Intrusive Thoughts

In my mind I am standing outside the V.A headquarters. I have chosen my moment carefully, I am ready to do this. I double and triple check the bag at my side, making sure the payload is safe. I suck a deep breath in and grab my resolve. "We are doing this for everyone else." I say to myself for the 1000th time. It gives me little comfort but comfort is a distant memory at best.

It's been two years since they took everything from me. My healthcare, already inadequate, got worse. Why? Because the people on the top don't care about my life, nor the lives of those I love. They've dealt people like me the ultimate fatal blow. Right on the cusp of things getting a little better for us, they let fear and bigotry win.

I still remember the day that they told me that my HRT was no longer available. I remember the break down. I remember the crying and the anger. I don't remember anything after the tightening of the rope. I just know that I woke up on the floor, dazed, coughing, and smelling of shit. I was too afraid to try again. So I suffered, and suffered.

As the days wore one, my careful created world unraveled around me. As I was forced into de-transition I got more and more reckless. The drugs, the booze, the self-hatred, the anger, came back worse than ever and I fell. I went dark for a long time, crawling in the emotional glass of my broken life.

I when I finally had a moment of clarity I realized this was another suicide attempt. I had a revelation then. It can't be like this. I can't go like this.

It keeps playing over and over in my mind, "If they are going to take your life, make them pay for it. What else have you got to lose?"

So I came up with a plan. I worked it out carefully. I would sure that no one was hurt, nor would they be in my way.

That brings us back to now and my phone call to the front desk. I roll my eyes at the prerecorded message at the start of every call begging me to ask for help if I am feeling like harming myself.

I already asked you for fucking help, you fucking cowards. I asked for hope. You dangled it in my face and then took it away from me.

"You can't help me now. You caused this," I think bitterly.

A friendly voice picks up finally.

They ask, "V.A how can I help you?"

I respond, "You can't. This is a bomb threat. You have 5 minutes to clear the building before it goes down." Then I hang up.

5 minutes is a long time when you are waiting for fate. I watch as all of the staff in the building rushes out, panic barely held in check as they file out. I've got a radio on the same band as they do so I hear when they give the all clear. I'm not here to hurt anyone. That's not the point. I was already on my way inside, heading down to the basement, to the support structures most vulnerable parts.

I set my bag down and start taking out my equipment, carefully arranging everything and then I start my work. Liquids fly. Tears fly. I scream and scream, working furiously to set up my plan of revenge.

I am struggling when the work ends, the poison in me has already gone past the point of no return in my system. I can feel myself laboring, my head is swimming, this is it.

Several furious minutes of convulsing and I slide away, knowing that I did the only thing that I could.

It's a gruesome sight. They find me next to wall. Dead as a door nail. My face is a mask of pain and sorrow. Above me in giant rainbow letters it says, "This is the cost of your cruelty."

I make all the papers. My image becomes a rallying cry for others who need help. The V.A is forced to review it's inhumane policies. The media attention, outcry, and fervor result in iron clad changes to the system. Future LGBTQIA people have their needs enshrined in law in perpetuity.

My life meant something. The loss of it resulted in a gain for others like me. I would be okay with this. Someone needed to make them see what the cost of their inhumanity. If I can't live my life I can end it in a way that makes others lives possible.

I come back to myself. I shake my head and realize it would change nothing. If anything my actions would only result in things getting worse for others. I cry and stay in bed for the rest of the day, feeling helpless. Such is my life, reduced to a bargaining chip in other people's hands.