Music (Poetry)


Music, is what I need
to survive.

In the morning
to wake me up
and let the nightmares fade.

It brings me through the day,
is my shield against the loud world.

It soothes me,
when I’m in pain
and wait for the painkiller to help.

It’s my lullaby
for the night.

Music, is what I need
to survive.

22.09.16 © LJ Meindl All rights reserved.

Life updates

Dear diary,

lately in much stress here. Now after my name and gender change I have to run to all the offices to get my papers changed. Also now I finally can start applications for new things. Next week I got an appointment to open a bank account for me. Yes, I didn’t had an own bank account. To this day my mum was managing and still do all my financies. I never could deal with numbers. I have troubles to understand the working with money. Like I can’t plan who much I need for a week. So I don’t know how much money I have and how much I have to pay for bills, so I can’t count how much I have back then to live.
But now I finally want to start this together with my mum.

Another thing I did, was filling out an application for personal budget. That is support money that I can use for helpful things that should make my every day life easier. I’m planning on to hire an assistance who helps me with grocery shopping, my household and takes me to doctors appointments and social help and stuff. Until now my mum does this all for me. She also helps me to use public transportation since due to my disability I need help to enter/leave train, bus etc, and also helps me if there come sudden changes into public transportation. In this situation I’m lost without help, because my brain just get into shutdown mode.

So for this I had an appointment with a doctor from social help who should check what help I need. He was totally ignorant and incompetent. We brought all my medical reports, he knew I get permanent invalid pension and that I take strong painkiller for my chronic pain. So, nevertherless he told us that he “doesn’t understand” how I can’t do my household and all. I even had to tell him my daily routine where I told him about intense pain and the rest I need even if I don’t leave my home.
His assistant was not even better. She kept asking why I don’t go to therapy in autism center to “learn” how to do my household. Not even that she completely ignored all my disabilities, she really insisited that my autism would be treatable! My mum and me told them that we were at the autism center the counselor has sent us to the autism assistance because this is what we needed. The only “therapy” they do there is for socializing, like how to begin a talk, keep it up and become friends and so on. And I can do that pretty well. At least online ;)In the end she looked up a therapy and diagnosis from 10 years ago, social phobia. I then told her that it doesn’t matter because it was a misdiagnose what was refuted by the new autism diagnosis. She then said “Social phobia, autism, whatever you call it, it’s just a diagnosis.” I almost forgot myself! That she doesn’t know the difference made me so mad! Social Phobia is acquired and treatable whereas one is born with autism and it’s treatable!

The doctor also asked me about my transgender therapy I’m still doing. I don’t know what this has to do with that I need an every day life support? In the end he wanted to do a medical examination on me what I refused because I think from the medical reports, my personal description of the symptoms my disabilities and what I’m struggling with, should have been enough. Also I had the feeling he only wanted to see a transgender body.
He was a very unsympathetic person…

You see, I have a lot of stress here and have to fight again for my needs. Why does they make it so hard for people with disabilities to get them the support they need to have a lifeworthing life? Life is already short enough, especially for chronic ill people, so why do they make it even harder?


Near Death Experience (Poetry)

(I wrote already about this but felt like I wanted to re-write it and put more details into it.)

Near Death Experience

When I sank into darkness
there was no fear.
The high pitched sound
of the heart monitor
hurt my ears
and, I looked up
to see what was going on.

The doctors fought for my life;
I saw my body on the operating table
but, I didn’t care.
This body wasn’t needed anymore.

A dark figure next to me
distracted me,
held out his hand for me
to come with him.


I felt no fear,
no discomfort,
no pain.
Everything felt wonderful.

A bright lovely light
appeared behind him.
It was welcoming me.
But before I could take his hand,
he stopped.

Looked at me with confusion
and back to the doctors,
who kept fighting.
The heart monitor
stopped it’s annoying sound
and beeped now in my heartbeat.

He said:
“It’s not your time yet.
You have to go back.”
But I shook my head,
stood straight in front of him.

“I don’t want to go back.
There’s so much pain.
I wanna stay here
’cause here I’m fine.”

Death sighed,
knowing that I won’t change my mind.
So he gave me a promise:
“When it’s your time,
I will be here again and take you by the hand
into the light.”

I agreed, and went back into life.

02.09.16 © LJ Meindl All rights reserved.

Swimming part 2

So the summer is back in Germany. And with it the desire to want to go swimming. Sadly I haven’t made it yet. I wish I could say it was because of my disease and the chronic pain that kept me in bed for several days. Or the stress with changing all the papers after my name/gender change, but to be honestly, I scare to go swimming. I scare because my body doesn’t look “cis-appropriate”. I’m afraid to get stared at, to get insulted, harrassed. With words but also physically. I’m scared I will get misgendered, called a girl or to hear that “this dude has tits like a girl”. And Now I wonder if this is how cis-men with gynecomastia feel like…

Swimming shorts pic. 1 year 1 month 24 days on T

I’d loved to go to the Havel swimming, but I don’t dare. I know that they are swimming shirts for trans-people like me, but I don’t see why I should need to cover up and hide my body when actually nothing is wrong with it? It’s society that has a problem with people who do not look “appropriate”. That kinda feels like fat-shaming for me. Like bigger people are told they should not wear a bikini/go to the lake because society thinks it looks disgusting.

So what can I do to solve my problem? Working on my self-esteem I think.
I think, it would be much easier for me if I would have a bunch of friends in my back who would strengthen me if anyone says something about my chest to me. But unfortunately I’m all alone here…

I talked about swimming and my chest “problems” here as well: Swimming as Transgender
Fight for your right to be shirtless


Name/Gender change

Some good news: I got a letter from the court about my name and gender change. I am now officially Luka Jesse Meindl and sex/gender male! (There is only one word in german for gender/sex) Although I am actually genderneutral, I really like the fact to be now legally male in front of the german law. It was a compromise because in german law only exist male and female. And I rather be seen as male than female.