A Desperate Plea

If I am going to be honest with everyone, myself included, I have to tell the truth, but I suppose that goes without saying.

I am depressed, I know I’ve said it before and at this point I’m probably beginning to sound like a broken record, I just can’t shake it. I try to focus on something else but nothing keeps my attention long before the overwhelming feeling of failure seeps back into my consciousness.

I wish I was dead. I wish I wouldn’t wake up in the morning and all this pain and suffering was over. That idea makes me hate myself. Yes, I said it, I hate myself. I am a coward for wanting death as an easy escape. Yet, I cannot allow myself that easy luxury because there are too many people that depend on me. That in turn myself me hate myself more, allowing anyone to get close enough to sway my decisions. It’s a never-ending cycle of depression, self-loathing, anger and hatred.

I am supposed to be excited about starting HRT towards the end of the month, but if I do I feel like I’ll be taking away from my family. We really can’t afford the T let alone the cost of the doctor’s appointment. My fiance insists that we will make it work, we always do, but I can’t help but feel like I’m being a selfish jerk if I do.

I don’t have any insurance to help cover the cost of anything, so the whole cost of everything, tests, appointments etc, would come out of what little we have saved to help keep a roof over our heads.

I wish we could make it back to Richmond, Virginia. They have a clinic there for the trans community. They take care of all the medical aspects and the paitent only has to pay for the hormones. The Fan Free Clinic.

Around here…there’s nothing like that.

I miss my family in Richmond…Okay, I miss my Momma and I know that Emily misses her mother too. I feel like we have nothing left here.

My own mother…

The person I thought would be my best friend forever…

The person I thought I could always talk to no matter what and who would always love me…

She doesn’t. It hurts. I hurts bad. I wonder if she feels anything knowing possibly the last thing she ever told her second born child when they asked for a hug was, “No, I don’t think so,” then walked away.

I don’t think she even cares, and I think that is what hurts the most.

We have nothing left here.

We all want to go home, but right now we’re stranded.

So.

I am asking for help.

I don’t want to beg for money, because to me that’s tasteless.

I mean if I wanted to do that, I could stand on a street corner and make something up.

I have until April 1st to have money raised for the trip, or its another month in hell, and honestly I don’t know if I can make it.

I can do graphics, some website design. I can even knit baby hats (once I find my supplies from storage.)

I’m asking for piece work so we can get out of here and go home.

Emily has suggested a Café Press store and I’ll be trying that as well.

If anyone is interested…

My email is KeleAyunli@gmail.com

Thanks for listening.