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Talky Tina

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  1. My therapists want me to go into residential treatment at a place that is trauma focused along with eating disorders. I've contacted places and they were unwilling to treat me because I'm trans and haven't had surgery. (I mean. I'd love surgery but it's not my fault I can't afford it or my insurance doesn't cover it.) I've contacted my insurance and was told they wouldn't cover any centers located outside of Minnesota. Minnesota doesn't have any trauma centers. We talked about so-called IRTS. We talked about Emily program but they aren't in a hospital. I went to Melrose for a short time but I was asked if I am a trans-woman because I was sexually exploited for 12. I'm not trans because I was abused. I was abused because I'm trans. I told an adult I wanted to be a woman. I had always wanted to be a woman. And they said this is how I go about it. Wear this, do that, all on camera. And it hurt. it hurt for 12 years. It hurts that people can watch those videos of me any day all day and it hurts that I won't ever look like a woman I want to be. All I have is not eating. Or at least it feels that way. This is all I can do to control my body. I'll never look like Scarlett Johanson or Gigi Gorgeous or I don't know. I don't know a lot. I just know I want help. I want help and I feel like I've done verything I can. Except residential treatment. Except maybe ECT. More callous people say I need to stop being a victim. Stop feeling like a victim. But. I don't know. It's like every day I am being abused. There are videos of me online. There are predators still trying to contact me from then. I just want help. No place in MN specializes in PTSD. A couple places in Illinois do. And I was excited to learn that. I love Chicago. It felt like this could be me going away from home. Trying something new in a new place away from everything that reminds me of horrible stuff. It'd be in the same state as my favourite painting. Night Hawks. Same state as The Shed, huge fish. A state that's near enough to feel familiar and a state far enough away from my family, from my pain, from my history just. Something new. Does that make sense? I don't know. I'm too poor to get help. I'm too trans to get help. I'm on Medicare, I'm on Medical Assistance for Employed people with Disability. Disabled people. I need less help than people who aren't disabled. So they cover less. Clearly. That just makes sense. Right? I'unno what else to say. I want help but. I don't know. It's all fucked up right? It's all sorts of fucked up. Heh. "If you have a penis you're not welcome here." "We only accept private insurance." That's what I get to hear. I've been . Gosh. I hope people here aren't mean like... You know? Some people are like... Trans-exclusionary. I hope people here aren't so much like that. That would really hurt right now. Edit: I hate how movies have to have eating scenes. All sorts of scenes talking about how tasty this or that is. It's frustrating.
  2. are you ok havent seen u in forever 

    hope all is well 

  3. Thank you for what you do. I don't have the funds to responsibly donate. Please know that you have a subscriber and someone who will continue to use this service. Also, I didn't read your Blues Brothers quote or recognize you David Bowie icon. I love me some Bowie. I miss him a lot.
  4. AshleyS do you like to sketch? Sketching is fun stuff
  5. I've found video games or comic books to help. Funny things that make me laugh or experience physical reactions. Maybe something like drinking a cold glass of water. Cooking or eating something with spicy taste or a slight burn really helps me out quite a bit. I love spicy food quite a bit. Just some ideas.
  6. Gosh. I... I didn't write it well. I never wanted to come across as advocating for purging. I was trying to say that eating spicy food helped me stop purging. Which is a good thing. Also, the term safe, sane, and consensual is a bit... I'unno. I don't like it. I'm not sane, I don't know that there's a safe way to do face slapping or other stuff I enjoy. There's a safe-er way to do it. And certainly consent is important. I prefer as you put it. Risk Reduction. I just... I'unno. I was trying to come up with less harmful things to do. Which, I think eating the occasional jalapeno (pronounced Ja-La-pen-oh) is better than the occasional other things. Over all I think you're right though Wooster. EDIT EDIT *construction noises* EDIT EDIT uffda... I reread what you posted. Cool. Happy to see that you're down with risk aware language. . I'm curious though... Risk reduction as a practice is discouraged within crazy boards?
  7. The other topic was posted in 2011 and there's only a couple comments. Thought I'd start something new. Hope that's alright. So, a couple things I've learned. I used to harm. A lot. It's been maybe just about two years now. Some things that helped was that first... I'm into a bit of alternative lifestyle stuff. Flogging, bondage BDSM sort of stuff. And it kind of opened up a new way of looking at self harm or other sort of stuff. In a kind of... An active instead of reactive experience. I tried getting my partner to hurt me when I wanted to self harm. And it wasn't so great. But holding an ice cube was helpful. It felt sharp which feels similar to burning for me. Eating spicy... and SPICY food. Things like a ghost pepper or super tasty spicy sauces are super helpful too. The ice cub I can just drop. The spicy food stays with me for a while. And can really help me hold onto an experience. It also helps me avoid restriction. I don't like eating. And when I do I typically purge. Purging spicy food is unpleasant. Purging itself isn't fun. But... purge something that has ghost pepper... and.. it brings a new definition to pain. It's also quite un-sustainable. Now... I'd urge people to be mindful stepping into this stuff. Intentional and don't dive into it. Anything above can go dark and maladaptive. But.. I think that this stuff is a step towards risk reduction.
  8. Sometimes it really does feel like there's no further steps to take. Sometimes it feels like you're not tired you just ran into a wall. A dead end. You can't turn around. You're on tracks. You're not moving so you stare at the wall and there's nothing else you can do. Just stand there and just grit your teeth, bite your tongue, squeeze your fists and try to will yourself forward. But you can't. You just scream at yourself. You just try to force all of your will into your body and you can't move.


    you're done. It's over. You're weak, gross, trash and done. You're not good enough. You're. Not. Good. Enough.  That's what you are. You are, Not Good Enough.


    Not is your first name, Enough is your last and Good is your middle. You want what you want. What you want is gross and bad. You should feel bad. You are bad. You are Not Good Enough. What's that like? What is it like to not be enough?


    Does it suck? Does it feel scary are you mad? Because you're Not Good Enough. Good job. Good fucking job. All of this. 29 fucking years and this is where you are? You piece of shit.

    1. Talky Tina

      Talky Tina

      All it takes is a dare. All it takes is a chance and you're not enough for it. So you just sit there angry at yourself. Unable to make a decision or to move. You just sit there. Angry, and scared. Never enough. Never good enough because that's what you are. It's why you're unemployed at 29. It's why you're not. 

    2. Talky Tina

      Talky Tina

      Do other people ever feel like that? It's weird how things like that feel like they're bubbling up from inside me sometimes.

  9. Absolutely. I've gone ahead and sent a message to my General Practitioner and am awaiting a response. I was flabbergasted so I didn't really have much to say. I just... I'm so.. *grits teeth* what the hell.
  10. I had a psych appointment on Wednesday. She canceled on me an hour before. I haven't met with her yet. I haven't seen a psych since November. My general practitioner thinks it's important that I see a psych soon. I was so agitated. But real life stuff happens. And psychs are people who have real lives. I was offered an appointment next week with her resident and I'd meet with the psych an hour after speaking with this stranger I've never met before. I told the scheduler I'm not going to meet with a resident. I'm apprehensive about meeting with a psychiatrist to begin with and I'm not willing to have a student in the meeting. She scheduled me a month later with that note. I got a call about an hour ago telling me that she will not meet with me without a student observing. I of course said that's ridiculous and I won't go. Fuck that. I wrote my general practitioner a letter saying that if I am not able to meet with my practitioners in private I won't go. I guess I have the option of not going. But... It's taken me a great while to be in a place where I'll meet with a psychiatrist. And to give me that ultimatum. It feels decidedly not patient first. I'm scared of going to see a psychiatrist. I'm scared to do a lot of things. But I was finally willing. I feel like I've been pushed back miles. I mean... What a.. I see the value in education. I've had interns sit in with my therapist. I've had residents look at my body alongside my doctor. But to not be given an option. At our first appointment! Our first appointment. It's fucked the fuck up. God damn sane people.
  11. In November I saw a new psychiatrist. Dude was a dick. He invalidated my experiences asked me if I've had sexual reassignment surgery, assured me that my experiences within the military weren't all bad and then went on to ask if I'm transitioning because I was sexually abused. Then, after I left the room he misgendered me in front of other patients. I went to a lawyer about it. They agreed that it was wrong and have helped me draft up a letter. Got the letter sent out in December and I haven't heard anything else. I had a great psychiatrist. The ignorant psychiatrist practices at the eating disorder clinic I was pursuing treatment from. I haven't been back. My eating disorder goes untreated and no one is assisting me with medication. My general physician is helpful and has been prescribing me stuff in the mean time but she grows concerned with my use of hydroxyzine. A medication I affectionately call baby pill because it's not physically addictive and I can't really overdose on. But I've been taking handfulls to sleep through the day. I've sacrificed it to her in hopes of finding other coping mechanisms. God damnit it's hard to find others that worked so well. I've relapsed into suicidal ideation, food restriction and purging. I have an appointment with another psychiatrist tomorrow. She's from my general practitioners office. I'm quite scared. Tomorrow. It's tomorrow. I'll get the normal PHQ-9. Answer those boring and tedious questions about suicidal thoughts. Plan? Of course. Doesn't everyone have a preferred way? This... Or that... I mean... damn. I don't need to be inpatient. Just trust me. I'll probably have chronic suicidal thoughts until I actually do die and it sucks that it probably won't be by my own hand. Just tell me that you think I'm on the best meds for me, put a stamp on paper and then let me leave so I can go through the rest of my day. --- The therapist I've been working with for six years is ending her relationship with me. She helped me transition and report to the FBI 12 years of abuse. Helped me tell my dad that I was abused and is going to help me tell my mom as well. Then, about 4 months from now we're going to end our relationship. I don't want to. I kind of imagined that her and I would be done when I was 'all better.' Whatever that means. This is life for me. I guess. a slow ongoing slope of getting better. But probably never actually getting 'all better.' Fuck that. damn. damn. damn. --- She runs a not for profit organization that targets transgender and other non-gender conforming communities. It's pretty great. I started going there and was blown away. I thought it would be my found family of sorts. It isn't and it wasn't. Mental illness got in the way and some maladaptive skills really screwed stuff up. I'unno. finding a community is a big deal and I really don't.. I don't know. I want a family of some sort. I get that not everyone gets something like that. And I wonder a lot if I'm just someone who doesn't.
  12. Don't call me dude


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