It’s Hard to Write Today

Posted: February 27, 2016 in death, Depression, Gender, Mental Illness
Tags: ,

Maybe it’s because Tuesday will mark the third anniversary of my father’s death. And by “anniversary,” I mean the third week, not year.

Or maybe it’s because one of the first posts I saw on Facebook this morning was a link to a story in the Missoulian newspaper, “Community mourns loss of 2 Missoula transgender people who struggled with depression.”

2016 certainly won’t go down in history as a banner year for the transgender community. We’re still being killed at an alarming rate, and now the GOP (Grand Old Perverts) want to check inside our underwear before we’re allowed to use bathrooms. This, despite the fact that Republican lawmakers have a higher arrest rate for sexual crimes committed in bathrooms than the entire worldwide trans* community combined.

But I think the main reason is that despite the fact that I am in therapy and on medications for my depression, there are still times when I ask myself, “Is it really worth it? Will I ever truly be free to be myself?”

And that only leads to the most deadly question of all: “Why bother?” Is it worth it, in the end, to continue to fight what all too often seems to be a losing battle? Or should I be a Hamlet, and

[T]ake arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks 1755
That flesh is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die- to sleep.
To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 1760
Must give us pause.

But no. I still don’t want to chance the dreams that may come, and so, again, like Hamlet, I say “Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.”

Yet, still, to be safe, I have various suicide hotlines on speed dial in my cell phone, as well as the local on-call mental health crisis team.

So yes, it’s hard. And yes, it’s exhausting. But ultimately, I still have fat too much work to do to quit now.

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