Some things in this post might be triggering. Hope it’s okay to post them anyway.
I’m not even sure if I should say these things here - I’m a bit paranoid about not being sufficiently anonymous.
It’s really hard for me to verbalise the problems I’ll be talking about. I struggle.
Maybe I should start with a bit of background information.
About 8 years ago, I’ve been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I was psychotic back then - full blown psychosis, all with delusions (about being poisoned and under surveillance), hallucinating, afflicted with permanent anxiety, thought disorders, etc. It was so bad that I could not even properly process or produce language.
At some point, I stopped eating and was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. There, I was drugged into a zombie - like stage. I remember sitting in the edge of a bed, staring at a blank wall, salivating onto my lap without being able to help it.
The medical professionals quickly changed the medication. I responded better to that and it didn’t affect me as badly in negative ways. Few weeks later, I was sufficiently stable to go home again and started therapy.
I learned a few things. For example how to identify my emotions, how to cope with remaining symptoms such as a lack of motivation, thought disorders, sleep disorders etc.
I improved. I got a job and it turns out I’m good at it. Very good. My clients appreciate my work.
I love my job in principle - but the amount of work is getting out of hand. The sheer pressure I’m being subjected to is too much for me. I can’t bear it. No matter how much I’m working my ass off, it’ll never be enough. It’ll never be good enough and I’ll be scolded by my boss time and time again for not exceeding expectations every single week.
But I’m caught in this workplace. I’m stuck. I can’t leave.
I make very good money and I don’t need to commute at all. No comparable job that could sustain our lifestyle will be that close to our apartment. But my workplace must be just around the corner so I can keep caring for my disabled brother.
Now that I keep living a few years through this, it’s getting to me. I feel exhausted. Voices occasionally pop up again. I can’t sleep properly. I can’t eat properly. Once food touches my lips, I feel disgusted. When I look into the mirror, I looking at a stranger.
Each evening, once the noise of the day ceases, my mind directs itself to suicidal ideations over and over and over.
I just feel overwhelmed and I can’t escape. Neither can I fight - I’m just too exhausted.
Add to that that I’m having a secret second life. Twice a month, I’m driving hundreds of miles into another city. There, I meet my chosen family. It’s a drag family. The first people that accepted me unconditionally the way I am. The people who introduced me to the art of drag and now I take part in their drag shows. I’m not just a boring investment consultant anymore. I’ve got a second life now. As Gomorrah Sins.
Drag is frowned upon here though. If it made word around my city that I’m doing drag, I’d lose my job, my reputation, my family.
I can’t win. I just can’t win.