Rough Day - Chapter 01

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She had lost everything but her teddy bear and an old blanket.

--SEPARATOR--

I crawled into the dumpster behind my apartment complex hugging my teddy bear. Persey tried to cheer me up, saying, “Mommy, it will be all right, we have got through worse.” But we both knew it had never been this bad.

I had managed to grab an old blanket and Persey as I was forcibly being removed from my apartment. They came at midnight, just as the eviction notice had warned. They were prompt. I had to give them that.

I wrapped that blanket around us as I huddled in the back corner of the dumpster. It was supposed to get down into the 20's tonight, and I knew that the blanket would not be enough to keep us warm, but I had to try. Persey deserved it.

If we could get though the night, then maybe I could get to the city to find a shelter. It was unlikely though. Most shelters here do not take in pre-op trans-women. It was the only option I had left.

So we lay back and watched the beautiful night sky. I so loved the stars. I kept telling myself I should learn their names, and still had not put aside the time to do it. I was thinking that maybe get through this night I would make the time. I remembered as a Boy Scout it had been a luxury to lay and watch the stars. I never imagined I would end up here.

--SEPARATOR--

It did not start out that way.

He was a well paid professional working for one of the top online retailers. He had a family with two beautiful and intelligent children and his life was going well. Only, it was all an illusion, based on the idea that he was actually male.

Then his parents died an he fell into a horrible depression. His father had been his rock and without him, he could no longer fend off those demons inside. He did try and cope, and even increased his psychological medications, but it just was not enough to keep him stable.

He lost him job shortly after that; for cause. They said too many late days and absences. It was all too easy for his new boss to discard his years of devotion. His boss could not be patient knowing he was having troubles, but would eventually be okay. The boss wanted results now! And even though he had saved the company millions of dollars and was one of their top architects, that was all in the past and unimportant. He was just a statistic and now he was gone.

After his insurance ran out, he had to go off of the drugs that held him together. They say, “Never quit taking your psych meds unless approved by your Dr.” Ironic that rule assumes you can afford to see your Doctor and purchase the medications. Only without the medications, he could not maintain a semblance of a normal life. Eventually, it became impossible for him to get through an interview without a panic attack, effectively making him unemployable.

The voices started then. They told him that society had made it's choice. He was not deemed worth saving. They only wanted responsible, contributing members. Not sick people pretending to be normal. They told him that they would be better off without him. Even his wife began telling him the same things. And he believed all of it.

The suicide attempts began shortly after that. She ended up being kept mostly sedated in order to stabilize her mood swings. So much so that he qualified for disability because he was no longer able to leave the house on his own. The disability checks were not much, but they allowed him to survive and be responsible for his children.

After the last suicide attempt, something finally clicked and she awoke. After almost two years of intense therapy, she began her journey to be her true self and started Hormone therapy. Two months after HRT began, she was asked to move out by her wife, so she found a roommate and left.

Now even that had fallen through, and and here she was, all alone.

--SEPARATOR--

I tried to fight them, but still those voices kept coming back. “You are worthless. You need to be responsible provide for yourself. You are a waste of my tax money. It is too bad that you did not just die.” Looking at where I was, I began thinking maybe I don't belong in this world, and that perhaps it is better this way.

I cried until there were no more tears left. Only now I was colder than I was before.

My shivering got really bad. I had to bite down on a corner of the blanket to keep my teeth from shattering together. I realized I was not going to make it though the night, but that was okay now. I had not given up. That was the important thing.

When I thought I could not stand the cold any longer, a feeling of warmth enveloped me, and I felt at peace. I whispered, “Good night Persey,” and closed my eyes and dreamed of the warmth of my father's arms around me. Of my father telling me, “It is okay now, just rest my wonderful daughter.” Oh I had longed for that, and now he was here. And then I slept in peace.

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Comments

wow

I think you just wrote about me, but I'll be curled up with snoopy

I can picture it

in all its gory detail.

'Every Silver Lining Has a Cloud'.

S.

there is a silver lining here too

but you will just have to wait until the next chapter.

Bright Blessings,
Cassie Ellen

Rough day

So sad,I had to get the tissues out.Great story,well written,well done.

devonmalc

NO... you can't have it! (UPDATE)

Andrea Lena's picture

...no matter what comes, I will never ever wish this on another human being. Sometimes it's completely alright to not 'share' like Mr. Rogers used to say. No one should ever have to endure this commonality of pain:

The voices started then. They told him that society had made it's choice. He was not deemed worth saving. They only wanted responsible, contributing members. Not sick people pretending to be normal. They told him that they would be better off without him. Even his wife began telling him the same things. And he believed all of it.

When I was in college I was going through the most despressive time of my life. And about that time Abbey Road came out. I've mentioned this before, but the song that kept 'playing' in my head was Golden Slumber/Carry That Weight/The End. I hated it and embraced it at the same time because it accused me and condemned me but spoke to my heart.

'Boy,' You're gonna carry that weight...carry that weight a long time. I'm only three weeks or so from my sixty-second birthday, and the song still inserts itself on the playlist of my mind. It's not as loud or intrusive by a very long mile, but it still needles me now and then.

We so often find ourselves feeling quite alone and abandoned; even in a family filled with spouse and children or a room filled with friends. Then we read a story like this; a story that tells me...us, that we're not alone at all. That someone has stood on the same precipice or stared at the same bottle of pills; and happily walked away. This story has me crying, and I'm sorry if my comment has run on so long, but I thought you'd like to know how deeply it touched me; in a very good way indeed. Thank you!

I apologize to both Cassie and anyone who read this comment before 9:18 AM since the wording was vague enough to seem like I was telling Cassie not to share this story. On the contrary, it's a story from which most everyone might gain a great deal of benefit and peace. Sorry about the ramble!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

being alone sucks, being

being alone sucks, being worthless sucks, having no skills to get through life in this world sucks. people sometimes ask what's wrong when they see me crying and all I can say is that life sucks. You get told and shown you are worthless growing up from everyone around you, they can't all be wrong, how can the whole world be telling you that and ignoring you otherwise and it not be right...leaving you with no social skills and no life skills and no way to understand and live in the world around you.

Every single one...

Andrea Lena's picture

...all of them are wrong. I come from a place all too similar to yours. Never had anyone in my life to say 'good job' or 'I'm proud of you!' A mother who loved me but almost at a distance. A father who abused me; but whose lasting impression on my heart was the sting of his words, "What are you, stupid?" Learning how to swim on my own. Learning how to play sports on my own. Being the only kid in the class not to buy a musical instrument when the Music Store salesman came to our school. No input into what college to choose. No emotion when I dropped out of school in a depressive funk. Put that together with gender dysphoria and I bet you'd likely find a great deal of folks here and me in the same boat beside you.

It's infuriating that people see neglect as helpful. Allowing an infant to cry because 'he has to learn he can't cry all the time.' Being hit almost being a metaphor for using a tenderizing mallet on so much tough steak. Hardening and/or breaking the heart and soul of a child. I'm not angry about me. I'm going to be sixty-two and I'm on the other side of nearly all the pain I went through. I'm angry that there are children...yes you're a child who is speaking, even if you're out of your childhood....children who have no idea how precious and dear they are. What talents they have. What pure and unadulterated love that they share with others while feeling unlovable.

I can't be with you, but I'm right there in my heart. I know that being here and writing and reading has been of enormous comfort and strength for me. I pray it is for you as well.

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

My mom told me that my

My mom told me that my ex-step dad once said he was going to "make a man out of me" :(. I don't remember much of my childhood, someone told me my memory issues my stem from stresses from that time. She also said I would come home from school crying a lot but she never tried finding out the reason why, then I would get in trouble for making my mom cry because she was worried about me (but she never said she did anything about either issue).

I've had more than one person tell me I'm still very child-like, and I tend to agree with them. I feel and act more like an awkward, shy, and timid 11 yr old that is walking around a party with a bunch of grown-ups around me.

There's a comedian from the

Andrea Lena's picture

There's a comedian from the 50's and 60's - George Gobel.. on one of his times on the Tonight Show he was sitting on the dais with Johnny Carson, Bob Hope, and Dean Martin. He said "I feel like I'm wearing brown shoes and everyone else is wearing Tuxedos." It's easy to feel out of place when you've been elbowed off the table so to speak all your life. It's so hard when you're made to feel guilty just for being you. It does get better. It may never be perfect, but then none of us live there anyway. There are times when I feel just like the ten-year-old who was hurt; you're not alone. I'd bet you'll find a lot of folks here just like us, right? Child-like and innocent is good. Child-like and feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders is too much for any one to bear. It's moments like this where I wish we had transporters like on the Enterprise so we could actually be face to face. Barring that, you have my heart, dear one.

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

there are very few people

there are very few people that are accepting and/or comfortable with a 45 yr old acting like a pre-teen, really throws people off. Child-like and innocent don't seem to mix to well with peoples expectations of 'adults'

Hmmmmmmmmmmm

NoraAdrienne's picture

adds hiding in a dumpster on a freezing night to list of possible options.

I hope that you do not need it.

Although the dumpster mentioned was a very real one, and the thought of it is very practical, it was also metaphorical. The voices tell me that I am worthless trash and that is where trash goes. I know that they are lying, but I still hear them. And lack of community support tends to confirm the view.

I hope your life is going well.
Cassie Ellen

I Am So Happy This Is Just Chapter 1

littlerocksilver's picture

Otherwise I would be really depressed. As long as there is life, there is hope.

Portia

Agree completely

I have to agree completely. It would be a very sad story. Hopefully there is some redemption in the next chapter.

Rami

RAMI

yes, there is a Chapter 2

Yet, even though it ended as it did, I do not see that it was an entirely bad ending here. Melody had lost her father who was the one person who gave her stability and understanding. In the end, she found he was still there. It does not matter if he was just in her imagination, or there welcoming her to a better place. She found him and the acceptance of who she was, and ultimately she found her inner strength.

Someday, I hope to learn to write such things into my stories as well. Until the, you will have to take my word for it.

Bright Blessings,
Cassie Ellen

Once again

...you have taken a situation and added a unique perspective on it. The way you write is fresh, deep, multilayered, complex, and sweet. (Like a just cooked pot of peach cobbler - yum!) Soooo good!
(I may be a touch biased):)
What will you cook up in chapter 2, chef?
XOXO - **Sigh**

Words may be false and full of art;
Sighs are the natural language of the heart.
-Thomas Shadwell

No child should have to go

through the hell that she did.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Stan.

I think you missed the point. You should probably try reading it again.


I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair

Scary...

When I reached the end of the story, I was scaried this was a ONE chapter story.

What a lonely way to perish.

Glad Cassie said there is another chapter coming -- brings hope to our heroine (and Persey).

Carla

"May you live in Interesting Times" is a promise, not a threat!

I hope the second part is happer for our hero/heroine

I remember enough from being in the Y, Red Cross First Aid and the Boy Scouts to recognize her descriptions of how she felt in the dumpster as signs of serious hypothermia.

That feeling of warmth and sleepiness AFTER uncontrollable shivering is VERY dangerous.

Means you are near to death as your body core temperature can no longer sustain itself and the body is shutting down.

And though a fictional story , all too real. Mental illness is NOT handled well in the US or in a lot of countries as far as I know.

And every year a number of street people and college kids out on a drunk die after taking shelter in a dumpster.

Tragic or ultimately happy, a very intense little piece.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

I had hypothermia symptoms drilled into me.

I was an Eagle scout and my troop went camping every month, no matter what the weather was. I have never gotten to the point of feeling the warmth, but loss of feeling in my feet, and uncontrollably chattering teeth I have experienced. The dumpster, though not ideal by any means is a place out of the wind which is the first concern I was taught in survival training.

I agree with your assessment of how we handle mental illness in the U.S. Although fictionalized, it was my experience and how I got to where I am now. It is also why I am a proponent of socialized medicine. One of my last employers, a very large contracting company, had opted for health insurance that precluded psychological medications. I had to choose not to get health insurance if I were to afford my psych meds because the cost was prohibitive to do both. That was when I realized that competition means cutting costs, not keeping workers employed.

They say "To write what you know" and I am slowly writing out my demons. The difference is that I can go from the horror to the positive things I wish would happen. I find strength where I can.

Bright Blessings,
Cassie Ellen

Well told.

I know those voices well, and how hard it gets to block them out. This touched my soul Cassie, thank you. Love, Jenn.


I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair

I think there is a common archetypal experience

among trans-people, or in larger terms, the mentally ill.

We are taught to hide and pretend that we are okay. Only that makes us more isolated, when what we need is to be able to share our experiences with others who understand.

My experience in N.A. emphasized that idea to me. We came from all walks of life, but we had a common bond that made us a family. Talking about it made us all stronger.

That is what is so wonderful about BCTS. I am finding I am not alone and I have a family here too. It makes a big difference.

Love & Light,
Cassie Ellen