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Big Black Closet of Rage

by Gentle JoJo Fletcher 4 months ago in recovery
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Open Letter to my First Psychiatrist

Big Black Closet of Rage
Photo by Trude Jonsson Stangel on Unsplash

Dear Dr. You Know Who You Are,

My name is Teegan, and I'm a 47 yr old transgender man. I used to be your patient by another a name, and you shockingly abused your position of power over me. I am writing to give you an update, following our lengthy complaint process.

I recently experienced a spontaneous remission of all my symptoms, after a pivotal meeting with my psychiatrist where I was told that I am not now and never have been psychotic, except a tiny bit when I was manic. I experience a form of multiple personality disorder that is very hard to diagnose because it is not dissociative. I very rarely lose time or have memory black outs, (twice in my life), and the different people in my head all coexist within the larger consciousness. Following the psychiatrist's visit, which led to a time of intense introspection and a divine intervention moment with my higher power, all of my remaining personalities integrated to form one me, Teegan.

All my reasons to die went away. My gender identity solidified. My sexual orientation became fixed and not fluid, and all my suicidal, self harming, and disordered eating behaviors stopped. I am happy with my body, which you would think is odd, since I am transgender. But “happy with my body,” just means glad to be alive IN A BODY, of some kind, which is such a nice feeling after 47 years of wishing to die.

I do want to make changes, but I'm not dying of body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria like I was. I am losing weight effortlessly and without dieting, because my eating habits have changed overnight to reasonably healthy food choices and far fewer calories. I am sewing again, after a ten year break, and I am in the process of launching a You Tube Channel for my designs. Fashion and costuming is my passion and I am falling in love with my sewing machine. I will be starting a new job sometime in April.

I have stopped pretending to be normal. I have accepted the fact that I am disturbed and twisted. The way I cope with it is by appealing to my higher power, and staying in close communication with my spiritual supports. In spite of all the nice, divine influence, my idols are always going to be the people you consider to be bad guys, and I am never going to stop lying to avoid conflict. I am channeling my aggression into some very goth fashion, and also into setting impenetrable boundaries on jerks who want to misgender me and manipulate me into bed. ( Way too much of that happening!)

It turns out, that when it comes to art (and fashion is art.) there is no such thing as too aggressive or too savage. Art is a great outlet for rage and grief and blood lust and all kinds of ugly emotions. It feels so good to not be repressed! I no longer go through life thinking that if I don't censor every thought, I'm going to end up in jail for murder. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm just really dark, and I'm an artist.

All my truly dangerous feelings have vanished. Things that would have motivated me to act out on myself or others have all been resolved. I've forgotten what it feels like to want to actually hurt others in literal fact. Now, I would way rather not hurt others, because I don't have time to deal with the consequences of cruelty. I have art to make, and things to express. I have zero availability for victimhood, given or received. I haven't become a nicer person; I've just become a smarter, more motivated person, and a person in a whole lot less pain.

I'm not claiming to be cured, Dr. You Know Who. I'm just saying I “got better” through a combination of good medicine, faith, and personal willingness to take a chance on myself and let myself be happy. I still take my meds. I still see a therapist. But I'm alive now, where I was dead before. I made it out alive, and that is a reason to celebrate.

I don't want to talk about you, because there is no excuse for you. I got better in spite of your care not because of it. But there is some sweetness in knowing that I overcame something as monumental as the bitterness of being completely invalidated. I survived the deadliest combination of mental illness and mental distress known to mankind, including, internalized narcissistic rage and unrelenting suicidal ideation, internalized homophobia/transphobia, gender dysphoria and body dysmorphia, an abandonment complex, a lifetime of grief, and loss, and rejection, and poverty, OSFED, Bi-polar 1, CPTSD, Identity Disorder NOS, and probably some undiagnosed autism and sociopathy as well. I'm a rock star!!!! And I don't give a pigs pancreas what you think about me. I don't need your approval to exist. I like myself. I bet that's more than you can say.

Sincerely, Teegan E.

recovery

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Gentle JoJo Fletcher

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