Back in the (Horrifying) Saddle Again

Over the past 15 years or so I've been a participant in a good handful of trans support groups. My time with these groups varied, and there are different reasons why I stopped attending each. I stopped going to the most recent one I went to, which was probably about five or six years ago, because seemingly any time someone had something to say about their lives, it was essentially, "I really wanted to kill myself this week," and this was said with all the tragic earnestness in the world. We would then discuss it until it was time to move on to the next person, who then would echo these same engulfing feelings of mounting despair and hopelessness… "I really wanted to kill myself this week." And so it went for the full hour.

The sentiment was as ubiquitous as it was affecting. These dreadful feelings cast a palpable pall over the meeting room every time I attended. 

Still, I was at a point where I was trying to connect with and help others, so I went to this group every week for a few months and tried to offer input and advice whenever I felt like I had something supportive to say. Eventually, though, it just got too grueling and depressing, and going to this particular group really started to bring me down more than not going. This is especially so because I had dealt with the whole wanting-to-kill-yourself-on-the-reg kind of feelings for years. I fought my way through them, and hadn't been truly suicidal in quite some time. Hearing the despair in the room was starting to wake these dormant feelings from slumbering deep inside me, and I knew it was time to get out.

And I don't mean to sound glib or cavalier about this, but in dealing with being trans, and reading about it, and hearing people's stories about their own journey with it over the course of a decade or so, you realize that the statistic saying that 40% of trans people attempt suicide is not only accurate, but may very well be a conservative estimate.

Being as stalled as I am with this process, lately I’ve been trying to make a firm effort to finally get past this stage of transitioning and on with my life. In doing so, I have started therapy again (which has been a GOD. SEND.), and I am fairly certain that I need to be around some people sharing this experience and to try to at least be some part of this community. I don’t have any trans friends, and while I have a ton of support from some awesome and amazing people in my life (MANY thanks!), there is a different kind of connection that you can forge with people that truly understand on a deep, innate level what you’re going through and what you’re feeling… because they’re going through it and feeling it as well. I need this in my life right now.

So, even though I was filled with the trepidation that my past forays into trans support groups instilled in me, I went back to one tonight. It was an interesting experience that I haven’t fully processed yet, but there were some first impressions that I’d like to share. 

There was a degree of familiarity to the proceedings, even though I knew no other people in the room. And while there was only one mention of a suicide attempt (in the past tense, thankfully), the stories that these people told were still tear-inducing, infuriating, and, in some cases, utterly horrifying. To hear these people… these strangers… bear their souls, to hear about their heart-wrenching struggles with their families and the people closest to them was all too similar to stories I’ve heard through the years from trans people who I’ve sat in groups with, and brought back to my mind in crystalline fashion the heartache, fear, anger, hurt, and raw vulnerability that I have experienced in similar situations and that still wells up in me during bad times.

Weirdly, this almost took me aback. In contrast to how much visibility, acknowledgement, and public support trans people have begun to experience over the past few years, the reality of the experiences I heard this evening was a clear display of just how much further we need to go as a society so that trans people aren’t suffering the way these people are… and the way I do as well.

In addition to this, I have felt that with as much acceptance as trans people have been getting lately (compared to even just five years ago), there is now a backlash. There is now a staunch, focused outrage about us, and with the most recent election, and the reaction elicited from this election… be it hate crimes, hate speak, or just amplified hatred in general… things with transpeeps have taken a step back. And it’s scary for us, even more so than the usual day to day is.

And so I’m writing today to implore everyone to seek a deeper understanding, to strive for an abundance of love, and to truly embrace those good people who happen to be different from you. Help acceptance grow. Help alleviate suffering. Help heal. Help in any way you can. There are people who truly need it, and help can only be achieved through a unified, concerted groundswell of effort, because there is seriously a mountain of work that still remains undone. Tonight proved this fact to me.

The good news here is that one mere minor step anyone takes in this direction can go hundreds of miles in helping someone out. If we all take that one minor step, think of how much bad can be eradicated.

Sincerest thanks to those of you who have already taken a step in this direction, be it large or small or many. You know not how much good you do. 

As always, much love to you all.