So.

Here I am again. TW for self-harm. And just…General angsty crap and venting.

I’m…Not good at writing about my feelings, I think. Or feelings in general. Though I suppose it doesn’t really matter; it’s hardly here to be presented to some audience or for academic criticism. Just, I’ve been told it’s good to vent and write. I thought I’d try it.

So. I hurt myself again. And I’m tired.

Things are quite difficult, recently. It would be…Convenient. To be able to name something. Point at it and give it all the blame, but…It’s not so simple. It’s just…Almost everything. It’s grey and crappy all the time. The news is nothing but shit news. The economy is going to shit. I’m in a job I don’t like and I’m stuck there because I’m lucky to be employed at all. And….For all my years of transitioning, I might as well be at the start. That, most of all.

I recently saw an image on Reddit of a trans woman; it was a before and after, with only a few years between. But….She passed so well. She looked so much better. I’ve been on hormone replacement for probably double the time she has….And I still look like shit. I still don’t pass. I don’t think I ever will. My chest is still basically flat, even, despite what HRT is supposed to do.

It feels like….Every other trans person is lucky compared to me. My body just doesn’t want to respond well to it…Barely responds at all. I’m so very tired of suffering. Of looking at myself in the mirror and wanting to die. I’m tired of holding out hope for changes that aren’t coming. I’m tired of getting misgendered, and wanting to slash my face because of my reflection.

And on top of that, everything is shit recently. Every time I have to see the papers at work, it’s bad news. Brexit trainwrecks, coronavirus, political bastardry, the climate…I just can’t see anything good coming up. I know, it’s not all bad thing. I know this. I tell my friend frequently. The papers always focus on the shit, because it gets sales. But I suppose taking my own advice and remembering that is still difficult. So, I got ground down.

Lastly, thinking about it, my meds ran out. Every time, I think “Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time I’ll find I’m okay again.” But I’m not. I’ll think I am, and then something will happen, and my mental health, my apparent stability will turn out to be a lie. Every time.

How did this happen? I was sure that, once, I was in relatively decent mental health. And then I remember, that was…Over four years ago. If not longer. I don’t remember ever feeling particularly happy, in general. But just…Decent. I miss that feeling. I’m not exactly sure anymore what that was like.

I sometimes wonder if it even matters to try and avoid hurting myself. Does it even make a difference? I’m wrecked anyway, so what does it matter, I think.

I don’t have anything good to say in this post. No bright side, or something I learned. Just a vent. This isn’t a good time for anyone’s mental health.

Tomorrow will probably be better. I want to post again soon with sculpting and rendering progress. I’ll just sleep and try not to think about it. Having relapsed, it’ll hold for a while. This post can go in my new Trash Posts section, and be forgotten.