cw: depression, self-harm, suicide, squat, internalized transphobia


I mean this post as a sort of retrospective, and reminder to myself and other people that things aren't always so dire. depression is still a thing, the world is still largely a piece of shit, but sometimes...


first of all, I owe apologies to all the people whom I may have taken with me down the shithole of depression.

depression phases make me seek outlets to vent and hopefully get people to comfort me, but, I tend to just reject their input and continue spewing depression because, well, it's hard to explain. I have that tendency to predict that the outcome of a process will be the worst one possible, especially if I see myself powerless against said process, if I fail to see any way I can see where I failed and how I can improve. I am aware of the vampirizing pattern, consuming people's positive energy only to feed my own negativity, and try to avoid it, but sometimes, depression gets hard to deal with.

I feel better right now, and there are some brighter prospects for once, so I'm going to write this post while it lasts.


I'm going to write about my background, mostly to say that it is important to take the time to discover yourself, a process that may be diffcult given all the pressure to be productive and all that.


where do I even begin, though?


hm...


the year is 2011.

I am 17 years old and out of high school, with my diploma (bac) that I barely obtained. which is a bit of an accomplishment considered how shitty my general grades were save for a couple subjects.

my high school days were mostly spent being alone and just waiting for the damn thing to be over so I could get back home and hop on the internet, where my life was.

"if you do good at school you will get a good job", well, that always felt abstract to me. it was a fuzzy prospect, far away; deep inside I knew it could not be that easy. I never had any real motivation to get through school work, just undergoing it and doing barely enough because it was mandatory.

anyway, now is the time where I am prompted to decide what I want to do after school. haha. I'm bad at making choices. especially for this. I don't really know what I want to do, and with all the choices, it feels overwhelming. all I know is that I enjoy programming (and any sort of construction work, really).

so my parents pick for me. of course, since I was diagnosed "gifted child", they want me to achieve something intellectually great. which is why the part that matters most is that I like programming, while my passion for construction work is relegated to a mere hobby, something that doesn't really matter, despite all the work I put into helping them renovate their house.

so, I'm going to that engineering school, where my dad also happens to teach things. coincidence? I think not.


my time at engschool, and later, university, is mostly more of the same, with a bit more IRL social interaction, but it's difficult to really do anything when any interesting place is a 1h+ commute away, and you can't do anything at all past 21:00.

either way, I barely pass my semesters, or sometimes outright fail them, even with second-chance exams. same pattern, there are a couple subjects where I excel, and the rest is awfully abstract and complex crap that a) doesn't interest me in the slightest and b) that I just can't get into, no matter how hard I try.

doesn't help that mom puts some crazy importance into this, which makes me feel like I'm doing it for her with no other goal than making her happy, which, afdbldfg.

for one, putdowns are common: that I'm lazy, that I only do what I like, that I refuse learning things that are new to me, that I can't stand contrariety or failure, that I'm like that because I'm a spoilt brat who always had it easy... despite my mental barrier (which at this time is only made of pride), those things begin to get to me.

the best is when I tell her that I'm questioning this whole university shit, am I taking the right path, etc. her response? "you're just saying that because it's getting hard and you're lazy".

and then you claim that you can't get to know me because I don't say anything...

also, she's fond of forcing her help upon others, which, you guess, doesn't bode well.

depression eventually starts to be a thing, even though it's pretty muted by something I find out later. it's hard to see any purpose in life when you're just doing something because you were more or less shoved into it, and don't find any sense to it. you get that feeling that you're just letting your youth run away.

to add to it, I pressure myself about finding a girlfriend, which is the best way to get nowhere. as a side note, at that time I already know I'm bi, but I have that feel that I have to deflower myself, and that it doesn't count if it's not PiV sex with a girl. in retrospect, that is really stupid, but... yeah.

2013 is also when I try shaving my body hair, and, like anything gender-variant I ever did, it is just mocked into oblivion by my relatives. I had gender-variant feels since my male puberty, but I'd always just feel weird for that. you just need to get a girlfriend. you're just doing that for attention. that's just a fetish. it's just that being a girl is more exciting. you should stay normal or you will never find a job. etc...


flash forward.


the year is 2016.

I move out of the shithole. no idea what I'm going for, but I need out, the whole thing is going nowhere.

but now atleast I have the possibility to explore myself unencumbered.

regardless, the first months are spent trying to find a job, and going through depression. well, job hunting is a shitty, soul-crushing, dehumanizing game. it's pretty bad when that is the requirement to be allowed to live.

among that, I find r/LateStageCapitalism, which eventually brings me to itsgoingdown.org. I'd always had a militant fiber without really knowing, so, well, I turn anticapitalist. I begin getting involved in the local scene, attend gathering and protests (where I meet people who, to this day, are still my friends).

anticapitalism, and criticism of work in the capitalistic sense, are elements I can use to counter mom's "you're lazy" shit. I still feel that I'm missing something, though.

I end up landing a sorta-job, that begins later (March 2017) and lasts 6 months. with which I can make ends meet.

well...


flash forward.


the year is 2017.

my job is over. job hunting shit all over again! yay. I thought that job was going to be 'the foot in the door', so I could get an actual, lasting developer job, but nope. getting depressed over this doesn't help, either.

I'm left in a dire situation. my 'job' was not a true job, so, no unemployment fund for you, fuck you and have a nice day. I'm not good for RSA (base income) either, you need to be atleast 25. I ask Pôle Emploi (employment agency) how the fuck I'm supposed to survive, answer is basically "get a job, idiot".

yeah well.

they tell you to "just apply to McDonald's". as if I'd last longer than one week. I just can't withstand pressure.

at the same time, I find out that I'm transgender. as if that shit was going to help me. but, atleast, as silly at that may sound, putting the 'trans' label onto my feelings makes them legit to my eyes. I'm no longer a weirdo, I'm trans, and I'm going to actually transition.

but

at that time, my militant friends want to open a squat, so I follow them.

which may sound crazy, but:

* under French law, squatters are treated the same as tenants who haven't been paying rent, ie you can get several months of legal delay prior to eviction.

* I need time to discover myself, do things that have purpose to me, without being pressured to fit a mold, be productive, or otherwise fearing that my choices might offend my boss or my landlord or whoever holds my right to live.

* I need to avoid bankruptcy! because otherwise I'd be paying rent without making money, which you guess doesn't go well.

* my parents were guarantors for that apartment. things did not go that well when I came out to them.

so, it's a big, glorious humanitarian squat where we house migrant families. that's a thing in France, social services are so crowded that people who need emergency housing are routinely sent to these squats.

the pinnacle of 2017 is when I decide to visit my parents for Christmas, but we get into an argument over something else, and mom finds it clever to drag my transness into it. I make a U-turn, pretty much, and decide to settle in the squat for good.


flash forward


the year is 2018.

I worry about the whole trans thing. I worry about ending up being some unpassable freak, never finding love, never finding a job, etc, these things.

this is also when the aforementioned squat is terminated, which results in a shitshow. basically, I'm bounced between several other squats that are all more or less shitty, with no real stability or place to call home.

what do you think would result from this? major fucking depression. seeing myself trapped into a constant shitshow. crying like every goddamn day. no hope. oh yeah, did I mention that HRT made depression way more colourful? instead of a general "I am disappointed" feeling, it was more like crying and even talking about suicide.

to give you an idea, the last squat of that series was a two-bedroom house that was inhabited by 10-20 people. I'm not making that up. 2 mattresses in one bedroom, 5 in the other one, some more in the living room, in the garage, and even outside. this is fun the first few days but otherwise quickly tiring.

but, ultimately, things start to get better when I start putting together my own plan. I get one of my friends to help me open an apartment to squat. the endeavor goes well, the apartment provides me a cute little place and some safety, allowing me to recompose myself and take care of myself.

this is when I start some one-year State program officially meant to help young folks stuck in precarity, but in reality it's only good for the monthly 484€ paycheck.

this is also when the Yellow Vests (Gilets Jaunes) protest movement appears, and oh boy does that give hope, especially in a period that was politically moribund. so maybe after all it's not going to be just Macron's government crushing resigned poor folks until they end up committing suicide.


flash forward


the year is 2019.

I have spent much of my transition worrying that I would never be passable, or that I would never find love, those things. exhibiting the same patterns IRL and online, depression, vampirizing people, and even, in the worst situations, talking about suicide, cutting myself, etc...

I should know that I'm just being overly negative. depression is a bitch.

during late 2018 was a period where I was apparently androgynous enough that strangers asked me "are you a boy or a girl?" on several occasions. which seems to have ended now. I think that most people see me as a girl.

I worried about being seen as a 'man in a dress' or whatever, and getting shit aimed at me for that. but, during this Summer, I just jumped in and wore girl clothes in public. nobody bats an eye. I don't think I pass 100%, but in this place, people don't give a shit. so after all, I've been worrying for nothing, mostly.

I also took the decision to increase my E dosage, which did help me feel better.

there are amusing situations. like, that girl who knew me from the 2018 State program I attended, who knew me under my deadname. I ran into her a while ago in the town center, so she used my deadname and male pronouns until I corrected her. which is where her friend chimed in: "I was wondering why you gendered her male, I thought, 'but that's a girl' ".

I know that my voice does not pass, despite having changed a bit somehow, but... dunno. people don't seem to mind that.

and, hell, a few days ago, I've been to that concert that was held in a squat. it was good seeing a lot of friends, talking with people, drinking, dancing... and, holy fucking shit, there were guys hitting on me. I even ended up smooching that guy's face near the end.

I kept worrying that being trans would make me undesirable, but, well, it's been proven that I was wrong.

oh also

I have an interview tomorrow, with that company that has already interviewed me, so chances are that they're going to hire me for some construction work. we'll see, but this feels good.

probably also going to rent an apartment with a friend. but nothing set in stone at this point.

but



things do get better



hoping that you have found inspiration in this read.

____________________
Kuribo64 - melonDS