This post is PART 20 in a guest blogger series following author Rachael's transition from an A.M.A.B (Assigned Male at Birth) individual to that of a self-identified trans woman.
If you are just discovering Queer as me, start the story from the beginning here.
It was the late the next afternoon that found me, walking in the cool weather to the hospital after work. I didn’t know what would happen, but I doubted that anybody could do or say anything to make me deviate from my indifferent death wish. While I sat in the emergency waiting room to see someone, I watched others being picked up by family members and loved ones. None of that for me I’m sure I thought.
As they called my name I went up and explained that I was told to come here by the crisis team the previous night. I was placed in a single small room.
I didn’t care.
A young lady came in and introduced herself as a councilor. She asked if I knew why I was here, I laughed sarcastically, I was told that I had to come here, supposedly I was of value and worth saving.
Not that I believed that.
I was a monster,
a freak of nature,
Something to be destroyed.
The councilor stopped me there and asked me why I thought so. So, I started from the beginning, the trans, the abuse, the many times that people showed me that I was nothing, not worth a damn nickel. She said she had to step out for a second, and if I could please just wait there for a few minutes. She promised that she would be back, my indifference showed plainly on my face. Fine.
I looked at the time on my watch and realized it was eleven at night. I had been talking for five hours straight. I went to leave but found the door was locked. That was a surprise, but before I could think of what reason the door would be locked, the counselor returned with her supervisor. She introduced herself as a doctor and asked me what my plans were tonight. I said I didn’t know probably go home I guess.
Well she explained that from what she was told I had been through some incredible amounts of trauma in my life and it all seemed to be coming to a head.
So, I answered?
That’s all my life ever was, trauma. Nothing could be done about it, as I just keep surviving, whether I wished to or not.
Well, I had two choices she explained, one I could sign myself in to the hospital, for observation, or they would.
Stunned, I asked why, this was the first time anyone threaten to take away my freedom for the truth of my existence. She apologized but she didn’t think I was in any way able to make a sound judgement call on what I was going to do in the next twenty-four hours.
So, what would it be?
Her signature or mine?
A flash of the movie “one flew over the cuckoo’s nest” went through my tired brain. I might never get out if they sign, so, I did the only option they gave me. I signed away my freedom. I was no longer in control of my destiny.
Editor’s Note: To read Queer as me – Part 21: Madness and sorrow unending, click here. Or click here to read the previous blog post Queer as me – Part 19: Desolation and final decisions, For the latest LSOP blog posts and so much more, make sure to add us on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.