(no subject)

[morbioid.livejournal.com]

Massive Depression/Dysphoria Increase

[cross-posted on the advice of someone who read it in another community; apologies if you’ve already read it elsewhere, or if I have taken your advice and improved by the time you read this]

I can’t even really talk about it, partly because I have to be careful how much I say publicly, and partly because I’m so depressed that I don’t even have the energy to articulate it without the hurt overwhelming me.

The bottom line, anyway, is that I see no possible way to ever live publicly as a woman or continue my transition ever again. If I do anything here in Richmond/GVRD (whether it’s just living as a woman part-time; or whether it’s quitting teaching, trying to get on disability until I can make money with my other talents, and living as a woman full-time), it will destroy everything my mom’s worked for her entire life. If I leave the city and move somewhere where people don’t know her, like Seattle or Toronto, I won’t have any support and I’m not strong enough to fight to survive alone. If I had started all this fifteen years ago and if I had been in shape back then, then at least if I fell through the cracks of society I could have become a prostitute, as so many other transsexuals have done in the past when they have no other means of support and there’s no other way that society will accept them. Now I’m old and fat and ugly and even that isn’t an option.

If I limit myself to very specific circumstances I can still live the occasional few hours as Felicity. There are two men who would like to come over to the apartment for a date the next time I’m in girl mode. I could also theoretically haul a bag with my girl clothes, wig, purse, and makeup downtown, get changed in a one-person washroom somewhere, and live as a woman for a few hours, then get changed back and come back to Richmond. But that’s a lot of effort for just a few hours as Felicity, during which I still won’t even really feel all that good anyway because I’m too old, fat, ugly, and unpassable.

There just isn’t any way out. I can’t go on living as a man, I can’t live as a woman here, I can’t survive on my own somewhere else. Between this and all the other ways I’m damaged and unfit to survive, I just don’t think I was meant to exist. When the time comes to kill myself (the other outcome besides prostitution that’s disproportionately high among transsexuals), I can’t even do it as a woman, and be buried dressed as Felicity and with Felicity on the grave, because then I would still out my mom and destroy her life.