Dear November, welcome, now gtfo….
November is starting off with a bang. First, I called a helping agency the first about clothing. During the course of the conversation the man on the phone said, ‘Well women’s days are such and such, you need to come in and get a number.” I explained that I wear men’s clothes. He said he wasn’t sure if that was possible, as ”The men’s section isn’t open on women’s days.”
I then explained I’m transgender, it’s not a matter of preference.
Albany has a non-discrimination policy. [I’ve since learned that the facility is religious and self-funded so they can legally discriminate—morally is another story] The correct reply should simply be, ‘Oh all right, no problem.”
Nope. I’m told I have to wait to speak to someone who won’t be back for TWO WEEKS. I told him my need was dire.
It was met with disinterest.
I am NOT a woman. Yes, I have a woman’s body, unfortunately, but I am not one.
So dude, thank you, for my first taste of discrimination, thankfully it was minor. But it still fucking pisses me off.
Then, my father calls a week ago, and our first cat, that we’ve had since I was in HS (I’m 31), had to be put down.
Finally… because of a $3 screw up, I ended up with $176 in bank fees last month. I live on SSD (disability) and after I paid rent this month, had $15 for the month. Doing the math, btw, that’s 3330% interest on that $3. (Yes, three THOUSAND percent).
i’ve been sick from stress, because no matter how you slice it or dice it $15 doesn’t last a month. I did one load of laundry and bought one tray of chicken, one loaf of bread, and one pack of cheese. In addition to my 5 days worth of food pantry stuff, that was supposed to get me through a month (along with a small care package a friend is supposed to send). Right. And pigs fly. Forget about my prescriptions or more laundry.
Sunday night, I went to bed in tears (a common condition lately), literally begging god for help. For something—anything.
Monday, I signed on my livejournal on and saw a post from a lj friend about a wishlist comm. I debated for half an hour before I decided to ask for help. It was the hardest post I’d ever written, and the feeling… when you ask for help like that… it sucks. You have to completely shed your pride to do something like that. And when you’re that desperate, wondering if you’ll have enough food to last the month, and no one’s been buying what you’re selling… But, it felt like an answer to my prayer at least.
Right… people forget that on the other end of the computer is a human… Several amazing and wonderful people helped me, yes. I am beyond grateful for that. I now have money for my meds, and more groceries, and can wash my binders, and do another load of laundry when the three pairs of pants I have are dirty. I’ve cried tears of joy for that help.
Others… others attacked me, assuming (rightly or wrongly) that I’m not part of the fandom that the wishlist was set up in (which the moderator/admin/owner of the community had said did not have to be active fans), based on my listed interests and communities. They questioned my sincerity, accusing me of scamming, and in general being hurtful. They also attacked the comm mod who defended me.
Finally I PMd her asking if I should just remove the post. I didn’t want trouble for her, and really couldn’t take much more myself. She said yes, because no one was going to listen to a thing I could say, and I did. I’ve stayed in the community so far, thinking that I might be able to help with non-monetary wishes, but I’m so fucking bitter right now…
I’m grateful to the ones that helped me. Like, I’ll never forget this til I die grateful and will pay it forward when I can grateful—I remember when I get helped. But I’m fucking bitter at how I was treated by some of the people. The whole being treated like fucking shit, for being desperate enough to have to stoop to the level of pleading for help from strangers online because I literally had NO ONE left to ask…it hurts. I feel like these ones are the people that would spit at a beggar on the street, saying he’d only use the money for booze.
I felt kicked. And battered. And beaten down. The system isn’t helping me (enough) right now, and some of my fellow men took a good swift kick while I was down. I’m at the point where I want to sleep, but can’t. Yesterday, I couldn’t until 830 am. I have to wait til exhaustion overwhelms me.
I know things will get better, it’s just a matter of staying sane til they do. And not letting bitterness eat me up inside until then…
