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Talky Tina

I spent a while on the phone with insurance today. I called centers a couple weeks ago. I'm walking away from these phone calls believing that I'm too queer and too poor to get help.

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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.

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Tina, this is an LGBTQ safe space. If anyone is mean to you, just let any of the mods know, and we will happily crucify them for you.

 

 

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