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My story

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Well-Known Member
I skimmed through the internet last night for a place to turn to when I'm feeling like this - like I just wanna give it all up and give for the final blow - and came across this forum. I read all the important threads, though I'm a bit tired might need reading them again to remind myself of details... but do not worry, I'm not the type that does or says mean things to hurt others, rather the opposite: I'm too kind and always let people run me over. I'm quite a good listener with a lot of empathy for all kinds of people from all walks of life. I never judge before meeting someone. In my eyes all human beings are neutral and of the same value until proven wrong, either direction. But as much as I like being in the role of the listener and helping people out (whether it's a close friend or a perfect stranger), I too need to be listened to sometimes.

(Just to warn you directly, this is one hell of a long post ;P)

I have good friends, I do. The best friends anyone could ever have. And I don't really have any problem sharing my deepest inner thoughts with them either. I'm close to my mother as well, her and I get along ridiculously well, some would say. I actually consider her quite more as a close friend than otherwise. Me and my younger sister get along quite well also. So all that is good. I have so many wonderful people in my life I wouldn't hesitate a second to take a bullet for. I grew up in a home full of love and understanding, almost nothing has been a taboo-subject in my family. Except that my father can get really awkwardly silent and not really being the confrontational type when it comes to several issues. I know he has a hard time accepting/understanding the lifestyle I live. But on many issues I can't really blame him either.

I grew up in the country, at a big yard with horses, cats and dogs. Lot of forest around and very cosy and all. I was born a perfectly healthy female child, three weeks later than the calculated date. But that I was going to become a weird and troubled kid my parents knew from the very start. Many little things that was considered awkward and hard to understand, most for those around me that wasn't a part of my family. I was suicidal for the first time when I was about 4 years old. I don't remember it myself, but my mother said I freaked out all the other adults around me. It was said early that I have Asperger Syndrome, guessed it was as obvious a sign in my forehead from my first day at school. Not many knew how to handle me. I was very introvert, didn't care about rules, always questioning everything and hated all the other kids. The other kids hated me as well, I was bullied for my clumsy awkwardness from an early age. But I don't really blame them, they didn't know what was wrong with me, I wasn't like other kids and I admit I was quite hard to communicate with. And I'm glad that the bullying almost never got to psychical degrees, it was almost only verbal. And by the time I was around 12 most of the bullies had grown up and got better things to do than make my life miserable.

As a kid was obsessed with the thought of being, or becoming as alienated, misplaced and weird as possible. For example I wanted to become left-handed instead of right-handed and I thought up words and useless inventions just cause I wanted to complicate things as much as possible and most of all, I think I just wanted to be seen, and to be special. To have something no one else had, that only I could understand it's true bliss and magnificence. I had also severe OCD and phobias. I never really got any diagnoses though.

Enough about my childhood. I got into this deep depression in 2004-5. It wasn't really over a day so I can't really say at what time of what year. But I started cutting in January 2005, stopped going to the karate-lessons I loved cause I just lost the interest all the sudden and started to get really horrible headaches, that never really went away. I did my first suicide attempt but did not tell anyone, thinking it was embarrassing to even call it an attempt. I wrote a letter to the psychiatric clinic for adolescences and they took me in for a meeting. Then I went there once a week to talk to a mid-aged woman I didn't like at all. I started a new School that fall, and it went terrible. I basically hallucinated through those two-three months before I did my second suicide attempt which upset my shrink so she had me committed. There I got the diagnosis Asperger Syndrome, and it also the first time I heard about that. They investigated my mysterious headache as well, only to come to the conclusion it was "probably just tension-headache". Still hallucinating frequently and dealing with much anxiety I decided not to go back to the same School. They showed me full of antidepressants and anti psychotic meds which made me lose the next 6 months and gaining a lot of weight.

The next fall I started another School, in a class/program especially suited for people with Asperger. I absolutely loved my class and the teachers were all adorable. For two years everything went on kind of well, though I had my heart broken several times (I have a niche for falling for the wrong people) and had some break downs once in a while. I got into my first relationship with a boy who adored me and I instantly fell for his wittiness and charm. That lasted for a little over 8 months until I broke up with him. No need to go into details, but it was obvious at the end of our relationship that his charm was only covering a much darker side. He literally brainwashed me until I didn't even know who I was anymore. Good thing my best friend talked me into my senses again!

After that relationship ended I discovered a new side of me, that I was a transsexual. I had always known I was a boy deep inside, but didn't really know how serious I felt that inner boy was actually me. I had gone on living as a full time drag queen in my corsets and mini-skirts believing that was actually a better way dealing with this problem. For 4 years. Then the surface of the beautiful young woman just crashed. I've always been androgynous, even feminine for that matter, it just hadn't stroked me before that I could actually live as a feminine boy - in a woman’s body. I think I took it all kind of well considering. I knew instantly what I wanted to call myself instead of my at birth given female name. Two months later I told my closest friends to call me John and start referring to me as "he" and "him". They were all really supportive and curios. My family wasn't too happy about me changing things so drastically, and they absolutely revolted the treatment I wanted, needed to do in order to survive in this body of mine. But they more or less accepted it, all but my dad, who just think it's all nonsense and unnecessarily. The next fall I told everyone at school as well. They too were really supportive and accepting.

This was my 4th year in the same School, an extra year after actual graduation cause my grades went out poorly. I was then 20 years old, it was the year of 2009. I started taking male hormones without any doctors prescription (you have to have a diagnose in Sweden in order to get hormones prescribed, and that diagnose has been a real hell for me to get) and I could at last successfully legally change my name to John and get rid of those female names that just made me sick to even think of. I still shrug just by hearing or seeing my female name somewhere, anywhere. We've got this far and about here I started to fall back into that depression that never really left me, I believe it just took a pause when I had so much other things going in life at that time. I wish I could put a finger on what exactly made me fall down again. Maybe my life just weren't so damn interesting anymore. And oh, how could I forget! I moved out from my parents home that summer. They had planned on moving to a different city, basically half across the country, for two years in advance and I didn't wanna go with them, so I got an illegal second hand contract for a one-roomer in the center of the city I've always considered my hometown.

But life in that apartment living so far away from my family wasn't only peaceful. I just couldn't fix keeping a diurnal rhythm, remember to eat and getting myself to school, paying bills, washing clothes, cooking, clean the dishes, cleaning anything for that matter. I guess I was devastated, but I was certain I did not wanna move in with my family at their new place either. The mess I lived in reflected the mess in my head and soul. I was falling apart again, but I didn't wanna realize it. I started drinking and smoking more regularly as a method self-medication. I started on antidepressants again but forgot to take the pills half the time. I couldn't sleep, lost the little of appetite I had and missed a lot school.

After a summer of partying I had set my goals to try to fix those grades once more. So I gave yet another school a try. I loved the class and teachers instantly, at least most of them, and fell in love with a guy there already the first day. I tried to ignore that to begin with of course, thinking it was stupid and silly that still believed in "love at first sight" at the age of 21. But I only fell deeper and deeper every day. And despite I had gotten a lot of help from the society to help coping with all those household- and basic survival things, I still needed to push myself beyond what I actually was capable of. I more or less guttle liters of black coffee even though I'm allergic to caffeine. Then I started to spike the coffee with vodka. By this time, and with these habits my headache since 2005 (oh yes, it's been with me aaaallll the time...) got severely worse. I had to take stronger painkillers prescribed which I was chewing like a maniac at school along with the antidepressants and severe amounts of alcohol. On top of that I barely ate anything, and constantly fluctuating between sleeping too little and too much.

They still didn't want to give me the Transsexual diagnose due to my past and my person, with the argument that they were scared I would suddenly just change my mind about it and then it would be too late (some parts of the treatment is irreversible). I could still get a hold on male hormones from friends that had been in the same situation and had some "left overs", but that was about as far as I could get in transitioning to become more masculine looking on my own. I couldn’t afford any surgeries, even though I could die ten times over if I could just have them done. Living in a body you find absolutely revolting takes so much time, energy and trashes your self-confidence in many social, and private situations. You can't even imagine.

It all went so far I decided that if things would turn out like hell as I assumed they would, I would allow myself to commit suicide. I thought about it really carefully this time. To the least my most carefully and most seriously planned suicide attempt so far. Cause of course things turned out badly, I knew I had been pushing myself far beyond my limits until the absolute breaking-point.

In December that year, it was the last year by the way, I had accidentally cause a water leak in my apartment cause it to leak down to the neighbor on the floor below me. After that incident, one of my worst weeks of life occurred. I was told they were gonna have to repair the whole apartment in order to fix the water damages. So suddenly I was left without a home. The same week I had the most heart-tearing meeting with the social service providing me with someone to daily help me with house-keeping and basic survival. The meeting was about convincing them I needed to come to a special home that provides theses services in a much better way so I could start focusing on living and not just barely surviving. They didn't agree with me until months later.

I was a bit lucky my best friend just happened to have a really small apartment in a corridor where I could live until they decided to demolish the place. So at least I had somewhere to go. Still madly in love with that guy from my class at School I was heart-broken discovering he had gotten a girlfriend over the Christmas holiday. That, on top of everything else was just too much of it all. For an entire week I carefully followed my suicide plan. Everything from one last supper to giving those I love and care about each a big hug, registering as a willing donor ow whatever will be useful of my body once I'm dead. I wrote a long and sincere letter to my closest friend and family. I had the date set for the event and all things prepared. I must say even today, that would have been the perfect day to die. But something always goes wrong, right?

After some serious conversation with my best friend I agreed on admitting myself. They took me in almost immediately after a quick consult. I was relieved to have tidy little corner of my own, being served medicines and food at specific hours and sleeping sound on a wonderfully sedating little pill they gave me each night, along with another one to keep me in that state the entire night. But I hated the rules, most of those that worked there including my contact person and the doctor who discharged me when I was still very unstable and anything but ready for the world outside again.

After coming out I went to stay with my family for a few weeks. I didn't care or think much about going back to school. I was tired of studying and life itself felt pointless. I had no dreams, no goals, nothing I would wanna do with my life but to end it before it gets worse. In April I went back home, feeling a little more stable but still a mess inside. I started to go out more and meet friends I hadn't seen in a long time, and ended up falling in love with one of those friends. I knew he had crush on me since before, but as I didn't feel the same for him I didn't wanna ruin our friendship or break his heart. He moved in with me in my friends confided little apartment just a week after we became a couple. I was so happy to find someone on the same level as myself, who could love me and accept me for who I am. I guess he feels the same for me.

But I couldn't allow myself to be deceived by love once more, I was still torn up from my last heartbreak, and to me honest, still in love with that other guy from school. Good to have a big heart that rooms more than one person I guess. But I keep a low profile, keep it to myself and close it in. I've told my mother, but that's it. I felt like I had to ventilate to someone and she can't even contact my boyfriend even if she wanted to, cause they've never even met. Shortly after all of this, with him moving in and all, I fell back into the thoughts of suicide. This time I was certain that the damages in my soul was beyond repair, and that I will never ever get better than this. I fell back into the same old bad habits and patterns, the self destructive way of living. I felt like my antidepressants didn't do a shit to make my depression less insufferable, so after consulting with a doctor I decided to change to another kind of medicine.

Stop taking my old medicine made me worse. My headache got worse, along with my anxiety and sleeping. I was constantly tired, a complete mess and got upset with the smallest little thing that annoyed me by just existing. Starting taking the new drug and then increasing it made it even worse. I got stronger benzodiazepines for my anxiety and started planning my suicide again. Boyfriend who cares a lot about me became increasingly worried so I had myself admitted again as a suicide prevention. So I was on suicide watch for a few days before I got to another department where I stayed for about two weeks. This time I just felt how I was getting worse and worse. It was the same department as before, the same room, the same staff and the same idiot I got as my contact person. When they wanted to discharge me without warning I trashed my room. Two days later I was discharged anyway. It didn't matter that I said that I had nowhere to go, I'm a mess who doesn't know how to live and if they discharge me I'll just come back a few months later with more toxins in my body, more self inflicted wounds and even more bitter and depressed than before.

Out in the open I'm not getting much help either. I get medicines that are supposed to keep me above the surface, but I just keep on drowning in the currents. I knew I had Borderline since before, just didn't want it to be true. But now I saw that as a last solution to maybe actually getting some help from those morons who's supposed to be called the Swedish healthcare system. My ass.

Now, why I turn to this website is because I'm actually running out of options. It feels like I've tried my best but it all just ends up in a disaster. I'm a disaster. As much as I would wanna change the world radically I know that is impossible since I can't even change my own eating habits. All I've been asking for all along is to get some relief from the war inside my head, to be able to filter out all my nonsense thoughts and live with myself and my emotions. I've lost the count on suicide attempts and I don't wanna puke it all out on my friends and family, they've heard more than enough of my endless ranting, thoughts on never getting better, radical ideas, this inner chaos that is eating me from the inside and out. I'm tired of always failing with my life of not getting better. I'm tired at living.


Staff Alumni
Welcome, John. :welcome:

I just read your whole post, and I'm glad you decided to join SF. =] Wish your hospital stays had been longer and more helpful to you. Cheers, and take good care. :hug:


Well-Known Member
Thank you! :D

I wish the whole health care system would be more satisfying, the only good thing they can provide me is pills and more pills. Not that I'm against pills, but it feels like they're pushing me aside for "more important patients" or so I hope... at least that means someone is getting helped :/


Well-Known Member
Of f**k... truth to be told... I actually have suicide plans again. Just trying to hold up as long as possible. But every hour I start thinking about it again and how nice it would be to be dead. To not have to deal with this life anymore.

total eclipse

SF Friend
Staff Alumni
You go back to your doctor and you tell him if you can to get the borderline diagnosis changed because in doing so you will get more help okay
It is like that diagnosis has been black marked and no therapist wants to touch you
Take that diagnosis off the page and put mood disorder something different
People do judge especially professionals t hat are not suppose to
go back to hospital hun NOW okay and admitt yourself tell them you have plans and will use them unless you get help NOW hugs


Well-Known Member
Yeah, you're probably right, that I shouldn't give up. It just seems meaningless try to talk to them, they never listen, doesn't matter what I say or do. They won't even admit that I am depressed... If I admit myself they'll only throw me out before I get a chance to blink, just like before... and once again I would have to fight my way forward for them to take me seriously. I just don't have the strength to do that :(

total eclipse

SF Friend
Staff Alumni
Take someone with you to fight for you okay take an advocate to make sure you get admitted and stay admitted until you are stable You need to have someone fighting for you hun if you can that would help
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