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Trip/Feelings/Thoughts [CW:SUICIDE/ABUSE/ALCOHOL]
2 years ago
I've spent the past day trying to figure out what to write. The trip I took was... it was a lot.
This all contains talk of Depression, Suicide, and a lot of other stuff. Do not read if you are sensitive to it, though I will say I promise thing’s are stable right now.
As many of you know, I suffer from a couple of different things, including Depression, severe Anxiety, PTSD, Bipolar, Depersonalization-derealization Disorder, and more. After the death of my father, the reason most of these things exist, a lot of things became far more difficult than I first realized they ever would be. An example of these things would be an increase in seizures brought on by the PTSD, only serving to amplify the derealization issues I’d face moving forward.
roy7x_ has helped to create a more comfortable environment to help with things, and knows how to assist when needed, and TinderFox 
ThatGayIndigoFox for his tender care despite being at a distance, but nothing seems to help actually stop these incidents from happening.
The man that has passed away has moved from being dead to being very much alive. I’m aware he is dead, but he somehow feels very much there sometimes. It’s like he never died, and it causes more PTSD attacks to occur. And to compound on these things, times that I seem to experience moments where things remind me of the past, like a road that reminds me of a place in Colorado, I can start to have a slight reality shift.
You can see where this is all going now.
If it wasn’t enough that these things were happening, I was also going to be going to meet my family for the first time, for real. The last time I had gone, I was not myself. This was pre-Covid, I wore a different face. I was a lie; the person I always was told I was. This was the time I was coming as me. I was showing up with my face, as me for the first time. They were meeting me for the first time ever. All of this, and I only had 4 days. There were people I’d like to see, but would they accept me? I’d be staying with my mom and my stepdad, who are having a hard time with gendering and naming, but its hard considering how long they’ve known me as someone else. Same goes for my brother and his family. It was going to be a lot. And with so many familiar faces, places, and more, how would it effect the more sensitive mental issues?
Turned out… A lot…
On the way back, we flew through a storm. An electrical storm, more specifically. It was a lightshow, and the plane was shaky to say the least. The flight was at night, fairly late, at around 10pm. The cabin lights were dim, and looking out the window showed something that would make the 4th of July blush. Once it was over, and we cleared the clouds, it was… like something I’d only ever seen in a dream. Smooth white clouds, like a sea of snow, accompanied by a cool white full moon. It was a soft blue, but only a hint, nearly monotone. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words to describe how awesome it looked, cause the picture I took could never capture it through the weird windows they have.
It was such a… great ending to an otherwise troubling trip. It seemed good while I was there, but I was bothered the whole time, and I couldn’t tell what it was until I saw the moon and the clouds, that surreal ending to the trip.
When we were young, my dad had, in his chemically altered state, decided to hit my brother and I. It was one of my first memories other than being reminded of how worthless my life was. My dad had broken a branch from a tree he was cutting and blamed it on us. I saw the fear in my brother’s eyes and heard him scream when he was hit. With the knowledge that my life meant so little, I had decided that it would be better served as a shield. I couldn’t stop everything, and my father understood what I was doing. I was to become the plaything, and he made me everything he needed me to be. I’d be his toy, to hit, and to abuse in every form you can imagine. And after he realized why I had done it, he threatened to kill my mother and brother if I ever stopped or told anyone.
Like many trans kids, I was fairly aware of the uneasy feelings of my body around the ages of 8-9. To say I was treading a fine line was incredibly accurate already though. I had already had a gun to my head several times, been battered and bruised, and thrown from a vehicle. He didn’t need a new reason to kill me, and in turn hurt my mom and brother. My whole existence already was to protect them. So, I had to hide that, like many other things. So, life continued, until it was safe. I knew that by the time that they were safe, my life would not have much to salvage. That either meant that by the time they would be safe, I’d we would have to end each other, or Id take care of him, then myself. There wasn’t much intention on continuing from there. That was why around my teenage years I had already started adopting so much suicidal tendencies, then suddenly stopped. I had made a deal with myself: we make it through to the end of their story, then we end ours can end, along with his. I began to drink, illegally, to forget what I could, it was a matter of staying alive until I could finish things.
Fast forward, I am 22 years old. A moment comes, I am about to head to work. My mom calls me upstairs, to see my father had once again pretended to overdose, by taking some of his many narcotics and writing another note. It was more baiting from him, and he had done this many times. The note, next to the very guns he had placed against my forehead ever since I was 7, was scribbled like a drunk 4-year-old. I told her to call the hospital and have him removed. She was ready to once again brush it off, we were used to police telling us they were never going to do anything until it was too late. But maybe with an overdose threat, the paramedics would take him. I told her to call, or I would end it. I was ready to do it, finally. She saw that, and quickly called. As she left, I took that very same .44, and placed it against the same place he would on me. It would have been so easy, and it would have been over. It was loaded, as always. It wouldn’t be a threat on a counter otherwise. Hammer back, finger over, I never fired. I still always wonder what would have happened if I had.
Apparently, it would have been considered self defense at that point, but would I be here? It would have been a completed objective, with one other to complete the mission. With two rounds in the chamber, one for me and my mother at the time, it was all I needed to complete the deal I made with myself. Would it have ended there? I’ll never know. Instead, the paramedics came, and we filed for restraining orders, which he broke multiple times, and the police did nothing about, only solidifying my hatred of law enforcement. Time moved on, my mother got remarried, my brother started his own family, and I moved to Minnesota. There were a few attempts on myself during this time, as it was clear the pact I made was never to be fulfilled now, but things leveled out. However, things took more strange turns.
After I had moved, and settled in Minnesota, I had finally found more peace and decided I could finally pull my mask off. I would no longer be the one I was told I was, and be who was hiding behind the face they saw. Auri would be born, me, I could live as me, and I was going to be happier as me. With it, I found support in places I never thought I would, and over time family started to accept it, leading up to my eventual trip. But before all that happened, things were getting worse mentally. Dad had finally died, by his own hubris even. And what should have been wonderful, was the beginning of the largest downfall of my mental health to ever occur. He stopped texting and stopped being a threat in real life. He began to haunt me in other was. At first, that occasional memory, then that shadow, then that brand of cigarette making me think he’s here. Now, I’ll just see him in a crowd, hear his voice, and sometimes he just is standing behind me, mocking me. A dead man with more power than he ever did when he was alive. Eventually I began to drink more heavily again, like I used to, and it all broke free. A PTSD trip that would unlock everything and start a cycle of never-ending horrors.
So, how does this all correlate to my trip? The trip was… well as a trip it was nice. I had a birthday, I turned 33. My family all came to meet me for the first time. They fumbled pronouns but they were all so supportive. I told my mom a little more about what happened between myself and my dad, so that she can understand why I’m so… damaged. My mom gave me an HRT shot, I gave her a Blahaj as a thank you, I met one of my closest friends ever, Tessa, and some old co-workers to show them who I truly am while going incognito and surprising them. I had a seizure in front of my mom and brother, but they were awesome about it. I saw everything change; Colorado is vastly different after 5 years. There’s so much more LGBTQ+ acceptance there now, and people seem so much happier. Everyone seemed happier. Everyone. Everyone…
Everyone but me. Going back… I realized just how the world around me changed, like it just didn’t matter I had left. Hell, like me leaving, everyone had done better. Obviously, I didn’t have an impact on the entire state but like… my family, my friends… It just… They truly did move on without me there. They care still, and I’m grateful, but if we go back to my deal… “when he’s gone, and they are safe…”, and how I was never “meant to be here this long.” Then as we rose from a rocky ride from a lightshow of lightning and thunder to one of the most surreal nights I’ve ever witnessed in my life, feeling like I’m gliding effortlessly over a sea of snow in in the glow of a full moon, I look back at how I spent my life making sure all I’ve done my whole life is ensure my brother and mom got their happy endings, and seem to be there, or at least get to be on that path.
And I’m here, weightless now, not sure what’s happening anymore, watching my attempts at a better life constantly fall through. On my way to the plane, I got news that my Disability once again was denied despite all the work done, and that it was pushed to a “Denied” status less than 2 days after its 4-month medical evaluation, meaning some jerk eating a 5-dollar footlong probably didn’t even look at it and is paid to only hit reject on everything. Then I had half my medications taken from me at the TSA at DIA, which I had brought with me from Minnesota, but for some reason it was a problem heading back. It will take time to get it back but till then I won’t have a few things needed for stability, and it’s not going to be easy.
These things seem to happen on a day-to-day basis, so much so that its just sort of normal now. And I must continue to ask for assistance simply because I am doing what was recommended of my medical team. I get to deal with traumas that won’t be leaving my life any time soon, while dealing with financial issues that I can’t simply have a job to fix, as normal jobs are so far out of the realm of possible with these limitations that no one can accommodate it.
All I do now, is think back to that fork in the road of my life, where things could have changed. I want to keep living, I have a lot to do here, and a lot of people I care about to make sure they get their happy endings as well. But it’s… also strange to think about how I was never meant to be here either. And life seems to want to enforce that for me sometimes. Whether it be with how my luck plays out, with how I get treated, or by showing me just how people are well off without me. I always used to say I like to play the part of the person behind the curtain, the one that helps from the shadow and is easily forgotten, and it seems like I’ve done that pretty well in a few cases. I’ve basically kept my family alive and protected them enough to get them to where they are now by being their unseen shield. My therapist has asked me if I regret it before, and I don’t know if I can ever give a real answer to it.
Part of me wants to say no, because my mission was successful, and they are safe. Part of me feels like they treat me like I never did anything for them, and it feels rather harmful to feel like I never did anything for them, when I gave so much, but they can’t really know. It’s… difficult. Revealing everything to anyone at this point is rather pointless, as all it does is make me feel worse, and causes them to feel like they did nothing to help, causing them to feel worse and making me feel worse for making them feel worse. It doesn’t solve anything anymore, other than to harm, so for these things, its better to have it all die with me, never having it down anywhere and letting the memories fade as my mind turns off one last time.
As I said, it took me a while to write all this. I’ve stopped a few time to regather thoughts and make sure things were added in a few places. I’ve been told to write a book one day on everything, and I probably could, but I don’t want people to know how bad it got anymore. The world needs to be a better place than the place that I saw. I think those clouds, and that moon, was probably the most solace I’ve seen in a long time, and probably the most peace I’ll be receiving for a while. Maybe if I can hold onto that memory it can help.
Thank you all for reading. I hope you all understand my lack of… everything. Things haven’t been easy, mentally, financially, and basically any other way. I want to thank everyone for everything, seriously. Thank you all so much for being here, and just… being HERE. I know it’s hard sometimes, but I’m happy you’re here regardless. Thank you for sticking it out with me and everyone else.
Take care, for now.
-Auri Kampfer Wolf
This all contains talk of Depression, Suicide, and a lot of other stuff. Do not read if you are sensitive to it, though I will say I promise thing’s are stable right now.
As many of you know, I suffer from a couple of different things, including Depression, severe Anxiety, PTSD, Bipolar, Depersonalization-derealization Disorder, and more. After the death of my father, the reason most of these things exist, a lot of things became far more difficult than I first realized they ever would be. An example of these things would be an increase in seizures brought on by the PTSD, only serving to amplify the derealization issues I’d face moving forward.
roy7x_ has helped to create a more comfortable environment to help with things, and knows how to assist when needed, and TinderFox 
ThatGayIndigoFox for his tender care despite being at a distance, but nothing seems to help actually stop these incidents from happening.The man that has passed away has moved from being dead to being very much alive. I’m aware he is dead, but he somehow feels very much there sometimes. It’s like he never died, and it causes more PTSD attacks to occur. And to compound on these things, times that I seem to experience moments where things remind me of the past, like a road that reminds me of a place in Colorado, I can start to have a slight reality shift.
You can see where this is all going now.
If it wasn’t enough that these things were happening, I was also going to be going to meet my family for the first time, for real. The last time I had gone, I was not myself. This was pre-Covid, I wore a different face. I was a lie; the person I always was told I was. This was the time I was coming as me. I was showing up with my face, as me for the first time. They were meeting me for the first time ever. All of this, and I only had 4 days. There were people I’d like to see, but would they accept me? I’d be staying with my mom and my stepdad, who are having a hard time with gendering and naming, but its hard considering how long they’ve known me as someone else. Same goes for my brother and his family. It was going to be a lot. And with so many familiar faces, places, and more, how would it effect the more sensitive mental issues?
Turned out… A lot…
On the way back, we flew through a storm. An electrical storm, more specifically. It was a lightshow, and the plane was shaky to say the least. The flight was at night, fairly late, at around 10pm. The cabin lights were dim, and looking out the window showed something that would make the 4th of July blush. Once it was over, and we cleared the clouds, it was… like something I’d only ever seen in a dream. Smooth white clouds, like a sea of snow, accompanied by a cool white full moon. It was a soft blue, but only a hint, nearly monotone. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words to describe how awesome it looked, cause the picture I took could never capture it through the weird windows they have.
It was such a… great ending to an otherwise troubling trip. It seemed good while I was there, but I was bothered the whole time, and I couldn’t tell what it was until I saw the moon and the clouds, that surreal ending to the trip.
When we were young, my dad had, in his chemically altered state, decided to hit my brother and I. It was one of my first memories other than being reminded of how worthless my life was. My dad had broken a branch from a tree he was cutting and blamed it on us. I saw the fear in my brother’s eyes and heard him scream when he was hit. With the knowledge that my life meant so little, I had decided that it would be better served as a shield. I couldn’t stop everything, and my father understood what I was doing. I was to become the plaything, and he made me everything he needed me to be. I’d be his toy, to hit, and to abuse in every form you can imagine. And after he realized why I had done it, he threatened to kill my mother and brother if I ever stopped or told anyone.
Like many trans kids, I was fairly aware of the uneasy feelings of my body around the ages of 8-9. To say I was treading a fine line was incredibly accurate already though. I had already had a gun to my head several times, been battered and bruised, and thrown from a vehicle. He didn’t need a new reason to kill me, and in turn hurt my mom and brother. My whole existence already was to protect them. So, I had to hide that, like many other things. So, life continued, until it was safe. I knew that by the time that they were safe, my life would not have much to salvage. That either meant that by the time they would be safe, I’d we would have to end each other, or Id take care of him, then myself. There wasn’t much intention on continuing from there. That was why around my teenage years I had already started adopting so much suicidal tendencies, then suddenly stopped. I had made a deal with myself: we make it through to the end of their story, then we end ours can end, along with his. I began to drink, illegally, to forget what I could, it was a matter of staying alive until I could finish things.
Fast forward, I am 22 years old. A moment comes, I am about to head to work. My mom calls me upstairs, to see my father had once again pretended to overdose, by taking some of his many narcotics and writing another note. It was more baiting from him, and he had done this many times. The note, next to the very guns he had placed against my forehead ever since I was 7, was scribbled like a drunk 4-year-old. I told her to call the hospital and have him removed. She was ready to once again brush it off, we were used to police telling us they were never going to do anything until it was too late. But maybe with an overdose threat, the paramedics would take him. I told her to call, or I would end it. I was ready to do it, finally. She saw that, and quickly called. As she left, I took that very same .44, and placed it against the same place he would on me. It would have been so easy, and it would have been over. It was loaded, as always. It wouldn’t be a threat on a counter otherwise. Hammer back, finger over, I never fired. I still always wonder what would have happened if I had.
Apparently, it would have been considered self defense at that point, but would I be here? It would have been a completed objective, with one other to complete the mission. With two rounds in the chamber, one for me and my mother at the time, it was all I needed to complete the deal I made with myself. Would it have ended there? I’ll never know. Instead, the paramedics came, and we filed for restraining orders, which he broke multiple times, and the police did nothing about, only solidifying my hatred of law enforcement. Time moved on, my mother got remarried, my brother started his own family, and I moved to Minnesota. There were a few attempts on myself during this time, as it was clear the pact I made was never to be fulfilled now, but things leveled out. However, things took more strange turns.
After I had moved, and settled in Minnesota, I had finally found more peace and decided I could finally pull my mask off. I would no longer be the one I was told I was, and be who was hiding behind the face they saw. Auri would be born, me, I could live as me, and I was going to be happier as me. With it, I found support in places I never thought I would, and over time family started to accept it, leading up to my eventual trip. But before all that happened, things were getting worse mentally. Dad had finally died, by his own hubris even. And what should have been wonderful, was the beginning of the largest downfall of my mental health to ever occur. He stopped texting and stopped being a threat in real life. He began to haunt me in other was. At first, that occasional memory, then that shadow, then that brand of cigarette making me think he’s here. Now, I’ll just see him in a crowd, hear his voice, and sometimes he just is standing behind me, mocking me. A dead man with more power than he ever did when he was alive. Eventually I began to drink more heavily again, like I used to, and it all broke free. A PTSD trip that would unlock everything and start a cycle of never-ending horrors.
So, how does this all correlate to my trip? The trip was… well as a trip it was nice. I had a birthday, I turned 33. My family all came to meet me for the first time. They fumbled pronouns but they were all so supportive. I told my mom a little more about what happened between myself and my dad, so that she can understand why I’m so… damaged. My mom gave me an HRT shot, I gave her a Blahaj as a thank you, I met one of my closest friends ever, Tessa, and some old co-workers to show them who I truly am while going incognito and surprising them. I had a seizure in front of my mom and brother, but they were awesome about it. I saw everything change; Colorado is vastly different after 5 years. There’s so much more LGBTQ+ acceptance there now, and people seem so much happier. Everyone seemed happier. Everyone. Everyone…
Everyone but me. Going back… I realized just how the world around me changed, like it just didn’t matter I had left. Hell, like me leaving, everyone had done better. Obviously, I didn’t have an impact on the entire state but like… my family, my friends… It just… They truly did move on without me there. They care still, and I’m grateful, but if we go back to my deal… “when he’s gone, and they are safe…”, and how I was never “meant to be here this long.” Then as we rose from a rocky ride from a lightshow of lightning and thunder to one of the most surreal nights I’ve ever witnessed in my life, feeling like I’m gliding effortlessly over a sea of snow in in the glow of a full moon, I look back at how I spent my life making sure all I’ve done my whole life is ensure my brother and mom got their happy endings, and seem to be there, or at least get to be on that path.
And I’m here, weightless now, not sure what’s happening anymore, watching my attempts at a better life constantly fall through. On my way to the plane, I got news that my Disability once again was denied despite all the work done, and that it was pushed to a “Denied” status less than 2 days after its 4-month medical evaluation, meaning some jerk eating a 5-dollar footlong probably didn’t even look at it and is paid to only hit reject on everything. Then I had half my medications taken from me at the TSA at DIA, which I had brought with me from Minnesota, but for some reason it was a problem heading back. It will take time to get it back but till then I won’t have a few things needed for stability, and it’s not going to be easy.
These things seem to happen on a day-to-day basis, so much so that its just sort of normal now. And I must continue to ask for assistance simply because I am doing what was recommended of my medical team. I get to deal with traumas that won’t be leaving my life any time soon, while dealing with financial issues that I can’t simply have a job to fix, as normal jobs are so far out of the realm of possible with these limitations that no one can accommodate it.
All I do now, is think back to that fork in the road of my life, where things could have changed. I want to keep living, I have a lot to do here, and a lot of people I care about to make sure they get their happy endings as well. But it’s… also strange to think about how I was never meant to be here either. And life seems to want to enforce that for me sometimes. Whether it be with how my luck plays out, with how I get treated, or by showing me just how people are well off without me. I always used to say I like to play the part of the person behind the curtain, the one that helps from the shadow and is easily forgotten, and it seems like I’ve done that pretty well in a few cases. I’ve basically kept my family alive and protected them enough to get them to where they are now by being their unseen shield. My therapist has asked me if I regret it before, and I don’t know if I can ever give a real answer to it.
Part of me wants to say no, because my mission was successful, and they are safe. Part of me feels like they treat me like I never did anything for them, and it feels rather harmful to feel like I never did anything for them, when I gave so much, but they can’t really know. It’s… difficult. Revealing everything to anyone at this point is rather pointless, as all it does is make me feel worse, and causes them to feel like they did nothing to help, causing them to feel worse and making me feel worse for making them feel worse. It doesn’t solve anything anymore, other than to harm, so for these things, its better to have it all die with me, never having it down anywhere and letting the memories fade as my mind turns off one last time.
As I said, it took me a while to write all this. I’ve stopped a few time to regather thoughts and make sure things were added in a few places. I’ve been told to write a book one day on everything, and I probably could, but I don’t want people to know how bad it got anymore. The world needs to be a better place than the place that I saw. I think those clouds, and that moon, was probably the most solace I’ve seen in a long time, and probably the most peace I’ll be receiving for a while. Maybe if I can hold onto that memory it can help.
Thank you all for reading. I hope you all understand my lack of… everything. Things haven’t been easy, mentally, financially, and basically any other way. I want to thank everyone for everything, seriously. Thank you all so much for being here, and just… being HERE. I know it’s hard sometimes, but I’m happy you’re here regardless. Thank you for sticking it out with me and everyone else.
Take care, for now.
-Auri Kampfer Wolf
Much love to ya, and thank you for sharing such personal stuff <3
I wish for your happiness going forward.
But let's not make this about me! Just remember I'll be there whenever you need somebody to talk to.
And I'm sure it makes sense that this great night view was such a comforting sight! Aren't wolves supposed to like howling at the moon? :P