To those of you who were wondering what happened to my upcoming post, regarding starting the hormones, I haven't started them yet. I managed to get my vehicle stuck in a ditch a few feet from my house. The vehicle is fine, and so am I, and the appointment is now re-scheduled for the 15th.
That was initially all this post was going to be about, so people knew I was okay. As the truck was being towed out of the ditch, mom told me to hold off on scheduling an appointment so that she could make one with a local therapist to have me diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, as her therapist had told her that she knows for sure there are local housing arrangements for people with Asperger's syndrome. Even before what ended up happening it sounded fishy to both of us, I've already been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome before, and Such housing arrangements sounded too good to be true.
The day came when I was to be re-diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, and it had already begun foul though nothing out of the ordinary. Mom was not feeling well, on account of her back problems, and as usual, I hadn't gotten very much sleep, as I've been having difficulties sleeping at night, and difficulties staying awake all day for quite some time now.
So we arrive, both of us in pain and foul moods, and I fill out their paperwork. My mood is particularly foul since I was the most suspicious of this and felt that it would turn out to be a waste of time.
I was right... Kind of.
The therapist I ended up seeing had a lot of experience dealing with people with Asperger's, and had some relative understanding of my Transsexuality too. He told me early on he didn't understand the purpose of this visit, as I already had been diagnosed with Asperger's and he didn't understand what we needed him for. I talked with him a bit and he asked me questions about how I felt about Asperger's and Transsexuality. He understood very well how I felt overwhelmed by trying to overcome both at the same time and seemed to honestly care about my plight as a woman and not as a troubled boy with an identity crisis.
And thus hell broke loose.
He called my mom in, though I felt uneasy about this whole thing, and tried to lay it on her: That his knowledge of my condition sounds like the same idea as the ones who are treating me further away, a condition I was born with that I can no more choose than Asperger's... (mom had made an ignorant comment asking "I don't understand, at the clinic they say anyone who wants to be transgender can be transgender, don't they?") My mom became furious with me, blaming me for everything he said.
The rest of the day Mom was silent. All I remember thinking was, If you don't believe a word he said, then nothings changed except that you get a small glimpse of the hopelessness that I live with... How is it my fault that he agrees with me... I didn't do anything to you. She refused to talk to me the rest of the day, I said hi to her as she walked by me and she ignored me. She went to bed without saying goodnight. I guess because the doctor agreed with me, I no longer deserve her good nights. The hardest part of the day, was one particular moment, where she was walking to get water... limping slowly her back still giving her pain, an exhausted defeated look on her face staring blankly ahead of her barely watching where she was going. I felt a dark guilt creep up inside me and it's moments like these, where I forget how angry I am at her, I forget how much fighting we've done, I remember that she's my mother and I love her... These moments are the ones that hurt the most.