I´d been feeling pretty good on T. But since I received that letter from the gender clinic, saying they weren´t prepared to meet me half way after all, I am pretty much back in the emotional dump, trying to get myself back on track. Yesterday I talked to the gender therapist. Instead of hiding my emotions like I usually do, I gave him hell. Politely, but extremely angrily.
I thought that it would make me feel better if I showed him how I felt. But it did not. I just feel a lot of pain – and the pain about this intensifies my reactions to everything else, once again leaving me susceptible to whirlwind emotions that had calmed down last week. The pain stems from not being heard and the apparent fact that they care more about their commitment to protocol than for me.
Though at first their argument for closely sticking to the protocol was “you might become suicidal on T“, now they have switched the argument to “we owe a strict protocol to the insurance companies and medical experts“. When I argued that I am the one paying for my healthcare, the therapist retorted that “this is not a candystore” and “you can´t just pick whatever you want“, as if speaking to an infant child.
I feel diminished and discouraged. I tried since September last year, to have patience, just stick it out, things will get better eventually. But no matter what kind of fight I have put up, or what kind of efforts I have made to make headway, they just won´t acknowledge me when I argue that I need a different approach in order to stay safe. That I won´t sacrifice my well-being for their evaluations.
On the phone, he retorted: “we can take it slow“, by which he means that the exact approach that worsens my depression can be extended, so that I would feel equally depressive yet for a longer amount of time. I feel as though they think of themselves as these incredibly professional, exceptionally rational and empathetic people, ever above my own ability to figure out what is best for me.
I experienced so much rage after that one phone call that the progress I had made the past week totally collided on me. I felt humiliation and shame for collapsing again, and resentful because I´m not willing to give them the satisfaction of crumbling under their ridiculous protocol. The question remains how I can survive this shitstorm in a somewhat human way.