they were very loud but I also insisted on keeping my door open.
every E.R. i was in, i kept my door open.
every time they told me i had to wait, i just got louder and louder until they got me moved.
i needed a psychiatrist and when i finally got to see one, they were terrified and holding their clipboards like i was going to do something
i thought about it, as i do, and tried to tell them my story
often i was interrupted (another trigger that will send me into a sub headspace) to be told what i needed.
if a psychiatrist says i need something, surely i need it, right?
the first person who actually sat me down and ask me to tell my side was a very nice social work who asked me what "being a trans" was like.
we talked for a very long time and i was surprised this was the first "professional" during my admittance into the E.R. to actually ask (and care!) how i was feeling.
i got to rant to him about the adoption system which ended up being perfect because he kept repeating that he worked in adoption for 35 years before writing down more information
not to be rude, but weird flex dude
what happens if someone looks just fine on paperwork and they can perfectly explain to you what happened?
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