SOfuckingS
#trans woman #disabled #poor
y’all i’m crying and totally off my rocker right now. i’m so stressed and upset. i fucking hate being an abuse survivor. i am not surviving. i am dying. i am being killed. i have no money - i keep hoping donations will pour in and i’ll be able to leave this town full of abusive and shitty people. or be able to afford a safe reclusive place to rent, able to afford healthy food, and maybe make my art and do more political projects.
instead, i’m stuck living in a garage that’s literally falling apart and i’m barely getting enough to just pay for food and medical things. my diet is horrible, mostly bread and rice. it’s sucks to have to eat that while trying to maintain a healthy enough body so i can go out in the world and access medical transition things. trying to pay for medical transition expenses that are not covered by my insurance. i have no job history, no GED, i don’t pass as the gender i am, i have debilitating panic attacks every day, i’m getting tons of hate mail on tumblr but it’s also my only income source. people who have hurt me in my past are creeping on my tumblr too and i want to delete it but as i said, i can’t.
my situation is getting more hopeless by the day. i’m being manipulated and mistreated at the place i live. i can’t keep up with the projects i want to do - like creating trans/queer support groups, doing my artwork, or applying for grants for larger political projects for queer/trans folks. i feel so stifled and lost and, frankly, suicidal. i’m angry that my death would just become a flicker in the growing list of trans women who were killed, in one form or another, in recent years. i haven’t been able to sleep more than three or four hours a night and when i do sleep, i have really terrible dreams about all the people that physically abused me, i won’t go into details but suffice it to say they are the scariest things ever. i’m so fearful of nighttime now it extends into my days, so i’m already fearing the next night from the first break of morning.
