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Virginity and sexuality, and spring.
General | Posted 2 years agoWhen I was preparing to meet In on the 1st, I took a shower; I knew it would be the last shower I took before I saw him. When it came to choosing a towel and washcloth, I wondered what color and design to use. It felt important. Usually I prefer the colorful towels. Each color has a meaning. The white ones meanwhile are boring, flat, and sometimes prestained. They are hard to keep apart mentally, too. But in the end, I took a white washcloth, and I took a white towel; this time, they seemed to me appropriate. In fact to choose a towel I brought out all the white ones and examined them. I wanted the best one, one that felt good and that wasn’t stained. Only one fit these requirements. It was large, and fluffy, and unlike the others, not darkened by old blood or grime. I picked it up, feeling fascinated; feeling like I was choosing a robe, or a veil, to wear to a purification.
Because that’s what that shower felt like. Well; not a purification, exactly. But a time to prepare myself to shed my purity. A ritual. I felt like I was washing myself in preparation of receiving touch that would alter me forever. I knew In and I would have sex; and likely, soon after we met. Which we did. I walked into the bathroom feeling reverent and open, bearing things of white, to wash myself with, and then to drape over my body when I came out. I wore the towel over my head and shoulders afterward. I felt clean.
Where virginity is concerned… I have had sex before. I have done several sexual things. I think most people would consider me far from virginal. And yet because of my dysphoria, because I feel I do not possess my body right, I do not feel as if I have had sex. It’s an unusual circumstance to be left in. To me, to lose one’s virginity involves using one’s own reproductive organs in consensual copulation with another individual in a way that is natural to oneself. I am incapable of it. I do not have the reproductive organs necessary to fuck in a way that’s natural to me.
I was wondering if having sex with In would make me feel, potentially, like I wasn’t a virgin. And I was preparing for that, in case circumstances occurred that, although I didn’t expect it, I did wind up feeling like I wasn’t a virgin.
I feel… a little closer to having lost my virginity. A little more whole, in that sense. I say a little more whole, because to me, the loss of virginity is an incredibly valuable experience, a thing of beauty, and for those who want it, a milestone of being a complete human being with all the breadth of desired animal experiences. It is something I very much want; something I covet. Something that, when it happens, I am absolute I will treasure.
More of me has been inside another being. I’ve engaged in new and delightful intimacies and loves. I’ve burned in new ways. It was incredible! I have been with a man; I have been with a man I love.
I have finally had a playful introduction into new intimacy. Me! I was not serious. Oh the feelings were serious, sure. But I was able to be more natural and playful and joyful, and that was so, so valuable, I needed that, I needed that, I needed that. Easy intimacy. With someone who loved and understood and wanted me. I remember laying there beside him and thinking, and truly feeling it in the core of my spirit, “I am wanted.” I am wanted. I am truly, truly wanted. To feel wanted is such a… such a resounding experience. I’ve not felt that way. I’ve always felt inferior to other men. I’ve always felt unwantable; unlovable. For once I felt, genuinely, my body was wanted as it was, my soul was wanted as it was. I was not only good enough but idolized and desired. To feel wanted… like you have a place. Like you have a place where you are not only tolerated but wanted. There’s such a sense of belonging in that. It… it’s near transformative, that feeling. I think that helped something in me start to blossom. Small, and shyly, but it is there now, red and pink and soft like a rose, sticking out of my chest and stomach and abdomen like great painted petals. I am wanted, and I can be wanted. An understanding, a reassurance I have always ached for. I need more reassurance; more physical repetitions to write it deep in my cognition. I need to make love with him more. Again and again, until that feeling is endemic to me, and I know without having to think it that I am wanted and able to be wanted.
I felt… I felt like a teenager. Like I was young and finally exploring intimacy, as I was meant to, at that age. The experience was denied me because of my body and my raising combined. My first puberty stole my body instead of turning me into an adult, and it has been like being frozen in time. With my body not having grown into that of an adult man it is like I stopped growing at thirteen and have been frozen on the cusp of puberty ever since, far behind everyone else. But lately, I feel… it’s… it’s like the gears of puberty are finally, achingly slowly, beginning to turn. Like after two decades I am moving forward again. I have returned slightly to my body, tackling the dysphoria, and sensory experience. Understanding myself and joy and feeling. All the things I should have learned as a young teen, all the desires and feelings and experimenting, are becoming part of my life finally. Making love with In felt like part of my teenage experiences. It felt like healing. It was playful and kind and good, and messy. There was so much figuring out we had to do! Oh, how we laughed, trying to work it out! How fun, exploring how to fit our bodies together! How wonderful! Smiling and giggling and giddy and open with one another, so close, so disarmed and in love and so silly, so fun… accepting all the things that didn’t work, just laughing because even when they didn’t work, we enjoyed the messing up, because it was funny and all part of the experience… and also delighting in the things that did work. What a breeze, what a pleasure it was, making love with him, figuring out making love with him. I want to share myself with him like that for all of time, if I can. I want to fuck him and fuck him well. With more experience, I can’t wait to see what we can do with and to each other. There is so much more intimate exploration to do!
I don’t feel like I have lost my virginity. But I have grown, and moved towards it in a natural and joyful spirit. Part of me needed this, was desperate to finally have these experiences. I feel larger and more whole because of it. This is right… animalistically, I know, profoundly I know this is right. I am changed. I am more secure. I am healing the things in me that hurt, that have ached for years and years. Because it is wanted, my body is changing, and my mind is changing, as well. I am just a little older. I am just a little more mature. I am made for making love. I am made to grow in this way.
Some day, I will lose my virginity. I can’t wait until that day. With my own body whole, I will finally join myself in union with another, and that day will be breathlessly blessed. I will mature much that day. I will finally grow, and I won’t stop growing. My spring will come. My spring will come!
The springtime of my life will come. I have discovered that despite my age, I can feel those same things I was meant to feel, I can be that young person I should have been, I can experience things with wide eyes and wonder and a sense of fresh joy. Spring may be late but it is not lost. I can have that, too. It is not lost. It was waiting. It was waiting.
…I was lost, but it was not. It is coming. Spring is coming. Spring is coming! Oh, love, it was waiting; for you, for this. Spring is not lost. Something in me is starting to bloom, and I know, I know, I know what it means; the warmth of spring has touched me, and I will grow into it, and feel the full season. Spring is coming. I will feel full spring. Late… but full, and full of wonder and beauty, and play, and joy, and easy ecstasy. Spring has grazed me, and soon, I will feel the full warmth of it proper. It is just beginning.
Because that’s what that shower felt like. Well; not a purification, exactly. But a time to prepare myself to shed my purity. A ritual. I felt like I was washing myself in preparation of receiving touch that would alter me forever. I knew In and I would have sex; and likely, soon after we met. Which we did. I walked into the bathroom feeling reverent and open, bearing things of white, to wash myself with, and then to drape over my body when I came out. I wore the towel over my head and shoulders afterward. I felt clean.
Where virginity is concerned… I have had sex before. I have done several sexual things. I think most people would consider me far from virginal. And yet because of my dysphoria, because I feel I do not possess my body right, I do not feel as if I have had sex. It’s an unusual circumstance to be left in. To me, to lose one’s virginity involves using one’s own reproductive organs in consensual copulation with another individual in a way that is natural to oneself. I am incapable of it. I do not have the reproductive organs necessary to fuck in a way that’s natural to me.
I was wondering if having sex with In would make me feel, potentially, like I wasn’t a virgin. And I was preparing for that, in case circumstances occurred that, although I didn’t expect it, I did wind up feeling like I wasn’t a virgin.
I feel… a little closer to having lost my virginity. A little more whole, in that sense. I say a little more whole, because to me, the loss of virginity is an incredibly valuable experience, a thing of beauty, and for those who want it, a milestone of being a complete human being with all the breadth of desired animal experiences. It is something I very much want; something I covet. Something that, when it happens, I am absolute I will treasure.
More of me has been inside another being. I’ve engaged in new and delightful intimacies and loves. I’ve burned in new ways. It was incredible! I have been with a man; I have been with a man I love.
I have finally had a playful introduction into new intimacy. Me! I was not serious. Oh the feelings were serious, sure. But I was able to be more natural and playful and joyful, and that was so, so valuable, I needed that, I needed that, I needed that. Easy intimacy. With someone who loved and understood and wanted me. I remember laying there beside him and thinking, and truly feeling it in the core of my spirit, “I am wanted.” I am wanted. I am truly, truly wanted. To feel wanted is such a… such a resounding experience. I’ve not felt that way. I’ve always felt inferior to other men. I’ve always felt unwantable; unlovable. For once I felt, genuinely, my body was wanted as it was, my soul was wanted as it was. I was not only good enough but idolized and desired. To feel wanted… like you have a place. Like you have a place where you are not only tolerated but wanted. There’s such a sense of belonging in that. It… it’s near transformative, that feeling. I think that helped something in me start to blossom. Small, and shyly, but it is there now, red and pink and soft like a rose, sticking out of my chest and stomach and abdomen like great painted petals. I am wanted, and I can be wanted. An understanding, a reassurance I have always ached for. I need more reassurance; more physical repetitions to write it deep in my cognition. I need to make love with him more. Again and again, until that feeling is endemic to me, and I know without having to think it that I am wanted and able to be wanted.
I felt… I felt like a teenager. Like I was young and finally exploring intimacy, as I was meant to, at that age. The experience was denied me because of my body and my raising combined. My first puberty stole my body instead of turning me into an adult, and it has been like being frozen in time. With my body not having grown into that of an adult man it is like I stopped growing at thirteen and have been frozen on the cusp of puberty ever since, far behind everyone else. But lately, I feel… it’s… it’s like the gears of puberty are finally, achingly slowly, beginning to turn. Like after two decades I am moving forward again. I have returned slightly to my body, tackling the dysphoria, and sensory experience. Understanding myself and joy and feeling. All the things I should have learned as a young teen, all the desires and feelings and experimenting, are becoming part of my life finally. Making love with In felt like part of my teenage experiences. It felt like healing. It was playful and kind and good, and messy. There was so much figuring out we had to do! Oh, how we laughed, trying to work it out! How fun, exploring how to fit our bodies together! How wonderful! Smiling and giggling and giddy and open with one another, so close, so disarmed and in love and so silly, so fun… accepting all the things that didn’t work, just laughing because even when they didn’t work, we enjoyed the messing up, because it was funny and all part of the experience… and also delighting in the things that did work. What a breeze, what a pleasure it was, making love with him, figuring out making love with him. I want to share myself with him like that for all of time, if I can. I want to fuck him and fuck him well. With more experience, I can’t wait to see what we can do with and to each other. There is so much more intimate exploration to do!
I don’t feel like I have lost my virginity. But I have grown, and moved towards it in a natural and joyful spirit. Part of me needed this, was desperate to finally have these experiences. I feel larger and more whole because of it. This is right… animalistically, I know, profoundly I know this is right. I am changed. I am more secure. I am healing the things in me that hurt, that have ached for years and years. Because it is wanted, my body is changing, and my mind is changing, as well. I am just a little older. I am just a little more mature. I am made for making love. I am made to grow in this way.
Some day, I will lose my virginity. I can’t wait until that day. With my own body whole, I will finally join myself in union with another, and that day will be breathlessly blessed. I will mature much that day. I will finally grow, and I won’t stop growing. My spring will come. My spring will come!
The springtime of my life will come. I have discovered that despite my age, I can feel those same things I was meant to feel, I can be that young person I should have been, I can experience things with wide eyes and wonder and a sense of fresh joy. Spring may be late but it is not lost. I can have that, too. It is not lost. It was waiting. It was waiting.
…I was lost, but it was not. It is coming. Spring is coming. Spring is coming! Oh, love, it was waiting; for you, for this. Spring is not lost. Something in me is starting to bloom, and I know, I know, I know what it means; the warmth of spring has touched me, and I will grow into it, and feel the full season. Spring is coming. I will feel full spring. Late… but full, and full of wonder and beauty, and play, and joy, and easy ecstasy. Spring has grazed me, and soon, I will feel the full warmth of it proper. It is just beginning.
So anyway, I had sex for the first time.
General | Posted 3 years ago...Well, I mean. Penetrative sex.
Felt like the first time... like I've finally passed that barrier. Well, as close to the first time as I can get with this trans body. I think once I have phalloplasty then it'll REALLY feel like the first time. It was 3:00 AM and I knew if we did it I'd have to give up the thing I was really looking forward to the next day (because I'd be too tired), but as far as I'm concerned I made the right decision xD
It wasn't a very long event but that's bc she's not used to the feeling of it anymore and needs to be more acclimated before we can really get into it. Still... that was fun, and very bonding. And I think I did decently in terms of communication and making her feel good and loved, even if it was a strange thing for her overall. And it did feel good! ...Though with a strap-on it's kind of hard to tell where you're at, which I didn't expect. Enjoyed it regardless :3
kkhhhhh I need to get phalloplasty. NEED it. Here's hoping the next step of communication comes through soon! My letters are written up.
Felt like the first time... like I've finally passed that barrier. Well, as close to the first time as I can get with this trans body. I think once I have phalloplasty then it'll REALLY feel like the first time. It was 3:00 AM and I knew if we did it I'd have to give up the thing I was really looking forward to the next day (because I'd be too tired), but as far as I'm concerned I made the right decision xD
It wasn't a very long event but that's bc she's not used to the feeling of it anymore and needs to be more acclimated before we can really get into it. Still... that was fun, and very bonding. And I think I did decently in terms of communication and making her feel good and loved, even if it was a strange thing for her overall. And it did feel good! ...Though with a strap-on it's kind of hard to tell where you're at, which I didn't expect. Enjoyed it regardless :3
kkhhhhh I need to get phalloplasty. NEED it. Here's hoping the next step of communication comes through soon! My letters are written up.
Useful phrases to remember
General | Posted 3 years ago***I don't have to justify myself***
***It's not a priority***
***I'm not waiting for anything***
***I don't have to justify myself***
(Letting myself be free no matter what the perceived expectations of others may be. Liking what I like without feeling the need to explain myself. Liking what I like for the sake of pleasure, without needing a reason.)
***It's not a priority***
(Used to say no. Not a prerogative works, too.)
***I'm not waiting for anything***
(Or I'm not watching for anything, or I'm not waiting on anything. Used to relax and grasp the present moment, instead of being hypervigilant and focusing on some indeterminate future thing.)
***It's not a priority***
***I'm not waiting for anything***
***I don't have to justify myself***
(Letting myself be free no matter what the perceived expectations of others may be. Liking what I like without feeling the need to explain myself. Liking what I like for the sake of pleasure, without needing a reason.)
***It's not a priority***
(Used to say no. Not a prerogative works, too.)
***I'm not waiting for anything***
(Or I'm not watching for anything, or I'm not waiting on anything. Used to relax and grasp the present moment, instead of being hypervigilant and focusing on some indeterminate future thing.)
Something I am learning
General | Posted 3 years agoIf I am to push my body towards healing, I need to exhaust myself with pleasurable things, not painful ones. I cannot drudge my way towards health. Because drudgery is something I naturally loathe and avoid! And if I associate weariness with drudgery, I will avoid doing things that make me weary. Of course I will. Of course I will! Who the fuck wants to get healthy if it's boring and painful? That's just awful! Oh I am SURE there are plenty of masochistic people out there of course for whom something like "no pain, no gain" is substantial enough to get them to do shit. I am not one of them!!!!
If anyone, ANYONE, ever tells you that to do anything good for yourself requires putting yourself through a great amount of pain and boredom, question whether they are A) trying to get something out of you, and B) masochistic/enjoying the work in some way you don't have access to. Because I will tell you, if someone's having fun with drudgery and you're hating it, they've got something else going on for them that you can't see. Could be as simple as they don't need nearly as much mental stimulation as you do. Could be they've got a kink. Could be drugs or alcohol. Could be their body is unusually resilient/does not create nearly as many of the chemicals that tell them they're in pain as yours does. There's always a reason. If you can't tolerate something and someone else can, there's always a god damn REASON. There's nothing wrong with not being able to suffer the same things someone else does! Do not suffer just because you assume others are!
So, pleasure is the way for me to heal. I need to do fulfilling things that are interesting and gratifying. I can wear myself out regularly if I am doing lovely things, and that will give me a healthier relationship with tiredness, will physically improve me so I can handle more, and will make me better capable of handling difficult things that *aren't* pleasant, when I must. Fuck, I wish I'd been told this when I was younger. I always thought improving myself was supposed to be something awful. No, no... I should have realized the people who make themselves hurt and then smile and laugh about it not long later are getting something out of that pain that I don't get. I shouldn't hold myself to their standards or take their advice. I need to do things the way that is best for me, and that involves not suffering, but enjoyment.
If anyone, ANYONE, ever tells you that to do anything good for yourself requires putting yourself through a great amount of pain and boredom, question whether they are A) trying to get something out of you, and B) masochistic/enjoying the work in some way you don't have access to. Because I will tell you, if someone's having fun with drudgery and you're hating it, they've got something else going on for them that you can't see. Could be as simple as they don't need nearly as much mental stimulation as you do. Could be they've got a kink. Could be drugs or alcohol. Could be their body is unusually resilient/does not create nearly as many of the chemicals that tell them they're in pain as yours does. There's always a reason. If you can't tolerate something and someone else can, there's always a god damn REASON. There's nothing wrong with not being able to suffer the same things someone else does! Do not suffer just because you assume others are!
So, pleasure is the way for me to heal. I need to do fulfilling things that are interesting and gratifying. I can wear myself out regularly if I am doing lovely things, and that will give me a healthier relationship with tiredness, will physically improve me so I can handle more, and will make me better capable of handling difficult things that *aren't* pleasant, when I must. Fuck, I wish I'd been told this when I was younger. I always thought improving myself was supposed to be something awful. No, no... I should have realized the people who make themselves hurt and then smile and laugh about it not long later are getting something out of that pain that I don't get. I shouldn't hold myself to their standards or take their advice. I need to do things the way that is best for me, and that involves not suffering, but enjoyment.
Music I released butterflies to
General | Posted 3 years agoBefore: I listened to Dos Oruguitas.
During: Humility by the Gorillaz was playing in my head.
Afterwards: No Surprises by Radiohead played in my head and so I listened to it.
I was emotional that night. I loved those little things. To think I raised them from caterpillars! Amazing how attached you can get to a thing in the course of three short weeks.
Now I have Kalego to look after. He may die at any time, I need to remember. One of these days I'll find him and he won't be alive any more. I love him. I need to be ready for that day when it comes.
The butterflies looked so, so happy in the sunlight and grass and sky. It was sad releasing them but they were getting restless and needed to experience all the amazing things in life. It... it's sad but it also feels wonderful, knowing they're out there, that I raised some things, some good things, real living things!! And they are out there pollinating the plants and creating more generations of their kind and loving life.
I released 29 the first day, then 2 the second--Mariposa who pupated late, and a butterfly with a wing I was concerned about, but it proved it could fly well.
One pupa--#12--died near the end of the pupa stage. Kalego surprisingly survived, after having a huge gash develop early on in his chrysalis, and he emerged disabled so I'm caring for him personally and hand-feeding him. Shichiro is far behind the rest in eclosing, but he also got so giant as a caterpillar, maybe that just means it takes longer.
Such lovely creatures. You know, it was funny... when they were in their enclosure they weren't as afraid of me, but even half an hour afterwards they became more leery of my approach, and an hour later were even more skittish. I guess being trapped in the close walls was desensitizing to them.
Ah, I'll miss them. I do miss them. But in a way I'm glad I've got Kalego to care for. I'm glad he survived! I'm happy to take care of him and make sure he has a decent life, even with his struggles. Tomorrow I may make a personal terrarium for him. He perked up a lot when I introduced him to dandelions and he seems to cling to them and adore them, so I want to give him more things to explore and enjoy. He may be a tiny butterfly but I want him to experience as much happiness as I can reasonably give him.
Those butterflies really improved my life, even if their care was sometimes tedious, and it overlapped with Cassie's surgery recovery. It was worth it. No doubt about it, it was worth it. Have a great life, my loves. Delight in the world around you and experience everything you can. You deserve the best.
During: Humility by the Gorillaz was playing in my head.
Afterwards: No Surprises by Radiohead played in my head and so I listened to it.
I was emotional that night. I loved those little things. To think I raised them from caterpillars! Amazing how attached you can get to a thing in the course of three short weeks.
Now I have Kalego to look after. He may die at any time, I need to remember. One of these days I'll find him and he won't be alive any more. I love him. I need to be ready for that day when it comes.
The butterflies looked so, so happy in the sunlight and grass and sky. It was sad releasing them but they were getting restless and needed to experience all the amazing things in life. It... it's sad but it also feels wonderful, knowing they're out there, that I raised some things, some good things, real living things!! And they are out there pollinating the plants and creating more generations of their kind and loving life.
I released 29 the first day, then 2 the second--Mariposa who pupated late, and a butterfly with a wing I was concerned about, but it proved it could fly well.
One pupa--#12--died near the end of the pupa stage. Kalego surprisingly survived, after having a huge gash develop early on in his chrysalis, and he emerged disabled so I'm caring for him personally and hand-feeding him. Shichiro is far behind the rest in eclosing, but he also got so giant as a caterpillar, maybe that just means it takes longer.
Such lovely creatures. You know, it was funny... when they were in their enclosure they weren't as afraid of me, but even half an hour afterwards they became more leery of my approach, and an hour later were even more skittish. I guess being trapped in the close walls was desensitizing to them.
Ah, I'll miss them. I do miss them. But in a way I'm glad I've got Kalego to care for. I'm glad he survived! I'm happy to take care of him and make sure he has a decent life, even with his struggles. Tomorrow I may make a personal terrarium for him. He perked up a lot when I introduced him to dandelions and he seems to cling to them and adore them, so I want to give him more things to explore and enjoy. He may be a tiny butterfly but I want him to experience as much happiness as I can reasonably give him.
Those butterflies really improved my life, even if their care was sometimes tedious, and it overlapped with Cassie's surgery recovery. It was worth it. No doubt about it, it was worth it. Have a great life, my loves. Delight in the world around you and experience everything you can. You deserve the best.
Bluh. It's a shit day.
General | Posted 4 years agoToday was meant to be a fun and happy day but so far it's been shit, and I'm concerned it's only gonna get worse. Yesterday was pretty trash, too. We got an apartment inspection letter for Monday which means that while Cassie was at her appointment I didn't get the time alone and resting that I desperately need--instead I got to spend that time cleaning alone. Except I didn't even get much of that; since she got too scared at the sleep appointment and came back, I didn't even get time alone OR the time I needed to clean OR any help cleaning, I just had to spend my time comforting her. And now, today... when she said she'd help me clean... she has done literally nothing. Not one thing.
I asked her to at least, at least clean the piled up trash up from around her desk space. You know, so I could actually sweep and shit. Because I need her to do that so I can do more work, right? She said okay... then did nothing. I asked her to at the very least bring the car nearby so that I can get the enormous amount of trash and recycling that I sorted and boxes I took apart etc etc etc into the back of the car. She said okay; then she watched a movie, complained at me about feeling bad (I feel like shit too! I'm getting shit done anyway!!!) and then went to sleep. Come on! I am not your damn housemaid!!!!! I have picked up all your damn shit all over the house... the left out trash, the empty saltine boxes still in the cupboards that you couldn't arse yourself to take out and deconstruct and put in the recycling, the dirty soda bottles with their lids still on that you *did* put in the recycling after I told you not to because you can't recycle dirty things with their tops on... which I had to dig through the pile of recycling to get out, by the way!!
Now it's just sitting out... waiting for mice to come in... I can't sweep up all the crumbs around the desk... all the recycling and trash is just sitting around the apartment with no place to go! And I have had ZERO help! She asked me what I need. In a tone that said, "I will say to you what you want me to say or I will give you a hug, but I won't do anything else." And, after I had told her I needed her help! I need her damn help around the house! I am not here to be her maid I am her partner, for god's sake!
Today was supposed to be fun! We're supposed to go to Zoolights. I've been wanting to go forever. But I can tell she's in a fun-sabotaging mood. She's going to say, when we get near time to go, that she feels unwell. She's going to drag her feet and then say "no, we're not going." If she does eventually decide we are going, it's going to be after she makes me feel like absolute garbage, and only after I beg and plead to go. Fuck. Fuck this shit. You know, it's not going to be fun if I have to beg and plead to go after she complains and moans about having to go, and then acts all angry about every little damn thing about going. You can't feed me a shit cake and then a normal cake and then expect me to feel okay about having been fed a shit cake.
I just want a nice damn evening. I want a nice damn evening doing a fun thing that I've been dying to go to for years, that she's been promising to take me to for years and then reneging on that promise... I need to have fun! I have been stuck in this horrible little apartment going out of my mind! If I can't have time alone then please let me just have time together that's good! Fucking hell! Not everything is about you. I make it about you all the time. I am always there when you need me to be. But I am not taken seriously when I speak up about what I need. I don't ask for things for no reason. She acts as if every time I speak up it means she's not being heard, and she makes it all about her! I fucking...! I need to be heard! She doesn't even think of me, of my needs. She doesn't. She can't even... she can't even share food properly, christ. She'll get us like, four drinks, and I'm supposed to get two, and then she drinks one of mine that I've been saving. What the fuck? Who the fuck does that???! Who the fuck takes their partner's share of food without asking??! I would never! I HAVE never!! Not in literally all the years we've been together! But she does it regularly! I am so fucking pissed that she can't even think of me on that minuscule level! What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to take her food to make it even? She tries to make it up to me afterwards but that's not enough!!!! When I am saving something for myself because I want it at a particular time, it hurts and is frustrating when I get there and it's gone. Especially when it's something like the powerades, which I use as water bottles... because if my second one is missing, that means I'm going a whole second week using a dirty bottle for my water. Fuck. I am so sick of this. What the fuck. Why. Why?
This day is just going to get worse. Just you watch. Cassie is going to get up and complain and decide no we're not going anywhere, and if she does decide we're going, she's going to make it as miserable an experience as possible. Fuck. She'll say something like "I'll just sit in the car" or we'll walk a tiny distance and she'll decide she's done or she'll complain the whole way or find some other way to make things about her and miserable. Since it's not the thing she chose, of course. It always happens when it's my choice... I wonder why that is.........
Fuck. Today is a bad day.
I asked her to at least, at least clean the piled up trash up from around her desk space. You know, so I could actually sweep and shit. Because I need her to do that so I can do more work, right? She said okay... then did nothing. I asked her to at the very least bring the car nearby so that I can get the enormous amount of trash and recycling that I sorted and boxes I took apart etc etc etc into the back of the car. She said okay; then she watched a movie, complained at me about feeling bad (I feel like shit too! I'm getting shit done anyway!!!) and then went to sleep. Come on! I am not your damn housemaid!!!!! I have picked up all your damn shit all over the house... the left out trash, the empty saltine boxes still in the cupboards that you couldn't arse yourself to take out and deconstruct and put in the recycling, the dirty soda bottles with their lids still on that you *did* put in the recycling after I told you not to because you can't recycle dirty things with their tops on... which I had to dig through the pile of recycling to get out, by the way!!
Now it's just sitting out... waiting for mice to come in... I can't sweep up all the crumbs around the desk... all the recycling and trash is just sitting around the apartment with no place to go! And I have had ZERO help! She asked me what I need. In a tone that said, "I will say to you what you want me to say or I will give you a hug, but I won't do anything else." And, after I had told her I needed her help! I need her damn help around the house! I am not here to be her maid I am her partner, for god's sake!
Today was supposed to be fun! We're supposed to go to Zoolights. I've been wanting to go forever. But I can tell she's in a fun-sabotaging mood. She's going to say, when we get near time to go, that she feels unwell. She's going to drag her feet and then say "no, we're not going." If she does eventually decide we are going, it's going to be after she makes me feel like absolute garbage, and only after I beg and plead to go. Fuck. Fuck this shit. You know, it's not going to be fun if I have to beg and plead to go after she complains and moans about having to go, and then acts all angry about every little damn thing about going. You can't feed me a shit cake and then a normal cake and then expect me to feel okay about having been fed a shit cake.
I just want a nice damn evening. I want a nice damn evening doing a fun thing that I've been dying to go to for years, that she's been promising to take me to for years and then reneging on that promise... I need to have fun! I have been stuck in this horrible little apartment going out of my mind! If I can't have time alone then please let me just have time together that's good! Fucking hell! Not everything is about you. I make it about you all the time. I am always there when you need me to be. But I am not taken seriously when I speak up about what I need. I don't ask for things for no reason. She acts as if every time I speak up it means she's not being heard, and she makes it all about her! I fucking...! I need to be heard! She doesn't even think of me, of my needs. She doesn't. She can't even... she can't even share food properly, christ. She'll get us like, four drinks, and I'm supposed to get two, and then she drinks one of mine that I've been saving. What the fuck? Who the fuck does that???! Who the fuck takes their partner's share of food without asking??! I would never! I HAVE never!! Not in literally all the years we've been together! But she does it regularly! I am so fucking pissed that she can't even think of me on that minuscule level! What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to take her food to make it even? She tries to make it up to me afterwards but that's not enough!!!! When I am saving something for myself because I want it at a particular time, it hurts and is frustrating when I get there and it's gone. Especially when it's something like the powerades, which I use as water bottles... because if my second one is missing, that means I'm going a whole second week using a dirty bottle for my water. Fuck. I am so sick of this. What the fuck. Why. Why?
This day is just going to get worse. Just you watch. Cassie is going to get up and complain and decide no we're not going anywhere, and if she does decide we're going, she's going to make it as miserable an experience as possible. Fuck. She'll say something like "I'll just sit in the car" or we'll walk a tiny distance and she'll decide she's done or she'll complain the whole way or find some other way to make things about her and miserable. Since it's not the thing she chose, of course. It always happens when it's my choice... I wonder why that is.........
Fuck. Today is a bad day.
AUUGHHHH ...aka dysphoria and loneliness
General | Posted 4 years agoI am so sick of being trans. I am so sick of dysphoria. I am sick beyond belief of this. I want to live. I am a breathing needy animal and I NEED. I am so sad and I feel lonely and like most of me doesn't exist because I don't have a part of my body. I am going insane. Why do I think of things like love and sexuality when it leads to this? Because I am an animal god damn it, I know that's the answer already. These things are natural to me! They are as natural as breathing! I want to love. I want to have a body!!
God. Damn. I am so sad and so lonely. When you don't even have your whole self--fuck, what the fuck are you supposed to do? I am so disheveled. You know I have used the metaphor, in the past, of the broken vase as self... that once it's broken you know you can't put it back together? Well I lately got more comfortable with the idea that you can be whole in pieces--a mess is a whole thing too, after all. Yeah a mess is a whole thing too. I may be in pieces but that's not so bad. But now, you know... if... if half the pieces are missing... if half the pieces are missing then what the fuck am I, huh? I guess a mess can have half the pieces missing, but... I... ughhh! I am so fucking damn sick of living like this and I am so SAD. This isn't how life should be. No one should have to feel like this!!
Why?? Why do I read and write and draw and look at so many beautiful things and heartbreakingly beautiful things?? So many people take it as natural that they can just be...! They can just be fucking human beings, they can be wild creatures with their own god damn bodies, never ever have to spend a SINGLE. SECOND. on these kinds of thoughts. On this kind of DISTRESS. Fucking, fucking hell! This is disturbing and I can't deal with it and I can't let go of it because it's my god damn body, for crying out loud!
Today I didn't feel so much as a demon as a mutant. And one that was barely there. There is too much... there is too much good out there for me to be stuck at home tired and in pain and lonely. I'm lonely! Yes, yes, even with my fiance I'm lonely! Because... because...! Sometimes I just want the company of a man! Yes I do love my fiance so much it hurts. It hurts. And yet...! I am polyamorous for a reason. And that reason is, my sexuality fluctuates like wild. And lately, my sexuality is begging me to be intimate with a man. My everything-I-am says I should be intimate with a man. It doesn't even have to be sex, no... but...! I am supposed to be close with men! I am supposed to be in love with a man and touch him! And without a male lover I am... I'm so lonely. And without a body to interact with a male lover, I am double lonely. I am god damn distraught. This is destroying me. Fucking hell. Get me out of here. I need better than this. I need better than this.
God. Damn. I am so sad and so lonely. When you don't even have your whole self--fuck, what the fuck are you supposed to do? I am so disheveled. You know I have used the metaphor, in the past, of the broken vase as self... that once it's broken you know you can't put it back together? Well I lately got more comfortable with the idea that you can be whole in pieces--a mess is a whole thing too, after all. Yeah a mess is a whole thing too. I may be in pieces but that's not so bad. But now, you know... if... if half the pieces are missing... if half the pieces are missing then what the fuck am I, huh? I guess a mess can have half the pieces missing, but... I... ughhh! I am so fucking damn sick of living like this and I am so SAD. This isn't how life should be. No one should have to feel like this!!
Why?? Why do I read and write and draw and look at so many beautiful things and heartbreakingly beautiful things?? So many people take it as natural that they can just be...! They can just be fucking human beings, they can be wild creatures with their own god damn bodies, never ever have to spend a SINGLE. SECOND. on these kinds of thoughts. On this kind of DISTRESS. Fucking, fucking hell! This is disturbing and I can't deal with it and I can't let go of it because it's my god damn body, for crying out loud!
Today I didn't feel so much as a demon as a mutant. And one that was barely there. There is too much... there is too much good out there for me to be stuck at home tired and in pain and lonely. I'm lonely! Yes, yes, even with my fiance I'm lonely! Because... because...! Sometimes I just want the company of a man! Yes I do love my fiance so much it hurts. It hurts. And yet...! I am polyamorous for a reason. And that reason is, my sexuality fluctuates like wild. And lately, my sexuality is begging me to be intimate with a man. My everything-I-am says I should be intimate with a man. It doesn't even have to be sex, no... but...! I am supposed to be close with men! I am supposed to be in love with a man and touch him! And without a male lover I am... I'm so lonely. And without a body to interact with a male lover, I am double lonely. I am god damn distraught. This is destroying me. Fucking hell. Get me out of here. I need better than this. I need better than this.
Actually, I'm not sure
General | Posted 4 years agoIs this derealization, or have i been derealized all this time and this is the dropping of it??? Because I can definitely still feel my senses... I can feel them more finely than usual. And... my depth of vision has been almost constantly active, strangely enough. That usually only happens when I'm very happy or when I focus on it. Am I...? Waking up in some sense?
See the thing is, in the past two days I got more stimulation of my senses than I have gotten in years. It's the kind of thing I used to get often, but since we don't have much money we can't do now. When I was upper middle class I got out and got to see new things often and have good experiences. Living in a tiny apartment has stripped my mind of a LOT of what I used to have going on up there. You really do have to have a plethora of new experiences to keep your brain alive and tripping. Maybe this is just... awakening that faster level of mind that used to be constant for me. Maybe the stimulation from the vacation allowed that part of me to rev to life again. I have been having a lot of new experiences lately. Maybe... maybe.
Ahh, if this is a good thing, I'll have to adjust to it. It feels like... potentially a good thing. However, I will need to make myself less snappish when my concentration is interrupted. Hm, reminds me of when I was younger. Yeah... I do remember this feeling. I am going to need a fortress of solitude to deal with this I think, if what I think might be happening is in fact happening.
See the thing is, in the past two days I got more stimulation of my senses than I have gotten in years. It's the kind of thing I used to get often, but since we don't have much money we can't do now. When I was upper middle class I got out and got to see new things often and have good experiences. Living in a tiny apartment has stripped my mind of a LOT of what I used to have going on up there. You really do have to have a plethora of new experiences to keep your brain alive and tripping. Maybe this is just... awakening that faster level of mind that used to be constant for me. Maybe the stimulation from the vacation allowed that part of me to rev to life again. I have been having a lot of new experiences lately. Maybe... maybe.
Ahh, if this is a good thing, I'll have to adjust to it. It feels like... potentially a good thing. However, I will need to make myself less snappish when my concentration is interrupted. Hm, reminds me of when I was younger. Yeah... I do remember this feeling. I am going to need a fortress of solitude to deal with this I think, if what I think might be happening is in fact happening.
Dissociation
General | Posted 4 years agoOh yeah I'm dissociating today. Didn't realize that's what it was 'til now, like 24 hours after it started. Idk why idk why oh but my brain is runninggggggg
I think it's paired with my ADD to create a cacophony beyond my control. I can kinda sit and meditate and totally space out in a way that doesn't feel too bad but it's strange. I don't know what it's doing. I feel like I'm free writing now, my brain is just whizzing through things. I wonder if I opened it up a bit?? And I'm just not used to having faster thoughts back?? Hm. Well, how will I deal with this? Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise.
I don't even know what I'm thinking. Brain brain brain brain brain goinggggg
Ah. Okay. Let's try and figure out how to use this. I think I can. I think I can use this. Well... hmm. I keep getting distracted. Hm. How can I--how can I focus?? How can I focus????? Fuck.
Maybe a free write is all it has to be. Maybe I can just do that and sling it out there. Maybe... maybe that's not bad. How can I do this? How can I figure this out? What am I even doing? I don't know. I am dissociating and having a lot of running thoughts and getting distracted over and over and I need some time and space alone but the bedroom is so cold which I hate and I can't stand it, I can't stand it... It's freezing why do I have to live in a freezing room it isn't fair, it isn't fair... gghhhh. Yeah, we need to change this. I don't deserve to be freezing while my fiance sleeps in a warm room like it's nothing. I'm the one with additional heat regulation issues. I need to have this taken seriously. I really do.
I think it's paired with my ADD to create a cacophony beyond my control. I can kinda sit and meditate and totally space out in a way that doesn't feel too bad but it's strange. I don't know what it's doing. I feel like I'm free writing now, my brain is just whizzing through things. I wonder if I opened it up a bit?? And I'm just not used to having faster thoughts back?? Hm. Well, how will I deal with this? Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise.
I don't even know what I'm thinking. Brain brain brain brain brain goinggggg
Ah. Okay. Let's try and figure out how to use this. I think I can. I think I can use this. Well... hmm. I keep getting distracted. Hm. How can I--how can I focus?? How can I focus????? Fuck.
Maybe a free write is all it has to be. Maybe I can just do that and sling it out there. Maybe... maybe that's not bad. How can I do this? How can I figure this out? What am I even doing? I don't know. I am dissociating and having a lot of running thoughts and getting distracted over and over and I need some time and space alone but the bedroom is so cold which I hate and I can't stand it, I can't stand it... It's freezing why do I have to live in a freezing room it isn't fair, it isn't fair... gghhhh. Yeah, we need to change this. I don't deserve to be freezing while my fiance sleeps in a warm room like it's nothing. I'm the one with additional heat regulation issues. I need to have this taken seriously. I really do.
Old trauma reopened and examined
General | Posted 4 years agoReprocessing some old trauma I rediscovered. You know. One of the big ones that constantly lingers even though I hardly ever consciously realize it. This time, it's the reluctance to do things. Oh, I guess we're back on the subject of the dark track, somewhat.
I found this trauma and opened it up yesterday. I haven't been able to take out the garbage. I remembered that I was able to do a lot more when I had time to myself... and realized that that's how I got a lot done when I was younger, was when I was alone. You know why?
Because when I wasn't alone, someone might watch me gloatingly, because chores were turned into power trips by mom and dad. So I would get a lot done when the house was deserted. Now... I am never alone at home. Alone is when my brain can vent. When I feel truly like I can be myself. I feel watched, otherwise. Like there's something bearing down on my back. Even now, I feel it. Even now, I feel like at any moment eyes will be turned on me in anger and judgment. Ouch, ouch.
Heh. I want attention dearly but I can't bear having people see me literally just do stuff. Ouch.
So here I am, realizing I feel that pressure at all times.
Still trying to be selfish enough to just live openly. Not feel like I have to hide every last thing I do. Every last good thing I feel. Live like an imp, impishly.
I am a selfish creature and it's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact I ought to revel in it. My day to day interactions, I get to choose. I can let go of people and things, I am not bound to them; and I can find new things and meet new people more in line with my needs as a person.
I think I am letting a lot of people I used to know fade into the background. Friends and family alike. It is lonely and yet, I don't know that I was ever fully myself around the people I knew earlier in my life. Maybe I was. I'm not sure, to be honest.
I'm doing my best. There's a hard shell around me of fear and inability. I am trying to find a way to crack it open, bit by bit. Crumble the surface.
I will be talking to my doctor about phalloplasty tomorrow. I need it. There is no way around it and it is part of my journey. Good for me; I'm making a little progress.
Now... selfishness. Let me be selfish. Let me make mistakes and if others are uncomfortable from my doing things and literally just existing, they get to feel that all on their own. Their damage is not mine to manage.
I found this trauma and opened it up yesterday. I haven't been able to take out the garbage. I remembered that I was able to do a lot more when I had time to myself... and realized that that's how I got a lot done when I was younger, was when I was alone. You know why?
Because when I wasn't alone, someone might watch me gloatingly, because chores were turned into power trips by mom and dad. So I would get a lot done when the house was deserted. Now... I am never alone at home. Alone is when my brain can vent. When I feel truly like I can be myself. I feel watched, otherwise. Like there's something bearing down on my back. Even now, I feel it. Even now, I feel like at any moment eyes will be turned on me in anger and judgment. Ouch, ouch.
Heh. I want attention dearly but I can't bear having people see me literally just do stuff. Ouch.
So here I am, realizing I feel that pressure at all times.
Still trying to be selfish enough to just live openly. Not feel like I have to hide every last thing I do. Every last good thing I feel. Live like an imp, impishly.
I am a selfish creature and it's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact I ought to revel in it. My day to day interactions, I get to choose. I can let go of people and things, I am not bound to them; and I can find new things and meet new people more in line with my needs as a person.
I think I am letting a lot of people I used to know fade into the background. Friends and family alike. It is lonely and yet, I don't know that I was ever fully myself around the people I knew earlier in my life. Maybe I was. I'm not sure, to be honest.
I'm doing my best. There's a hard shell around me of fear and inability. I am trying to find a way to crack it open, bit by bit. Crumble the surface.
I will be talking to my doctor about phalloplasty tomorrow. I need it. There is no way around it and it is part of my journey. Good for me; I'm making a little progress.
Now... selfishness. Let me be selfish. Let me make mistakes and if others are uncomfortable from my doing things and literally just existing, they get to feel that all on their own. Their damage is not mine to manage.
Just feeling ouch.
General | Posted 4 years agoUff. It's been a hard day.
I guess there's not much more that I can say than I've already said. I just kind of want to scream it at other people but I know I shouldn't, so I came here to type a little.
I'm feeling so bad about not having gotten to had the experiences as other people. I deserved to have people tell me I was lovable and that I deserved to pursue relationships and get in trouble and all that other crap that young folks get to do. Now here I am nearly 31 and I am finally finally waking up and realizing that I deserve to prioritize feeling good. That I should feel allowed to do the same things other adults do. I am an adult creature. But... but...
As I explained it to my fiance. I feel like I am not on the "child" screen. But I am also not on the "adult" screen. I am on the "error" screen. Not able to fully grow up but definitely not a child, either. My brain grew but my body didn't. Christ, I'm like... like a vampire who was turned as a child. Shit. Fuck. Isn't that like what I am? Fuck. Wasn't there an Anne Rice book with that? I think her name was Claudia... ugh. I don't remember anything about that book anymore.
Yeah. Damn. I feel like I'm stuck there.
Ugh.
I've been feeling pretty despairing today. I and my fiance talked when she saw I was really sad, and I cried. I'm glad she's understanding. She understands better now. I am so regretful. I... I deserve to live my life. Every day I don't feel alive I feel dead. This sentiment of not growing up, of not getting to experience real adult relationships, is scraping at me inside all the time now. My head. My heart. The inside of my stomach. I can't listen to much music right now because it makes me so sad. Especially a few songs... ugh. I kind of wish I'd never ever heard Night Moves because that one just kills me. It KILLS me. Ouch. People can live like that? Just... enjoying themselves? Young people get to do that? How... how lucky. How lucky how blessed how utterly fucking amazing it must be to get to just have your own body and use it. Fucking hell.
I'm sad. I want to live. I am a beast, nothing but a beast. I am a head in a jar that knows it was once a beast and has all the longings of a beast.
Ouch.
I guess there's not much more that I can say than I've already said. I just kind of want to scream it at other people but I know I shouldn't, so I came here to type a little.
I'm feeling so bad about not having gotten to had the experiences as other people. I deserved to have people tell me I was lovable and that I deserved to pursue relationships and get in trouble and all that other crap that young folks get to do. Now here I am nearly 31 and I am finally finally waking up and realizing that I deserve to prioritize feeling good. That I should feel allowed to do the same things other adults do. I am an adult creature. But... but...
As I explained it to my fiance. I feel like I am not on the "child" screen. But I am also not on the "adult" screen. I am on the "error" screen. Not able to fully grow up but definitely not a child, either. My brain grew but my body didn't. Christ, I'm like... like a vampire who was turned as a child. Shit. Fuck. Isn't that like what I am? Fuck. Wasn't there an Anne Rice book with that? I think her name was Claudia... ugh. I don't remember anything about that book anymore.
Yeah. Damn. I feel like I'm stuck there.
Ugh.
I've been feeling pretty despairing today. I and my fiance talked when she saw I was really sad, and I cried. I'm glad she's understanding. She understands better now. I am so regretful. I... I deserve to live my life. Every day I don't feel alive I feel dead. This sentiment of not growing up, of not getting to experience real adult relationships, is scraping at me inside all the time now. My head. My heart. The inside of my stomach. I can't listen to much music right now because it makes me so sad. Especially a few songs... ugh. I kind of wish I'd never ever heard Night Moves because that one just kills me. It KILLS me. Ouch. People can live like that? Just... enjoying themselves? Young people get to do that? How... how lucky. How lucky how blessed how utterly fucking amazing it must be to get to just have your own body and use it. Fucking hell.
I'm sad. I want to live. I am a beast, nothing but a beast. I am a head in a jar that knows it was once a beast and has all the longings of a beast.
Ouch.
I deserve to grow up, too
General | Posted 4 years agoI can move forward. I feel... I feel like I never properly grew up because I haven't completed transition. I've been through puberty three times now, but none of them were complete. My body never totally grew. And I'm still stuck behind that last hurdle. Now I'm straining against it. I can't stay here. I can't stay where I am. I feel infantile. I am an adolescent who hasn't moved forward. My head hasn't moved past adolescence because my body has not. I can't keep saying I'm ready; I have to move forward physically. Words aren't anything. They're a waste of time. No one will hear me say I'm ready. It's all in my head. Take your hands and move something.
I reflected, last night, about something involving sexuality. I realized, in a lot of my fantasies, I'm focused around "this is the first time this character has had an encounter like this." And I realized... I think... I think I feel like I haven't had my first encounters?? Still??
And that's because... I feel like I still don't have my body. I am still aching to begin that part of my life. Technically I have touched and been touched. Technically I have been physically intimate with others. And yet... I don't feel... I don't feel like my body has done that. Someone else's body did that. Someone near me, but not me. I do not have a body to be intimate with.
I am still aching for those first experiences with a body that contains me and is mine.
Boy, dysphoria is a beast. Who'd have thought I'd end up in my thirties still feeling like I was locked behind puberty. Having experienced a puberty equivalent three times, no less. Am I a child? I guess... well. I guess the downsides of top surgery and a hysterectomy mean, technically, in certain ways I exist now in a state that I associate with childhood. My body is more like how it was before I went through my first puberty. And since dysphoria plus executive dysfunction have made it so my more intimate areas feel like they don't even exist, well... isn't that kind of how it felt when I was a child, too? It is. It totally is. I knew the name for those parts but they were nothings, like they are now. Huh. I wonder if, unknowingly, I actually had dysphoria about it when I was a child, and just didn't have the awareness to recognize it. I mean... do most young people feel like part of their bodies is nothing??? I have no idea. Is that... is that strange? I mean in media and stuff you hear about kids being curious and all. I always thought that was made up, because I never had any experiences like that. Because it was like part--hell, most--of my body felt nonexistent.
Huh. I never thought about that.
Hm. Whatever it means. Whatever it means, the truth is, I feel stuck behind puberty. You hear about how adults feel like kids in their minds still just with a better facade up, right? Well I guess I have something like that going on not only in my head, but with my body, too. It's like I have secretly never grown. It is tearing me apart. It's hard to fit in anywhere when you feel like this. Like ah yes, hello fellow adults, I too have grown up!! Look at me all grown! I can have relationships like you! I can be among your kind!
Haha. I hate it. I am furious to be stuck here. I can't believe I never got furious before this year. I should have been seething. I guess I was in too much pain to get here. I don't deserve any more time stuck in this place. I deserve to grow up, too.
Yes. I deserve to grow up, too.
I reflected, last night, about something involving sexuality. I realized, in a lot of my fantasies, I'm focused around "this is the first time this character has had an encounter like this." And I realized... I think... I think I feel like I haven't had my first encounters?? Still??
And that's because... I feel like I still don't have my body. I am still aching to begin that part of my life. Technically I have touched and been touched. Technically I have been physically intimate with others. And yet... I don't feel... I don't feel like my body has done that. Someone else's body did that. Someone near me, but not me. I do not have a body to be intimate with.
I am still aching for those first experiences with a body that contains me and is mine.
Boy, dysphoria is a beast. Who'd have thought I'd end up in my thirties still feeling like I was locked behind puberty. Having experienced a puberty equivalent three times, no less. Am I a child? I guess... well. I guess the downsides of top surgery and a hysterectomy mean, technically, in certain ways I exist now in a state that I associate with childhood. My body is more like how it was before I went through my first puberty. And since dysphoria plus executive dysfunction have made it so my more intimate areas feel like they don't even exist, well... isn't that kind of how it felt when I was a child, too? It is. It totally is. I knew the name for those parts but they were nothings, like they are now. Huh. I wonder if, unknowingly, I actually had dysphoria about it when I was a child, and just didn't have the awareness to recognize it. I mean... do most young people feel like part of their bodies is nothing??? I have no idea. Is that... is that strange? I mean in media and stuff you hear about kids being curious and all. I always thought that was made up, because I never had any experiences like that. Because it was like part--hell, most--of my body felt nonexistent.
Huh. I never thought about that.
Hm. Whatever it means. Whatever it means, the truth is, I feel stuck behind puberty. You hear about how adults feel like kids in their minds still just with a better facade up, right? Well I guess I have something like that going on not only in my head, but with my body, too. It's like I have secretly never grown. It is tearing me apart. It's hard to fit in anywhere when you feel like this. Like ah yes, hello fellow adults, I too have grown up!! Look at me all grown! I can have relationships like you! I can be among your kind!
Haha. I hate it. I am furious to be stuck here. I can't believe I never got furious before this year. I should have been seething. I guess I was in too much pain to get here. I don't deserve any more time stuck in this place. I deserve to grow up, too.
Yes. I deserve to grow up, too.
That laundry room can get fucked
General | Posted 4 years agoDoing laundry is so hard. It used to be at the edge of my abilities. I had a hard time, but it was doable, eventually. Ever since it's gotten harder, though, I think it's crossed that line. I can't get myself to do it. I can't. I haven't been able to. I did it once after having multiple people encourage me to do it, but I don't want to always have to ask other people for their encouragement.
I don't know what I can do. I don't know how to make this any easier. I don't know how to make it any less painful. Any more enjoyable. I just don't know. We're out of towels, and I don't know. The dirty ones are just sitting, waiting to go out. They're ready. I'm not. It hurts too much. What can I do? How can I change things? Is there anything I can do???
I know there are tiny personal like clothes washing things. I wonder if I could get something like that and just like, do some laundry every day. Because I can't handle those machines any longer. I can't do that. It's too much. It hurts too much. We need towels, and I need a shower desperately. But I can't do it. I can't get it done. I need to do it. But it's not real. It's not REAL.
And it hurts. It huuuurts. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Doing that damn laundry hurts. I can't do it. I can't make myself do it.
I reek. I need a shower. I need a towel, so I can shower. Doing the laundry will make me sweaty and I'll be even more disgusting and I hate it. I can't stand how hot and sweaty and in pain I am after doing the laundry. It's humiliating, it's degrading, and during covid, I do NOT want to be in that tiny room. I HATE it. I am fucking done. I am DONE. Okay? I need to find a different way to do this!!! I can NOT do laundry like this any more. Maybe... maybe I need to find a way to do it in the apartment. Maybe there's something I can put in the bathroom? IDK. I just NEED something different. I can NOT do this.
So, what will I do? I don't want to go in that laundry room ever ever ever again. Never ever again. Fuck that laundry room. I don't need to put up with this. No, no I've allowed it to consume me too long. Yeah. I've suffered far too much for that laundry room. I won't do it again.
I don't know what I can do. I don't know how to make this any easier. I don't know how to make it any less painful. Any more enjoyable. I just don't know. We're out of towels, and I don't know. The dirty ones are just sitting, waiting to go out. They're ready. I'm not. It hurts too much. What can I do? How can I change things? Is there anything I can do???
I know there are tiny personal like clothes washing things. I wonder if I could get something like that and just like, do some laundry every day. Because I can't handle those machines any longer. I can't do that. It's too much. It hurts too much. We need towels, and I need a shower desperately. But I can't do it. I can't get it done. I need to do it. But it's not real. It's not REAL.
And it hurts. It huuuurts. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Doing that damn laundry hurts. I can't do it. I can't make myself do it.
I reek. I need a shower. I need a towel, so I can shower. Doing the laundry will make me sweaty and I'll be even more disgusting and I hate it. I can't stand how hot and sweaty and in pain I am after doing the laundry. It's humiliating, it's degrading, and during covid, I do NOT want to be in that tiny room. I HATE it. I am fucking done. I am DONE. Okay? I need to find a different way to do this!!! I can NOT do laundry like this any more. Maybe... maybe I need to find a way to do it in the apartment. Maybe there's something I can put in the bathroom? IDK. I just NEED something different. I can NOT do this.
So, what will I do? I don't want to go in that laundry room ever ever ever again. Never ever again. Fuck that laundry room. I don't need to put up with this. No, no I've allowed it to consume me too long. Yeah. I've suffered far too much for that laundry room. I won't do it again.
The importance of feeling good
General | Posted 4 years agoIt just struck me:
Feeling good is important, too.
I just learned that.
Huh. My depth perception only activates when I'm deeply at peace and happy. When I'm feeling good. I wonder why that is.
Anyway. Feeling good is important, too.
Feeling good is high on the list. It isn't an afterthought. Feeling good is dreadfully important. Feeling good is a goal, not a secondary effect. Put it up first.
I never realized it, not discretely. I don't think I was ever taught that my pleasure was important. It was always be safe and do well. Maybe some day you'll feel good.
No, it's important to feel good often. Regularly and in many things you do. Some measure of mindless pleasure is natural in life, and should be encouraged. We were not meant to break ourselves to get by, then sleep until we break again. Uninhibited pleasure is normal and good.
I was never taught that. I never learned that. How was I supposed to know? Yes, I was happy sometimes. But I didn't know it was good to be happy. I didn't know it was something to take pride in. It felt like stealing moments. Being happy felt like I was doing a bad thing. Wasting my time, and more importantly, wasting other peoples' time. Bothering people. Taking up space. Any number of bad things, I felt like my happiness was something they were causing. Happiness was accompanied by guilt.
No. I don't need guilt. Not for everything, at least. Being happy is not something to feel bad about. It is not something you steal. It is something you make room for. It is a priority. Feeling good is a priority.
When I make decisions, I need to remember that feeling good is a priority. Everything else will pull at me too, but feeling good, I need to take it seriously. Does this make me feel good? I need to ask myself. How does this make me feel? Is there any pleasure to be had?
Feeling good is important too.
I need to drive this lesson into my marrow.
Feeling good is important, too.
Feeling good is important, too.
I just learned that.
Huh. My depth perception only activates when I'm deeply at peace and happy. When I'm feeling good. I wonder why that is.
Anyway. Feeling good is important, too.
Feeling good is high on the list. It isn't an afterthought. Feeling good is dreadfully important. Feeling good is a goal, not a secondary effect. Put it up first.
I never realized it, not discretely. I don't think I was ever taught that my pleasure was important. It was always be safe and do well. Maybe some day you'll feel good.
No, it's important to feel good often. Regularly and in many things you do. Some measure of mindless pleasure is natural in life, and should be encouraged. We were not meant to break ourselves to get by, then sleep until we break again. Uninhibited pleasure is normal and good.
I was never taught that. I never learned that. How was I supposed to know? Yes, I was happy sometimes. But I didn't know it was good to be happy. I didn't know it was something to take pride in. It felt like stealing moments. Being happy felt like I was doing a bad thing. Wasting my time, and more importantly, wasting other peoples' time. Bothering people. Taking up space. Any number of bad things, I felt like my happiness was something they were causing. Happiness was accompanied by guilt.
No. I don't need guilt. Not for everything, at least. Being happy is not something to feel bad about. It is not something you steal. It is something you make room for. It is a priority. Feeling good is a priority.
When I make decisions, I need to remember that feeling good is a priority. Everything else will pull at me too, but feeling good, I need to take it seriously. Does this make me feel good? I need to ask myself. How does this make me feel? Is there any pleasure to be had?
Feeling good is important too.
I need to drive this lesson into my marrow.
Feeling good is important, too.
Surgery thoughts
General | Posted 4 years agoI'm thinking more about phalloplasty. There are a number of things I'm anxious or hesitant about, but I did do some more research about it, which helped ease my mind a little.
For example, there's a high rate of satisfaction with the surgery, it seems. That's a relief. And sensation is apparently pretty good, especially if the radial forearm flap is used, which is what I'd choose.
One of the things I'm most hesitant about though is the loss of my current external organs. I... I'm attached to my fine nerves. I'm attached to my skin. While these things aren't lost totally, they *do* get buried under the skin of the neo-phallus, where the surfaces of their skin can no longer directly be reached. That's somewhat saddening to me. I know those nerves well. I have made do with them with some success.
But I may be approaching my thoughts about them wrong, at the same time. In my mind I'm thinking, well, if those nerves are buried under my skin, then to touch them will be like touching them with gloves on. But that's not quite the case. Because, well, it'll be *my own skin* against them, not gloves. Not something insensate. It will be more like... well. Probably more like touching through a foreskin. That's hard to imagine, how exactly that might feel. I wonder if there's any way to replicate that potentially. I want to know what I can. Will this be acceptable? I am so accustomed to the surfaces of my own skin. I know where every nerve is. Although... I guess if things changed, relearning the new nerves might be fun, too. Hmm. A little exciting.
Another thing I was briefly worried about was the sensation of the new skin from my forearm. But that won't be a problem, I think. Even now, if I touch my forearm as if it is an intimate piece of me, it can feel incredibly good. I *am* a little concerned the skin is too thin, though. And boy I'm hairy; will I have to get electrolysis first? That seems like the best solution if it doesn't affect the quality of the skin. I'd be embarrassed having to get it after surgery, oof.
It feels like a little bit of a loss that my arm will look all messed up afterwards. Then again, I'm at a point where I'm starting to take pride in looking freaky, so. It may be more a badge of honor. I wonder if I could tattoo the area, as well. Or I could wear pretty gloves like the ones Delkira wears. There are options I'm guessing.
But... yeah. The main concern right now is missing the structures I've already got. I like my skin. It's purpley, what a pretty color. Tan and purpley. It makes me think of plums, of a warm, dusty twilight. Adults in love, quietly reposing in muted gladness as the sun sets. Colors of middle age and the prime of one's life and the ability to think serious thoughts but not being trapped in with them. Freedom and joy. Gazing through fashionable shades tinted tan, at the one you know you love in the pit of your heart even if expressing it is hard. It's... I have a lot of fanciful feelings I suppose. I know it's strange. But some feelings can't quite be put into words so you have to find abstract ways of thinking about them. Even if it doesn't make total sense, you can sketch a caricature of your thoughts in this way at least.
So yes. I am scared of losing what little I have. I do need to remember what I'll gain, though. And... one good thing. Since the surgery is done in stages, the clitoral tissue isn't buried until the second one, and hey, if I really wanted to, I could stop there. I'd get to see how I feel having both the neophallus and my normal tissue at the same time. I could get a better feel for what I wanted. Each step is a big step, but I do get the chance to stop between them if I so wish. So... that's comforting. I don't need to lose my skin if I absolutely don't want to. Hell, if for some reason I didn't like the result--hah, I immensely doubt that would be the case--I bet the neophallus could be removed from the area. But I am rather certain I would never want such a thing done. Oh, never. Never never. No, once there's something there, I need it to stay. That's too... that's too much of a move forward. I could never come back. I would be too happy.
Do I have any other concerns? Hmm, fluids. The urethra would be connected in at some point; would it keep its abilities? I like what my body can do now in that regard. I don't want to lose that. It's... it's a boon.
There's always the pain, too. My last surgery was hell because the pain meds didn't work. None of them. I don't know how I could go figuring out which ones do, which ones won't conflict with my other meds. I think there was one that brought the pain down like, half a point, tops. That was better than nothing so I took them, but I was still in agony.
Huh. Though I wonder how numb the receptive site will be. The nerves may take some time to heal and start hurting later. It could be that the ARM is the most painful area. Oh... wait. The... the catheter. No, that will probably be the most painful thing. The catheter will probably be mortifyingly atrociously painful. As they always are. Yeah... ouch. Catheters. My body can't stand them. Though I guess if you had one in it wouldn't be as painful following some healing. Maybe. ...I think, and then I remember having one put in as a child when I was not injured in the area and it was exceptionally painful. Though there were reasons for that pain. Reasons I don't have to worry about presently, but that I may have to deal with following surgery. -_-
So. Various concerns. But also... there is so much to be gained. Imagine. Being able to exist just as a living creature. Just an animal. A creature of the world. Existing physically instead of just in thought. That... that is sensational. Gather up these little pieces and make them into a whole being. Please. I have bits to spare. Move them. Move them into the right configuration. I beg of you.
For example, there's a high rate of satisfaction with the surgery, it seems. That's a relief. And sensation is apparently pretty good, especially if the radial forearm flap is used, which is what I'd choose.
One of the things I'm most hesitant about though is the loss of my current external organs. I... I'm attached to my fine nerves. I'm attached to my skin. While these things aren't lost totally, they *do* get buried under the skin of the neo-phallus, where the surfaces of their skin can no longer directly be reached. That's somewhat saddening to me. I know those nerves well. I have made do with them with some success.
But I may be approaching my thoughts about them wrong, at the same time. In my mind I'm thinking, well, if those nerves are buried under my skin, then to touch them will be like touching them with gloves on. But that's not quite the case. Because, well, it'll be *my own skin* against them, not gloves. Not something insensate. It will be more like... well. Probably more like touching through a foreskin. That's hard to imagine, how exactly that might feel. I wonder if there's any way to replicate that potentially. I want to know what I can. Will this be acceptable? I am so accustomed to the surfaces of my own skin. I know where every nerve is. Although... I guess if things changed, relearning the new nerves might be fun, too. Hmm. A little exciting.
Another thing I was briefly worried about was the sensation of the new skin from my forearm. But that won't be a problem, I think. Even now, if I touch my forearm as if it is an intimate piece of me, it can feel incredibly good. I *am* a little concerned the skin is too thin, though. And boy I'm hairy; will I have to get electrolysis first? That seems like the best solution if it doesn't affect the quality of the skin. I'd be embarrassed having to get it after surgery, oof.
It feels like a little bit of a loss that my arm will look all messed up afterwards. Then again, I'm at a point where I'm starting to take pride in looking freaky, so. It may be more a badge of honor. I wonder if I could tattoo the area, as well. Or I could wear pretty gloves like the ones Delkira wears. There are options I'm guessing.
But... yeah. The main concern right now is missing the structures I've already got. I like my skin. It's purpley, what a pretty color. Tan and purpley. It makes me think of plums, of a warm, dusty twilight. Adults in love, quietly reposing in muted gladness as the sun sets. Colors of middle age and the prime of one's life and the ability to think serious thoughts but not being trapped in with them. Freedom and joy. Gazing through fashionable shades tinted tan, at the one you know you love in the pit of your heart even if expressing it is hard. It's... I have a lot of fanciful feelings I suppose. I know it's strange. But some feelings can't quite be put into words so you have to find abstract ways of thinking about them. Even if it doesn't make total sense, you can sketch a caricature of your thoughts in this way at least.
So yes. I am scared of losing what little I have. I do need to remember what I'll gain, though. And... one good thing. Since the surgery is done in stages, the clitoral tissue isn't buried until the second one, and hey, if I really wanted to, I could stop there. I'd get to see how I feel having both the neophallus and my normal tissue at the same time. I could get a better feel for what I wanted. Each step is a big step, but I do get the chance to stop between them if I so wish. So... that's comforting. I don't need to lose my skin if I absolutely don't want to. Hell, if for some reason I didn't like the result--hah, I immensely doubt that would be the case--I bet the neophallus could be removed from the area. But I am rather certain I would never want such a thing done. Oh, never. Never never. No, once there's something there, I need it to stay. That's too... that's too much of a move forward. I could never come back. I would be too happy.
Do I have any other concerns? Hmm, fluids. The urethra would be connected in at some point; would it keep its abilities? I like what my body can do now in that regard. I don't want to lose that. It's... it's a boon.
There's always the pain, too. My last surgery was hell because the pain meds didn't work. None of them. I don't know how I could go figuring out which ones do, which ones won't conflict with my other meds. I think there was one that brought the pain down like, half a point, tops. That was better than nothing so I took them, but I was still in agony.
Huh. Though I wonder how numb the receptive site will be. The nerves may take some time to heal and start hurting later. It could be that the ARM is the most painful area. Oh... wait. The... the catheter. No, that will probably be the most painful thing. The catheter will probably be mortifyingly atrociously painful. As they always are. Yeah... ouch. Catheters. My body can't stand them. Though I guess if you had one in it wouldn't be as painful following some healing. Maybe. ...I think, and then I remember having one put in as a child when I was not injured in the area and it was exceptionally painful. Though there were reasons for that pain. Reasons I don't have to worry about presently, but that I may have to deal with following surgery. -_-
So. Various concerns. But also... there is so much to be gained. Imagine. Being able to exist just as a living creature. Just an animal. A creature of the world. Existing physically instead of just in thought. That... that is sensational. Gather up these little pieces and make them into a whole being. Please. I have bits to spare. Move them. Move them into the right configuration. I beg of you.
Changin goals
General | Posted 4 years agoThe way I think about my goals has lately changed. Instead of thinking about how I want things to *be,* I am thinking of things of how I want them to *affect* others. Here are my changed goals:
1) I want to make art that others want to steal;
2) I want to turn heads and make strangers attracted to me, and laugh to myself internally, knowing they can never have me;
3) I want to write things that make people cry, whether in sadness or joy.
#2 is a totally new goal altogether. I used to think it was vain to want to attract others. And maybe it is. But I want to. I want their eyes to burn with my image and their bodies to warm up. And I want to smile to myself, knowing I made them lust, even if just for a moment... and their lust for me will never get appeased. Isn't that awful? Isn't that great? Turning strangers on with no intention of helping them relieve it? Hah, roil with lust! Feel alive and feel that ache!
#1 used to just passively be, "I want to make nice art." at most, it was sometimes "I want to make art that gives others emotions." and that's not too bad. But I think right now I more want to improve my craft. Though, either way I suppose that'll happen, if I keep practicing.
#3 used to be "I want to make beautiful stories." A think so nebulous! That means nothing, doesn't it? It means nothing.
Hah. Well. I'm changing and growing this year, in so many ways. I will find my way yet.
1) I want to make art that others want to steal;
2) I want to turn heads and make strangers attracted to me, and laugh to myself internally, knowing they can never have me;
3) I want to write things that make people cry, whether in sadness or joy.
#2 is a totally new goal altogether. I used to think it was vain to want to attract others. And maybe it is. But I want to. I want their eyes to burn with my image and their bodies to warm up. And I want to smile to myself, knowing I made them lust, even if just for a moment... and their lust for me will never get appeased. Isn't that awful? Isn't that great? Turning strangers on with no intention of helping them relieve it? Hah, roil with lust! Feel alive and feel that ache!
#1 used to just passively be, "I want to make nice art." at most, it was sometimes "I want to make art that gives others emotions." and that's not too bad. But I think right now I more want to improve my craft. Though, either way I suppose that'll happen, if I keep practicing.
#3 used to be "I want to make beautiful stories." A think so nebulous! That means nothing, doesn't it? It means nothing.
Hah. Well. I'm changing and growing this year, in so many ways. I will find my way yet.
DYSPHORIA.
General | Posted 4 years agoOh, 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.
Courage (which I hate) and physical confidence
General | Posted 4 years agoNo, I don't think my past post was correct. It's not a matter of framing. It doesn't come down to that. It is the fear aspect, after all, that is fueling the worst of my executive dysfunction. So the question is not whether I should try and perceive reality differently; it is how to give myself courage.
Courage. That strange ineffable thing. I can barely describe it. At once it seems laughable, an idea borne by those who wish to seem great. But also... it cannot be helped that there is a positive aspect to it, as well. There are things that take courage in this world, the likes of which are not fake or laughable. Then again, courage is... isn't courage just the accumulation of ability? I'm... I have a relationship with this idea that I loathe. Those who have courage were put into circumstances that allowed them to have that courage, my mind screams. It is not an inherent quality but something granted by one's circumstances. Like all those companies that "started out of a garage" but it's failed to be noted that the company owners were loaned hundreds of thousands of dollars by their parents, and hey, they even had a damn garage, which not too many folks have now, since they live in apartments.
Courage. Ugh.
But maybe "courage" is the closest word to what I mean, even if it's not quite right, even if the connotations that exist aren't friendly to me.
The thing is, it's hard to do things when I feel incomplete. My body feels withered. It is like parts of me don't exist. And something so feeble, something so raw... making a body and mind like that do anything perceived as dangerous is nearly impossible. As long as I feel incomplete, I think I will struggle to take on challenges. Even ones as simple as doing the laundry.
I think I need to paint my nails into demon claws again. When I do that, I feel more whole. I can go out and feel good about my body. Sensual. Alive. Maybe a feeling of being alive is what it will take to do more things that living beings do. When I feel crumpled, making attempts seems so far off. Right now I am a crumpled paper. I am that little screaming piece of Voldemort. I am a scrape of blood on the sidewalk. Maybe some physical confidence is what I need. Maybe... maybe with some wardrobe changes to help me feel special and real, and confident, I can go out and enjoy the real life. And even do the things needed for the upkeep of real life.
Imagine feeling good going out to do the laundry. Imagine wearing clothes that are attractive and affirming, just because you can. Short black shorts. A crown with veils on the sides. Claws. Eyeliner, even.
Imagine being a beast. A beast going out to do the laundry. It doesn't have to be perfect because you're a beast. You can barrel on into the place because you're a beast. You don't care if other people look at you because you're a beast. No gaze can master or subdue you; the gaze of a human is meaningless in your beast mind. A demon? What does a demon care for a human's glowering glare? A demon itself is made of the smoldering ashes that compose such a thing. You cannot hurt me with what I am.
Courage, huh. Confidence, huh. Physical confidence. Physical confidence for mental confidence. I think it is worth a shot. Fill yourself with blackness and overcome the brittle fears of your form. You are not crumpled when you brim with darkness and desire.
Courage. That strange ineffable thing. I can barely describe it. At once it seems laughable, an idea borne by those who wish to seem great. But also... it cannot be helped that there is a positive aspect to it, as well. There are things that take courage in this world, the likes of which are not fake or laughable. Then again, courage is... isn't courage just the accumulation of ability? I'm... I have a relationship with this idea that I loathe. Those who have courage were put into circumstances that allowed them to have that courage, my mind screams. It is not an inherent quality but something granted by one's circumstances. Like all those companies that "started out of a garage" but it's failed to be noted that the company owners were loaned hundreds of thousands of dollars by their parents, and hey, they even had a damn garage, which not too many folks have now, since they live in apartments.
Courage. Ugh.
But maybe "courage" is the closest word to what I mean, even if it's not quite right, even if the connotations that exist aren't friendly to me.
The thing is, it's hard to do things when I feel incomplete. My body feels withered. It is like parts of me don't exist. And something so feeble, something so raw... making a body and mind like that do anything perceived as dangerous is nearly impossible. As long as I feel incomplete, I think I will struggle to take on challenges. Even ones as simple as doing the laundry.
I think I need to paint my nails into demon claws again. When I do that, I feel more whole. I can go out and feel good about my body. Sensual. Alive. Maybe a feeling of being alive is what it will take to do more things that living beings do. When I feel crumpled, making attempts seems so far off. Right now I am a crumpled paper. I am that little screaming piece of Voldemort. I am a scrape of blood on the sidewalk. Maybe some physical confidence is what I need. Maybe... maybe with some wardrobe changes to help me feel special and real, and confident, I can go out and enjoy the real life. And even do the things needed for the upkeep of real life.
Imagine feeling good going out to do the laundry. Imagine wearing clothes that are attractive and affirming, just because you can. Short black shorts. A crown with veils on the sides. Claws. Eyeliner, even.
Imagine being a beast. A beast going out to do the laundry. It doesn't have to be perfect because you're a beast. You can barrel on into the place because you're a beast. You don't care if other people look at you because you're a beast. No gaze can master or subdue you; the gaze of a human is meaningless in your beast mind. A demon? What does a demon care for a human's glowering glare? A demon itself is made of the smoldering ashes that compose such a thing. You cannot hurt me with what I am.
Courage, huh. Confidence, huh. Physical confidence. Physical confidence for mental confidence. I think it is worth a shot. Fill yourself with blackness and overcome the brittle fears of your form. You are not crumpled when you brim with darkness and desire.
Flooding the dark track
General | Posted 4 years agoHey hey hey, I had a small thought. I was thinking, how can I get the "dark track" of my executive dysfunction to lighten up? How can I possibly take those things and make them seem real and possible again? Maybe I've been going about it the wrong way. What if... what if, in order to make more mundane things seem real and possible, I have to veer a little harder into making ridiculous and fantastical things seem real and possible...?
Like. "I'm going to ride a unicorn today." That's on the dark track with things like "I'll make a phone call today" and "I'll do the laundry today," but mentally, I know it's fantastical, so it's not *quite* in the same place.
What if I... what if I told myself for real, that I was going to ride a unicorn...? I don't think I'd actually believe it, at its depths, but... if I took the definitely ridiculously fantastical things, and lowered them mentally to a place of "well maybe this is something I could do someday," then... would it forcibly displace those things on the dark track that seem less ridiculously fantastical, but still unreal? If I flood the dark track with the ludicrous, will the less ludicrous be forced into the light again? I wonder.
If I can tell myself with a straight face that I'm gonna ride a unicorn today, it should be even easier for me to tell myself that I'll do the laundry, I think.
Maybe this sort of mental resettling is exactly what I need. Kind of like... adding a heavier layer of something on top of a lighter layer, to make the lighter things settle into place. The dark track... is definitely rooted in some ways in anxiety from trauma. I feel like this reframing might ease that anxiety, might make me feel more strong, more capable, less helpless. Helplessness... yeah. I guess that's what I feel in terms of trauma and executive dysfunction, where the two things combine. Feelings of helplessness make things go onto the dark track.
Like. "I'm going to ride a unicorn today." That's on the dark track with things like "I'll make a phone call today" and "I'll do the laundry today," but mentally, I know it's fantastical, so it's not *quite* in the same place.
What if I... what if I told myself for real, that I was going to ride a unicorn...? I don't think I'd actually believe it, at its depths, but... if I took the definitely ridiculously fantastical things, and lowered them mentally to a place of "well maybe this is something I could do someday," then... would it forcibly displace those things on the dark track that seem less ridiculously fantastical, but still unreal? If I flood the dark track with the ludicrous, will the less ludicrous be forced into the light again? I wonder.
If I can tell myself with a straight face that I'm gonna ride a unicorn today, it should be even easier for me to tell myself that I'll do the laundry, I think.
Maybe this sort of mental resettling is exactly what I need. Kind of like... adding a heavier layer of something on top of a lighter layer, to make the lighter things settle into place. The dark track... is definitely rooted in some ways in anxiety from trauma. I feel like this reframing might ease that anxiety, might make me feel more strong, more capable, less helpless. Helplessness... yeah. I guess that's what I feel in terms of trauma and executive dysfunction, where the two things combine. Feelings of helplessness make things go onto the dark track.
Dysphoria, executive dysfunction, and trauma
General | Posted 4 years agoI wonder if some of my deep, deep gender dysphoria issues are actually magnified due to my executive dysfunction problems. Like... the parts of my body that don't really feel like they exist... I wonder if that blank space is on the "dark track." I wonder if those parts of me don't feel real because my executive dysfunction issues don't allow them to feel real.
I have in fact noticed the trend that, things I vastly dislike or fear tend to end up on the dark track. I wonder if... I wonder if executive dysfunction is a protective measure for me. I wonder if it's my brain's way of going, "this is a bad thing, don't let it exist or it will consume you." I remember, back when these problems were first arising long, long ago, when I was angrily told by my parents to do chores and I kept forgetting and forgetting and forgetting, it certainly felt like it was protective. As in, "not doing it because I decided to hold off will get me yelled at or physically hurt, but if I conveniently forget, then at least that's somewhat understandable by my parents."
Hm. I don't know if that's entirely the reason--I mean, I have ADD, no matter what--but I wonder if that executive dysfunction part of the ADD was made worse by my childhood trauma. Maybe my brain is forcibly denying me the ability to think of things it assumes will hurt me. Maybe my brain doesn't let potentially painful things feel real. I mean, it's not that I can't think of painful things. But I guess... it's pretty difficult to think of *doing* painful things in a real sense. It comes across as fictional. Maybe... maybe normal things are being tossed into the "painful, it's not real" bin because my brain is hypersensitive to the potential for pain, due to trauma.
Huuuuuh.
So that would mean... if this is the way things are, then I either have to find a way to un-adapt my brain to responding to the idea of acting on pain, or I need to make actions I want to take seem not-painful.
You know what? This would explain something too. That would be, my freeze response. And my inability to look at things that might be bad... by that I mean, my inability to respond if I think someone other than close family may be hurt. In particular, I can't face situations where I may be asked to help someone in need. I can look at, say, a car crash where an ambulance is, no problem. But I know I could not look at a new car crash if I was the only one on the scene. I will walk right past potential problems, or even people who might talk to me, as if I could not see at all, as if I did not perceive anything at all.
Maybe... maybe those things are perceived and then immediately put on the dark track, because my brain does not want me to have to acknowledge them as reality. Because that would mean getting involved, and getting involved is dangerous. Getting involved is like going downstairs when mom is stomping around. It is safer to forget to do the dishes, than to go downstairs and do them while mom is stomping around.
I do not think that my executive dysfunction is solely a trauma response. But I do see how it very well may have been deepened by trauma.
And I guess, if my own body feels traumatic to me due to gender dysphoria... then... maybe that's why I feel partially nonexistent, because my brain is trying to "disappear" that trauma. Maybe that's why I feel like a mutant and not a human being. Or at least, maybe it is contributing.
That's a lot to think about.
I guess my next questions should be, what can I do? Is there anything I can do? What do I WANT to do? Is there any way to lessen the trauma response? If not, then is there any way to make things register as non-traumatic?
Hmmmmm.
I have in fact noticed the trend that, things I vastly dislike or fear tend to end up on the dark track. I wonder if... I wonder if executive dysfunction is a protective measure for me. I wonder if it's my brain's way of going, "this is a bad thing, don't let it exist or it will consume you." I remember, back when these problems were first arising long, long ago, when I was angrily told by my parents to do chores and I kept forgetting and forgetting and forgetting, it certainly felt like it was protective. As in, "not doing it because I decided to hold off will get me yelled at or physically hurt, but if I conveniently forget, then at least that's somewhat understandable by my parents."
Hm. I don't know if that's entirely the reason--I mean, I have ADD, no matter what--but I wonder if that executive dysfunction part of the ADD was made worse by my childhood trauma. Maybe my brain is forcibly denying me the ability to think of things it assumes will hurt me. Maybe my brain doesn't let potentially painful things feel real. I mean, it's not that I can't think of painful things. But I guess... it's pretty difficult to think of *doing* painful things in a real sense. It comes across as fictional. Maybe... maybe normal things are being tossed into the "painful, it's not real" bin because my brain is hypersensitive to the potential for pain, due to trauma.
Huuuuuh.
So that would mean... if this is the way things are, then I either have to find a way to un-adapt my brain to responding to the idea of acting on pain, or I need to make actions I want to take seem not-painful.
You know what? This would explain something too. That would be, my freeze response. And my inability to look at things that might be bad... by that I mean, my inability to respond if I think someone other than close family may be hurt. In particular, I can't face situations where I may be asked to help someone in need. I can look at, say, a car crash where an ambulance is, no problem. But I know I could not look at a new car crash if I was the only one on the scene. I will walk right past potential problems, or even people who might talk to me, as if I could not see at all, as if I did not perceive anything at all.
Maybe... maybe those things are perceived and then immediately put on the dark track, because my brain does not want me to have to acknowledge them as reality. Because that would mean getting involved, and getting involved is dangerous. Getting involved is like going downstairs when mom is stomping around. It is safer to forget to do the dishes, than to go downstairs and do them while mom is stomping around.
I do not think that my executive dysfunction is solely a trauma response. But I do see how it very well may have been deepened by trauma.
And I guess, if my own body feels traumatic to me due to gender dysphoria... then... maybe that's why I feel partially nonexistent, because my brain is trying to "disappear" that trauma. Maybe that's why I feel like a mutant and not a human being. Or at least, maybe it is contributing.
That's a lot to think about.
I guess my next questions should be, what can I do? Is there anything I can do? What do I WANT to do? Is there any way to lessen the trauma response? If not, then is there any way to make things register as non-traumatic?
Hmmmmm.
Dysphoria pt 2, minutes later
General | Posted 4 years agoYou know what I realized the other day on my walk? I realized, I feel like a mutant. I feel absolutely mutilated. I do NOT feel like a human. I think... I think this explains some things. Like why giving myself claws made me feel something like gender euphoria. Because... that's what it WAS.
I'm... I think, instinctively, my mind is going, "I am not a human. I do not have all the parts. I am not one of them. So, I will lean into it! I will lean into my inhumanity, and that will be part of who I am! I need to be something more, and I need to show it off! I need them to know I don't fit in! I need to be proud and open so they know I'm not trying to be one of them!"
And that's why the idea of wearing demon horns feels so deeply pleasurable. It is a form of gender affirmation. Because my "gender" doesn't even feel tied to humanity. It feels tied to being a mutant. Because my body feels mutated, to me.
God, I wonder if... I wonder if that comic I started drawing long ago, where Boruto awakened his sharingan and felt horrified and mutated, I wonder if that wasn't just an expression of how I felt. He, in the end, was supported and loved and became comfortable with it when he realized it was not unnatural, he just had a father with those genetics. I... I don't know if there's anything in the world that could give me that luxury. I don't know that this mutation can ever feel natural.
Oh fuck. Doing some deep character work on myself today. Little did I know, when I got into Mairuma, that it would open up and expose these parts of me. It's so gross under there, where I haven't been able to work on myself. I didn't have the brain power. Now I feel more powerful and all the stuff I had to let go, all the stuff that was simmering but I couldn't feel, it's all coming up.
"Demon" as a gender. I wonder if that's possible. I never really thought of it, but my dysphoria... it's bringing me there, all right. I guess... yeah, I identify as a man, and yet, I don't feel physically enough like a man to have the title fit. And maybe... maybe that's okay? Is that okay? I don't really feel like it's internal transphobia at this point. It's more... this is just how my body is. It is as much a part of my identity as how I feel in my head. I am definitely male in my head. But my body makes me a mutated one. And that mutated feeling is part of that gender identity.
Demons, huh.
I'm... I think, instinctively, my mind is going, "I am not a human. I do not have all the parts. I am not one of them. So, I will lean into it! I will lean into my inhumanity, and that will be part of who I am! I need to be something more, and I need to show it off! I need them to know I don't fit in! I need to be proud and open so they know I'm not trying to be one of them!"
And that's why the idea of wearing demon horns feels so deeply pleasurable. It is a form of gender affirmation. Because my "gender" doesn't even feel tied to humanity. It feels tied to being a mutant. Because my body feels mutated, to me.
God, I wonder if... I wonder if that comic I started drawing long ago, where Boruto awakened his sharingan and felt horrified and mutated, I wonder if that wasn't just an expression of how I felt. He, in the end, was supported and loved and became comfortable with it when he realized it was not unnatural, he just had a father with those genetics. I... I don't know if there's anything in the world that could give me that luxury. I don't know that this mutation can ever feel natural.
Oh fuck. Doing some deep character work on myself today. Little did I know, when I got into Mairuma, that it would open up and expose these parts of me. It's so gross under there, where I haven't been able to work on myself. I didn't have the brain power. Now I feel more powerful and all the stuff I had to let go, all the stuff that was simmering but I couldn't feel, it's all coming up.
"Demon" as a gender. I wonder if that's possible. I never really thought of it, but my dysphoria... it's bringing me there, all right. I guess... yeah, I identify as a man, and yet, I don't feel physically enough like a man to have the title fit. And maybe... maybe that's okay? Is that okay? I don't really feel like it's internal transphobia at this point. It's more... this is just how my body is. It is as much a part of my identity as how I feel in my head. I am definitely male in my head. But my body makes me a mutated one. And that mutated feeling is part of that gender identity.
Demons, huh.
Dysphoria
General | Posted 4 years agoYou know, in recent weeks it's started to become painfully apparent just how intense my bodily dysphoria truly is. My mind is waking up a bit and my body is too, but that's brought some things to the forefront. And part of that is just how helpless I am to this dysphoria. It is literally there all the time. And it is killing me.
I want intimacy too, you know. I want to be able to love. I want to give of my body. I... can't. I really can't. I can't. Not like this. Not like this.
My last surgery was hell, but it did wonders for me afterwards. Do I... do I want further surgery? Do I need it? I want to live my life. I don't want to be scared and chaste the rest of my life.
At first I was thinking, maybe I could live with this body. Maybe I could make it work. But... I'm recognizing more and more that that may not be possible. Yeah, this body has great sensation. It responds fine and functions. For someone who wasn't me, it might work okay. But I am myself. And it is not okay.
What I want... what I want. To be a part of someone. In the way that I want. That... is a breathlessly beautiful thing that I want on an instinctive level, and the fact that I am not built for it is killing me. It is killing me. I mean it.
Let me feel that. I am so jealous of all the people out there who were born with a body capable of doing this thing. I am jealous beyond belief. I cannot believe how envious I am! They can just... go out... and do this thing whenever they want. While I have to rely on my art and my writing to barely get a mental and emotional taste of it. I have to pretend, in my mind, that I am one of these characters I love, that I inhabit their body while they are intimate, just so I can feel the tiniest shred of satisfaction in physical intimacy. It's tearing me apart. It is killing me.
People who complain about not getting laid, just try not having a body capable of it and looking hopelessly at the future, knowing it's unlikely you ever will be capable. Knowing the problem isn't that other people aren't interested; the problem is YOU and there ISN'T a way to change it. Imagine what it's like, too, looking back on the last couple decades with the horror of knowing you never got to experiment in your youth and enjoy the fact that you had a body. I am SO SO SO jealous of everyone who got to express themselves in ways that were not just art and writing. I am deeply, torturously jealous.
I channel my desires through my art. That's literally all I have. I don't have a body so I make them up and pretend. It hurts. It hurts so badly.
I want intimacy too, you know. I want to be able to love. I want to give of my body. I... can't. I really can't. I can't. Not like this. Not like this.
My last surgery was hell, but it did wonders for me afterwards. Do I... do I want further surgery? Do I need it? I want to live my life. I don't want to be scared and chaste the rest of my life.
At first I was thinking, maybe I could live with this body. Maybe I could make it work. But... I'm recognizing more and more that that may not be possible. Yeah, this body has great sensation. It responds fine and functions. For someone who wasn't me, it might work okay. But I am myself. And it is not okay.
What I want... what I want. To be a part of someone. In the way that I want. That... is a breathlessly beautiful thing that I want on an instinctive level, and the fact that I am not built for it is killing me. It is killing me. I mean it.
Let me feel that. I am so jealous of all the people out there who were born with a body capable of doing this thing. I am jealous beyond belief. I cannot believe how envious I am! They can just... go out... and do this thing whenever they want. While I have to rely on my art and my writing to barely get a mental and emotional taste of it. I have to pretend, in my mind, that I am one of these characters I love, that I inhabit their body while they are intimate, just so I can feel the tiniest shred of satisfaction in physical intimacy. It's tearing me apart. It is killing me.
People who complain about not getting laid, just try not having a body capable of it and looking hopelessly at the future, knowing it's unlikely you ever will be capable. Knowing the problem isn't that other people aren't interested; the problem is YOU and there ISN'T a way to change it. Imagine what it's like, too, looking back on the last couple decades with the horror of knowing you never got to experiment in your youth and enjoy the fact that you had a body. I am SO SO SO jealous of everyone who got to express themselves in ways that were not just art and writing. I am deeply, torturously jealous.
I channel my desires through my art. That's literally all I have. I don't have a body so I make them up and pretend. It hurts. It hurts so badly.
Emotional repression, parents' house
General | Posted 4 years ago...Being at my parents' house has been a strange experience, now that I'm getting some of my feelings back. Why? Because coming here has totally caused them to become repressed. Yeah! I know! If I could feel what I was feeling last week this time, this place would be like a piece of heaven on earth. It is not. It is a bland void. On the surface I can enjoy a few things, a little. But none of the wild feelings come through. Nothing deep, nothing visceral. I am a water strider, looking down into the lake and wondering why I cannot explore the shadowed depths.
However, I have gained some insight. Not only into my current self, but also into my past self, and ALSO into the character of Kiriwo, from Mairimashita Iruma-kun. What is it I've learned? I've learned that to feel at all like I exist here, like I'm a living creature and can feel, I need to make my personality more extreme. I need my personality and sense of self to be massively inflated. I need to feel WEIRD and HARD TO ACCEPT. I need to feel a little out of my mind and a little overbearing and intimidating. To be anything here, I need to be a LOT. Otherwise, I am squashed. I am made into nothing, and I feel nothing, and my life is nothing.
So, I have changed how I envision myself here. I am a giant hulk of buzzing black and purple energy. I am picturing myself like Ali-san from Mairuma, before he had a definite shape. When he looked huge and intimidating. That's the aura I am picturing. I don't have the tools to make myself look weird, but at least envisioning myself as strange and giant is helping me feel a little more than the surface. This last day after I realized all this, I have actually smiled a number of times here. And they were good smiles, and I could feel things behind them. All the days before that? Nothing. I could not be genuine or genuinely feel. I could not smile. I could not emote.
If I want to survive here, I need to be WEIRD. If I want to be fully myself and genuine, I'd have to do something like wear horns and paint my body and strap up in all sorts of leathery weird-ass fashion shit. I can't do that right now, so I'm settling for the mild emotions I've got. I'm proud I discovered this, though. I couldn't have had this insight in past years because I couldn't feel much in general. This insight is useful. It gives me a better understanding of why I want to wear these kinds of things and be weirder. It helps me feel genuine. I guess this must be what people mean when they say "be yourself." They mean, give yourself the tools to feel things genuinely. "Be yourself" doesn't really get much across, though. And it doesn't help you understand what you need.
I wanted to talk about how this relates to my past and to Kiriwo, as well. I realized, this suppression of emotions in this place... this is why I became such a gremlin in middle school. This is why I was so violent-feeling, so messed-up feeling. This is why I was out for blood. This is why I would claw at desks with my fingernails and HATE and HUNGER and PINE. I was basically in a "returned to origins" state. I was so repressed and abused at home that I felt like NOTHING. I had to become this thing in order to feel alive, at all. It was the same thing! All the way back then!! This family was so oppressive that I was forced to become a beast. I needed to cling to bloodlust and cruel ideas, just to feel like I had a personality, like I had any mass or force within my personality at all. This was the way I made myself big enough to barely survive that time in my life. This was how I was able to see myself as a living being and to impose myself on the world. I had no other ways to do it. I was being squashed at home and by my family's expectations. I had nothing but this low-level insanity for my own.
And that... is what Kiriwo is probably going through. He's not a bad kid. But he is constantly, unendingly stressed--and stress like that, feeling like you are a Nothing, stress like that will put you into a wicked phase the likes of which you can't get out of until that stress actually ceases. Most demons in the series get out of a wicked phase after doing various things which help them relax. But if pressure is applied so constantly that you can't get out of a wicked phase... then you are stuck. Returned to origins.
After realizing this, that he's likely just trying to feel like a living creature in a world where he has been treated like Nothing, I can suddenly understand him. I get it. He needs this persona just to survive. He needs to feel big. Big enough to exist. And this is what he's found. Just like I did, so many years ago.
Anyhow. Those are the things I've realized. I think I want to work on helping myself feel more like a living creature. If I run into this kind of situation again, how can I recognize it, and how can I combat it? If I change my appearance, will I get permanent buffs to the whole feeling-like-I'm-alive thing? Should I change what I wear just in specific situations, or should I do it everywhere I go? A lot of things to consider. But I want to move forward more. I love these lil demon claws I got. They've become a source of joy and identity for me. I feel more alive because of them. What's the next step? Let me think on it.
However, I have gained some insight. Not only into my current self, but also into my past self, and ALSO into the character of Kiriwo, from Mairimashita Iruma-kun. What is it I've learned? I've learned that to feel at all like I exist here, like I'm a living creature and can feel, I need to make my personality more extreme. I need my personality and sense of self to be massively inflated. I need to feel WEIRD and HARD TO ACCEPT. I need to feel a little out of my mind and a little overbearing and intimidating. To be anything here, I need to be a LOT. Otherwise, I am squashed. I am made into nothing, and I feel nothing, and my life is nothing.
So, I have changed how I envision myself here. I am a giant hulk of buzzing black and purple energy. I am picturing myself like Ali-san from Mairuma, before he had a definite shape. When he looked huge and intimidating. That's the aura I am picturing. I don't have the tools to make myself look weird, but at least envisioning myself as strange and giant is helping me feel a little more than the surface. This last day after I realized all this, I have actually smiled a number of times here. And they were good smiles, and I could feel things behind them. All the days before that? Nothing. I could not be genuine or genuinely feel. I could not smile. I could not emote.
If I want to survive here, I need to be WEIRD. If I want to be fully myself and genuine, I'd have to do something like wear horns and paint my body and strap up in all sorts of leathery weird-ass fashion shit. I can't do that right now, so I'm settling for the mild emotions I've got. I'm proud I discovered this, though. I couldn't have had this insight in past years because I couldn't feel much in general. This insight is useful. It gives me a better understanding of why I want to wear these kinds of things and be weirder. It helps me feel genuine. I guess this must be what people mean when they say "be yourself." They mean, give yourself the tools to feel things genuinely. "Be yourself" doesn't really get much across, though. And it doesn't help you understand what you need.
I wanted to talk about how this relates to my past and to Kiriwo, as well. I realized, this suppression of emotions in this place... this is why I became such a gremlin in middle school. This is why I was so violent-feeling, so messed-up feeling. This is why I was out for blood. This is why I would claw at desks with my fingernails and HATE and HUNGER and PINE. I was basically in a "returned to origins" state. I was so repressed and abused at home that I felt like NOTHING. I had to become this thing in order to feel alive, at all. It was the same thing! All the way back then!! This family was so oppressive that I was forced to become a beast. I needed to cling to bloodlust and cruel ideas, just to feel like I had a personality, like I had any mass or force within my personality at all. This was the way I made myself big enough to barely survive that time in my life. This was how I was able to see myself as a living being and to impose myself on the world. I had no other ways to do it. I was being squashed at home and by my family's expectations. I had nothing but this low-level insanity for my own.
And that... is what Kiriwo is probably going through. He's not a bad kid. But he is constantly, unendingly stressed--and stress like that, feeling like you are a Nothing, stress like that will put you into a wicked phase the likes of which you can't get out of until that stress actually ceases. Most demons in the series get out of a wicked phase after doing various things which help them relax. But if pressure is applied so constantly that you can't get out of a wicked phase... then you are stuck. Returned to origins.
After realizing this, that he's likely just trying to feel like a living creature in a world where he has been treated like Nothing, I can suddenly understand him. I get it. He needs this persona just to survive. He needs to feel big. Big enough to exist. And this is what he's found. Just like I did, so many years ago.
Anyhow. Those are the things I've realized. I think I want to work on helping myself feel more like a living creature. If I run into this kind of situation again, how can I recognize it, and how can I combat it? If I change my appearance, will I get permanent buffs to the whole feeling-like-I'm-alive thing? Should I change what I wear just in specific situations, or should I do it everywhere I go? A lot of things to consider. But I want to move forward more. I love these lil demon claws I got. They've become a source of joy and identity for me. I feel more alive because of them. What's the next step? Let me think on it.
Endorphins
General | Posted 4 years agoEndorphins! I think that might be what it is!
It's like I'm a DND character who kept forgetting to level up on time, and got a bunch of levels at once, and one of the feats I chose was "endorphins." Now I can feeeeel. Feel good.
I was just reading an article about a small study--just 18 test participants--that tested for a link between fibromyalgia and a lack of response to opioid medications, and iirc they tentatively found that the brains of people with fibro had fewer opioid receptors in them. I realized, well, that makes sense to me too, since I've got fibro, and the medications they gave me after surgery did not. Do. One. Damn. Thing. Honestly, if they'd handed me a bottle of blueberries instead of drugs, it would have done more, because at least I could have enjoyed the taste of the blueberries.
But that's got me wondering. If my brain has been unable to process endorphins for so long, why has that changed suddenly? Why do I get the "runner's high" feeling now? I've gone through a lot of body changes recently, so it's hard to know. I stopped taking testosterone, that made a huge difference. I started a medication for my diabetes--that made a big difference. I had a whole damn organ removed, that made a big difference. I've lost over 25 lbs and have gotten a lot more fit, that's big, too. My blood sugar and my vascular health are markedly better. My diet and digestion has changed, and I think that's impacting me more than I know. I've been able to brush my teeth more, and that has an effect, too. It's impossible to know which one--or which combination--of these various things is the cause of my sudden ability to feel my hormones.
Seriously, I'm so curious what could cause someone to suddenly be able to feel endorphins. There has to be some kind of brain change, right? Somehow? Hopefully it's not a sign of something bad that I don't know about. Well, Whatever it is, I'm glad to be able to enjoy this time. I feel like I'm blossoming. Yeah, it's a tired metaphor, but really, I'm growing and changing in unprecedented ways. I feel like... I feel like I'm going through puberty proper, now, if that makes sense. A third puberty. The first was pre-T, the second was from starting T, the third was from removing an organ and stopping T. Heh. How strange. Maybe I'll feel like I can catch up to my peers now. Maybe, everything I was, was just brewing under the surface. Hopefully there are some things from the last five years that I learned unconsciously, and can use going forward. I guess... I learned what it's like to be a nothing. I learned for real what it was to be a pitiful ball of pain and exhaustion. I learned how BAD it is out there. I learned how wrong it is. And... I finally decided I lost hope. I replaced the hollow pit where hope had been, with resolution. And I think that was the right choice. Hope left me clinging, flailing. Resolution let me drop to the ground and start walking.
I have changed so much. It's hard to believe the me that is today, is the same me that was last December. The same me that was these last five years. I am growing so much. I look forward to what I can do.
Damn. Endorphins are great. I don't remember if I ever felt this way when I was younger. I don't recall ever feeling this high. Maybe a few times after dancing. I remember a New Years celebration that was fantastic. And the UU youth cons, I think I felt this way a couple times at those, during dances and angel washes. But that was exceedingly rare. Exercise NEVER felt good. Walking was just walking. Sports were bleah. Anyway, I do wish I knew what exactly changed to allow me to feel this way, but I doubt I'll ever have a solid answer. Maybe for now, I'll chalk it up to "3rd puberty" and leave it at that, lmao.
It's like I'm a DND character who kept forgetting to level up on time, and got a bunch of levels at once, and one of the feats I chose was "endorphins." Now I can feeeeel. Feel good.
I was just reading an article about a small study--just 18 test participants--that tested for a link between fibromyalgia and a lack of response to opioid medications, and iirc they tentatively found that the brains of people with fibro had fewer opioid receptors in them. I realized, well, that makes sense to me too, since I've got fibro, and the medications they gave me after surgery did not. Do. One. Damn. Thing. Honestly, if they'd handed me a bottle of blueberries instead of drugs, it would have done more, because at least I could have enjoyed the taste of the blueberries.
But that's got me wondering. If my brain has been unable to process endorphins for so long, why has that changed suddenly? Why do I get the "runner's high" feeling now? I've gone through a lot of body changes recently, so it's hard to know. I stopped taking testosterone, that made a huge difference. I started a medication for my diabetes--that made a big difference. I had a whole damn organ removed, that made a big difference. I've lost over 25 lbs and have gotten a lot more fit, that's big, too. My blood sugar and my vascular health are markedly better. My diet and digestion has changed, and I think that's impacting me more than I know. I've been able to brush my teeth more, and that has an effect, too. It's impossible to know which one--or which combination--of these various things is the cause of my sudden ability to feel my hormones.
Seriously, I'm so curious what could cause someone to suddenly be able to feel endorphins. There has to be some kind of brain change, right? Somehow? Hopefully it's not a sign of something bad that I don't know about. Well, Whatever it is, I'm glad to be able to enjoy this time. I feel like I'm blossoming. Yeah, it's a tired metaphor, but really, I'm growing and changing in unprecedented ways. I feel like... I feel like I'm going through puberty proper, now, if that makes sense. A third puberty. The first was pre-T, the second was from starting T, the third was from removing an organ and stopping T. Heh. How strange. Maybe I'll feel like I can catch up to my peers now. Maybe, everything I was, was just brewing under the surface. Hopefully there are some things from the last five years that I learned unconsciously, and can use going forward. I guess... I learned what it's like to be a nothing. I learned for real what it was to be a pitiful ball of pain and exhaustion. I learned how BAD it is out there. I learned how wrong it is. And... I finally decided I lost hope. I replaced the hollow pit where hope had been, with resolution. And I think that was the right choice. Hope left me clinging, flailing. Resolution let me drop to the ground and start walking.
I have changed so much. It's hard to believe the me that is today, is the same me that was last December. The same me that was these last five years. I am growing so much. I look forward to what I can do.
Damn. Endorphins are great. I don't remember if I ever felt this way when I was younger. I don't recall ever feeling this high. Maybe a few times after dancing. I remember a New Years celebration that was fantastic. And the UU youth cons, I think I felt this way a couple times at those, during dances and angel washes. But that was exceedingly rare. Exercise NEVER felt good. Walking was just walking. Sports were bleah. Anyway, I do wish I knew what exactly changed to allow me to feel this way, but I doubt I'll ever have a solid answer. Maybe for now, I'll chalk it up to "3rd puberty" and leave it at that, lmao.
Dancin
General | Posted 4 years agoToday I got to be home alone. I'm not often home alone; my fiance works from home now, and goes out very rarely.
But today I got to be alone. I could turn up the music! I could make noise! And this I did.
Dancing is SO different when you don't have to wear headphones and carry your phone. It... it was phenomenal! I closed the blinds and turned the music up, and could just... move my body! However I wanted! As I danced, I took off my clothes. I felt so liberated, jiggling, smiling, pretending to have an audience in my cyan undies. I figured out how to really make my thighs wiggle, make my butt wiggle, my stomach, and arms. Boy, I can really feel and look awesome when I'm untethered. I don't have a mirror to see my body, but I could slightly make out bits of it in the reflection off the television, and that was enough for me to know I looked great. I'd love a mirror. A full-length mirror. God, that'd be a thing, wouldn't it? Seeing my full self, and well. What a treat that'd be.
As I danced I sometimes grabbed at my skin, my muscles. Pulled a fist down my chest. Pulled my fingers down my temples luxuriously. Wow, there's a body here! I have a hard time with my body, feeling like a part of it. I am so separated from it now, after years of dysphoria, and of losing hope, and of sickness. When I dance I can kind of feel like I have body parts again. Like those body parts have sensations that go deep into them. Like I own them, physically, and not just conceptually. Sensually! I danced and it felt sensual. I was a cavorting thing. A thing. Better a thing than nothing, better a thing than an idea that cannot be acted on.
After dancing, I felt high. Not... not conceptually high. For real high. I felt my head lapse into a daze like I'd consumed edibles. My eyes rolled back in my skull. What a strange intoxication it was. I... I don't know how that happened. Whatever it was, it was bliss. That was out of this world. My senses were buzzing. I can't recall ever having felt this ridiculously good and high after something like this. I've heard people talk of feeling high after exercise. Is that this? Is this what most people have felt after exercise, all their lives? If so, they are the LUCKIEST PEOPLE ON EARTH. I felt tiny pinpricks of this a couple times, of a similar feeling. But it was always overshadowed by pain and fatigue. I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that, for whatever reason, I've been able to physically feel my hormones release from my adrenal glands lately. Like SPLASH, from their spots in my torso and into my bloodstream, into my legs and arms and everywhere. Something has changed in my body and it is wonderful.
I don't know what's going on. Please, please stay this way. Please, body, don't ever go back to the way things were. This is too precious. I can feel good again. I can feel great things! And subtle things! I can pinch my thighs and they're mine! I want to keep dancing. I want to stretch, and dance, and the embarrassing thing that's become my goal, I want to tease others with my dancing. Some day I want an actual audience. I want to tease people and leave them full of desire! I want them to see my small, muscular body and not have words for the feelings they feel. I want them to writhe in their chests, to pant at my every movement, to catch my eye but never my fancy. What an embarrassing desire! What a ridiculous and selfish desire! ...And yet it is mine.
Now... I can feel good and dance. Now... I can move forward. And even if I never achieve that penultimate goal, I will have this, the bliss of having danced today and discovered the sensations of it. I will have this hedonism. Yes...
But today I got to be alone. I could turn up the music! I could make noise! And this I did.
Dancing is SO different when you don't have to wear headphones and carry your phone. It... it was phenomenal! I closed the blinds and turned the music up, and could just... move my body! However I wanted! As I danced, I took off my clothes. I felt so liberated, jiggling, smiling, pretending to have an audience in my cyan undies. I figured out how to really make my thighs wiggle, make my butt wiggle, my stomach, and arms. Boy, I can really feel and look awesome when I'm untethered. I don't have a mirror to see my body, but I could slightly make out bits of it in the reflection off the television, and that was enough for me to know I looked great. I'd love a mirror. A full-length mirror. God, that'd be a thing, wouldn't it? Seeing my full self, and well. What a treat that'd be.
As I danced I sometimes grabbed at my skin, my muscles. Pulled a fist down my chest. Pulled my fingers down my temples luxuriously. Wow, there's a body here! I have a hard time with my body, feeling like a part of it. I am so separated from it now, after years of dysphoria, and of losing hope, and of sickness. When I dance I can kind of feel like I have body parts again. Like those body parts have sensations that go deep into them. Like I own them, physically, and not just conceptually. Sensually! I danced and it felt sensual. I was a cavorting thing. A thing. Better a thing than nothing, better a thing than an idea that cannot be acted on.
After dancing, I felt high. Not... not conceptually high. For real high. I felt my head lapse into a daze like I'd consumed edibles. My eyes rolled back in my skull. What a strange intoxication it was. I... I don't know how that happened. Whatever it was, it was bliss. That was out of this world. My senses were buzzing. I can't recall ever having felt this ridiculously good and high after something like this. I've heard people talk of feeling high after exercise. Is that this? Is this what most people have felt after exercise, all their lives? If so, they are the LUCKIEST PEOPLE ON EARTH. I felt tiny pinpricks of this a couple times, of a similar feeling. But it was always overshadowed by pain and fatigue. I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that, for whatever reason, I've been able to physically feel my hormones release from my adrenal glands lately. Like SPLASH, from their spots in my torso and into my bloodstream, into my legs and arms and everywhere. Something has changed in my body and it is wonderful.
I don't know what's going on. Please, please stay this way. Please, body, don't ever go back to the way things were. This is too precious. I can feel good again. I can feel great things! And subtle things! I can pinch my thighs and they're mine! I want to keep dancing. I want to stretch, and dance, and the embarrassing thing that's become my goal, I want to tease others with my dancing. Some day I want an actual audience. I want to tease people and leave them full of desire! I want them to see my small, muscular body and not have words for the feelings they feel. I want them to writhe in their chests, to pant at my every movement, to catch my eye but never my fancy. What an embarrassing desire! What a ridiculous and selfish desire! ...And yet it is mine.
Now... I can feel good and dance. Now... I can move forward. And even if I never achieve that penultimate goal, I will have this, the bliss of having danced today and discovered the sensations of it. I will have this hedonism. Yes...
