I don’t know where to begin. So, I’m transgender, FTM. Yay. Call me Gabriel.

I’m dealing with a lot. Last week my anxiety and depression diagnosis was changed to paranoid schizophrenia. What?! I still don’t know how to deal with it. Surprisingly, all symptoms go away on meds. Not surprisingly, I probably understood at some point that diagnosis was a definite possibility for me. It’s like waking up and realizing how much I screwed myself over. I’m not a product of drugs, alcohol, promiscuity or criminal activity of any kind, although trauma does play into it. Never the less, I have found myself sinking into a downward slope pooling at the bottom of society ever since I started freaking out about near impossible scenarios. I was at a pinnacle of prestige at one point, right? I was doing well with my studies and internship and then, splat. My last job was McDonald’s.

The good news is, after two weeks in the hospital, (and here it comes) I was accepted back in my housing bungalow. It’s a local service for homeless males. Another twist to the screwed up? I’m thinking about detransitioning. I just really shouldn’t yet.

I can’t help but feel stunned that I am in a place of almost isolated impoverishment. Alone is, at least, how I feel. I know I’m not really alone because everyone has their own struggles and story. I just wish mine wasn’t so brutal.