A more difficult than usual weekend

I wasn’t going to update this thing again for a while because all I’m doing is talking to myself out loud and gone are the days when the internet was a place of solace and a place where I felt that I could express myself freely without getting judged.  WordPress is a lonely place for me, just like everywhere else.


It’s not even 2 am, but I’ve given up on sleep for the night.  I woke earlier from a particularly awful PTSD-inducing nightmare, in which I was admitted to a low security male prison and it involved the pain of losing my ex-wife all over again.  It felt so real and I only woke up from it after having a major panic attack in the nightmare.  Even though I’m anxious about leaving my room because a male guest arrived today, I shot downstairs to the kitchen and made 2 cups of coffee to fully wake myself up,  Even though I’m sleep deprived, I am terrified to go back to sleep for even the 1-2 hours that my insomnia would’ve allowed before I just ingested a ton of caffeine.  As I’ve stated before, the suffering only continues on the occasions when I manage to sleep.

Weekends, especially Saturdays are usually always bad for me, but yesterday was worse than usual.  I felt confined to my room and to the house and I couldn’t go out at all as there were people outside even during the early hours of the morning.  Being confined to 4 walls is torture for me, because my mind starts tormenting me and there’s nothing I can do to distract myself from such loud and intrusive thoughts, which are almost like voices in my head.  I started off the day applying for jobs, but got too easily overwhelmed by an online application form that I gave up on.  As I read through job descriptions, I realized how unemployable I am for the reasons I stated in my last blog entry the previous day.  I would say that this is too much and too soon, but it’s been over 3 1/2 years since I last worked and that is unacceptable.  I am a burden and a drain to society, unable to support myself because I’m such a socially inept, ugly loser and a freak.

The Airbnb home I’m staying in is located on the main street in the town, so of course I get to hear people out and having fun in the evenings and at night, while I sit up here alone and trapped indoors.  I’m tired f constantly having to wear earphones or headphones to drown out noise that either causes me anxiety or reminds me of what I’m missing out on.   I feel like taking a knife and carving out my eardrums so that I don’t have to hear sound or hear what people say anymore.   If it weren’t for the fact t hat I can still appreciate the beauty of nature, I wouldn’t mind losing my vision either, because I wouldn’t be tormented by ‘reminders’ anymore if I could no longer see or hear them.  While wanting to lose my vision and hearing might sound crazy, I mentioned it to my therapist several times and he seemed to understand my reasoning.   More than anything though, I wish I could switch off my brain permanently to stop the torment permanently.

I feel completely and utterly alone, getting further and further lost in the maze inside my head.  I want to go out, but going out is extremely draining, because I’m constantly hyper-vigilant and on edge.  From my perspective, the world outside seems like a terrifying place and I feel like a target, just as much as I did in Rochester.  It’s been almost 3 weeks since my last therapy session in Rochester and boy am I feeling the effects from having absolutely no one to talk to about how I feel,  While we never really got anywhere in therapy, those weekly therapy sessions became somewhat of a lifeline during times of loneliness.  Even though I knew he was paid to listen to me, it felt cathartic to be able to talk freely to someone who would listen and wouldn’t say something triggering in response.  The only reason I feel that I can talk freely on this blog (to an extent) is that no one reads it, but it doesn’t offer the same sense of release or a sense of comfort that would occur if I were talking to a close friend or a romantic partner….but these are things I’ll never have again.

I know that I’m not going to get through this, because the urge to quit is as strong as it’s ever been, but this time I’ve got truly nothing and no one left to carry on for.  I’m already figuring out mt plans, so that at least my belongings are in one place and I’ve come up with a good alibi, so that no one will get dragged into this mess.  I didn’t come back to the UK to give life yet another chance, I just wanted to get out of Rochester and the United States and I achieved that at least.  Unfortunately, I haven’t got to experience the few weeks (or even months) of peace that I’d hoped for, as my mind, my body and the outside world (people) continue to torment me.

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Why do people tell you to trust them or tell you that they’re not like all the rest, then they abandon you?

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An update (housing, mental health)

I’ve been back and forth between here and my mum’s over the past few days.  I found a flat and I’ve put in the application and paid the application fee.  They said it would take 1-2 weeks before I hear whether I’m approved, so now it’s a waiting and hoping game, because I really need my own place and an end to this year long ‘living with people’ nightmare.

My mum has been a lot of help on the practical side of things, but I have to largely hide my mental health struggles from her and her husband, which is draining at times and I feel like there’s a lot of pressure on me not to buckle.  I can’t multitask or do anything that involves talking to a stranger on the phone.   I’m struggling with my anxiety (fear of people in general), dyspraxic symptoms and depressive spells that lead to suicidal thoughts that are difficult to fight.  I quite literally have no one to talk to….no friends and no therapist.  This is proving to be extremely difficult, especially with the harassment I experienced a few days ago that I still haven’t anywhere near recovered from.

I told my mum, her husband and the letting agent that I’m actively looking for a job and that’s what I have to shift my focus to now.  I’m dreading it and I don’t think I stand any chance of getting hired to do any job, never mind find a suitable job given my limitations.  I left my last job in January 2015 when I left Florida and haven’t worked since.  I think a convicted felon would have more chance of finding a job than me….as someone who’s transgender, socially inept, without a degree and without references I can use.  I’m going to start job hunting tomorrow for accounting jobs (the only field I have any experience in), but I know my efforts will probably prove to be futile.

What else have I been doing?  Mostly just riding my bike, spending time with the cats (Lily and Madgie) and taking pictures of Southwell, Newark and the surrounding area.  I just wish I felt safe and I wish there was someone who had my back and that I could turn to when I’m feeling scared or low.  I alternate between feeling somewhat okay to feeling depressed and suicidal and it doesn’t take much to trigger me.  And it’s exhausting, feeling like I have to constantly justify and explain my ‘hidden’ disabilities.

This Christmas and this holiday season in general is going to be so difficult to get through.  And I miss my ex-wife so much and I wish she was still in my life, even in just a friendship capacity.

PHOTOS: Southwell Trail (where I was laughed at and made to feel like shit) – 11-13-18

PHOTOS: Grantham, Lincolnshire (possibly my new home, but not getting my hopes up) – 11-12-18


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Why can’t people just leave me alone?

I made a mistake today….I went out.

An abandoned railway trail in the countryside is the last place I expected to encounter more harassment, but it happened.  A group of 3-4 teenage girls had a good laugh as I cycled past them.  I didn’t hear their words, because I had my earphones on, as always.   They ruined what should have been a day in which I got out and away from people on my bike.

I can’t deal with this shit.  Perhaps it’s happening for a reason….to give me the final push that I need to quit.  I’m invisible to those who I crave to be noticed by and only visible to those who wish to cause me harm or make fun of me.

And please don’t tell me stupid shit like “don’t let them win”.  I’ve been bullied since I was a small child and the bullies ‘won’ a long time ago.  All I want is to be left alone until I’m gone, which won’t be much longer.  But people can’t even give me that peace….they can’t even walk on by and leave me alone, content that they don’t have to ‘be’ me.

Tomorrow I have to go out, because I’m meant to be viewing 2 flats with my mother.  I really don’t want to go as it’s pointless and my fear of people is sky high right now and I’ll be a nervous wreck.  I can’t talk to her about it, because she won’t understand.  If I so much as give her any indication that I’m not coping, she’ll just lecture me about how I should have stayed in the United States.

Once again, I know I’m ugly, I know I’m a freak, I know I’m a weirdo and I know that I’m a piece of shit.  Once again, I hate myself far more than any of you could possibly hate me and I don’t want to be here, so kindly FUCK OFF.

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The people who passed themselves off as ‘friends’ that I’ve met over the past few years and are no longer in my life have done far more damage than ‘haters’ such as the white van man yesterday.  At least haters and enemies are honest and you know where you stand with them  They don’t tell you lies or try to make you trust them.  Hate is too strong of a word, but I wish I’d never met any of those so-called ‘friends’ and I wish I hadn’t weakened my defenses enough for the damage they caused to hit me right at my core.

It sickens me how people these days overuse words like “friendship”, “love” or how random people on the internet will tell you they care about you.  What a load of horse crap.  Don’t use those words or claim to care about someone unless you really mean it and unless you’re willing to back up your empty words with actions.

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As if I don’t hate myself and my hideous appearance enough (harassed, followed in Newark)

I had a frightening experience in Newark earlier, while on my bike riding between Newark Northgate and Newark Castle stations to catch my connecting train.  It was a white van driver with a company logo of some sort who decided to harass me in the street repeatedly and follow me to Newark Castle station.  I don’t know what he was yelling exactly as I had my earphones on and turned my music up to full volume, but he yelled something in disgust and kept honking.  I had a panic attack when I got to Newark Castle station and had to hide until I calmed down.  Had I not been so fucking scared. I’d have taken several pictures of his van and license plate, but I wasn’t thinking straight at the time and I just wanted to get to safety, where he could no longer follow me.

I’m already in a bad place mentally and this was the last thing I needed, especially after feeling like I wasted my time going to see the GP about my mental health issues.  All he did was increase the dosage of Duloxetine, which is an antidepressant that I’ve been trying to wean myself off for weeks due to it making my hyperhidrosis worse and doing fuck all to help ease my depression and anxiety.  He suggested I self-refer for a mental health assessment, which is something I could have done without going all the way to Grantham and wasting money on a train ticket and getting harassed on the way home.

I have to go back to Grantham again tomorrow because my mum has arranged for us to look at a flat that I’ve no intention of taking, because I can’t afford it.  I told her a white lie before I came here, that I would still receive Social Security for a couple more months, but that is not the case, as one of the first things I did when I arrived here in the UK was to write to them and tell them I’ve left the United States permanently.  My savings are going to run out, but I don’t care.  I plan to be gone before that happens, so that I can try to donate whatever is left of my savings so that something good will come out of my death beyond just an end to my pain and suffering.

I sat on the platform of Grantham station for some time, watching the high speed trains zoom by.  I could do it, but not there….not in the town where my mum lives and would have to be reminded of it constantly.  There are dozens of other stations where high speed trains shoot through, where I could bring it all to an end and destroy this body that has been the root cause of most of my misery.  PLEASE NOTE THIS IS NOT A THREAT, these are just ‘thoughts’.  I would not be stupid enough to put something like this on the internet if I was planning to do it anytime soon.  But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t wish I was dead.

And to the van driver in Newark who harassed me on my bike today, I wish that you could see this post and I hope it was worth causing me more pain and fear of people (especially cis men)  on top of the pain and anxiety I’m already failing to cope with.

Fuck all of this.  I need to drink, down a couple of Lorazepam and pass out.

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Writing on this blog feels like I’m just screaming into the depths of outer space.

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