That slow process

Okay, so a little update on my healing process. It's been three weeks (like already?) and there's been some slight changes. The scabs are falling off on my left side and it's a little bit icky so I'm a bit worried but it's probably nothing to worry about. I'm gonna (let my mother) contact the district health centre so hopefully I'll get an appointment this week.

The pain is hard to describe since I still take painkillers so I don't know what it would be like without them, but I do also take them less often. So I suppose it hurts less, or I've just become more sparing with them to avoid getting a habit and to make them last longer.

The pain itself is also hard to describe, I think it's internal rather than external, as it feels like it's spread underneath my skin somehow and not centred where the actual wounds are. In fact they feel kinda numb, even when I've been off painkillers for almost 48 hours when the pain is the most severe before I pop another one. By then it's really horrible, so yeah, kinda need the pills still.

So ehm, won't be taking more pictures until it looks a bit better. Though I think the wounds are healing up more, at least those horizontal ones. They have actually been healing up great from day one, so it's the nipples that I'm slightly worried about. Okay, maybe I'm not just slightly worried, but I've been dealing with weird wounds before and I've never had any problems with infections so far. Seem to be immune to them, maybe.

I recognise this from a wound I had a few years back and though it took a bit longer to heal up than my other wounds, it turned out great without any medical treatment or anything. Though that was a slightly smaller self harm wound made with a tad bit too dirty, erhm... equipments.

So anyway, it's not foreign to me, but as it is a new kinda situation in which I actually care about the outcome, it's a bit more important. Like before I was "oh, scars, I could always use a few more of those, and the bigger the better". Seriously, I was fanatic about getting more scarred. They call me screwed up for a reason, or two. But not with these scars. Sure I don't mind them, in fact they are the only scars I've actually really wanted ever. But I do want them to heal well and don't become too weird.

I'm still very careful with my movements, though something odd when I was asleep all of yesterday occurred. I kinda stretched my right arm up way above my head and woke up doing so, thinking "no, don't do that!" and then a moment later I did it again! Like what the fuck? Like some weird reflex. My body has a whole bunch of reflexes not mentioned in the usual dictionary. Like I stretch either my upper or lower body like suddenly for no good reason and I can't control it. Seriously, it's like a reversed spasm of sorts.

Before it was just weird, but now with the post op thingy, it's really annoying when that happens. Usually I can stop it from getting too wild, but not when I'm asleep. Cause yeah, it does that then too. Really don't know what's up with that. So if my body could like... behave, that would be good.

Though I'm not entirely worried about those little quirks I seem to possess, though they do in a way interfere with the healing process. I can't stop myself from moving around, naturally. Cause I do live alone (and no, I don't want the crew to baby sit me for three months just because I'm newly post op) and that does require me to take care of myself. I can't do that without moving, I can't really do anything without moving, obviously.

So what I mean is simply that it will just have to take it. The little damage it would do that I reach for the milk in my fridge which isn't even that high, or that I carry my garbage to the container which isn't even that heavy, and so on, won't interfere that much with the healing. At least that's my opinion since that hasn't been the problem so far. And as far as I'm concerned the most critical part is this, the first few weeks after the operation.

So movement is my last concern to be perfectly honest, at least as I'm as careful as I can possibly be without asking for assistance to scratch my own back. I don't scratch it by the way, so it was a bad example, but still.

A part of me still can't believe it's true, you know. Maybe my past summer of hallucinations and recurring delusions has made me question reality. Is it really fundamental, is this real or just me imagining it? Did I just post a picture of my boobs thinking I've had surgery but in fact I've just imagined it? Maybe it's not so strange, but I wonder for how long I will feel that way, or come to my senses when I realise if it is real or not. Weeks? Months? Years? God, I hope not years...

It's snowing outside, I didn't think it would do that anymore this season. Here on Gotland that is, it was over a month ago it last snowed and it's been clear for that long. Like really warm and springy, and then bam, more snow. Guess I'm done talking about my operation for now. And when I said "a little update" of course I meant a frigging wall of text...

New words

So, I'm a little slow in the transgender community, since I well, rarely move around in those circles anymore. I get bored easily, and always having to watch where I step in order to not accidentally step on someone's toes can get a little restraining at times. I realise it's a sensitive issue, but maybe that's why I rarely end up in that community anymore. I don't need them, but sometimes it's nice to offer information or support to someone else.

However, I have recently come across some rather interesting words. I've never heard them before, but I'm sure some of you may have, and yes I am a little slow even though I sit with my nose deeply buried in my computer every hour of the day that I'm not asleep.

Those are the "dmab" and "dfab" terms. The first meaning designated male at birth and the second obviously means designated female at birth. They are, as far as I'm concerned, to be replaced with the "old fashioned" mtf and ftm terms. I don't really like it to be honest. What's wrong with calling myself ftm? Though the dfab sounds kinda... fab?

I suppose my concern is that people won't understand these new words, cause even I didn't and I'm pretty darn trans myself. So how could cisgendered people understand? I mean we don't really need that kind of words to explain who/what we are within the trans community, or at least no one's gonna question your use of words to describe yourself.

Sorry I don't understand hypes. Maybe I grew old a little too quickly on my journey from hell, but that's just me. I mean why change something that already works? Is dfab so much better than ftm, really? In what way then? Raging over words... what a I, twelve? Nah, I don't know. Just instant response I guess. Yeah, I'm definitely getting old, not understanding them "hip" things anymore. And I'm sounding like my parents... but I do think they're right in a way. There's always so much that changes for no good reasons really, except that they become different.

Losing you

It's like I've lost a part of myself, when I lose myself completely and can't find my way back without guidance. Maybe not even with, cause maybe there is no way back. I look at him and I wonder. For the first time, a thought slipped into my head: why can't I stop loving you? I've never wanted that, I didn't think that I did. Perhaps the pain is finally exceeding what is wonderful about it.

And now as I see clear, or clearer at least, I think new insights are possible. That I'm not so blinded anymore. The risk of becoming "safe" with emotions is that they may fade. I don't want them to fade, it would be like losing you. Though I never had you to begin with, and with no intention of owning you, it still feels like I'm losing you somehow. When in fact, I'm only losing some of those feelings. I hope not, I want to cling to them, I need to whether I'd like to or not.

I have to because they are my life force now and they always were. That thing that I wrote earlier about them being essential for my survival. And even though I'm much stronger now, I can't take the risk. I may fear the weirdest things, but I think I have good reasons to. Past experiences, for instance.

Though I didn't die last time, it was a hell to get through and I know I did everything wrong, but I did what I could at the time being. I might as well have died, you know. Cause something inside me did. It was like a part of my soul was brutally ripped out at the same time as my heart was broken. When suicide was the only option. Five times I tried, but I don't know, it was like I gave up after that. Like I just understood that it was out of my power, that I couldn't control destiny or what happened to me. In the past or the future. The destiny that I never wanted to believe in, cause it was so cruel.

That little relapse into the suicidal drama I had last summer really had nothing to do with love. It was only fear, and I tried to escape a horrible future. I was in love already, as I clinged to his picture and hesitated to mention him in my suicide letter. Thinking I didn't want him to know if I died, that it would put a terrible burden and sorrow on his part. I'm considerate that way.

No, it's like love is my drug to survival, ironically. Cause it's also my ticket to death, but it's two sides of a coin, you know. I think a lot of things work that way, that you can always turn them up-side-down and they become their opposite. The cure becomes a poison so easily. Love is so fragile that way, I've come to realise. And dreams are too.

So what can I do, but to hope that my love for him won't become my poison? I still have so much to learn, and I want to know about the good sides of love. I crave it so intensively, but all I've ever had are impossible dreams and chanceless hopes. Hence why I almost always tag these kind of entries with both "hope" and "hopelessness" cause it's always a sting of both.

Yeah, I feel as though I will never experience that. True love. Cause no matter who I fall in love with it's always the wrong person, cause either they have the wrong sexual orientation or they're already seeing someone or they live 100 miles away. Or heck, why not all three for a change?

No, I will never fall in love again. If that means cutting myself off from humanity all together, then so be it. I've had enough of unrequited love for a lifetime or maybe even two. I don't even know for sure if this is unrequited, I leave that option open for just a little longer. Cause you never know until you know. And I don't know, not for sure. The problem is though that I don't want to know. It is not an option that I want to cross over on my pending list of eternal doom, you know what I'm saying?

Perhaps I'm not so clear in all my scribbles sometimes, I can get a little fast with the keyboard sometimes, now when I write as fast in English as in Swedish it can get kinda wild. What I meant is that if he was to tell me it's never gonna happen, I'm sure that I will fall and I won't be coming back. Ever. That last fall which of course will be both figuratively and literally meant and I will make sure I won't survive it. Jump high enough and there will be nothing left but meat loaf. But enough about my wild fantasies, which I shouldn't share that often, it's creepy.

So yeah... I'm planning my own death but at the same time I don't want to do it. It's just that I know that it has to be done. That there is no ther way. And I hope that I won't need to in a very long time, but I don't think it will be in such a long time. I've been keeping that part from my shrinks, but only because I don't want to be marked off as another hopeless case. I know I need whatever help they can give me in the form of pills and meetings. And I've been meaning to take up that dealing with past traumas kinda shit, but I just can't muster it. It's tearing me apart just thinking about it, so how the hell can I bring it up? And no, I can't tell my mother to tell them, cause I can't muster that either. One day... one day I might.

I got off track, sorry. I just can't find a way to finish this entry, cause there is no finish, there is no punch line. It just goes on and on and sometimes on hold and sometimes stronger, but it never ends. Maybe all I can say is that love will tear me apart, one day or another.

Waking up to a new night

I hate it when I die in dreams. Especially when it's a psycho maniac, that I'm trying to save, that drives me in his car into the ocean where I drown. For the second time in the same dream. It was as alternate universe thing, that's why I died twice, failing miserably in both worlds. And why did I even trust a mentally unstable person who was way worse off than I've ever been, to drive me in his car in the middle of the night?

My dreams do tend to become a little more screwed up when I fall asleep in extra pain compared to how it usually is. And for some reason my chest pain is less than it was when I went to bed, and my headache is down to a tolerable level again. Maybe sleep does that. Cause that is my main escape when the pain becomes too much, to just go to sleep. Usually it's just as bad when I wake up again, but not always.

For now I don't care about my circadian rhythm, I have other things to worry about, but I'll give it another try later on. Besides, it's weekend, isn't it? Not that it makes a difference in my world, but still, I can have that as an excuse for fucking up my sleep schedule, again. Just a reminder, in that order:

How to manage pain:
1. Sleep and food.
2. Air and intoxication.
3. Relaxation and distraction.
4. Painkillers and other drugs.

A part of me

I don't write so much about him in my blog anymore, cause maybe it makes me nervous now that I know that he reads it. But I'm still in love, and very much so, I just don't know how to appropriately display that. Cause maybe I should just keep it to myself? I'm not really modest, quite the opposite in fact, I just don't know what to do with these feelings that basically still are allover the place. Maybe love is always like that, allover the place and kinda intangible.

Getting a little nostalgic over when I first fell in love with him, cause even though it was painful and I resisted it so much, it was still kinda sweet. Caressing. I don't exactly know what I'm actually nostalgic over, cause it's better now that I've contained most of those sprawling emotions and kept them safe. Cause now that my love for him has reached in so deeply and become essential for my survival, it's like I've become safe with them. Like they became a part of me somehow.

Cause they are, you know, essential for my survival. I think that the only way I can survive is to keep those feelings alive and well inside me. That if my dream would shatter then so would I. I try not to think about it that way, cause I know somehow that it will happen, sooner or later. Sort of when I will come to my senses, cause however much I deny and deny and deny it some more there's not such a high chance that we will end up together.

It feels weird writing about this like that, too look at it a bit from the outside, to get a glimpse of what it really is, this obsession. Just how it changes me, cause it still does. And I wonder, a little bit, is it more about the feeling than it is about him? No, it isn't. Cause my feelings may be stronger than mountains, but nothing is more important than him. It's the person that I adore, not the love that I feel.

It might appear that way because of how I write, but it's basically just to protect him you know, protect him from being on display on my very public blog. No one else can know about him, who he is and what I know. It stays between us, or maybe just in my head. And I do that because I care so much, not because it's an obligation of loyalty or whatever. (Loyalty should never be an obligation, but to some people it is.) So I simply write about what I can share, which is my stupid feelings, which means that they get more focus, obviously.

So you see, there's still much that I have to say. But it tends to become repetitive, and I can't upload however much shit on my blog if it's all gonna be just the same old rantings. Meaningless or meaningful rantings are also better left in my own head. Cause I don't need to share everything, you know, even though I am like an open book.

But I do want to share a lot, get it out of my system, and to let him know. That I'm still here, and he's not forgotten or anything. And somehow it feels better when I've written and published, as if a part of my burden has been lifted. Well, I could go on with this forever, but that would be too much to edit so I'll just leave it at that.

Wishes and wisdom

I just saw this episode of Torchwood, one of them that I remembered most vividly from the first time I saw the whole series. In that episode there's a device that can show you glimpses of the past, the future or your own death. It just shook me so strongly this time, something Jack said, but I can't remember it now. I remember thinking that was a cool device to have first time I saw that episode years ago, but now... all I could think of is all the despair such a device could bring mankind.

Perhaps I am too old for this young body, cause I always seem to recognise myself the most in fictive characters who are way old, immortal. Characters like Jack Harkness, vampires, wizards, ghosts and so on. I don't even know if I'm that wise or anything, it's more of a vague sensation. That I know stuff I'm not supposed to, like I know too much, about things a 24 year old shouldn't.

I wouldn't consider myself that old, not in my mind at least. It's more like I've transcended age completely and now I'm neither young nor old, beyond time. And maybe that's why I my conception of time is so fucked up, why I take things so slow and can keep calm in situations others panic over. It's like I just know without knowing what it is that I know; does that make any sort of sense at all? That things will sort themselves out eventually and turn out the way they're supposed to, no matter what you do.

Those things that I know I don't know how to share, because either no one's listening, or it's something they have to find out for themselves. Mostly it's the latter, and some things I don't want anyone else to find out. Not that I want to keep anyone in the dark about it, it's just that it's most likely too much to handle. You know I've been struggling with it. The meaning of life, how I'm gonna die, things about how time works, memories from past lives and so on.

I'm divided, if I would want to keep my knowledge as it is or to never have gained it in the first place. It's an awful burden, yet a wonderful gift. Not very comforting and terribly upsetting. But also an asset and helpful in understanding the world and to accept it as it is.

Some things I have already accepted. Like that life is unfair and that I can't possibly stop myself from killing myself that one day when it will happen, hopefully far in the future. So yeah, I think I have accepted my self fulfilling prophecy, cause there's really no way around it. Somedays it's hard though, thinking that it's like I'm trapped in a maze with only one horrible way out of it. Cause how can I make myself die in another manner than suicide? I can't. My fate is sealed. So why not accept it?

I'm finally gonna try and live my life to the fullest at the best of my ability. I'm gonna get my gender reassigned legally, finish writing my autobiography, change the way I look, get my damn tattoos even if I'll need to steal money to afford them, drive a car, travel to London and all the little things on that endless list of things to do before I die.

Everyone should do that, no matter if you are/think you are going to die sooner than you hope for or not. Everyone should try their best to live their lives to the fullest. I'll hit you if you don't agree with me on that point! I just hope I'll actually do it this time, but I think so, cause never before has it felt this real. The cruelty of the prophecy and the vitality of life itself awakening within me. I think it's a good balance, as good as it can get. That I want to live and that more than ever, at the same time as I'm terrified to die before I'm done living, if you know what I mean. Life and death is cruel and unfair, but I can't let that ruin me. I can hope and dream, carefully so, but I can't change what's beyond me.

I just hope that I'll be able to continue like this, with this urge in me to change things to the better, with a will to live instead of just a will to escape anything related to living in the real world. Just wish that I won't fall back into the darkness.

Opinions

Just got back home after a visit to Läkarvillan again, that daily activities centre or something, you know. That place where they put all the mentally dysfunctional people who can't/don't work/go to school so that they can have something to do. Sorry, I mean we, calculating in myself as well.

So I brought a new piece of embroidery after finally deciding what to do, but I really wasn't fishing for comments. Not in the least. But got them anyway. I had to literally bite my lip and kick my feet to not get snappy and tell them to lay off. I don't really know what the hell I'm doing there, cause I'm not so much for talking and I can sew stuff at home.

Sometimes I try the talking part though, but I strongly feel that my opinion - however kind, gentle, honest or bland - is not wanted there. Perhaps it's just me, but when they talk over my head and completely ignore me over and over there just comes a point when I decide to not open my mouth again. And people wonder why I'm so quiet. So here it is, in white on black: I am not heard even when I talk.

And with that said, why should I even listen to what they have to say? I heard somewhere someone said that most people just want to hear themselves talk in conversations. And being different, in which way I mean being a person who rather listen and discuss other people's problems than my own, it's easy to get run over when I actually want to share something.

From that angle I have two options: talk louder to get my damn point over with, or shut up and space out. It's easier to do the latter, cause how fun is it to force one's opinion upon someone who obviously doesn't want to hear it, just so you can have your say? Sorry, I don't work that way. It's a form of self respect, cause I'm not gonna sink to their level. They who apparently think their own opinions are more important than anyone else's and yet provoke others to share. I'll let you think about that if you recognise yourself in either position.

Got off track. Läkarvillan. I just don't know what the hell I think about that place. I'd rather sit by myself basically anywhere than share a room, or even the same sofa, with those people there. My too damn wild imagination takes me to imaginary places I never want to see again. The empty conversations that brings me down, annoys me or makes me want to disappear. The forced upon politeness, routines, schedules, all the things that I despise. But I don't hate the place, I really don't.

Sun over sleep

I've had so much medication now, but I still can't fall asleep. It's not enough to knock me out completely, and that is what I need cause I can't stop all the thoughts in my head. I know I'm not "done" with the day yet, but I need and sort of want, but mostly I just need, to get some damn sleep.

One more Imovane, and if I somehow manage to stay awake with that I'll consider it a miracle and start a religion. And skip sleeping altogether. Cause clearly that must mean that I don't need to sleep, and that I have some sort of super (impractical) powers to be able to break through strong sleeping pills like that.

I use the phrase "break through" when I'm talking medication/pills, to describe how when I either don't get any effect at all, or manage to not let the effect change my state of mind at that moment. Out and about in the real world I say "bryter igenom" in Swedish. Cause it's a bit like the medicine builds a wall around me and I break through it.

Just don't want another sleepless night, I need to sleep in order to be able to get up before noon. And I want sunlight, I want daytime before needing to go back to bed again.

Yes, I did an honest try to fall asleep just now. After squirming in my sheets about half an hour I got up again and took my second Imovane. I'm just mad over that I can't seem to get anything I want. Except for sex change. I get sex change. And that is like the most important thing in my life. Like the only important thing in my life. But then people being important is a totally different matter. I don't mean that anyTHING is more important than anyONE. Cause people aren't things, deeds, thoughts or feelings that I have to live with. Just making it clear.

The second Imovane I took did nada. Yeah, a little slight step towards drowsiness, but seeing as I could and walk around without problems, still tackle millions of thoughts and getting annoyed at everything all the time. No sleep for me tonight, the world seem to have cut in stone.

It's itching a lot now, my chest. That must be a good sign of it healing. When or if I'm going to Uppsala this summer, it must be after I've healed up. Mostly because doing things like travelling and stuff is better not to do in this situation. And I just thought of that I shouldn't drink alcohol as well, and I haven't by the way.

No, those thoughts popped up when I was thinking about my birthday, and maybe not drinking then, was my thought. I can have fun without booze, but my sister would probably complain. Well, she can have a few shots on the side if she wants to, wouldn't be such a big deal. And (hopefully) my parents will understand, and though it might be too much to ask for, it would be nice if they could also respect that.

So I'm giving up on trying to get some sleep tonight. It takes too long to wait for a pill to have effect, and the realising it didn't have any effect, you take something else and then you'll have to wait again for an effect that doesn't come, so you try another one and that effect doesn't make it through either. And then suddenly it's bright and sunny outside. So I'm staying up instead. I just don't wanna sleep the day away just because my night got screwed up.

Obsessing and some pictures

It's hard to drink coffee when your hands are shaking. Easy to spill. Just saying. Either I've had too much or too little. Sadly, or something, I think it's too little since this is my second cup today and I've been up since 15:00. Or it could be something else. Like my nerves for example. They get weirder whenever I think of things that are in some way upsetting, exciting or just makes me nervous for no apparent reason.

Took some pictures of my hair again. I'm thinking of making a collage of all the stages in the bleaching process. For documentation, and maybe it could be fun to look back at later in the future. The light in my bathroom sucks, but it's the best place to take pictures during the night. And since 90% of all the time I'm awake is during the dark hours, I don't have else of a choice. With the yellow light it tends to make me look a bit weird on the original pictures. So I do my best to edit them in a simple photo editing program online. Sometimes it's just not enough whatever I do, but it will have to do. Now taking that into consideration, this is basically how I look now:

The left picture gives more justice to the colour. Right, so my "fringe" has broken off a lot and is now hanging annoyingly in my face. It's very damaged right about everywhere so I have to pamper it as much as I can and wait for new and healthy hair to grow out. I keep it in a braid that I redo every day, to protect it. You see how thin the braid is? Yes, that's all what's left of my hair. Then I add conditioner to make it easier to brush and take vitamin supplements especially made for getting healthier hair.

I realise I'm quite a hair nerd, which is kinda fun. I'm not so much for having fake dreads anymore, but more so for different styles and colours. There is no perfect hairstyle for me, the only way I can achieve what is to me perfection is to constantly change it. I'm not saying every style is perfect, rather the opposite and both at the same time. Like a song. No single note is perfect, it is the change that makes it so good. But enough about my damn hair!

Then what should I write about? Hmm... the healing of my chest is going well, I think. The scabs around my nipples are falling off and leave a slightly gooish surface. Don't know if that's good or bad to be perfectly honest. I've regained a little sensation on the left side, so that's a good sign at least. If it gets worse or something I'll contact the district health care centre for a check up. Or I'm going there anyway after three weeks which is the 31st this month, and that's in just four days. So I think it can wait until then I mean. Okay, that's it for now.

Restless for spring

I've been so damn restless today. Wanted move around and do stuff, but no... gotta take it easy and be careful all the time. Never thought I would say this, but I don't want to sit still all the time. And I'm not manic, at least I don't think so. Don't have that much energy, just feel like doing something. Anything, besides sitting on my ass or lying down, one after the other.

I haven't been able to obsess about anything else than my hair today, and obsessively play world of warcraft. Got a lowbie/twink character from level 13 to 20 just today. Hate levelling shadow priests from 10 to 21 because they don't have any interesting spells during those levels. I long for the summer, I want to be healed up, I miss spring and daffodils, soft sunlight and warm nights.

I love daffodils, curious little flowers unlike any other. And they're like little suns in the early spring. They've always been my favourite flower since they almost always grow around the time of my birthday, April 14th.

Last summer disappeared into anxiety and wishing I was dead. It's like it never existed, like it was winter for a whole year and I was cold all the time even in the 40 degrees sunlight on Midsummer's Eve. It's like it doesn't count and it was two years ago since I last had a summer, a real summer.

Getting too tired to write, but I can't find a good ending to this text. Waiting for the metallic taste from Imovane to reach my mouth as an indication of bedtime. I can't sleep without it, hardly even with it, it seems. Though this is the first time in weeks that I take it, I've been needing to take it many nights before. But it slipped my mind or the metallic taste was too abhorrent to stand. Politely declined.

Untangle the mess

I dreamt that my chest was healed tonight. Pretty sweet dream. Woke up in pain instead... like too much to handle, kinda pain. So one and a half day without painkillers was what I could muster. Think I'll be taking them anyway, but maybe once a day instead of twice. It doesn't bother me so much if it only hurts when I do something restraining. Then it's rather a good thing, keeps me from doing stuff that might compromise the healing. What does bother me is when it hurts when I'm just sitting still by my computer.

So, just threw in some bleach in my hair. Again. For the tenth and last time. Gonna bleach just down to my my neck and leave the rest of the hair as it is. It's too damaged, I can't do anything with it and it's just wasting good bleach. Then it will just have to be enough, whether it is or isn't. But I'll give the platinum blonde dye a go and see what result that will give me. (Found some in Visby yesterday.)

Then I'm done, unless it gets really screwed up and I'll have to correct it, that is. Which hopefully it won't. I think I know what I'm doing... Also gonna wait to sometime in April or May before I decide how I should cut it, because now it's not a question of if I need to cut it, but rather how, cause it needs to be done. I look like a troll.

There's a hairdresser in Hemse that my mother says is good. So I suppose I'll check it out. But I want to wait until it's warmer outside and preferably until I'm done bleaching and dyeing it as well. Then I'm gonna buy a buttload of silver toners to apply every now and then to keep the yellow streaks in check, if I need to. At least that's the plan so far.

It might not show much on pictures, but I can assure you, it's a mess. Besides, I look forward to getting a new haircut, something that I won't have to spend a fortune on to just keep it from falling off my head. Then maybe I could spend that money on something better, like a gym card or something.

The inevitable

I'm still without painkillers and it's working fine. I'm more careful with my movements which is probably good regardless if it hurts or not. It doesn't hurt that bad, at least not when I'm idle. It's hardly more noticeable than my headache, it's actually almost like they're competing with each other.

When I was seeing my doctor today I also got to meet my new "contact person" rather forced upon me, within the mental health care department, something odd struck me. That contact person said something about that I should try to slowly "let go of" my mother. As if I was clinging to her (do I?) because she won't live forever. And it just suddenly struck me, that I think she knows, and I think we both have a mutual, but very silent, understanding that I won't outlive my mother.
It's not something anyone of us can know until the day comes when one of us dies. But it's more of a sensation of sorts. Like yeah, I've survived three serious and twelve half assedly suicide attempts in less than ten years... I'm not gonna just snap out of it and live to 80. My suicide risk is extremely high. You can't just take that out of the equation and give me false hopes about getting better and live a long and happy life ever after, as that contact person of mine supposedly tried to. This is me being clinical about it, just so you know. I'm still rather euphoric since the surgery, I'm just talking out of perspective. (Euphoria, isn't that like the opposite of dysphoria? How interesting.)

During the car ride from Visby after the meeting my mind started to wander again. As the rain fell hard against the wind shield for 38 minutes, I fantasised about driving myself. That I had once, not so long ago, told my mother that one day I will drive a car, whether I'll have a driver's licence or not. And the thoughts led me to summer. That I might not have so long left and I don't want to waste time anymore. I have for a long time now felt as if I'm living on borrowed time, like I'm being chased by the inevitable with the number 27 etched into my mind, knowing it's only two or three summers left.

But enough about my death. In my fantasy I had stolen my mother's car, drunk half a bottle of rum (or something like that) and driven full speed ahead through the dusty streets on Gotland this summer. Cause why go easy when you can break a few more laws while you're at it? I've had that fantasy for so many years now, and of all my dangerous and illegal fantasies this one could actually come true and not cost me the rest of my life. Just stay away from cops and speed cameras.

Sleepless

I'm sleepless again. Too many thoughts, ideas and questions. Thoughts in various degrees between wonderful and horrible, but most of them are just unnecessary to go through over and over again at 3:00 am. I can't just lie there in bed and hope that the next thought will end so that I can fall asleep, or the one after that.

Damn, I need my sleep, is that too much to wish for? Just a few hours, please! I need to be up and about at 9:00 this coming morning cause I have an appointment that I just can't miss. But does my subconscious care about that? Not a chance.

It's all these damn thoughts keeping me awake and I just can't make them stop. There are thoughts about this summer: walking around with an open shirt, sun bathing wearing only shorts. I'm making up conversations with my family members about them thinking it's embarrassing that I want to walk around shirtless, cause they still see me as a girl. It's not an unlikely scenario, but not something that I want to waste time on analysing right now.

Thoughts about my hair: possible hair cuts I might consider getting, that I didn't think about my slightly outgrown side cut and what I could/should do about that. Keep shaving/trimming it or cover it up with a whole new hairstyle? How should I keep bleaching it? If I'm gonna cut it shorter anyways then should I even bother bleaching the lengths or just go for the hair above my shoulders? Cause it would definitely make it cheaper, if I only need one package of bleach each time instead of two. And also I need to invest in some silver toner and should I get a cold blonde dye to fix some of the yellow/orange? And then get another round of bleaching after that before I get on with the silver toner?

Thoughts about what I should buy at the grocery store: butter, cappuccino in single service portions, noodles and what more. Gotta write a list. Can't go to sleep without writing that down first.

Thoughts about my love: how very much I miss him, that I want to meet him this summer. Should I go to Uppsala again or maybe if he comes to the medieval week I could meet him there? How I almost feel ashamed over not caring about meeting anyone else but him.

Urghh, all these thoughts are sort of killing me tonight. Like they are all running over me like a large truck with broken brakes, full speed ahead. And I don't stand a chance, my defences are down. A deadly case of hit and run.

So what do I do when I'm sleepless? Writing and keep listening to the same song over and over again, hoping it will rock me to sleep like a repetitive lullaby. Will soon log onto my main in WoW and do some mindless killing. That usually makes me a bit drowsy.

In past tense

I remember a lot from our relationship, I realise when thinking about it. I have conversations in my mind about us hooking up, just as friends. How far I've come since we broke up, how much is different now. Would we even recognise each other? How can I ever know.

The memories are haunting me like ghosts, and I don't know why all of a sudden. It's been over five years since we last saw each other, and now I get flashbacks and imaginary conversations. Why now? Is it that five years means something, is it a special number of years somehow? Cause I wonder, it must be something.

Well, at least it's not any negative flashbacks, but that's what is bothering me. If it was negative then maybe I could understand it. I've moved on a long time ago and I've never had a reason to look back, other than to acknowledge the fact that it is a part of my past. And I've always been fine with that.

I just can't shrug it off, you know. Do I want us to get together again? No, I hardly think so. Maybe I'm just curious what became of him, what stories we could tell each other from the years we've been apart.

But that I enjoy those thoughts of us, and I let them continue and that I find solace in them somehow, might also be a bit of a pet peeve.

But of course, it was after all the only relationship that I've ever had in which both me and my partner were deeply in love. That does become a special bunch of memories altogether. That I've never been anywhere near those feeling again or before that relationship. And I long so badly after having that again, with someone else. Yes of course, that must be it. It's not actually him that I miss, it's what we had.

Maybe

I want to be with him, but will I ever? Will I ever? It's the question that only one answer will suffice for. One, not the other. I don't even want to imagine the devastation it would bring me if the answer is "no". And still it hangs in the air, the only answer I have that isn't actually an answer. That "maybe" is the only thing I cling to.

A simple maybe to answer all of my questions regarding him. The void it leaves me, like a shallow breath that neither warms or feels cold. Like a space between time and room, perfectly still.

What is it to hold on to? The resemblance of an answer, something not completely whole, so fragile yet unbreakable. Like a soap bubble it is, perfect in it's own atmosphere, but so easily breaks. But it cannot break by its own, because only the real answer can.

A maybe is like a middle ground, it is safe between yes and no, because it leaves all the doors open. But with a maybe you get nowhere. Stranded in that safety, it won't get you anywhere. And I'm lost in it, I lose myself in it on purpose because I'm afraid of choice. Most of all I'm afraid of the choice another person has to make. What I cannot control, and I sit patiently and wait. Waiting for what may never happen just because I'm too afraid to act.

Daylight

Oh damn I'm so tired. Maybe I had a little too much Lergigan tonight? 100 mg and I'm supposed to take 50. But I couldn't fall asleep, had to do something. My dreams were so fucked up that I didn't know where I was when I woke up. Waking up in panic like that is never any fun.

My eye is a lot better now. Meant to write that sooner here but then I got tired and forgot to give a damn about it. Not much else going on in my life now. Still playing a lot of WoW, and no I still haven't gotten that damn belt, despite that I persisted to run through that dungeon again and again every day, even though I could hardly see during this weekend.

I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, which is good cause I really need to get out more. Feels like I'm starting to rot in here now, growing stuck on this chair. So I kinda need to move around a bit, see some daylight. It's like my mind or something avoids sunlight like the plague, cause no matter how hard I try I just can't get up at dawn on my own. Whether I've slept for 3, 8 or 18 hours I still seem to "need" to keep sleeping until dusk. Very annoying.

I hate that, cause I'm tired of the darkness. Maybe that is a depression thing, or maybe it's just me. That I only get comforted by the darkness when I'm down and then I also feel taunted by the light. But when I'm not depressed (yes, it has happened before) the light makes me feel more alive and the darkness brings me down. Maybe that's how "ordinary" people react on it too.

Not sure how I define "ordinary" people, cause I know everyone is different. I suppose I see it as a sliding scale where those who stand out less noticeable than the freaks and cool people do, end up in an "ordinary" or "normal" category by my standards. But of course I would never tell anyone that I think they're plain.

Anyways, I think some sunlight can do me some good. Make me feel a bit more alive, and perhaps give me some energy. Or something resembling energy. What I'm trying to say is that my expectations are pretty low, and most likely I'll still be tired and weak even if the sun is shining on me. But I really hope and think that this spring and summer will be a lot better than last year's. After all, it doesn't take much to reach that goal, since I was in a pretty terrible shape back then. Can only get better than that.

Reason to be offline

I can read! Not write that well though. Kinda injured my left eye a bit and well, my right eye gets restrained quickly. It's probably just an infection, so I don't worry that much. In fact I don't worry at the thought of it being something worse either.

I don't know exactly how it got injured, but I kinda poked it too hard by accident. Like screaming curse words for two minutes kinda hard. A part of me thinks maybe I damaged the cornea, which would be kinda bad. Couldmy vision be better again if I get used to only using my right eye, or will my vision be this sucky even if I get used to it? Oh well, I guess time will tell.

It's Sunday, so can't really do much today either. Cause yeah, it's been like this since late Friday night. Whenever something happens to me it's always during the weekend or a holiday, and I'm kinda used to that by now. Even though I can't get help immediately it always turns out well in the end. Like I've learned to care for myself or something. And at least I have one functioning eye, so it's not too bad, if you know what I mean.

I've slept a lot since then, about 18-20 hours a day. Cause it's restraining doing... well, anything. I play a little WoW, watched a movie yesterday. One that I know very well, so I could rest my eyes a lot and still tag along in the plot. Everything is blurry and I can't keep my eye open for that long before I have to rest it.

I think it's possible why I still manage to be so positive about it is because I am, you know, positive to basically anything these days. One of my theories as to why this happened is that some cruel force of what the fuck like: "aha, you're feeling happy? Well, let's see how you feel about it now!"  And I'm like: "fuck you, I'm still happy even if this leaves me blind!"

Nah, don't worry, it's most likely just an infection, but I'll be going to the doctor tomorrow when it's a normal week day again. Just wanted to give you a heads up as to why I've been offline for like three days in a row. I'll be back when I can see again.

Left to save

I did another round of bleaching just now, for the 9th time and counting... With not so much anticipation I'm looking forward to/dreading the result. Had in more silver toner this time, will see if it had any effect what so ever. And if the lengths have gotten any lighter at all. Don't look too promising now when it's wet, to be honest.

My hair is sort of... not receptive for help anymore and slowly withering to something a bit like spider's web in texture. That super thin, soft and breaks when you breathe on it kind of quality. I highly doubt I'll be able to get it light blonde below shoulder length.

Too bad, I was looking forward to have that long, beautiful, elvish hair in a silvery white colour. Or maybe I could like it shorter? Was a while ago I had that. I'll keep pondering over that. I guess that's just the price of messing with already damaged hair. So what is left to save of it? I don't know, but if I take good care of it, it might make it possible to save more of it.

Though it feels a bit stupid now to have spent a small fortune on hair bleaching products and fixed with it for months and then like "eh, I think I'll cut it all off" if you know what I mean. Though I kinda knew it already from the start, that my hair wouldn't be able to handle all that bleach. But still I sigh, cause I wanted to be wrong.

Getting tired of this

Oh, for crying out loud! They still don't sell the brand of bleach that I want, anywhere in Hemse at all. I'm getting sick of this! Typical small towns, they never have anything, but if they somehow do they run out of stock all the time. Like how hard can it be to fill up that stock every once in a while? I've been waiting a month for that fucking bleach and I'm giving up on it ever showing up in these stores again. It seems I'll have to go to Visby for some sodding hair dye.

Well, at least they had the next best in two different types (cause having two products of the same brand is also too much to expect from them, apparently). In this pace with that bleach I won't be white blonde until Christmas... Luckily I'm going to Stockholm sometime in April (I think it was the 22nd) so I can buy a whole bunch of them then. If they haven't stopped making them altogether, that is.

Cause what do I do then? There's gotta be some stronger bleach, somewhere on the internet perhaps. Well, this will have to do for now. It's still golden/dark-medium blonde now, my hair, after eight rounds of bleaching. I'm gonna do this ninth and also a tenth time, and then I'm gonna dye it in a colder light blonde shade. Then let my hair rest for a while before I go at it again whenever that will be.

I'm starting to get tired of this. It's taken way longer than I thought it would. And my hair is starting to break in all places, and every time I brush it it feels like I've ripped off half of it. To fix that problem I have one of two options: 1.) I cut if off, or 2.) I put it extensions to make it fuller and slightly longer and to hide some of the damage.

The first choice would mean actually having short or medium length hair. But that depends on just how damaged it will end up being once I've finally reached my goal or as close to it as I possibly can. Would I look stupid in short white hair? And I don't mean buzz cut, but an actual styled hair cut made to suit me as good as it could. I don't know, just playing with a thought, I guess.

Care and hair

Another sleepless night. Though I don't get them that often anymore. Maybe once a week. Lied in my bed after waking up from a dream around 4:00 this morning, weighing pros and cons of getting up versus staying in bed. With the score of 3 vs. 4 getting up won.

I had my first dream in which I was post op tonight. In the dream I was lurking around the house where I grew up and met the husband of the family living there now (I have no idea who lives there now, but I think it is a traditional family, or so I've heard). We decided to take a road trip in the area and talk about whatever related to the fact that we had both lived in the same house, and then we totally fucked in his car. And yeah, I was post op in that dream...

It's like whatever "state" I'm in, it is reflected in my nightly dreams with only a few exceptions. Whether I was living as a girl, stopped trying to be a girl, angsty pre-everything transsexual, on hormones and now after top surgery.

Quite a journey, eh? When I look back I think it's nice to see how far I've gotten, you know. Maybe you do the same, cause we all change, even if you don't go through a sex change. It could be positive I mean, to rather see the progress to the better, than to be ashamed of how you've lived your life "wrong" before. Cause maybe it was "right" back then? I mean, maybe that was the only thing close to right you could do with what you had in amounts of time, events, courage, money, age and wisdom. I wasn't ready to transition when I was 16, wasn't ready to take that battle, so I can honestly say that I did what I could about the situation that I was in.

I need to wash my hair, cause it's getting nasty again. Can't decide if I should shower again though, cause that would be hitting the cap of allowed number of showers in a week. I'm way too impatient for my own good. Just let it be, let it heal, let it take the time it needs... Cause there really isn't anything else that I can do. But I just wanna inspect and see how it looks right about every five minutes.

Wanna bleach my hair again. Carefully as hell though, of course. Not a single drop will be anywhere near my chest. I'm always wearing protective clothes and towels to avoid skin contact and to not freeze my ass off meanwhile, so it should work.

But if I'm gonna bleach it today or tomorrow or whenever I find a good product to use, I really have to wash my hair first. But I could do everything in the sink if necessary. It's harder to reach everywhere and half my bathroom becomes flooded though. Maybe I'll decide later on.

Read and write

I've completely, or almost completely skipped eating today. I'm tired of it, and I don't use up any energy anyway. I suppose it just takes a special kind of person to be able to feel happy and starving at the same time. Not that I'm that special, but still. It's gotta account for something.

Will I look back upon this time in my life when I get older? Or just old enough to finish writing my autobiography? Soon, there will be absolutely nothing to stop me from publishing something like it. Something so revealing and openly describing of my personality, difficulties, my memories, thoughts and everything that has happened in my life. I won't leave anything out, except for names and just a few events, secrets that are supposed to be kept no matter what.

My greatest concern is, how do I tell such a story with the right feeling? I want to inspire hope, not despair. Acceptance of darkness, not about being consumed by it. Wisdom and clarity, that I went through all that shit and came out stronger than before, not that I crumbled beneath it. Cause sure I did, but that's not the point.

I cannot and do not want to, write a 300 pages letter of complaints about pointless suffering. I can't just think of what I want to get off my chest, I must equally much think of what others may want to read. A story is not complete until it's been read.

Maybe it's obvious, but I didn't think that way before. Then I just wrote whatever I wanted and skipped the rest.

I mentioned that I had written a short story, to my shrink earlier today. She asked me if I wanted to have it published and I said no. You might have seen it. I put it in my other blog and linked it on Facebook. You might have skipped it, or just disliked it and decided not to tell me that. Either way I accept it, because I don't write to get praised or for money. I write because I have to.

It's the only way I can express myself really. Everyone writes to some degree, some write a lot, but I write to survive. That short story wasn't very thought through at all, I didn't care about its outcome. That is a typical example of me just writing to get something off my chest. It's not meant to be read, not meant to be liked.

And this blog then? It's definitely written just to get things off my chest, but also to inform. A heads up, kind of text. Far from a work of art, but it's sure meant to be read.

Change and wishes

Now I smoke because I want to, not because I have to. There's a difference cause I can go hours without cigarettes with no problem. But I really want to smoke sometimes.

My ass has gotten smaller, while my stomach has gotten slightly bigger and I'm staying steady on 67 kg now and for about a month up until now. Clothes fit me better already. Would be nice if I can fill out a bit around my waist (like the sides) and of course getting a flatter butt and smaller thighs. I already have quite big arms and broad shoulders so I'm happy with that. With only fat redistribution I could get a sort of square figure, which is kinda what I want. And some muscles on that.

I don't really need to be skinnier, though it would be nice. The only thing I can do differently about my weight now is to work out and change my diet slightly according to that. Like I need to actually burn fat in order to achieve the results that I want. Cause I barely get any calories at all, or much of anything else either. I don't really know how I can survive on a diet like this and not lose weight or have any signs of malnutrition, but obviously I can.

The result

So, just took some pictures of my chest, e-mailed them to my own mail, edited and posted on transbucket.com. Think I can share them here as well, but not on Facebook because sadly, I can get banned for it. Seriously, I've heard of at least two different transguys who posted such pictures of themselves on Facebook and they got banned. Yeah, it's fucked up...

I'm starting to get used to how it looks and feels by now (it's amazing how quick you can get used to things, anything in general) as I just took a shower. Said I'd wait until Friday, but I forgot I have a meeting with my shrink tomorrow and well, I guess I just wanted to be clean by then. Besides, I don't think it's anything wrong with cleaning up my wounds a little bit too often (like three times in a week instead of two). As long as I'm cautious and don't rub in lots of soap and carefully redo the bandage afterwards.

I really just wanted to take a look at it again and take some pictures. Also it's calming to shower. And how wonderful it felt to walk around in my apartment, nearby the window, wearing only underwear. That feeling. Just saying. Things that cisgender guys just take for granted. Do you even realise what a damn good feeling that is!?

Hardly. Oh well, I'm in a bit of a different situation there, even though I'm quite like any other guy. But soon enough I too will take that for granted. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll be so forever grateful for the rest of my life.

I looked at some of the before surgery pictures I took with my phone a couple of weeks before the operation, and it gave me an odd feeling. In one of the pictures I think you can really tell how horrible miserable I was with that rack. Or maybe I just look tired, I don't know.

The red marks are from the bandage and the pressure from the binder/breast band that I'm still wearing around the clock, on doctor's orders. I think the placement of the nipples is good as well, though they are a little uneven in size as of now. To tell the truth, I don't know if he reduced the size of them, cause we didn't even discuss that before the operation. Could have asked, but honestly it didn't/doesn't matter really. They were kinda small to begin with. And yes, I'm still wearing the "bracelet" from the hospital. And I really am happy despite how bitter I may look in the photo, I'm just a tired.

Just raging over a documentary film

I just saw this really bad documentary about transmen, on Youtube. There's so much wrong with it, I don't know where to begin. But they really made transguys seem like total freaks in a horrible way. Just no. It's exactly this kind of thing that makes it hard for any trans* identified person to be taken seriously. And it wasn't just the sex scenes that made me want to look away...

They talked about that all trans people were of a third gender, which I think is total bullshit. First of all, you don't get to decide what gender someone else is, no matter what you think of them. I've had people telling me that I'm some sort of third gender or "in between" but fuck that. I'm a man and no one gets to tell me otherwise! Doesn't matter what my body looks like, or anyone else's body for that matter, it's what you identify as.

At least I had a lot of backing up comments to that video, a lot of people agreeing with me. You rarely see that on Youtube. There was transgendered and cisgendered people stating that we are not freaks because we are trans, and they are so right.

Maybe you don't think I'm the right person for that opinion, but in that case you might not know me so well. I am a freak, yes, but not because of my gender and definitely not in the way they insinuated in the film. They were perverts taking pride in being as different and queer as they possibly could (no, that's not an exaggeration!) stating that every transgendered individual was also a pervert and a freak. Now that is crossing the line.

Of course they can be as queer or perverted as they like (heck, I might be a little pervy at times too) but it's a totally different thing forcing that on someone else. An entire group of people for that matter. A group that has already gotten way too much shit shoved down their throat for way too long. I've had it with that crap. Stop dehumanising transgendered people for fucks sake.




If you want to see the documentary, just search "enough man ftm" on Youtube and it should pop up.

Almost there

I still haven't taken any pictures of my chest post op, or shown to anyone except nurses and of course the surgeon. But I'm getting there. I'm gonna have my second shower this week on Friday or so (if I can wait that long), so I plan on taking some pictures then. It's still a little swollen and the wounds are still... well, wounds. Not for the faint of heart, perhaps. Since even I almost fainted.

I still need to get used to it, but I'm so happy to be rid of the boobs. It's kinda hard to describe just how happy I am over that! Though, healing process is slow and I wish there was a way to just speed it up a little. It's not quite like any self harm wounds I've ever had, those that healed and became scars within just a few days. Though I do know my way around wounds a bit, which is sad, but kinda helpful in a way.

But it's been a little over a week already, so time moves faster than I think. Though, patience is not my strongest side. I haven't told so many people in person, guess I just want it to heal before I show off, and I don't want acquaintances who know me as a guy to suddenly picture me with boobs.

It feels like I'm getting closer to being able to put this whole trans deal behind me. Like I won't have to worry about it so much, that I can pass and be me without so much restrictions because of the way my body looked/looks. I've always been a guy, but finally I'm starting to look like one as well.

Now the dysphoria is finally fading, as I get more comfortable with the way I look and how it feels. It might not be obvious, but to me it's actually more important how it feels rather than how it looks. Like being able to put my hand on my chest and actually feel my heartbeats, holding my arms tightly wrapped around me without anything being in the way. Touching the scruff on my chin, the way my voice trembles in my throat.

But of course it's very important how I look as well, or I wouldn't be hiding in baggy clothes, packing and binding as I did before. If I really didn't care what I looked like I would walk around in a track suit and stop washing my hair. Would still transition though. Would still transition.

Where it hurts

Went a day without painkillers. Shouldn't have done that. Yesterday, right before bed it hurt so much I could just barely fall asleep (pain makes me tired so eventually I did fall asleep). And as I woke up this morning, around 9:30, I had trouble just getting dressed and move my ass to my computer. May I say instant gratification as soon as that OxyNorm I took kicked in?

It helps reducing my headache as well, at least the part of it that is not imaginary. However much of it that is "real" I do not know though. Psychosomatic stuff is always kinda complicated. But damn sweet it is when the pain in my chest slowly fades and I can breathe without it hurting. Cause I use my chest muscles more than my stomach muscles when I breathe, so yeah, it literally hurts to breathe nowadays after the surgery.

Pain. It has become a huge part of my life and the only way I know how to deal with it is to inflict more pain. That, or stuffing myself full of strong opiates that still just make me more high than pain free. I cannot cure my headache, and after ten years of carrying it with me every day, I've come to accept that I just have to find ways to live with it.

I've kept my circadian rhythm since I got back from the hospital by the way, except for one or two days when I slept until afternoon. The time before noon is always the hardest. I like playing WoW when there aren't that many players online, and I like the soft sunlight making my apartment brighter without strong beams of light shining through the window blinding me.

But I hate that I get so nauseous, and sometimes I like or dislike that I feel so empty. Before existing becomes hard with all the thoughts and feelings invading my mind and body as the day progresses. I like forenoons, but they are the worst part of the day.

Safe

I didn't tell my mother that I had my first shower post op, or that I almost fainted at the look of myself as the words "what have I done?" popped up in my head. I still don't regret anything, but it was quite a powerful feeling, whatever it was that I felt. Other times I think "why do I have to do something like this to be able to not hate my body?" and that it fucking sucks being transsexual. Fucking sucks.

I don't know why, but I feel a bit weird today. Maybe it's because I couldn't keep being smoke free anymore, that I fell back. I had one cigarette yesterday and I had another one today. But is one smoke a day really that bad? I don't know, but it doesn't seem to be the real reason as to why I feel weird.

Another theory I have is that it's getting harder to focus on world of warcraft and the game world. I space out and get tired of doing what I've been doing every day for two months now. I log onto Izanamí and do a run for that belt I want to complete my Arcanist Regalia outfit, head off to my farm to plant some new vegetable, do some daily quests and then I get bored. But that's not it either.

I'm still in love, by the way. It's just that I've had other things on my mind lately, with the surgery and all. I still think of him though, but I've find some sort of... I don't know, but it's like I feel safer, more grounded in this one sided non-relationship somehow. As long as things don't change for the worse I feel it's fairly easy to focus on other things instead. Like I put my feelings for him in a special place in my heart and they can stay there without me worrying so much all the time.

Now, if I could just figure out why I feel so weird... oh, it's because I am weird, isn't it? Well, that solves the mystery.

Getting back to that

My eating habits, or lack there of, might start to become a problem. I only have three things on my menu: sandwiches, noodles and diet drinks. It's been like this for several months now, starting sometime in November or December last year. With some eating problems already before that, of course.

The only exception was during Christmas and new years, but I didn't stuff myself so much then either. Sometimes I eat sweets though, like once or twice in a month, so I'm not completely against that. Not so very varying diet, and not so much of anything really. Almost no meat or vegetables.

I don't like talking about food or eating, but it just crossed my mind. That it's been like this for months now. Cause I seriously thought that this was a phase that would pass and then I'd start feeding on pizza and microwaved meals again. Instead, I'm gonna have a dinner consisting of two pieces of hard bread with ham and a cup of coffee. It's either that or plain, spiced noodles. All I care about is to stop the hunger and that as quickly and effectively as possible.

My guess is that I get around 500 calories a day, maybe less, maybe a little more. I've lost 3 kg in as many months. Why I don't lose more weight has probably something to do with all that sweet coffee and tea I drink every day.

Gosh, I really care more about my weight than I care about my health. It's like I'd risk malnutrition for a smaller butt. Priorities, I seem to get back on that issue a lot. What is more important and why are my priorities a bit, erhm... fucked up?

Clothing hysteria

Or I can just buy new pants... Think I'll have to suck it up and buy stretch jeans (they itch and I associate them with middle aged women), cause this isn't working. I look like shit in regular jeans because of the way my body is shaped. My hips are more narrow now, but nothing below them is in any way near narrow.

Pants of 36" sit too high up which makes my waist/hip difference look more prominent (not desirable) and if I wear them lower they get saggy under my ass and all the way down to my ankles but I can just barely button them. If they are 34" I have to have them all the way to my waist for them to fit anywhere else... see my problem here is more like several problems.

A unisex model might work too. My leather pants are unisex and they look good on me, though they're a little too tight as of now. I'm getting tired of hiding in workers/cargo pants and would rather wear something more close to flattering. And more often wear button down shirts rather than t-shirts. I wanna pass and I wanna look good.

It's hard to find good fitting and nice looking clothes second hand, but I can't afford new clothes, so gotta keep looking, I guess. Almost all of my shirts are too big and now that both my chest and hips are smaller I think smaller shirts will actually fit me better than they did before. Shirts that are actually my size (and have been from the start) that now might actually fit. I mean, my size might fit.

Confusing? Well, let me put it this way: there are no men's clothing made to fit transguys' bodies. Or female bodies, for that matter. But I just have this urgent need to upgrade my style a bit. Not really changing it that radically, cause I do have all that stuff already, except from useful pants that is.

Why does it have to be so damn difficult with pants!? I know it's not just women who have problems with finding pants that fit well, it goes for a lot of men as well, trans and cis. Sorry about my sudden clothing hysteria, I'm just fed up with my inability to find something to wear and dealing with my gender dysphoria.

I have literally picked just one outfit and gone with it for years now, just because I couldn't deal with trying to find other outfits that work. Like I've just given up on the whole deal with fashion or whatever because of how damn dysphoric I've been (and still kinda am). I have to do something about it, I can't just hide forever.

A little dash of creative energy

Good morning the world outside my head! Realised that I had forgotten to put on a new nicotine patch yesterday. Probably why my cigarette craving hit the roof and went right through it. Just finished my latest piece of embroidery (finally!) and put it in a broken frame that I found in a second hand store, that I need to fix. Somehow... Like with silver tape or something like that. Silver tape fixes everything.

Then I'm thinking about dusting off that vintage/antique/ancient sewing machine of mine and fix up one or a few pairs of jeans to fit me better. Most of my pants are in 36" or even 38" and I'm at 34" now so they don't fit so well anymore. And I have no intention what so ever to get back to those sizes again. Also, I wanna wear them lower (seriously I can't have them all the way up to my waist) but that makes them fit even worse. So with a little needle and threads, I'll kinda redesign them to fit the way I want them, rather than how they're supposed to fit.

I don't feel ashamed or anything discussing my weight or what size clothes I wear. Maybe because most people can't believe I'm that heavy/big and it's sort of an ego boost to mention it and they're like "no way!" Besides, it's just numbers to dress up what you already see. I couldn't fool anyone that I'm at 50 kg or a size zero, and even if I could, what would that accomplish?

Anyways. I'll make my 36" into 34" and reshape them so that I can wear them lower. I do have a few things that I want to do today, except from playing WoW and hang out in chat forums online. But not right now, cause I need to eat first, and I don't wanna do that yet. Pushing it as far as I can before I have to force feed myself.

Real

Okay, just had my first shower since the surgery. I almost fainted. Though I managed to regain the power of my kinda new body. It will take some getting used to, but I'm sure it will look absolutely fab when it's healed. A little swollen on the left side and sensation is a bit uneven. Spots where I have full sensation and other spots that are more numb. Just touching the chest area with my hands was kind of a surreal feeling, yet it's never felt as real before.

Habits

That cigarette craving comes and goes, and today it's really strong, pestering me with its presence. Can't I just have one tiny little cigarette? Nope, I know what it's like with relapses: it gets worse afterwards. Yeah, I actually had a tiny relapse before the surgery, as I smoked one (last) cigarette on February 14th. Totally justified, I hope you can agree on, but damn it was so hard to continue being smoke free after that relapse.

So I went to the doctor/nurse for my check up today, and now I can finally take a shower! I got some instructions on how to care for my wounds and she said it looks fine and heals up nicely, which of course is very good to hear. I had like a thousand questions to ask as well, thought that it's better to be safe than sorry. And I'm free to call them if I have more questions or if there's any change for the worse about my wounds.

Though that binder thingy is starting to smell a bit now... and I'm supposed to wear it for two or three more weeks 24/7 so I won't be able to wash it. Why can't they have given me two so that I could wash one after the other to keep it a little cleaner? Though I suppose I could use my old binder for the same purpose for a single day while washing this one. I see no reasons why not, but I'll have to think about it.

I had absolutely no problem flashing my chest to the nurse, by the way. It just felt natural somehow, nothing embarrassing about a young man's chest. Isn't it funny how fast you can get used to something positive? And before you think it, no it's got nothing to do with the fact that it was a nurse, I'm equally embarrassed or not no matter who I'm with or in what situation. Because when it comes right down to it, we are all human beings no matter what we do for a living or how sterile the room we are in is.

It's still healing up really good. No swelling or bruising. Nothing odd at all. It does seem a bit weird to me, I mean I have the worst luck ever in so many places and ways that I just count on everything to get complicated. So when something good finally happens I think that it's because of magic or the gods doing some neat tricks to keep me alive just a little bit longer or something. However, it is very nice when things go well, I'm not complaining. Just that I have a hard time believing it.

Untitled

I don't know what to make public and not. I just keep on ranting and some of it may be good messages to potential readers, but since it's most likely gonna be just me re-reading it in the future, it seems kinda pointless. Half the time I don't really know who I'm writing for, and in what purpose. Is it to educate, entertain, shock, explain, to be a useful resource, be interesting or to just be forgotten somewhere in the world wide web?

Another day with just me and my thoughts. There's been a lot of thoughts. I haven't even had the chance to wind down and play some WoW or watch a tv-series episode. Though I did find out why I'm supposed to wear the binder thingy (they called it a breast band, directly translated, and it looks like binder without shoulder straps) for so long without taking it off. It keeps the area still when I'm moving around and lessens the risk of it becoming swollen. Good enough reasons for me.

Damn it itches so much today, but it hurts less. I'm like "damn it itches, gotta scratch, aoch, should not have done that, can't do that, shit, fuck, damn". Read somewhere that it exists some kind of medicine for itching. Have to mention that to my mother, cause maybe I could get something like that, since I can't scratch myself. No really, I can't and also I can't compromise the healing process by doing so. I'm a master of tearing up wounds by scratching them, and in that sense making it worse.

Sure it's "fine" when it's been my superficial self harm cuts that I didn't really care about how they healed, cause they always healed sooner or later. This is a whole other story. First of all, these are surgical wounds that should not be played around with. Secondly, the better and faster they heal, the better the result. And I really do care about the result! More than anything right now.

Blah blah blah, do I even have anything to say that hasn't been said already? Have I not used up the whole English dictionary soon? For being so quiet in real life, I can sure be very talkative here in my blog. I need to wash my hair, but I'm trying to figure out how. I can't reach up my arms so high and also I'm supposed to keep my chest area from getting wet. I suppose I'd have to do it in the sink, but then there's that part of not reaching my own head. Well I can, but I don't want to do that so much or for more than a couple of seconds at a time. I suppose I can wait a couple of days more, but my hair is getting a bit nasty.

Arghh, now in WoW I'm trying to get a certain belt to drop from a certain monster. But I never get it! I've been looking for it for days now. It's a boss in a low level instance that's supposed to drop (it's about 10% chance for it dropping), 5 man, heroic mode, resets daily. So I only have a chance to get it once a day, which sucks. Even suckier is the drop rate. Coldwhisper Cord, and I need it for my "Arcanist Regalia (recolor)" transmogrification set. I've even memorised it's name so that I will instantly know when (or if) I'll get it. Maybe next time.

Future

I still get a little pissed when I mention I'm trying to lose weight and people tell me that I don't need to. I either try to make them think otherwise, or simply say that it's more of a wanting than what I need. It's a bit of both, cause 70 kg with 168 cm is not an ideal weight/height combination, yet I'm not in any immediate need to become thinner. Right now I'd rather try and build some muscles, cause yeah, that would make me look better and more masculine too.

I don't know if it's so much about looking masculine though, but rather just "better". By my standards it is more masculine by society's standards as well, but I don't want it just because it's considered masculine, if you get what I'm trying to say. I want to get "rid of" curves and get a more even shape with a hint of muscles. That is a more androgynous shape really. Maybe I'm just trying to be realistic with what I can achieve with the outcome I have and how much patience I have to change the way I look.

Just having a flat chest is a tremendous help in the right direction, of course. And also, I believe that is what suddenly made me want to shake things up a bit. Just hoping that inspiration will stay until the summer or whenever I'll be able to start working out. Cause aside the complete awesomeness of it all, it will also be helpful practically. Just not having things moving around when exercising and being able to change in men's locker rooms, for example. Awesome in numerous, if not all possible ways! Yes, I'm very, very pleased with having this surgery done.

Planning for the future already. And I think it was a good time of the year to have that operation, with the spring and summer ahead of me but not too soon. Of course it would have been kind of a bit more awesome if it had happened a bit sooner. That it would have saved me a lot misery that I went through feeling trapped in my own body for all those years, if I had gotten the operation earlier. But now I finally have it done! Better late than never, as you use to say.

When my mother asked me how I feel about having this surgery done and I told her, she said I'm supposed to feel ecstatic about it. So I totally told her that I really do, that this is freeing and life changing in all possible ways. She seemed a bit surprised over my reaction, which I don't really know what to make of. What did she expect? That I'd just shrug and say "it's alright, I guess" after having talked so much about how I longed for it, for years? Mothers, right? Always worried that you would end up being disappointed, whatever it is about.

This might not be the right approach, but I kinda look forward to see the team in Huddinge just to tell them how pleased I am with the result. So that they can book it off as another successful case, or something. I think they'd like to hear that, that it actually helped me so much, and I'll gladly give them that satisfaction. And those "everyone is pleased" situations are pretty neat, aren't they?

Maybe I am saying that a little too soon, that I'm so pleased with it, but I doubt I will need more operations and I think it will heal up nicely. But even if so, I will still never ever ever regret having that surgery in the first place. I'm just so damn sure this is making me happy. That what parents and others who care may say "I don't care what you do, as long as it makes you happy" -thing, you know.

Cause in that sense it really did and does make me happy. Damn I'm yapping my mouth about this! Well, just get used to it, cause I'll probably keep yapping about it for a while!



Soundtrack: "I want it all" by Queen. Kinda suitable, right?

Up to snuff

I seem to stick to the snuff I bought, I don't react the same way to it as I did way before, last time I tried. The taste may not be fantastic, but it's alright. It's always bothered me the way it's sort of "runny" or what to say, and it still is, but drinking lots of water solves that problem, and trying not to swallow so much. I got this really femme cute kind, the box is pink with a stylish font that says "Mocca mint". Cause I wanted something with a taste to it, and licorice mint seemed nice.

So well eh... macho to take snuff... from a pink little box. Well, that's me in a nut shell! Or I could always buy General or something and switch the content, cause it is a little embarrassing in public. Me embarrassed? Well, it's rare but it can happen.

I realise snuff isn't very healthy, but it's better than smoking now when I'm healing from the operation, and since I still take a lot of nicotine from gums and patches (and I mean a lot) it's not so much of a difference for the time being. I don't think I'll continue with it though, or maybe I will and just combine it with smoking. However, I just try to get by without the cigarettes. I just can't deal with that endless needing and wanting.

Every day, several times a day, I feel that craving. And sure I can stand it most of the time, I know I won't be able to stand it for much longer. It's enough of a reason that the need to not smoke is greater than the need to smoke right now, but as I will heal more with time, that need will lessen and gosh I just know myself way too well sometimes!

Knowing when I won't be able to stay smoke free anymore, as like the way I know when I will or won't be able to fall asleep without even trying, as I know what I will or won't be able to eat in some time in the future. I do predict my own future with astonishingly correct results. For better or worse, but mostly for the worse. It's good that I know myself so well, in the general term, but it's also not so nice to know when and how things will fail. If you know what I mean, that can and has killed my dreams and lust for things I wanted to do or avoid. Okay, that was just a side note.

Small steps

I just bought some snuff. Thought I'd give it another try. Nicotine but no smoke, was my idea behind that, since it's not the nicotine that is harmful and I don't want to stop filling my blood stream with it.

Went to my local district health care centre just now. It was a check up on my mastectomy wounds and to redo the bandage and stuff like that. Saw my nipples look good as well, though a little dark. But it's most likely just scabs and such. Good size for them and I've lost almost all sensation as of now, which is to me pretty damn awesome!

I know that many transguys don't want to lose sensation in their nipples post surgery, but I really want that. It's because it's very uncomfortable for me to have them touched, even just feeling my shirt against them, and it's always been that way for me since puberty. So I hope I won't regain so much sensation once it's healed. I even told my surgeon to go for the technique that will most likely leave them numb. So yeah, it's a good thing that I can't feel them right now, and I hope it stays that way.

Apparently I'm gonna have to wear this binder thingy for three weeks! Gonna have another check up on Monday and from there on I'm supposed to redo the bandage myself between showers. That's good, cause then I can keep an eye on it so that it heals nicely.

It already feels like every morning I wake up it's healed a bit more. It gets less and less sore and I slowly become more mobile. I continued walking after my visit to the district health care centre, all the way down to the grocery store and that went fine.

So, my idea now is to stay this healthy (no smoking) during and through the following three weeks, and take some pictures when I get to fix the bandage myself after showering. Thinking about posting before- and after pictures on a site called Transbucket as an anonymous user. Maybe on other trans related websites as well, but I won't make my before surgery pictures public like that. I suppose you understand why.

Things fall into place

My mother just called me and said she had talked to the team in Huddinge about getting a next meeting with them by the summer. I didn't really think about it, but I'm soon done with this journey. Gonna think a bit about if I should get sterilised too and remove all that junk inside me, but then I'm pretty much done.

Cause yeah, I have thought about getting bottom surgery, but honestly I don't think I need it. I don't really have dysphoria about my junk and it's not like it's something I show around, so to say. It stays in the private and I'm okay with what I have. And besides, it's a bit unnecessary to have surgery if it's not all that important.

So then it's just to report to Rättsliga Rådet and hope they'll accept me to have my sex legally changed and those last four digits in my personal identity number changed as well. Damn. I've been in this mix for so long I had almost lost hope in ever getting done with it!

I remember when I went to a meeting with the team in Uppsala for the first time and had got the information that it would take bout 2-3 years altogether before I can become legally male. Now here I am 4 and a half years later and can't really believe it. I had lost hope to ever come this far more times than I can count and my life depends on it.

I'm starting to feel free in a whole new way. To talk with the deep voice I always wanted, to feel the beard growth that came along just about ten years too late, to be referred to as "he" and it still brings a special kind of smile to my lips, when people think it's obvious that I'm a guy, just that I don't have to bleed once every month which brought a terrible dysphoria every single time, and now when I soon won't need to hide my chest and feeling that constant discomfort ruining everything.

That relief, it's like coming home, to a place that I no longer hate. I don't hate myself and I don't hate my body. I might hate my fucked up mind from time to time, but that's another story. Today it doesn't suck being transsexual, it's a part of me, of who I was, and I will soon be able to put that behind me and just be me. Your typical goth, gay, mentally fucked up guy with a colourful past. It does sound good in my ears, comparing to how I would describe myself before.

To be perfectly honest, I sometimes asked myself just why this is so important to me, just knowing that it's the foundation that I stand on. With so many other problems still making it impossible for me to live a normal life, no matter if I have tits or not. But now I so clearly understand.

I might still be a dark chaos, but I stand more firmly on the ground with it. And I have a chance to give life a try. Now I can finally start working towards living a decent life. I finally have a reason to live. And that is a lot. Happy tears coming now...

A new beginning

After the first night at home, and I'm constantly worried that I will pull some stitches or something. The night went fine though it hurt a bit when I shifted position so I didn't shift position much at all. Will lie on my other side next night.

I got some painkillers also, by the way. Sweet opioids. That is what you make morphine of, or in this case something called oxikodon, and I'm supposed to take them for moderate to severe pain. It's mostly for cancer patients, according to the information in the box.

Well, I'll be using them carefully to avoid getting addicted or "used to it", however you'd like to put it. I took one before I went to bed last night, cause it hurts more when I try to fall asleep. The pressure to the wounds and not finding a good position tend to make it a bit uncomfortable, and I do have sleeping problems already, so. But otherwise, when I'm sitting here by the computer I barely even notice the pain. It's there, kinda at the same degree as my headache, but it doesn't bother me that much. It helps being still, of course. Though I should probably move around a little bit. Maybe take a five minute walk around the house or something.

I still can't really believe it, that it's actually done. When you've been waiting for something to happen for a long time with anticipation, it might take a while to get that it's finally over, all that waiting. I'm a little like that now, like "is it real? I mean really, really real?" As the physical pain increases, the mental pain decreases. Get used to me ranting about this for some time now, cause I will have a lot of thoughts to share, whether you wanna hear it or not.

At last and forever

Okay, I've been scribbling about this operation I had for almost two days now, in my paper diary. I can't possibly write it all down here to post, cause it's a lot of rambling about the same things and rather boring things too. Like how annoying it was to wait for the shower to become available. I had to shower twice before the operation, you see, for me to be as clean as possible. I will write down a few of my thoughts here, and a few poems that I wrote the day before as well. Cause damn it's real now, tits are gone. I can't believe it, it feels so damn fantastic, as if I'm actually happy.

I'm sore and get dizzy if I stand up for too long, but of what I saw of the result when they took off the drainage thingies this morning, it looks really good. Better than I expected. So even, not very bruised or swollen; yet, that is. Okay this is kinda fascinating, during the surgery. This is what I remember:

"About 12-13 o'clock I was brought to the operation room. I've never been sedated like that before, so it was... well, pleasant to fall asleep like that. Instantly. I woke up again around 15:00 and I remember that I dreamed about getting the operation, while I was actually getting it. Outer body experience? It would be kinda cool if it was. Cause in the dream I saw it from above, as if I was hoovering as they cut and sutured and fixed. I didn't know I could dream in such a sleep, that it was possible."

I rested for about an hour after the operation, then I slowly started to move around a bit, which was very appreciated by the nurses. I had to lie down and rest about every hour though. I was just bored really, and also I wanted to see just how much I could do, if I could be ready to go home the next day. Damn, I'm so excited to see the healed result!

If anyone wonders if there is a chance I would regret it, I just have one thing to say: there's nothing to regret. I've been restored to the way it should always have been from puberty and all those years up until now. It was a mistake that I ever got tits and I finally got that corrected. Finally! I don't know for how long I've been waiting for this. Cause probably already since I was nine or ten years old and they started growing. Not that I had surgery in my mind back then, but I didn't want tits, that's for sure. They were in the way and they have been in the way ever since. 

I didn't know so much (well okay, nothing) about my surgeon before hand, but I guess I was sort of impatient. After some quick googling a few weeks ago I read that he's engaged in transgender issues and that he thought it was very important to care for transsexuals and their (our) needs. I never saw any results from operation made by him, so of course there was a slight risk that maybe I was rushing a bit too much into unknown territory. But he was cool and as I've stated a few times, I'm really happy with the result so far. 

Oh, and I got misgendered by almost everyone at the ward, but I didn't care. Their opinions were so not my problem at all. Besides, who looks good in a blood stained hospital gown and drainage bags hanging from underneath it? I was the only guy there too, among a bunch of middle aged women in similar situations wearing the same kind of white gowns, so I get the confusion. I guess I just sort of blended in.

It's a bit weird and totally awesome that I during the day before the operation did my best to hide my protruding tits under that not so flattering piece of clothing, and then afterwards I could just walk around without needing to hide anything at all. I don't think I've been this happy for a long time. I feel lighter, as if a heavy burden has been lifted from me. Like maybe, if I stretch out my arms, I can fly.



And now for some poems:

Burden

Hidden pictures
that I just couldn't toss
This despicable face
of who I never was

But I can't hate myself
for who I was way before
but I could have tried
should have done more

Nothing is more important
but I don't know why
I'm like a wing clipped bird
longing for the sky

And I've been living
with this burden far too long
Now I finally have a chance
to change what was made wrong

All I have is time
trapped in this shell
with the darkest of thoughts
I think I'm in hell

*

Keeping me alive

What will I be
what will be left of me
once the burden has been lifted
with texture shifted

Straighten out the line
going from bad to fine
and I'm absolutely certain
it will be worth all the pain

Life can be awfully cruel
but I'm breaking its every rule
What I wouldn't do to survive
this is too keep me alive

It's not about vanity
not a decision of insanity
but something so very strong
it just can't go wrong

I'm quite the mess
self destructive and in distress
How will this change my life
save me from my eternal strife?

*

Save me

I feel like a stranger
with too much hate and anger
The mirror a condescending liar
it burned my dreams but I set the fire

Scoring points for insanity
no, this is my reality
In darkness and chaos I start
with scars in my broken heart

Can they fix it tomorrow
taking away some of the sorrow
cause I've been building a wall
that now finally will fall

And finally I can breathe out
for there will be no doubt
and there is nothing to regret
cause I have my goals set

Save me or I cannot stay
take this affliction away
for I cannot live a normal life
and only this can keep me alive

Just two more days...

Only two days left and I don't know what to do with myself. Crawling out of my skin, and damn were these clothes so smothering yesterday? I'm shifting between giggling and having anxiety attacks all the time. Hardly notice one before the other takes its turn. Twisting and turning.

I won't miss my binder. Or will I? It's been my most used piece of clothing for these past five years, and probably my most used ever. It will feel weird not having to put it on anymore. Weird, in a very good way. I can just barely imagine it. I've hesitated to imagine a result, for good reasons I believe. Because it has only made me upset, like dreaming about something impossible. Though it isn't of course, me being here and all. Those fantasies, or whatever I should call them, has made me hate my body even more. Like hey dysphoria, not so nice to see you again!

I realise that I rarely talk about dysphoria, but rather jump right into the self hatred category instead. They are similar yes, but the latter is worse in a way. More destructive, intense and allover rather than focused on specific details. Like I can have dysphoria about my body being too curvy and I hate those damn curves. I wanna cut them off and do anything to get rid off them, but I can't. Self hatred is more that you so genuinely dislike everything or almost everything about yourself. Curves, hair colour, your thoughts and feelings, the way you laugh and so on.

I haven't felt that way for a while now. Not that deep, piercing, pitch black hatred consuming me. Now it's been more like actual dysphoria, or at least I think that's what it is. It's hard to tell, I guess, when you've been consumed by hatred for so long.

I keep forgetting how to breathe again, and have I mentioned it's a bit hard to smile with a chewing gum in ones mouth?

Did another round of bleaching of my hair today, the seventh, I believe? I literally ran into every store in Hemse for the specific bleach product that I use, but it was nowhere to be found. So I took a shot and went with Mood's highlights bleaching. I've heard it should be good. It was something funky about it though, I noticed when I started mixing the components. I took two packages of the exact same kind but they were different inside the boxes. One had purple and the other had light blue powder, for example.

But I still went ahead and drenched my hair in it. It wasn't enough for my whole hair, so it got a little uneven at the roots. The rest I'll see when my hair gets dry. But so far... I think it might be a shade lighter than before. I focus mostly on the lengths now, since that is where it's darkest in colour. But I think I'll "cheat" and go for the eight run already next week to fix the roots. If I'm not too incapacitated from the surgery that is.

Oh my god, I'm really gonna have surgery on Monday! That is so damn soon! Somehow I thought those five weeks of waiting was gonna take an eternity, but damn that time flew by. I don't think I've ever been this long term nervous before. Ever since they called about that first scheduled appointment the 4th of February, I've been on edge. Like really on edge. I can't describe it, it's just... huge.