adolescent years, my active years, after coming to the US.
The time I was finally allowed to participate in society.
I think that could have provided the sense of community I always sought - even if we all end up struggling, we struggle together, assist, and share joy with each other when possible.
Or, less deep than that, there are just faces around me that I recognize, still there, after many years, letting me feel connected and not alone in such a terrifying world.
Unfortunately, I have already heavily sabotaged my life before I reached this level of introspection.
I forced myself into misery over a year ago, with a horrible act of suicidal self-harm (getting rid of my Green Card) and no matter how much I have struggled since, I could not undo its damage.
The consequences of that action are still rolling in, and I can't picture a way out.
And especially after having been Sectioned now, I am terrified.
My life is falling apart, so I'm at highly elevated risk of being institutionalized for the majority of the rest of my life.
I knew this, before the Sectioning, but there is just nothing I can think of to reasonably protect myself.
I value nothing more than my freedom.
I have severe trauma related to being held against my will.
I can't live this life if I will be this vulnerable going forward.
I visited Beachy Head, talked about my experience here.
(https://sanctioned-suicide.net/thre...36-section-2-beachy-head.136591/#post-2196660)
Was alone there for 16 hours, completely free to do whatever I wanted.
I did not jump, and it was a beautiful experience.
Got a bit of a second wind after this but... I saw glimpses of the destitution I'm going to face.
Combine with the risk of imprisonment.
The loneliness, and vulnerability.
I don't want any of these anymore!
I have nowhere safe to be to pick my life back up!
All I do when I find warmth is just... sleep, and relish in the peace and safety.
Can't bring myself... to do the important tasks. Even with time, and decent ideas.
It's obvious what this means.
I need to sleep, forever, because there is no clearer claim to safety than that.
But all that aside, it should no longer matter soon.
I will be joining the other side, capping this life at 25.
Something I really loved about this space is that, well, let me use a common occurence to illustrate.
You know, when cats are at their end, suffering, they are put down usually, right?
Ending, not alone, into a peaceful slumber, in the presence of those who love you.
But humans do not receive the same kindness.
I have not found sympathy or understanding when it comes to my desire to die.
This forum however has acted as a sort of digital hospice for me.
I am really grateful for this.
Information in planning a humane exit, a space to vent some of my deepest frustrations, and overall judgment-free understanding of being suicidal and broken.
I truly feel like, thanks to you, that I am a lot less alone with these final moments.
I... needed that.
And with that, I've said it.
Good night everybody.
I wish you all that you can find your own peace too, whatever shape it may take.
As a bonus, I'll include some background about me.
It's nothing special, sophisticated, or was really something I planned to add.
But you know what? I'm going out.
Disappearing. Forever!
I just want to get it off my chest, whatever still comes to mind.
Leave some more pieces of myself somewhere out in the world.
I don't know, maybe it helps me cope with death.
I have cried my soul out over these final weeks and days. I don't want to go.
But I have to go. I'm so sorry.
If there is anything I regret.
It is that I failed to repay the kindness I was shown.
That I won't see more.
That I am dying alone, in darkness.
I'll put my story in spoilers, so it won't bloat your screen unnecessarily.
My living situation and lot in life were already bad (at least I had colorful distractions), but the biggest pain I can pinpoint is that I knew early on that I wanted to be female.
I am a trans woman, btw.
From a young age, I observed my environment, and deemed it far too hostile and unsafe for me to ever express this.
There were many times I wanted to, as my inclination toward wanting to be a girl was picked up on by others even without my direct expression.
I refrained from showing my true self, as the response I faced was being threatened by either outright violence, extreme negative reactions like yelling, throwing things, or regular ridicule and exclusion, etc.
Before coming out, the worst of this came from biological family, mind you.
In hindsight I regret succumbing to this fear - perhaps I could have found a better path in life, had I rebelled and stood my ground from square one.
Perhaps I would have faced more outright violence, and learned to protect myself accordingly.
Knowing that I would miss out on living out so much of my life as who I really am really set me up to become as depressed and suicidal about my reality.
I remember vividly that I considered jumping out of the top floor window in our apartment when I was about... 8? 9?
Sitting on the windowsill, I had legos, and threw some of them out instead, ultimately deciding not to jump.
Drowning in fantasy was my core escape, and I must admit, I am grateful for the internet, and the beautiful technologies that kept me running (Nintendo games, Pokemon, Yugioh, Anime, yay!)
But it is not something that I sustain doing for an entire lifetime.
I am a trans woman, btw.
From a young age, I observed my environment, and deemed it far too hostile and unsafe for me to ever express this.
There were many times I wanted to, as my inclination toward wanting to be a girl was picked up on by others even without my direct expression.
I refrained from showing my true self, as the response I faced was being threatened by either outright violence, extreme negative reactions like yelling, throwing things, or regular ridicule and exclusion, etc.
Before coming out, the worst of this came from biological family, mind you.
In hindsight I regret succumbing to this fear - perhaps I could have found a better path in life, had I rebelled and stood my ground from square one.
Perhaps I would have faced more outright violence, and learned to protect myself accordingly.
Knowing that I would miss out on living out so much of my life as who I really am really set me up to become as depressed and suicidal about my reality.
I remember vividly that I considered jumping out of the top floor window in our apartment when I was about... 8? 9?
Sitting on the windowsill, I had legos, and threw some of them out instead, ultimately deciding not to jump.
Drowning in fantasy was my core escape, and I must admit, I am grateful for the internet, and the beautiful technologies that kept me running (Nintendo games, Pokemon, Yugioh, Anime, yay!)
But it is not something that I sustain doing for an entire lifetime.
Eventually the bubble burst, and I could not hold it in any longer - I chose to either "be a girl or die", come what will.
Did all the research, learned I needed hormones.
Legal recognition, for safety.
Came out as a trans girl to my doctor.
Went about as poorly as you'd expect.
I already had a bad feeling about the fact that his initial referral was to a psychiatrist (it's not a mental illness!), but what followed was so bad I don't want to say it out loud, even now.
To this day, I have almost NEVER talked about these experiences in real detail with anyone.
Maybe that was one of my biggest mistakes in the end.
These experiences never left me, festering in my subconscious for the remainder of my life.
I'll try to summarize: I was not just summarily rejected, and something I won't say, but also kept in a mental hospital for *three* months right from the day of that psychiatrist appointment.
Just 2 days after my 16th birthday.
I remember this well.
And that set me up for misery.
My core need, that I expressed in a very direct manner (transitioning), was not at all adressed, but I was *not* told this directly, ever.
I did say that if they can't help me, I want to know. I would go elsewhere.
I was explicit, direct.
(I would later go on to learn that this stalling was done because they made money off of keeping you long)
I don't want to go into too much detail, but it all just broke me.
The strict schedule.
I remember not having enough food, but being terrified to speak up during the eating times (because they would punish you. I saw it in others.)
In hindsight, I guess it was like imprisonment, without committing a crime.
This experience rattled me at my core.
After this happened, I have to this day struggled to stay in one place for an extended period of time, if I don't have the freedom to leave at any moment.
But here's the deal. I was always a very quiet, patient person before this. It's an extreme shift.
And I'm still terrified, 9 years later.
I developed this intense urge to "flee", to escape situations.
Go outside. Full of fear.
Don't be stuck. Don't be inside.
I want to be outdoors.
I don't know how to describe it. It haunts me.
It was exactly after this imprisonment, that my latent suicidal ideation became permanently active - barely a single day passed after that September day I met the psychiatrist, in which I *didn't* think about ctb at least once.
To top it all off, I could not keep up with school anymore after I finally got out, forcing me to drop out.
This ruined my future.
What followed was 2 years of NEET depression, in which I try every single thing I can think of, short of illegally obtaining hormones, to try to figure out how to get to medically and legally transition.
I did not want to break the law to exist, but in hindsight, I should have.
Transitioning was now all I had left to live for anymore, thanks to being knocked out of education due to that traumatizing ward hold.
I keep trying all I can, visiting dozens of doctors, therapists, trans groups, start a court process, towns/cities in the surrounding area.
All fruitless, until some doc takes mercy upon my now zombified remains 2 years later - finally greenlighting me.
I then got to start hormones when I was 18, which is admittedly lucky, and got me hopeful for a few months!
But by this point? The damage was so much already, and it just kept going.
Apart from the treatment from "medical professionals", the court process itself involved these insane psychiatric evaluations as to whether I am really "transgender".
Just more pathologizing.
Just more needless mental distress.
I had never even seen any mental health professional before I came out - I did not need to! Yeah okay, my life was not good, and I had unhealthy dynamics and issues, but I was strong enough at my core to handle, or at least tank it, still.
But these obscene processes, to be met with such, again I won't go into detail, such disgusting abuse (some of it sexual in nature!), in response to the FIRST time I ever uttered a core, my most core, genuine wish in my heart to the outside, such a simple, innocent wish to just be a girl, completely fucked me up.
THAT caused this over the edge mental distress, full-on illness, not the other way around!
How do I trust anyone after that??
With a broken trust system, how am I supposed to function in society?
Did all the research, learned I needed hormones.
Legal recognition, for safety.
Came out as a trans girl to my doctor.
Went about as poorly as you'd expect.
I already had a bad feeling about the fact that his initial referral was to a psychiatrist (it's not a mental illness!), but what followed was so bad I don't want to say it out loud, even now.
To this day, I have almost NEVER talked about these experiences in real detail with anyone.
Maybe that was one of my biggest mistakes in the end.
These experiences never left me, festering in my subconscious for the remainder of my life.
I'll try to summarize: I was not just summarily rejected, and something I won't say, but also kept in a mental hospital for *three* months right from the day of that psychiatrist appointment.
Just 2 days after my 16th birthday.
I remember this well.
And that set me up for misery.
My core need, that I expressed in a very direct manner (transitioning), was not at all adressed, but I was *not* told this directly, ever.
I did say that if they can't help me, I want to know. I would go elsewhere.
I was explicit, direct.
(I would later go on to learn that this stalling was done because they made money off of keeping you long)
I don't want to go into too much detail, but it all just broke me.
The strict schedule.
I remember not having enough food, but being terrified to speak up during the eating times (because they would punish you. I saw it in others.)
In hindsight, I guess it was like imprisonment, without committing a crime.
This experience rattled me at my core.
After this happened, I have to this day struggled to stay in one place for an extended period of time, if I don't have the freedom to leave at any moment.
But here's the deal. I was always a very quiet, patient person before this. It's an extreme shift.
And I'm still terrified, 9 years later.
I developed this intense urge to "flee", to escape situations.
Go outside. Full of fear.
Don't be stuck. Don't be inside.
I want to be outdoors.
I don't know how to describe it. It haunts me.
It was exactly after this imprisonment, that my latent suicidal ideation became permanently active - barely a single day passed after that September day I met the psychiatrist, in which I *didn't* think about ctb at least once.
To top it all off, I could not keep up with school anymore after I finally got out, forcing me to drop out.
This ruined my future.
What followed was 2 years of NEET depression, in which I try every single thing I can think of, short of illegally obtaining hormones, to try to figure out how to get to medically and legally transition.
I did not want to break the law to exist, but in hindsight, I should have.
Transitioning was now all I had left to live for anymore, thanks to being knocked out of education due to that traumatizing ward hold.
I keep trying all I can, visiting dozens of doctors, therapists, trans groups, start a court process, towns/cities in the surrounding area.
All fruitless, until some doc takes mercy upon my now zombified remains 2 years later - finally greenlighting me.
I then got to start hormones when I was 18, which is admittedly lucky, and got me hopeful for a few months!
But by this point? The damage was so much already, and it just kept going.
Apart from the treatment from "medical professionals", the court process itself involved these insane psychiatric evaluations as to whether I am really "transgender".
Just more pathologizing.
Just more needless mental distress.
I had never even seen any mental health professional before I came out - I did not need to! Yeah okay, my life was not good, and I had unhealthy dynamics and issues, but I was strong enough at my core to handle, or at least tank it, still.
But these obscene processes, to be met with such, again I won't go into detail, such disgusting abuse (some of it sexual in nature!), in response to the FIRST time I ever uttered a core, my most core, genuine wish in my heart to the outside, such a simple, innocent wish to just be a girl, completely fucked me up.
THAT caused this over the edge mental distress, full-on illness, not the other way around!
How do I trust anyone after that??
With a broken trust system, how am I supposed to function in society?
Broken and hopeless, I eventually turned full on toward ctb. I couldn't take it anymore, there was nothing in life for me.
No (full) transition, no education, no employment, no social life.
However! This happened to trigger a chain of events I can only describe as extreme luck.
One of the final trans groups I visited had an American present, who recommened I check out reddit.
Sure enough, I did - the suicidewatch subreddit, mainly.
Eventually, I believe, I see someone on there that was also trans - and from that find a subreddit for trans memes.
Wow, the people making these understand me!
They think like me! Amazing.
And then. 1, 2, or maybe 3 days later - a link to a discord for a sister subreddit (also trans-based) is posted.
I take my chance, download discord, and check it out.
I still remember how scared I was to talk there.
Before this, I'd never made a friend on my own.
I was always on the outside, an other, alone.
But slowly, I start to interact, and - I'm not rejected?? In fact, I'm welcomed!
And over time, wait, people even *like* me??
Oh my god!
The first time I ever was accepted in a social space!
But I was still extremely lonely.
Inside the screen, things were okay, and I was not alone, at least momentarily.
Turn it off, my reality becomes unbearable.
I needed it on, almost 24/7, completely beholden to any minor technical issues, any server drama, any leave of users etc.
That space was my ONLY light.
This goes on for a while, until a good friend on there, the most important person I ever met in my life, helped to let me visit them in the US.
I sold a third of my belongings to afford the ticket and visa, took another third (games! We were both nerds, I wanted to play with her!), left another third behind.
In my mind at the time, I had no future.
I was going to die, sad, miserable, alone.
If I could spend just three months, just three of them!
With someone kind. Just experience something good before I go.
I was willing to risk anything for that.
The trip to the US Consulate was a grueling 15 hours.
I wasn't allowed to bring electronics etc, so I just brought a few papers, no food, no water or anything else with me.
I used a printed out map!
I was so damn nervous for the visa interview.
There were 3 officers when I stood in line.
One, I swear he looked like Heisenberg.
Then, a stern looking lady.
The last, a man with middle eastern roots (like I partially have, too).
I absolutely wanted him, and lo-and-behold, the gods roll me my luck.
You see, because of exactly these roots, I was automatically denied a simple ESTA.
That is why I needed a full-on visa.
Interview time.
He asks, why do you want this visa?
"Want to visit friend etc."
Why didn't you use an ESTA?
"Was denied, I believe automatically due to my (other, middle eastern) citizenship."
I swear, in that moment, I see his eyes squinting, as if he was kind of... upset, or pained?
He acknowledges my reason (it's even noted in the visa itself), and jumps flat from that to, your visa has been approved.
No more questions.
10 years, multiple entry. Wow.
I can meet my friend!!
By the end of the trip, my socks had fully torn, and my shoes broke.
I was so ungodly tired, haha.
But damn was it a satisfying exhaustion.
No (full) transition, no education, no employment, no social life.
However! This happened to trigger a chain of events I can only describe as extreme luck.
One of the final trans groups I visited had an American present, who recommened I check out reddit.
Sure enough, I did - the suicidewatch subreddit, mainly.
Eventually, I believe, I see someone on there that was also trans - and from that find a subreddit for trans memes.
Wow, the people making these understand me!
They think like me! Amazing.
And then. 1, 2, or maybe 3 days later - a link to a discord for a sister subreddit (also trans-based) is posted.
I take my chance, download discord, and check it out.
I still remember how scared I was to talk there.
Before this, I'd never made a friend on my own.
I was always on the outside, an other, alone.
But slowly, I start to interact, and - I'm not rejected?? In fact, I'm welcomed!
And over time, wait, people even *like* me??
Oh my god!
The first time I ever was accepted in a social space!
But I was still extremely lonely.
Inside the screen, things were okay, and I was not alone, at least momentarily.
Turn it off, my reality becomes unbearable.
I needed it on, almost 24/7, completely beholden to any minor technical issues, any server drama, any leave of users etc.
That space was my ONLY light.
This goes on for a while, until a good friend on there, the most important person I ever met in my life, helped to let me visit them in the US.
I sold a third of my belongings to afford the ticket and visa, took another third (games! We were both nerds, I wanted to play with her!), left another third behind.
In my mind at the time, I had no future.
I was going to die, sad, miserable, alone.
If I could spend just three months, just three of them!
With someone kind. Just experience something good before I go.
I was willing to risk anything for that.
The trip to the US Consulate was a grueling 15 hours.
I wasn't allowed to bring electronics etc, so I just brought a few papers, no food, no water or anything else with me.
I used a printed out map!
I was so damn nervous for the visa interview.
There were 3 officers when I stood in line.
One, I swear he looked like Heisenberg.
Then, a stern looking lady.
The last, a man with middle eastern roots (like I partially have, too).
I absolutely wanted him, and lo-and-behold, the gods roll me my luck.
You see, because of exactly these roots, I was automatically denied a simple ESTA.
That is why I needed a full-on visa.
Interview time.
He asks, why do you want this visa?
"Want to visit friend etc."
Why didn't you use an ESTA?
"Was denied, I believe automatically due to my (other, middle eastern) citizenship."
I swear, in that moment, I see his eyes squinting, as if he was kind of... upset, or pained?
He acknowledges my reason (it's even noted in the visa itself), and jumps flat from that to, your visa has been approved.
No more questions.
10 years, multiple entry. Wow.
I can meet my friend!!
By the end of the trip, my socks had fully torn, and my shoes broke.
I was so ungodly tired, haha.
But damn was it a satisfying exhaustion.
Same month, I fly.
Arrival at the airport, check-in with CBP. (they can deny you entry as well, just the visa isn't enough)
I'm ultra nervous, but he eventually lets me in - 6 months entry!!
Get picked up at the airport by my friend... and wow.
Chemistry with friend is amazing, better than anything I'd ever experienced.
Unexpectedly, I'm met even by her family with a level of kindness I had never seen before.
Lots of food! (I grew up with very little food, many days just 1 meal or less per day)
They throw me my first ever birthday party!
Everybody was accepting that I'm trans!
Even outside the family, it was so accepting in this environment.
Finding healthcare (hormones) was easy, instantaneous.
Plans change from visiting, we consult an immigration, and adjust me to a Green Card.
Even a legal change (name and gender) took just a week and a half, no barriers!
I found a new safe home.
What a miracle.
Lightning in a bottle.
Arrival at the airport, check-in with CBP. (they can deny you entry as well, just the visa isn't enough)
I'm ultra nervous, but he eventually lets me in - 6 months entry!!
Get picked up at the airport by my friend... and wow.
Chemistry with friend is amazing, better than anything I'd ever experienced.
Unexpectedly, I'm met even by her family with a level of kindness I had never seen before.
Lots of food! (I grew up with very little food, many days just 1 meal or less per day)
They throw me my first ever birthday party!
Everybody was accepting that I'm trans!
Even outside the family, it was so accepting in this environment.
Finding healthcare (hormones) was easy, instantaneous.
Plans change from visiting, we consult an immigration, and adjust me to a Green Card.
Even a legal change (name and gender) took just a week and a half, no barriers!
I found a new safe home.
What a miracle.
Lightning in a bottle.
Unfortunately, I had trouble adjusting to the responsibilities aspect of this new life.
I didn't know that I could trust some people, because previously I only got through life in Germany by exactly not doing so.
Struggled to get a handle on extreme emotions.
Never learned how to enter the adult world (education, employment)
Basically, I'd been living a BPD hell since my hospitalization at 16.
My trust system has been broken since the response to my coming out.
But to be honest, once I was with this safe new family and country, I was not sufficiently grateful, and I put them through a lot of stupid shit.
From here on out? It is my fault.
I was given everything I needed.
It was up to me to make a life out of that, and I didn't.
After this point, I deserve my downfall.
First I was a genuine victim, and was saved.
Then I didn't reciprocate the insane amount of help I received.
The monster breaking things was now none other than myself.
Me and new family got estranged, as you'd expect, and there were many ups and downs.
I ultimately tried again, to make up for their kindness regardless.
That was one of my key missions in life.
They showed me, that life could be different, they invested time, attention, and money into me, like I was a real human being.
I wanted to at the bare minimum pay them back financially.
During the covid pandemic, I tried a ton, selling my most expensive stuff, and living homeless + working, just to undo some of the damage I did.
This eventually got me back to the house.
I never asked. I simply kept sending them money and trying to work something out, and eventually they begged me to come back.
After a lot of back and forth, I relented.
I didn't know that I could trust some people, because previously I only got through life in Germany by exactly not doing so.
Struggled to get a handle on extreme emotions.
Never learned how to enter the adult world (education, employment)
Basically, I'd been living a BPD hell since my hospitalization at 16.
My trust system has been broken since the response to my coming out.
But to be honest, once I was with this safe new family and country, I was not sufficiently grateful, and I put them through a lot of stupid shit.
From here on out? It is my fault.
I was given everything I needed.
It was up to me to make a life out of that, and I didn't.
After this point, I deserve my downfall.
First I was a genuine victim, and was saved.
Then I didn't reciprocate the insane amount of help I received.
The monster breaking things was now none other than myself.
Me and new family got estranged, as you'd expect, and there were many ups and downs.
I ultimately tried again, to make up for their kindness regardless.
That was one of my key missions in life.
They showed me, that life could be different, they invested time, attention, and money into me, like I was a real human being.
I wanted to at the bare minimum pay them back financially.
During the covid pandemic, I tried a ton, selling my most expensive stuff, and living homeless + working, just to undo some of the damage I did.
This eventually got me back to the house.
I never asked. I simply kept sending them money and trying to work something out, and eventually they begged me to come back.
After a lot of back and forth, I relented.
But ergh. Even after making it that far?
At first, it was great.
I start to rebound, get more stable employment, I'm doing well, we're getting along well.
Making friends, doing hobbies.
But at my peak?
I make more idiot mistakes, again, and undo all my progress.
I developed some physical health issues.
Not yet knowing how to seek specialist care in the US, I went back to Germany to try and find it fast enough to go back.
I asked my biological brother if I could stay with him for a bit to seek healthcare, he said yes.
This was the absolute worst decision of my entire life.
Everything falls apart, including me, mentally.
My biological family pressures me at a time I am weak - throwing away my suitcases, forcing me after just one month to either get an apartment or be homeless while I'm extremely sick.
I don't make it back within the 6-month mark (Green Cards have rules regarding "abandonment" of Residency).
Feelings frustrated and helpless, I file an exaggerated I-407 (writing things such as "never want to live in US again etc." "happy in Germany and want to stay there forever") with the intention of forcing myself to complete suicide.
Because that Green Card?
That was my entire life, my identity.
Without it, I am dead. Nothing.
That was in Aug 2022.
... then my physical health got better after 1 more month, I found a dietary improvement that helps (...)
Absolutely ridiculous.
I frantically search for a legal solution, but there is none left.
I can never go home again.
Worse yet, I can never participate in society again.
More and more I will lose rights, funds, time, human connections.
It took me this long, until now Oct 2023, after trying and clawing at almost every single thing I could imagine, that I am reaching full desperation and hopelessness.
This is a pathetic way to end.
I succumbed to my trauma, because I let it control me even when I was finally safe from it in the US.
I thank... I want to thank those that allowed me to go outside for a few years, though.
That ray of sunshine between what would have been nothing but a depressing, miserable existence.
It is all that has sustained me still.
In fact, the only thing allowing me further contact with the world are exactly those human connections, items and funds from having been in the States.
I guess you never know how important something is until it is gone.
Except that in this world, said knowledge may not be useful, because you can become too powerless to make use of your knowledge.
Especially when it comes to... losing your rights.
But in the end, I'm glad I did have rights, briefly, anyway.
A little less than 4 years of freedom trumps zero days, does it not?
Within those 4 years, I managed to become, at least physically, who I wished to be.
I am happy with how I managed to turn out.
At first, it was great.
I start to rebound, get more stable employment, I'm doing well, we're getting along well.
Making friends, doing hobbies.
But at my peak?
I make more idiot mistakes, again, and undo all my progress.
I developed some physical health issues.
Not yet knowing how to seek specialist care in the US, I went back to Germany to try and find it fast enough to go back.
I asked my biological brother if I could stay with him for a bit to seek healthcare, he said yes.
This was the absolute worst decision of my entire life.
Everything falls apart, including me, mentally.
My biological family pressures me at a time I am weak - throwing away my suitcases, forcing me after just one month to either get an apartment or be homeless while I'm extremely sick.
I don't make it back within the 6-month mark (Green Cards have rules regarding "abandonment" of Residency).
Feelings frustrated and helpless, I file an exaggerated I-407 (writing things such as "never want to live in US again etc." "happy in Germany and want to stay there forever") with the intention of forcing myself to complete suicide.
Because that Green Card?
That was my entire life, my identity.
Without it, I am dead. Nothing.
That was in Aug 2022.
... then my physical health got better after 1 more month, I found a dietary improvement that helps (...)
Absolutely ridiculous.
I frantically search for a legal solution, but there is none left.
I can never go home again.
Worse yet, I can never participate in society again.
More and more I will lose rights, funds, time, human connections.
It took me this long, until now Oct 2023, after trying and clawing at almost every single thing I could imagine, that I am reaching full desperation and hopelessness.
This is a pathetic way to end.
I succumbed to my trauma, because I let it control me even when I was finally safe from it in the US.
I thank... I want to thank those that allowed me to go outside for a few years, though.
That ray of sunshine between what would have been nothing but a depressing, miserable existence.
It is all that has sustained me still.
In fact, the only thing allowing me further contact with the world are exactly those human connections, items and funds from having been in the States.
I guess you never know how important something is until it is gone.
Except that in this world, said knowledge may not be useful, because you can become too powerless to make use of your knowledge.
Especially when it comes to... losing your rights.
But in the end, I'm glad I did have rights, briefly, anyway.
A little less than 4 years of freedom trumps zero days, does it not?
Within those 4 years, I managed to become, at least physically, who I wished to be.
I am happy with how I managed to turn out.
Last edited:
I will remember your story and pain until the day die.
