self aware fatalism as evidence of coping

I sat down Friday and wanted to write. I couldn't. I'd have some thoughts that were becoming things I wanted to write about but this environment is not conducive to any kind of creativity. it's hard to think, and I'm often holding my dog tightly to my chest because it is cold here. or people are fighting. or someone is out of their mind on drugs.

I have been wanting to update this site and I've been struggling. I have a bit of hesitation to post stuff here that isn't software related and isn't prose.

obviously that is not going to work and I have to just embrace that things are fucking hard. trying to avoid writing things that I'm not super jazzed about obviously isn't working and that makes me more unhappy than writing stuff I would have preferred be a little more polished.

let me just share some facts and some thoughts.

some facts.

I have a number of mental health diagnoses that I've had most of my life and are largely stable and I have a great treatment team and meds regime and so on. I'm really proud of the fact that these diagnoses are largely non issues in my life. it took an immense amount of work, not just on my part, but by my treatment team who has put work into teaching and caring for me but also in learning how to work with me. truly, I've been blessed in this regard.

and then I came to the Netherlands. medicine here is different. mental health treatment here is different. it's an oversimplification to say that when I moved here I changed insurance carriers and their policies are different, but this is also accurate. 

so I arrive with intractable occipital nerve pain. the kind of pain that's so bad, when someone says to you “the treatment for this is nerve ablation” you become almost giddy at the idea that the pain might go away. and they decide that I need to be off of all of my meds until they can figure the pain out. when I got here, I had treatment that was working for the pain. but I'm complicated as a patient and I'm as weird to them as they are to me (I really do love the treant Hoogeveen people, they're just so nice). ok so we're off mental health meds.

they also do hrt differently here. I have not had zero hormones in my body, ever. I switched from one to another, then we refined that over many years, did labs, and today I never think about hormones at all. and I'm off hormones here. my body doesn't produce any. the feeling is miserable.

living in Ter Apel is probably much worse than people imagine it is. the place has a legendary reputation. and every day, I'm quietly surprised by what new disgusting or upsetting thing will happen and shake my understanding of what is normal here.

we often don't have power (at the moment it is out again). hot water. internet. soap. heat (it's getting cold in Holland!). toilet paper. I don't want to go in to too much detail because honestly it's not necessary, you can imagine what happens when you put people into tight quarters in difficult circumstances and they lack basic sanitation and shelter fundamentals. the overcrowding here has been dire.

this means that I'm dealing with mental health stuff that hasn't been an issue in a long time. I don't have hormones right now, and I can absolutely feel that. I have a couple chronic physical health conditions that arise from the conditions at the camp.

what this means is I think a lot about stuff I want to write or things I want to build and I get some thoughts out, and I never get anywhere. because how could I? I've never been in anything like this kind of situation with so many things I previously took for granted just missing.

and I might write something about what is actually going on in this whole immigration saga, but the truth is I've been here five months or something, and I haven't even had an interview with ind. I feel pretty angry and bitter about this, and I don't have anything to say that constitutes an update, so I just haven't said anything.

some feelings.

I think people are going to die as a result of this situation. I refer now to the trans people at the vanguard of this diaspora. right now we are all in precarious situations, whichever country we call home for the night.

there's a few threats here.

as refugees we face hatred from those whose countries we flee to. as trans women particularly we face additional hatred. and we face violence from the countries from which we flee.

this leaves us with a lot of exciting ways to die.

• I can be killed by people in my new home for being an immigrant who is the news and seen as a sign of something they don't like
• I can be killed by people from countries I would not travel to (such as Syria) because we are both in this asylum system at the same time
• the country to which I fled can send me back to America where:
  • I'm detained and imprisoned in a men's facility where the people who are also being held there kill me
  • if I were somehow to be allowed back in to California, I face the same threats to my life by people just walking around with the additional risk of having been in the press
• while I will not harm myself, it is naive to think that a cohort of trans women in this circumstance will not experience one or more suicides. deaths by suicide in the asylum system are common here.

now all of this sounds grim and I guess it is. but I'm at peace with it. I think my chances of the Netherlands saying I can stay are 50/50 and if they do decide to send me back to the us, I put it much closer to 100%.

I believe in this cause. I am being honest about my case here for asylum and believe on the facts of the case that it is an easy decision. but it requires bravery and so far I'm not real impressed with the bravery I see in governments anywhere.

so this leads me to one place: I believe people will die, and I think there's good odds I will be one of them. I don't want to be, and I'm not going to do anything to myself. but I recognize that people need more than a narrative to be brave and make hard decisions.

if for example I'm sent back in November and I'm killed in ice custody in December, I think that will meaningfully change the Dutch position on the safety of the United States, which will be a massive change that will make my community safer.

but I don't want to be the one who dies, right? I've got a ton of shit I want to do. what happens to my perfect dog who I love more than I knew was possible if something happens to me?

and here's where there's a strange paradox. I know I can't fight these things. the stuff that is against us and me personally is so much bigger and more powerful than I am that there can be no meaningful resistance. furthermore, all of this therapy has taught me really sharp self compassion skills. I look at what's going on around me and I think holy fuck this is quite a thing is it not? I'm impressed I'm functional at all. so if that's the baseline truth here, that functioning at all right now is good enough, then even if there were some way to change the world all by myself, I wouldn't actually have the energy to, be prepared to, do that thing.

right now in fact I find myself in a position I've never been in. I recognize maladaptive behaviours. I know I have some very unhelpful thoughts about food right now, among other things that I recognize from my past. things that are just part of being in crisis. the difference is in the past when I've been in this place I've had a therapist I see at least once a week and I say every time holy shit the entire world is on fire I'm freaked the fuck out. today, I'm looking out at the hills and I'm holding a box of matches thinking gosh this is not going to end well. but I'm still smoking that joint because of course I am. it makes sense. this situation, of all the assorted crises in this half a life, is a genuinely acceptable and expected time to just totally lose your shit.

when you think about the other factor: that people have died for being queer in the hopes that their peers might live safer, happier lives. for as long as queer people have existed. and I think probably those times when we are killed it gives people a reason to change, to reconsider their views.

so if there's nothing i can do and

I have no meaningful capacity to do anything and

I might just wind up being one of the people who die for this cause and that would be completely normal given the situation I find myself in

what other kind of mood would I have right now but a sort of pragmatic fatalism? take care of what I can take care of, tolerate “not good enough” over the poverty of nothing, be prepared for the surprise that will possibly-probably come, and let go of attachment to things that seemed important to me like being alive or having a country that believes I have a right to live my life like anyone else.

it feels like letting go of everything and giving up. but it is also arguably coping and reflects extraordinary resilience and adaptation. of course it can be both.

but I prefer things to be simpler.

whoops.