Atypical Trans Late Bloomer

I've had a dual diagnosis of depression and anxiety for decades. I think the meds I have serve me pretty well. I'm rarely too deep into these two monsters. The last few days I've have major anxiety in a way I haven't experience it ever before. I am completely anxious. I am afraid. Not just tense of apprehensive but afraid. Afraid as in, I smell a little differemt. I am frightened. There are days I've taken a single Klomopin for anxiety. Now I'm washing down two with a glass of wine. (Not recommended, btw). The Klonopin works well. When I take two in an evening, and certainly when I take two with a glass of wine, I'll wake up with a complete loss of memory; just a black hole. Can't drive that way. I don't know what I feel so frail and frighted about.

Six years ago now, I recovered lost memories of beatings and rapes and learning to be the best boy I could to avoid "being in trouble". My story has unraveled and become apparatent in non-linear ways, in hints and starts and later recognition. I've realized I wasn't the pure-hetero I spent 55 years pretending to be. I realized I didn't need to believe in the church that perpetrated the rapes, covered up for the crimes, and conspired to run a local catholic grade school as a rotating supply troop of young boys for the priests to enjoy. I've realized that when I presented myself as All-American to a young woman and proposed marriage, I was suppressing memories of events and desires and made a false presentation. When it all came to a head, and I wan't the man she thought she'd married, and I wasn't the man I said I was, that was the end of that. There was no fixing it. Now, alone and left to myself, I'm growing my hai...