Me and Mental Health treatment go way back. As far back as when I was only five years old. You see, I wasn’t aware that knowing I was a girl was considered severely mentally ill. Almost as soon as I said it the first time I was whisked from one temporary care facility to a semi permanent one. Well then from there I had escaped the mental health care for a couple of years until I ran into another one. This one in another state after I was caught in an act with anther boy who had he suggested we act out that I was the girl in this little fantasy. I agreed happily and surprised he had said it not knowing how I felt. Next thing I know I’m transferred again from one Christian based facility to a state facility for mental health. Then through the barrage of tests, some more obvious than others. Eventually you get to know them all in various versions. So after adult age hit me I was no longer require to participate in anymore games of pin the diagnosis on the client. I find it funny that we went from patient to client though I’m not sure exactly when this happened. I lived without any “treatment” until I lost it at thirty six exactly one day before my birthday. That story is for another time. But I felt maybe I really do need help and I really am so mentally ill and my dysphoria was just a symptom of something worse. I didn’t start out with that but talked about what happened however I felt I was talking to a wall as most of the therapist where social workers with masters degrees. And each new one wanted to try their hand at pin a diagnosis on the client. I would eventually mention it sometimes casually just to see if they would notice. It’s a huge clue or so I thought. Mostly they dismissed it as either attention getting or a subset of another illness. I can’t say this enough. It is debilitating to be stigmatized as mentally ill. I got treated as you’d treat someone with cognitive problems or dangerous. Or that I could not understand them and of course everyone agreed they could not understand me at all. So when I decided to transition I wanted again to get therapy because by now I was a considerable mess. Guess what I got again.