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Medications

Three Years as a Trans Woman

Three Years as a Trans Woman

It’s been a while since I last wrote about trans stuff on the blog; things have been chill, transition-wise, but here are some things worth telling. So firstly, medications. Last December I was switched to injections of Fensolvi which substitutes the Spironolactone. My doctor suggested this would be a good choice because I am forgetful with my doses, and with the injection I would only need a dose every six months. Also, Spiro might have been making my POTS worse, combined with the psych meds, I literally was about to pass out every time I stood up. And I guess this is a good time to say that I’m off psych meds; there’ll be a post on that soon. I had my second dose of Fensolvi a couple weeks ago but POTS symptoms never went away. My doctor wouldn’t believe I exhibited those symptoms for other reason other than the Spiro—I’ve had this since I was 13. We discussed increasing my Estradiol dose because I have not noticed many changes lately, but my labs show that my body is responding well to the treatment, for example, my LH and FSH blood tests came back pretty low, which is good, there is almost no testosterone production. It’s a little hard to notice changes, especially at this point in my transition. I look like a woman and everybody seems to agree. If I had to say, my ass has gotten much bigger; I got a new dress for the beach and when I looked in the mirror, well… My titties too…they are so soft. I feel the psych meds fucked me up so much. They lifted me up from the terrible depression I was in, I stopped having psychosis other than paranoia, but I was left empty, emotionless. I used to say, “Someone could die in front of me and I wouldn’t even react.” Just lately I have noticed my emotions are coming back, I smile more, laugh. During the time I was on the meds I also put on some 10 kg, which I was kind of expecting but, now I have to work on that. And also, when masturbating, I can be shaking, moaning so hard, and finally feel like I came, but literally not a drop comes out, like nothing. It’s not so bad, I mean I still feel everything, but I could do it just fine before the meds. Socially, it’s been hard. I have attempted a couple times to go to trans support groups but something just doesn’t work with me. I always had great difficulty explaining this feeling of feeling like I don’t belong in such spaces. The best way I can put it is that people in those spaces are very expressive and loud. They like going to protests or to pride parades, and have very colorful hairstyles, whereas I prefer to stay in the background and live a quiet life. I still live loud and proud but perhaps not to that extent? I don’t think it’s a bad thing either, I’ve read about radical visibility and it’s such a cool way to express yourself without fear, but that’s just not me. ChatGPT says that it is a common experience, that I don’t have to “be loud, expressive, colorful, political, extroverted.” That I don’t have to “march in a pride parade or dye my hair rainbow. Living quietly, and peacefully is just as radical.” That’s what I said to myself when I began transitioning, that I would be this example of a trans person who was just like the others, that my identity doesn’t make me different, or less. People always see me as a girl, so I guess I pass well. Even on the phone, people call me miss—passing on the phone might be the ultimate goal. And the couple of times I’ve come out to people, they are usually shocked to know. It feels very nice, and fills me with euphoria. And about gender dysphoria, it comes and goes. Most of the time I feel cute and pretty; looking in the mirror only confirms that further, but on some days, I don’t feel as pretty. It’s not like I don’t feel like a woman or I feel like I look like a man, it’s just, I don’t feel as pretty. It usually goes away that same day, but yeah, it’s not so bad. ([Update Jun 13] I watched a video by Icky where she mentioned something similar to my experience with gender dysphoria. At this point in my transition, I don’t really experience dysphoria, I identify as and feel like a woman. She says it’s more like body dysmorphia, which does sound more like it, though I don’t experience it severely, or for long.) I am grateful I have never encountered a situation of transphobia, which can be rare, but I feel it’s important to highlight this small win. Clothing has been…okay, I guess. Buying clothes is difficult sometimes, because I’m with mom and she recommends something, like some tight leggings. As much as I would love to wear those, there would be an issue…with my girldick. We don’t have good communication, so try explaining that in a busy store. It overwhelms me too much and I end up buying nothing. But I do have some cute dresses for spring and summer, sweaters for the winter, etc. I find skirts and denim shorts are the most comfortable to wear because, I don’t even have to tuck, and I can rest assured nothing is visible. When wanting to work out, I only had leggings, so I would wear a pair of slightly undersized underwear which would hold everything together, but I was very nervous about things slipping out, but then I got some shorts, and even sports skirts, they are awesome. I have been to the beach several times, I went and got my first women’s swimwear, and I looked great. At first, I went with safety and chose one with a skirt and a bra. On another trip I got a bodysuit and wore a separate skirt. But on my most recent trip I just wore the bodysuit. I mean, it’s tight enough, and you legit couldn’t tell there’s something there. It was very nice not having to hide. Lastly, I want to put to words some thinking I’ve been having about my sexuality. Before I even discovered I was trans, I knew I was bi; I liked girls and also boys. Little by little, and as I discovered I was supposed to be a woman, my attraction towards men became bigger over women to the point that once I identified as trans, I knew I was a straight woman. For more than a year I went with that, until I read a book titled “The Quiet and the Loud” by Helena Fox. In this story, two girls suddenly kiss after growing closer. Reading that part made me feel something in my chest and stomach, it made me inexplicably happy, and felt like I wanted to do that with another girl. I mean, it’s a feeling I will never forget. I didn’t think much about it, and over the next months I kept coming back to that chapter, which triggered the exact same feeling. Some time later, I saw a video of a lesbian couple having a photoshoot, one of them sneakily got passed a ring and proposed to her girlfriend, they proceeded to kiss and hug, and it was so magical! Once again, I had the feeling of wanting to have a girlfriend and kiss. I feel my attraction towards women is growing bigger over men. I think of having a girlfriend, maybe a trans girlfriend and cuddling, kissing, giggling, it makes me feel so happy. I am very binary and high-fem, and someone like that would be such a perfect match. I have been thinking a lot more about having a trans girlfriend, there is something so special about t4t. We would understand each other, maybe be more comfortable with each other. I see us growing together, accompanying each other through our trans journey. There’s a person I like from school, she’s very bright, outgoing, and cute. I love hearing her talk—she can do it so easily. When she laughs, I feel overwhelmed with joy. I’ve worked with her on some design projects and helped her with a computer issue, but most of the time I feel scared of talking to her, even though I sit right next to her. I know she’s got a boyfriend, and she’s probably straight, so I know nothing might ever happen, but I can’t avoid feeling happy when she’s around. I told one of my friends about liking her, and she was surprised. She said, “But she has a boyfriend!” And I just wailed, “I knowww :c” She said that was a cute reaction. So yeah, I hope one day to find someone to love—and who loves me back. And to conclude, the future. About surgeries, I think I’m good. I love how my body looks, and although in the future my preference might change, for the time being, I’m happy with how I look. I know it’s annoying worrying about a bulge showing in my crotch, but honestly, it never really happens. I’m happy with my chest size, it’s managed to grow a lot in three years, I love touching them, feeling how soft they are, it’s great. And about my face, well, I did have that nose surgery, which was cosmetic, but combined a little correction and now I can breathe better. That procedure feminized my face so much; everyone always compliments my nose, but I credit the procedure and the following recovery period as one of the triggers for my depression. I don’t know if it makes sense, but since then, my mood began declining to what you all know happened. But yeah, I don’t regret doing it, but I would not do it again. The rest of my face is pretty feminine, I think, so yeah, I’m good for the moment. I know there are still a few years for me to reach the full development that comes with HRT but, I feel finished. I’ve felt comfortable in my body for a while, but changes keep coming that make everything even better, so I hope that continues. Update 7/1 So, I realized that I didn't go into much detail about what it was like coming out, getting new clothes, my social life, early HRT changes, name change; I mean, I have gone through so much, and I think it's worth telling. I put off coming out for about a year. Many times I promised myself I would come out to my mom by a certain date, only to end up sighing "one day..." I was 15, and every day, I watched my body transform into something I knew I wasn't. I put off coming out because I was afraid of how my family would react; I heard stories online and was scared of being abandoned, disowned. But eventually, I came to the realization that staying quiet also resulted in a negative outcome. I didn't think whether it was worse than a bad reaction, but it was negative either way. Staying quiet meant never finding out if I would be received positively or not, and thus, the most logical option was to come out, and I had to do it as soon as possible to hopefully get access to HRT and stop the unwanted changes to my body. And so I did, and trembling in fear before each family member, I was flooded with everyone's understanding and support; it is such a blessing to have your family's support like that. Short after coming out to my mom, I got my first girl clothes. It was awkward, to say the least. I was standing there, in my boy clothes, and my mom, rather regrettably, the processing of the change still pending, was suggesting what I should get. I got some gray leggings, a pink striped blouse, and a scratchy sports bra. Finding a bra that fit early on was really hard, I struggled with that up until, maybe two years in. No bra fit comfortably around my torso, and the only ones that did had a big cup size, but I hadn't even started HRT yet. Eventually, I found some spandex sports bras that had an almost flat, removable pad. I mean, they were basically plastic bags on your chest—not fun in the summer. In the weeks after starting HRT, I grew breast buds, and it was incredibly painful if they were touched. I'm a side sleeper, but for about a year, I had to sleep facing straight up because it hurt soo bad lying on my side. And of course, during that time, I couldn't do much with my nipples; it would just hurt a lot, but now, I mean, rubbing them sends me crazy, lol. So like I said, about two years in, those spandex bras became essentially binders, my chest had now grown, and those bras were not helping my look. I stumbled upon a Hanes bra that didn't follow the traditional sizes, I got a medium and it fit perfectly; it got around my chest and my boobs filled the cup just fine. And just recently, I switched to a less bulky type, with thinner straps, and they're great. I'm very thankful to have been able to start HRT at 16, and now my body is exactly what I feel it should be in my mind, I look great and I love it. Getting my name change and updated documents was relatively easy, though still a pain. Just months before coming out, name and gender change for trans people had become an expedited process in Mexico City, while before, you had to go to trial to have a chance at changing your identity. I sent the email with the required documents and went to the government office with my mom to pick up my updated birth certificate. They seal your past identity, which is great, but it makes you a newborn, basically. I had no records to my name, I mean, overnight, I lost my passport, school, and medical records, which now had to be amended individually. My mom helped me massively with this; she went to talk to the principal at my school, went to the education department offices over and over until finally, my previous records were updated. I got my passport after three attempts, just in time before moving to the US, and arriving here, my past self practically never existed. I continued HRT in the US, and for the first time, I took a selfie. I loved how my body was now changing in the correct direction. Here, my doctor was more concerned with how my body was reacting to the medication; she ordered lots of blood tests and even bone density tests. My hair grew longer, though I got it cut slightly shorter than shoulder-length because that's how I like it; though currently, I'm going to grow it out way more for the first time.

Calm?

Calm?

It's been two weeks since my antipsychotic dose was increased, and, I feel good. Everything is quieter, the voices have disappeared, it is so relieving. My mood has stabilized, and I feel happy most of the time, though I still have ups and downs. School started again, it’s looking exciting but it will be a lot of work. I’m doing good so far, I’m going to design an assistive keyboard for autism for one class—I have so many ideas. I’m calm and happy most of the time, however, there are times when I feel terribly sad. It mostly comes out of nowhere, or actually, I have noticed it happens after some kind of inconvenience such as getting stuck doing schoolwork or cracking my screen protector. Suddenly, I begin feeling sad to the point of crying for no reason. Intrusive thoughts flood my mind, they are about my future or past actions. Then, after more crying, suicidal thoughts begin. I have noticed that my suicidal thoughts are becoming stronger, I mean, it’s getting harder to resist them. I have asked to die, I have held a knife up to my neck; but something still prevents me from doing it. I really don’t want to die; on good days when I feel happy, I feel so grateful I didn’t give in and didn’t die. Something dumb happened to me at school. I arrived at the parking lot just as the bus was leaving. I was late so I decided to run to the next stop to catch it. I began running uphill and when I was crossing the street, still running, I suddenly fainted. It felt like my usual fainting after standing, but this time I was in motion, and I couldn’t feel it coming, otherwise I would have stopped running. I face-planted on the pavement and scraped my hands and chin. I did catch the bus tho. I arrived late to class and after a while, I decided to check my laptop; its corner broke. I know I cannot run uphill because of my fainting, which might be POTS, but I couldn’t feel any signs I was about to faint, it was only when I was already falling that my vision blacked out. I’ve been feeling extremely tired during the day because of my new dose. It’s impossible to wake up, I end up doing it three hours after my alarm goes off. One day I arrived home past my meds time and I had a thought, I wouldn’t take my meds to see if I would have more energy the next day. And I did, I woke up at 7 and was very productive for the day which in turn made me happy. Around my second week, I received an email saying that TEDx is coming to my school. Doing a TED talk has been a lifelong dream of mine so I began thinking about applying. I hesitated for a week, but finally, I decided what I was going to talk about, my mental health journey. I want to tell people that they shouldn’t sacrifice their wellbeing for schoolwork. Update Mar 11 It had been two perfect, happy weeks. I dreaded the moment I would feel sad again; it happened. As usual, suicidal thoughts are stronger than before, I would even say stronger than before the hospital; but those weren’t suicidal thoughts, it was the voices telling me to hurt myself. I do not see the point in life, I do not know why I would want to drag on the pain. I know I should ignore these thoughts and wait until it all passes. I try to remember when I’m happy, how thankful I feel I didn’t give in to those thoughts. Yet, during these moments the only way out I see is death. Update Mar 12 Sigh… That was one of the worst episodes yet. I feel better today, I woke up at 12 and went to the store, and later went for a 10 kilometer walk, yeah, I had a lot of energy. I still don’t know what the point of life is, but I know that if I keep doing nothing other than crying all day, discovering my purpose is only going to be harder. Update Mar 17 So, once again my hope is gone. I was planning to work very hard today, I have to present five concepts tomorrow of my keyboard, I have nothing. During the first phase of our project I was feeling terrible, so I didn’t sketch much and thus, I don’t have anything to work with for the second phase. I also wasted last week because of feeling depressed. Well, I couldn’t do anything today. I began feeling suicidal and very fatigued so I went to lie down. The whole morning went by. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the hot sauce, I poured it on my hand and licked it. I kept doing it until my mouth went numb and I felt very dizzy. I did it again at night. I’ve been toying with my knife on my skin. I don’t want to go to the hospital again, the suicide hotline is crap, my mom is mad at me because I didn’t go to the supermarket this morning and won’t talk to me. I feel lonely, tomorrow is going to be terrible. I want to die. I don’t want to. I just want this to stop, I don’t want to be depressed, I want my life and motivation back. Not just in little glimpses, fully back. I want to do things, Hashem has a plan for me or I wouldn’t have woken up today, I want to find out what that plan is. How can I do this by myself? Mar 18 I decided to still attend class, everyone’s projects are amazing, I think they all met during the weekend while I knew nothing. .I didn’t eat this morning and I feel terrible. Someone left a box of thumbtacks where I sit and I cannot avoid pricking my fingers with them. The thought that I don’t belong here keeps getting stronger, no matter how good I am at many of the things we do. If not product design, what else am I good for? I don’t know what will happen if I go talk to a counselor here at school. I think I’m gonna leave and go eat something. I’ll return for my second class today. I don’t even know where to go without feeling paranoid. Maybe go read Torah in the library, hopefully that will make me feel better. I don’t want to die but these thoughts are so strong. There was a fire alarm the moment I arrived at the library. As I go down the stairs I think I should just stay. I feel lonely, I cannot see a way forward, I cannot see my life ever improving; this is not me, I’m usually very optimistic. I want the pain to end.

Camera Hallucination

Camera Hallucination

I was just out on the patio, talking to my grandma’s dog in English like I used to do—maybe just talking alone, or to myself—and I couldn’t help but notice that words weren’t coming out of me the way it used to be. I would talk alone for hours, getting absolutely lost in believing that behind the camera floating around me were people who loved watching me going about my day. I livestreamed 24/7 to an audience of some 200 people, the camera automatically pivoted to whatever I wanted to share, and when it pointed at me, I would smile at it, gesture, and talk to it as if I were talking to a real person. I can only imagine myself talking to the wall… That hallucination formed part of my daily life for years, and I loved it. I felt I was famous and felt happy for having people who wanted to watch me. My imagined audience kept me company when I was most lonely, and I made them laugh and have a good time. The last time I remember talking to my audience vividly was on my way to the hospital. Encouraging messages flooded the chat—appeared in my head—they were glad I was getting help. That night I began taking Risperidone, an antipsychotic. The following days I felt my paranoia was weaker, voices stopped. And something else stopped, the camera hallucination. I still talked alone, but to no one in particular, just to the air. I was overjoyed about not feeling as paranoid, and definitely glad the voices had stopped, and I just now came to realize how much the camera hallucination meant to me. I feel lonely now that there is no audience to interact with, I don’t feel special anymore, and it makes me sad.

Going Back

Going Back

It was only until my last day in the hospital that I learned that my mood disorder is Major Depressive Disorder, severe, with Psychotic Features. I don’t know why they didn’t tell me before. It makes a lot of sense, the severe depression made the psychosis possible. Immediately after being discharged I had an argument with mom, she drove me home in silence and dropped me off at the entrance without exchanging words. I looked in my things for my key and went in. I lay on the couch for a few hours, trying to rest and process all that I missed. My mom got mad at me because I had promised to shower and organize my stuff from the hospital, and I could not do it that day. I decided that going to the October 7th memorial would be too much for me, I felt unclean and didn’t have the energy to go to a social event that big, so I slept for the rest of the day. The next day I went to school, it was a Tuesday, Digital Sketching; it’s the class with the most overdue assignments. But it was exciting to go to school, feeling less paranoid than before, I still felt paranoid but not as much. My mood decreased from what it was in the hospital. On Wednesday I had my first IOP meeting; it’s very similar to the groups we had in the psych unit, but you’re not hospitalized. I have been doing the IOP since and it will continue for a few more weeks. My motivation has been very low, comparable to how it was before going to the hospital; same with my mood. The only positive changes I perceive are the voices, they stopped, and the paranoia has decreased significantly with the Risperidone. I’m also taking Escitalopram for depression but so far it has not helped. I keep spending hours trying to do my assignments but I don’t feel motivated, I don’t have the creativity, and I get overwhelmed with the amount of things I have to do. But I do have moments when I feel a push to do things, completing what I have proposed for the day or completing something that should have taken me days in hours. People at the IOP recommend I go off from school to recover, but that is not really possible because my major is shutting down, and classes are going to be offered for the last time, so I won’t be able to retake them later. That’s been it for now, I’ve been wanting to write this post since I was discharged but I just couldn’t do it. Update 11/8 I wanted to take some time to write an update since this post was kinda short. So, I'm being discharged from the IOP next week. It's been weird, I have gone through waves of lack of motivation, to good productivity, and now sorta mid. I can tell I'm getting better though, slowly completing assignments. Two weeks ago I did my nails—I hadn't done them in months—and my eyebrows, I shaved, it felt great! Socially, I helped build a Sukkah at school with Hillel, which was very cool, I was helping with understanding the instructions, and providing some tricks; I made quite the fame of being good at building stuff. Our Sukkah was featured by the Hillel International Instagram account! And today, I went to my second Shabbat dinner. This time I didn't leave early due to overwhelm, I stuck around and was quite social, it felt good. I've been able to completely catch up with one of my classes, Design Sustainability; I'm going to be redesigning a lint roller to make it more sustainable. For Digital Sketching though, it has taken me a little more time, just yesterday I finished five drone designs which were our second assignment—I'm missing another six probably. I've been looking through the post I wrote during my breakdown; I'm so glad to have written down my experience. It's a little traumatic, I just hope never to be in that situation again.

Hospitalized

Hospitalized

This post was written in a notebook I was given while hospitalized over seven days. Oct 3, 9:50 am So, I was hospitalized. I figured I could write a blog post from here, on paper, and later transcribe it. It was one of the scariest things I’ve done, but it was very much necessary. I couldn’t handle my emotions anymore, I was crying frequently, spent the day in bed, couldn’t do my homework, and began feeling unsafe after the voice in my head finally managed to influence my actions, and I began doing very reckless things. My suicidal ideations became stronger, and combined with my declining will live, I just didn’t feel safe at all. I decided I should admit myself to a psych ward where I would be taken care of and get help. I was going to come on Saturday after my first breakdown, but I just couldn’t do it. I never told my mom about my symptoms or about using the 988 chat. I got through the weekend mostly sleeping on my bed and lying on the floor. At night, when I got some mysterious energy, I attempted to do my homework, but no matter how long I took I simply couldn’t draw a single thing. On Sunday, my friends from Hillel were going apple picking for Rosh Hashanah at a farm in Morristown, I decided not to go because I didn’t feel like hanging out with people, much less capable of driving myself there. During the two weeks leading up to my hospitalization, the voice, I began hearing a while, back became stronger. It told me things such as, “pick up a knife and stab yourself,” or “throw yourself down the stairs,” or “step on the gas pedal.” Most of those are very intrusive thoughts that I suddenly began hearing being spoken. The last one actually happened, I stepped harder on the gas pedal while in the fast lane, and I ended up getting closer to the barrier and drove over the vibrating grooves. This contributed to me feeling unsafe and I determined it wouldn’t be good to keep driving, especially to school, which is 20 miles away. Sunday night I had another breakdown, I was crying uncontrollably, the voice wouldn’t shut up, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I somehow fell asleep, I can’t remember how. I woke up at 6 am because I didn’t delay my alarm the night before. I heard mom leaving for work, and I ended up getting up three hours later. I was determined to come to the hospital, so I took a quick shower and packed my things. I wouldn’t drive myself here, so I decided to walk, it’s just one street, one mile. I crossed the street into the hospital and walked outdoors towards the emergency department. I was told to go to pediatric since I’m still under 21. I told the person there that I wanted to admit myself, and she gave me a bracelet. In triage, the nurse asked me why I came in. I told her I didn’t feel safe, that I’ve been hearing voices telling me to hurt myself. She said it was good I came in. Inside the ER I was told to put on hospital scrubs and I was assigned a bed in a hallway. Someone sat nearby and stared at me the whole time; I thought they were just resting there, but later I learned that they were actually there to watch over me. Before they took my things away I managed to talk to mom and tell her that I was at the hospital. Her tone seemed as if it wasn’t significant that I was at the hospital. They eventually took my things and my phone, so I decided to lie down against the wall. I overheard them say that I was being moved, but they had to wait until security came. A security guy came, and together with the nurse pushed my bed into the “blue zone.” The area had double doors, they had to wait for the first to close before opening the second. Before going into my assigned room, a police officer scanned me with a metal detector. I was left in a blue room with a brick bed, a TV in a box, and a camera. I began thinking, “What have I done?” Almost immediately, someone told me that I had a visit. My mom came in shortly after; she seemed worried and asked me what happened. I told her about my symptoms, and she understood. We had a very interesting conversation. Apparently, she was too at the hospital, she came for some x-rays. An attendant at radiography helped her find me. I apologized for hiding my symptoms from her, she apologized for telling me mean things, she said she has been irritable since she broke her wrist. Our talk went on until visit hours were over, but it was very good. She told me things will change, and that we’ll get over this. I felt comforted and much calmer than before. Sometime later, they moved me to the inpatient area upstairs, it was 10 pm—I arrived at the ER at 1 pm. All throughout my stay in the ER many people asked me the same things: What do the voices say? Do I see any things? Do I want to hurt myself? I guess that because of my answers, I was told I would be assigned a sitter, and they would have to follow me around all the time, so that was annoying, but I guess it was necessary. They went over my things again, I was allowed to keep my clothes—they pulled the strings from my jacket—and nothing else. I was given a quick tour of the unit and then left to wait at the front desk for an hour until the sitter arrived. When she did, I went into my room, changed into my clothes, and went to sleep. I was very paranoid about having someone watch me sleep the whole night; I even began thinking that she would hurt me, which made no sense! She was there to make sure I didn’t hurt myself, why would she hurt me! But anyway, it was hard to fall asleep, but I eventually did. My second day was still awkward. The sitter accompanied me everywhere. I felt paranoid about going to the dining hall since it’s always busy, I could just feel the stares. I had pancakes for breakfast; a man called Pietro complimented my cutting of my pancakes in eight exact pieces. After breakfast, I went back to my room and fell asleep. I was very tired, I spent most of my day in bed. At some point, they called me to meet the care team and to sign my plan of care. The psychiatrist said I have ‘mood disorder,’ as well as the voices and other hallucinations. Later, when I saw him one to one, he ruled I don’t need a sitter, which was great; the voices have stopped during my stay here. He also explained, I experience severe anxiety and severe depression. He put me on an antidepressant and an antipsychotic, none of which I have managed to remember the names of. I felt much more comfortable without a sitter, and I had my first dose of the new meds at night. My head began hurting, but nothing too bad. On my second day, I felt much better and much less paranoid. I participated in groups, I talked to people, I assembled a parrot with stickers, and later played board games with others—I asked if I could join them. I stayed most of the day in the dining hall, which was very surprising, and also talked to other people. I don’t think it’s the meds that took the paranoia away, I mean, that’s going to happen, but with time, not after one dose, but I was happy. I stayed a while longer in the dining hall after mostly everyone left, I was building things with Jenga. I built a tower, a pagoda, a house; I was having fun. Yesterday, Rosh Hashanah started! לשנה טובה I told them if I could talk to a Rabbi but no one came, but it was okay. I wrote L’Shanah Tovah with Jenga, lol. At night I prayed like I hadn’t in a while, it was good. I recited/sang Ahavat Olam, recited Shema, and during the day I also sang Al Kol Eileh, and didn’t feel self-conscious to do it. My mum has visited me every day, it’s nice. She’s been missing me and I’ve been missing her. She told me to work hard to get better. After the Jenga, I went to get my meds and then went to my room to sleep. I was having trouble, falling asleep, I had that weird energy I feel at night. I’ve never taken any meds for sleep, so I figured here would be a good place to try. I stood up and went to the nurse’s station and asked for something to help me sleep. They gave me a pill of Trazodone. Today after breakfast, I asked if I could get a notebook and spend the whole morning writing this post. Some nursing students from Montclair came by to hang out. I talked for a while to one of them. It was surprising seeing people from school here. 1:15 pm Doctor just called me. Apparently, the risperidone, the antipsychotic works right away, so it does make sense that I feel much less paranoid and open to talk to people, it’s just impressive. I mean, walking into the dining room, doesn’t fill me with fear, it’s awesome. So yeah, he says that’s exactly what should be happening. So that’s it for now. I was told I’m being discharged on October 7th. I hope I can make it to the commemoration at night. While a nurse was changing the channel on the TV, I saw there was a devastating attack in Israel in Tel Aviv, where nothing has really happened. Looks like Iran retaliated for the killing of Nasrallah, but this time it was really bad. Yom Kippur is coming and I can only imagine there might be a massive attack like always, hopefully not. But anyway, I’m just happy not to feel paranoid, it’s great to keep my head up and talk to people, it’s great. I’m going to do another of those sticker mosaics because I’ve been writing all morning and my hand is done. 7:40 pm The rest of the day has gone well. I still cannot get over how the meds have taken my paranoia mostly away. I’ve been talking to more people and participating in groups, and I don’t get terribly overwhelmed during meal time. After my mom visited me, I decided to call my friend Liz again and see if she would pick up. She did pick up, she saw my message I left some days ago. She said she’s been missing me in class, and offered to email teachers to tell them I would be missing some classes due to medical reasons, she’s so nice. We talked about my stay, about the food, the people, and how I’m feeling with the meds. She told me she’s also been hospitalized before, and told me she’s proud of me to have come here on my own. I was happy I could talk to her. So, on weekends we are actually allowed two visitors at different times, so I told her if she’d like to visit me, I’ll be calling her tomorrow to tell her to visit times. She also said I have so many things to catch up on from school, so that’s exciting. But yeah, I’m doing well, the other day I caught myself bobbing my arms side to side while walking down the aisle, a clear indicator that I’m happy. Oct 4, 8:50 pm Today I felt a bit of paranoia, I kept my head down during groups, and a ‘shape’ on the roof out the window took the illusion of a person to me until I looked at it and turned out to be just a pipe. My doctor says it’s okay, I’m on a very low dose, so today he increased the risperidone dose to 1 mg and my escitalopram dose to 10 mg, and said that my home target dose. So, we’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Even though I felt a bit of paranoia today, I spent most of the day in the dining room. I attended many groups throughout the day. One highlight is from the spirituality group. We began talking about people pleasing and how we can sometimes forget to take care of ourselves while being preoccupied with others. I remembered how when I hold the door for someone, sometimes they don’t hold it after me or don’t say thanks; or when I’m on the bus, I make sure I’m not being annoying to others, so I watch my knees and avoid bumping the seat in front of me,… Oct 5, 9:30 am (I went to take a shower last night and had to give the pen back.) …however, the person behind me keeps bumping my seat and makes me wonder why do I even care. But those small gestures feed the good wolf, and why would you feed a wolf, it’s gonna grow and eat you. The metaphor is that if you’re always people pleasing, you’re going to sacrifice things you perhaps shouldn’t, you’re going to be stressed, anxious, overcritical, and that’s not good. You have to find the balance of self-care and being considerate of others. The good wolf will keep growing, and it might just take care of you like a pet. So be thankful, give back, and you’ll be rewarded to know you’re a good person. This definitely sounded better in group yesterday, but well; I don’t even remember what the bad wolf is supposed to do, but the whole thing was very nice to hear. Another highlight was at night, there's a Jewish guy named Mitchell, Shabbat had just started, so I decided to tell him 'Good Shabbos.' He was surprised, and I proceeded to tell him about my conversion. He, surprised asked why, so I told him I love the religion, I love the people. He said, "Mazal Tov! Welcome to the tribe, Judaism will welcome you with open arms." That was very nice to hear. I would be shaking in fear before, coming up to someone and greeting them, but now I just went, "Hey Mitch, Good Shabbos." I felt great. I have been very happy about those things I would be terrified to do before. I say 'Hey' to people walking down the hallway, I ask people if I could join them at their table, I go up to people and ask them how their day went, its truly awesome, those things would be unthinkable for me to do before; I wanted to do them, but the paranoia wouldn't allow me. So, I am very excited about going to school again, I can't wait to get on the bus and see if I feel the stares. They are not staring at me, but I feel like they are. When I walk down an aisle and there's someone walking in my direction, I hope I won't be forced to keep my head down. And in the classroom, I hope to talk to my classmates more; we've been together for one year now, and I still don't really talk to anyone. This is the person I'm supposed to be, but couldn't. Last night I began wondering where the voices come into my mood disorder, I've just thought of it, and I think I won't see the psychiatrist until Monday, or maybe not at all. That's why I thought I was in the prodromal phase of schizophrenia; voices, paranoia, ideas of reference, hallucinations, negative symptoms, that does look like something on the schizophrenia spectrum. But well, I think its good I got antipsychotic meds which are helping me. 2:10 pm I asked a social worker a couple hours ago about the voices and she said that with a mood disorder, if you are feeling extreme depression, intrusive thoughts can sometimes be too loud that they take the shape of a voice. That's how I described it down in the ER, it's hard to differentiate between a voice and very intrusive thoughts. But yeah, everything looks good, I feel much better, and I'm ready to go back to school. Oct 6, 8:45 am It’s been a meh weekend, not much has happened. My friend Liz was going to visit me yesterday, but she arrived late and they didn’t let her in, but well, I’m glad she wanted to visit me. She helped me email teachers to tell them I would be missing classes for medical reasons she said my teacher Panico has been worried so I told her less it would be okay for her to know I was in the hospital for mental health reasons. I actually told her to tell teacher that I am voluntarily in a psych ward, but that sounds better. It’s okay she knows, I will tell her later myself. I feel my hair is all knots, I don’t have a brush, I thought I brought it, but I guess I didn’t. I also have some annoying face hairs, I can’t shave of course. Before I came in, I took a shower and shaved. I kept the tea packet strings from tonight‘s snack to pluck those hairs out somehow. 10:50 pm So, this is my last night, I’m excited to go home. I want to go to school, a feeling I didn’t have at the start of the semester. I’m gonna go to an IOP, but I think I can fit it around my classes because I’m going to have so much stuff to catch up on. I met so many people here, from all walks of life, with different issues, and even though people come and go, it feels like a family. We support each other, encourage each other. It feels like a show with recurring characters and everybody has their little knack. I feel I’ve been forming a connection with everyone, even though sometimes don’t get along with each other. There’s Diane, an older lady, she’s nice, she says I look a lot like her knees. Once she got up mad for Mitch saying he doesn’t drive Volkswagen because of the Shoah. Diane thinks people should get over the Holocaust, which I don’t agree with. However, she’s still very nice, I talk to her if I see her in the hallway and during lunch. Then there’s Paul, he’s kind, quiet, he started talking to me, he made me some tea. I think he’s comfortable around me. He doesn’t like Trevor because he thinks he’s an asshole. Lastly, Trevor, I’ve been talking to him the most, like actual, long conversations—which again, very rare of me. I don’t agree with his opinion that I don’t belong here, or that he doesn’t belong here, or that this place is built for the Justins, or the Pietros, but I sort of laughed and nodded slightly when he said it—no one was near us. I constantly ask him how his day is going, if he’s got any visits coming. We’re like very close. He saw me drying my hair with a hairdryer and he went, “What, look at the special treatment, I didn’t get a hairdryer!” And I replied, “For what hair?” He laughed and said, “You’re a real one,” and high fived me. He wants to get out of here, he wants to be with his son, his dog. He’s been struggling with the fact that people from his own household, have not visited him, but people he has not seen in years have. One of his cousins even flew in from Mexico. I’ve been there nodding along, saying ‘you’ll be home soon,’ ‘it all goes up from here.’ We were mocking things like having to get a new toothbrush each time you need it. The faucet is literally just a ball sticking out. The handles are blocked on one side, so you cannot put your hand through, and things like that. Today we did some origami, he told me, “I’m gonna remember you forever lady.” And some minutes ago he said to me, “You’ve helped me a lot to get through this.” I’m so glad I’ve been of help for him, and I will certainly remember him too, I hope everything goes well for him in his home. it’s been very nice talking to him, discover I can do conversations without the paranoia, it truly is amazing to me I started sketching again, for practice, for fun. I’ve been drawing cubes, lines to figure out line weight, a chair, a drill bit, a house of cards, and I’m having fun doing it. I feel it is meditative. And I’ve been writing so much, this post is going to be hard to transcribe. I’m gonna dictate it or something. They gave me the pen with like 3 cm of ink and now it’s down to less than 1 cm. For breakfast, I’ve been having either cereal or pancakes, for lunch I have either a quesadilla or pizza, and a light pasta for dinner, those are like the most edible. So, being hospitalized definitely helped, I was at risk of harming myself, I was severely depressed, unable to do simple things. I’m very excited to go back. End of transcription