Some of you may have noticed I'm a woman now.
In mind, heart, the body is something that will require a long time to change.

I.. don't always act, talk, think like I should.
I wrote a post on my tumblr about it, I'm going to copypaste it.
So you can understand, if you care.




I realize I need to say alot of things, to make them public. To get the weight off of me.

You see, Identity has always been a funny thing for me.. It has been mercurial, dissatisfying, and frankly something I have always struggled with. Since I started discovering myself a few years, I’ve always been chasing this…. feeling. This feeling of me, and I did it in ways that just hid it. I oversexualised myself, I pursued things that tried to fill the hole but only hid it from me. I didn’t know this.

A few days, a week, however long this new age of my life has lived so far, I’ve felt that.. desire be met. Referring to myself as a woman, beginning a transformation, these things felt, feel, amazing. Being a woman there’s a bliss and closure in me that I have never felt before.

It’s not easy, but not in the way that you think. Sometimes it’s hard by being so easy, and hard by being impossible. You see…. the night before last I stressed myself out by doing things I know I damn well shouldn’t have been. I felt amazing that day, whole and strong as the woman I know I am even when I can’t feel it… What that led to was a dearth of *me* yesterday, I didn’t feel like a woman, just that gray piece of nothingness. My mental image was that of a man, I sounded like a man in my thoughts. The reason is not because I’m a man inside, but because all my life I’ve learned to be like that. So when something beats me down, my body and mind go back to what they know. I really don’t hate them for it, but I’m desperate to make being me the norm and I’m really trying my best.

That’s the way it’s hard by being impossible, the way it’s damn hard by being easy is I’m not very typical like my trans-sisters. I’ve learned how to live without feeling much, without being myself. I don’t get much dysphoria, and can cope fairly normally without being myself. Dysphoria is to me not being happy, not being myself. It’s not some terrible force in it’s pain, but in it’s lack of feeling.
I genuinely wish it was pain, I wish I had it like other trans-women. I’m sorry if that is callous, but I’d rather be myself and feel pain than to struggle to be myself. It’s a terrible way.

I’ve done alot of meditation, alot of begging, alot of tearing apart myself as I scream with silent lips to be myself and I’m beginning to feel like myself again today.

In maybe a few weeks, I’ll be myself again and be able to use all my talents, my imagination, and be the beautiful flower I know I am. All that I am waits just beneath, waiting to sprout through the cold asphalt.

For the first time in my life I know who I am, and I hope I don’t have to go through that silent-scream where I lose everything I value in myself. I become a cripple, in the house I stay because I can’t face the outside world.

I want to cry, but I’m not quite back to myself yet.