My mental health always takes a turn for the worse when my hormones do. My hormones taking a turn for the worse means I run out of testosterone, usually, so then an organ I despise re-awakens from its atrophy. Nobody likes having a period, or not many people do, but suicidality isn't supposed to be a recurring thought as soon as I realized what happened. Self-hatred consumes me, especially when I had enough medication but just flat out forgot to use it. I normally tolerate or even like my body, having fought so many battles to attain it, but one leak and every iota of joy I was ever capable of feeling towards my body evaporates. The only joy I experience comes from chocolate, the stereotypical cure for this specific ailment.
Mostly I just feel numb, tired, trying to convince myself the truth I know deeply - this too shall pass. Time always does, but the fear of what happened in 2018, when I bled for an entire month and my endocrinologist told me she didn't know why and thus we couldn't guarantee it would never happen again, and that was eight years ago. Bleeding an entire month never happened again, admittedly, but the bleeding at all shouldn't be happening. This isn't supposed to happen to men, and people like me aren't supposed to exist; politically we get treated like confused little girls and even some trans men accept that formatting of their identity because it makes them be viewed as less of a threat. I don't care about being a threat, I've been perceived as violent for defending myself since I was young enough that my violence was barely within conscious control.
Right now, all I care about is knowing this will be over soon enough. I just need to survive somehow until then. The world isn't actually on pause but it might as well be. My world is. Maybe I'll go back to sleep. Dissociating is the easiest way to get through these time periods - pretending I don't exist, let alone have a body, let alone a body betraying me the way this one is. Logically, I could stop this somehow - get the surgery, but what if... there's no point in removing organs unless absolutely necessary. I don't know when it'll be necessary. If. I don't know why I'm writing this, except it's mental health awareness month and my mental health is shit because my physical health is shit because I'm a forgetful piece of shit.
At least there's a concrete reason. A physical health problem I could in theory point to if I was complaining to anyone other than strangers online on a site I joined two days ago. Maybe wanting to disappear completely because of the physical existence of certain biological processes occurring inside me is somehow something someone out there might be able to relate to, to think "gender dysphoria, that's what this is?" But that's not the only cause of these feelings, that just is the cause of my feelings.
I'm writing in circles. Thank you for reading if anyone bothers reading this.