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DYSPHORIA.
4 years ago
General
Oh, my god. My previous surgery was so hard and so painful. I went to the emergency room a few different times, for different things each time. And the pain medicines just did. not. work. They did not work for me, hardly at all. I was in terrible pain.
But.
Looking at photos of metoidioplasties and phalloplasties... I know. I know I will need a phalloplasty. It is a hard surgery with numerous possible complications. It looks absolutely wretchedly painful. If something goes wrong, my sensation could be gone, totally.
And yet. And yet. Knowing all of this. Knowing how incredibly hard it would be. How horrifically painful. All the recovering needed. Everything.
Knowing it all, I am still certain I will never feel complete without it.
Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap. Holy shit. Oh shit oh crap. I didn't want to be this trans. I didn't want to need this. But I do. And I need it soon. I don't want to waste any more of my youth. I have spent so, so many years feeling incomplete and upset and unable to have relationships because my body just doesn't totally exist. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.
I HATE THIS. I just want to BE MYSELF WITH MY OWN BODY. I want to be able to interact using my body. It is so, so, so wrong that I have to feel all this, to go through all this just to exist as an animal. I am just a beast. I am just a beast with ingrained instincts that know how my body is supposed to be and what I'm supposed to do with it. I shouldn't have to go through so much pain to have the abilities that so many people have just, just so easily. Oh my god, people who can be intimate with others have no idea how good they've got it.
I do not want my life to be comprised of my thinking wistfully and desperately of the things I want to be able to do. As long as my body is incomplete... that's where I'm going to be. I cannot keep doing this. Every day is torture. It is so bad. Things are so bad.
Every time I see a picture or draw one where people are interacting erotically how I want to, I... sigh. I'm happy, shortly. For the moment that my mind can pretend I am the ones in the picture. Until I come back to reality and know that my body is how it is. I draw to help assuage that stress of my desires but it adds to the dysphoria, too. It makes me happy to think of others interacting happily. But when I pull back and know that I am not someone who can interact happily, it is mind-numbingly depressing. I can not keep doing this. I can not.
I am a beast, with all the feelings that that entails. That's not going away any time soon. I need to face it. The sooner I do something about it, the better. Even if... even if something goes wrong, maybe that's better than letting things stay as they are. If I never do anything about it, I will regret it for my whole life, and look back on the years I considered wasted, with an empty heart and a body that yearns for what it could never have. If I do something and it fails, at least I will have scars I can brag about. At least that will give me a place to move forward from.
I can't stay here. My body can not be like this. Please, tell me it will be all right. Please tell me it's okay to need this surgery. Please tell me I can be selfish enough to want to have a working body. I need it. I need it desperately. I need these things. Please, please, let me have a body. I am dying here. The life in me is flickering. Just let me have this. Just let me have my body.
But.
Looking at photos of metoidioplasties and phalloplasties... I know. I know I will need a phalloplasty. It is a hard surgery with numerous possible complications. It looks absolutely wretchedly painful. If something goes wrong, my sensation could be gone, totally.
And yet. And yet. Knowing all of this. Knowing how incredibly hard it would be. How horrifically painful. All the recovering needed. Everything.
Knowing it all, I am still certain I will never feel complete without it.
Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap. Holy shit. Oh shit oh crap. I didn't want to be this trans. I didn't want to need this. But I do. And I need it soon. I don't want to waste any more of my youth. I have spent so, so many years feeling incomplete and upset and unable to have relationships because my body just doesn't totally exist. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.
I HATE THIS. I just want to BE MYSELF WITH MY OWN BODY. I want to be able to interact using my body. It is so, so, so wrong that I have to feel all this, to go through all this just to exist as an animal. I am just a beast. I am just a beast with ingrained instincts that know how my body is supposed to be and what I'm supposed to do with it. I shouldn't have to go through so much pain to have the abilities that so many people have just, just so easily. Oh my god, people who can be intimate with others have no idea how good they've got it.
I do not want my life to be comprised of my thinking wistfully and desperately of the things I want to be able to do. As long as my body is incomplete... that's where I'm going to be. I cannot keep doing this. Every day is torture. It is so bad. Things are so bad.
Every time I see a picture or draw one where people are interacting erotically how I want to, I... sigh. I'm happy, shortly. For the moment that my mind can pretend I am the ones in the picture. Until I come back to reality and know that my body is how it is. I draw to help assuage that stress of my desires but it adds to the dysphoria, too. It makes me happy to think of others interacting happily. But when I pull back and know that I am not someone who can interact happily, it is mind-numbingly depressing. I can not keep doing this. I can not.
I am a beast, with all the feelings that that entails. That's not going away any time soon. I need to face it. The sooner I do something about it, the better. Even if... even if something goes wrong, maybe that's better than letting things stay as they are. If I never do anything about it, I will regret it for my whole life, and look back on the years I considered wasted, with an empty heart and a body that yearns for what it could never have. If I do something and it fails, at least I will have scars I can brag about. At least that will give me a place to move forward from.
I can't stay here. My body can not be like this. Please, tell me it will be all right. Please tell me it's okay to need this surgery. Please tell me I can be selfish enough to want to have a working body. I need it. I need it desperately. I need these things. Please, please, let me have a body. I am dying here. The life in me is flickering. Just let me have this. Just let me have my body.
