The 3rd time I felt suicidal was late in 1997. I'd been under a lot of pressure in my university studies. I'd also just returned from the Beltane Festival, and wasn't grounded or centred properly. I felt all these emotions and energy flowing in me.
I got into a transgendered chatroom and someone there posted a letter about a transsexual woman who'd had her surgery long ago. According to the letter, she'd been very successful since and passed so well that the differences between her and other women were almost undetectable. But with this success came a problem. She felt isolated and lonely, unable to share this part of her with anyone else.
This was depressing. What was the point of transition if at the end of it, you were no happier than when you started?
At the same time I had a falling out with a transgendered friend. This affected me too, because she seemed to have it all -- good looks, a good job, and good prospects. And here was I, having some doubts about my own femininity, struggling to make ends meet while studying and looking/buying a house.
I was jealous of her.
I was upset with myself. Upset that I was jealous of her (she was a friend, how could I be jealous of a friend?), upset that life was difficult for me; upset that the future might seem more so but lonelier! I got suicidal, and narrowly avoided having several car accidents before I went to stay at a friend's place.
And I got over it, or so I thought. Soon after I bought and moved into my first house. I had a new pet dog, and all the university break to get settled. But lack of activity is one thing I have difficulty handling. It gives me time to brood. Give me a busy day and I'm happy.
So I became depressed for most of the university break. It took a number of things to get me going again and out of that depression.
I met another transsexual woman on a trip with a friend. She was 8+ years post operative; attractive; successful in business; involved in her community; and had friends and lovers. In short, she was an inspiration. There was more than one path in this process. The person who'd written that letter had gone one way, this person another. And I could choose too. Not major decisions (I'd already made those and they were the correct choices), but all the small ones that count in life.
Secondly, I went to the Bisexual Conference in Sydney. I enjoyed
the conference, it reaffirmed that it was OK to be Bisexual, and it
was there that I was able to let go of that other hurt. I could
move on. And lastly, university started again. It makes a
difference when you're doing something you love, and I love my
art! 
Finally, I could sit down and think about the causes of my being suicidal and depressed.
Postmortum
When I think of it now, this was just like when I'd encountered that Girl in Perth. She seemed to have everything I didn't. But it only seemed that way at the time. Truth was that she and I are different people, with different pasts, futures, and needs. Comparing myself to others never seems to work. My inner critic can be so vicious that I always come off worse, whether its true or not. So I think I need to stop doing that -- comparing myself to others.
If my path appears difficult and other's appear easy, then it makes no difference, because I'm on my path, not theirs. When I compare myself to others, I'm focused on them, not me. And that's a sure way for me to get into emotional trouble. When I focus on myself, on my own needs, I can take the appropriate action to satisfy them. And that's what I need to do.
Life seems to be in the details. Instead waiting for these big emotional changes to happen (where I "magically" become happier) I really just need to get on with it, to live a day at a time, and live it well. Instead of trying to fit in, I should just be myself, even if I don't always know just who that is. And then, maybe one day, I might look back and think how much I have changed, and hadn't even noticed it.
And that will be a beautiful day. It'll be fun getting there.
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