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I found myself walking through a familiar psychological Gloomsville, where life holds no meaning and hope is but a fleeting thought in the minds of the few who dare to try and reach for it. But there they find nothing, because it just doesn't exist. No hope, just dread dread dread until I'm dead dead dead.

My desperation was overwhelming.

So I found, dundundun, yet another licensed therapist. This makes 3, in my quest to discover a modicum of a sliver of happiness. But after a slight interview in the very first session, I had a feeling brought back that I haven't felt in so long, I forgot what it was. And that feeling was... hope.

How, you ask?

Three little letters: HRT. One session, one letter, one call and one recommendation.

Hope hope hope. Feels good, you know... feels good.
Oh, it is so good to hear from you again - you have no idea! And omgyay HRT!!!!

I'm pretty close to that gloomy point myself but I'm holding out for my first ever therapist appointment this Wednesday. Only got sent because of prior suicide attempts but I hope they'll pry enough to find the reasons.
It's been such a long, rocky road. I'm just waiting on the call from the endo.

Good luck with your appointment. Really, you should just out yourself to the therapist. They're bound by law to keep your secrets!