My sacrifice

God fucking damn it mother of hell. I'm starting to have doubts about me proceeding with having SRS. Not the totality of it, but certain things. I'm starting worry I might regret having a vaginectomy. It's the bloody last thing I needed! I'm struggling with this god damn conflict in my head about maybe actually wanting to keep the vag but at the same time I don't. What would be the best? To have it open sometimes but closed most times. Yeah, I literally want a freaking zipper on it. Can't I get one of those surgically installed? No? Didn't think so. I still want metoidioplasty with all of what that entails, and I still want a full hysto, so it's literally only the vaginectomy I'm nearly constantly going back and forth about like from second to second I'm like "yes-no-yes-no-yes-no" like a sickening and disturbing mantra echoing in its chamber.

Right now I wish I could talk to someone about this. Preferably another trans guy who has had the procedure and did have some kind of doubts or who decided to keep it but kept considering it before. But I don't want to post in the facebook groups about it cause I don't want for them all to think I've changed my mind completely or hear guy after guy tell me I should book it off until I'm 100% sure again. Urgh... that god damn entitled issue of wanting conversations without consequences with specific people I can't possibly find without facing those consequences.

Hua, guess I'm gonna try to figure it out by myself for a week or two at least. Cause it's possible I might get a date for surgery in just 3-4 months from now. And I'm also really worried about telling my therapist about that too, cause of her having the really scary authority of actually making sure it gets cancelled if word gets out... and I don't want to worry my mother about the possibility I may have some regrets after, whether I'll manage to sort this hassle out before the surgery or not. Yeah, I will still have that hole after the first stage as it's planned, but tissue from it will be used for the urethral lengthening which does have a high impact on its function. However I've heard of guys being able to dilate it (just like how trans women dilate their neo-vaginas if they have their version of SRS) after exactly that type of procedure. And I should in that bloody case probably also start using that kind of local estrogen cream thing to deal with its state of atrophy.

But I don't really want to keep it. Cause I hate how it feels to just have it there with the constant fucking leaking and femaleness of it. I cringe just thinking about it. I wish there at the very god damn least was a way somehow to make it stop super-over-lubricating like a broken fucking fountain that can't be turned off. I don't think I could bare even the thought of using tampons for it, and that's the only thing I've ever been able to think of that could stop the constant flow at least just temporarily. But I'd feel gross having both male and female genitals at once. It's weird enough for me to have a dick-like clit with the rest. No offense to intersex people, you're born that way, it's different, no I don't think you're gross. I think it would be a gross choice to make, but not gross if it's natural. Like natural chimeras are beautiful, majestic creatures - but if a surgeon would put parts of two different animals together I'm sure I wouldn't be the only one to feel iffy about it. And no, I'm not saying surgically constructed dicks or pussies are gross either. I'm saying I would personally feel gross if I had a nice, surgically constructed dick and balls with a fucking arbitrary, badly misplaced vagina between them. Cause then the vagina would be the eyesore, not the package.

Fucking hell, why did I have to go and make things even more complicated for myself...? Why did I have to go sit on his dick and feel good about it? But I know these thoughts have chafed in my mind since before then, but that did intensify them a lot. I've been so damn horny ever since that sexual experience, it was an appetiser that gave me an insatiable hunger for more, no matter how much I masturbate, and every time I do I come so fast and hard just thinking about that experience. I was afraid of this happening, if I dared to try it out again. And now it did happen. I enjoyed it. It did mostly sting, but I felt something else deeper inside, perhaps a latent g-spot that mildly sparked alive. Now what am I supposed to do?

Cause I'm torn apart between my dysphoria and my sexual desires that stray in two opposing directions and pull each other apart as they're connected at the centre. I cannot go my entire future life wishing I had kept my vag, but I also cannot wait any longer for surgery cause my dysphoria is literally tearing me apart. I can very barely stay above the surface. If I sink below it I'll be too unstable for surgery. So it's a very difficult time and I know cancelling it would fucking break me. Yet I don't know if I dare to go through with it. Why the fuck couldn't I just have been born cis?! Male or female I don't give a fuck anymore! Just no more dysphoria... please. I swear to God and Satan I'm gonna cry and scream my guts and heart out, before I stuff them back inside me again, for making the most difficult decision of my entire life. I guess you never really know what sacrifice is until you stand before it. Only then you might know that the most important decision you'll ever make just fucking has to also be the most painful and emotionally exhausting one. Cause there's no going back if I go through with it.

I've often thought I'm extremely unlucky... while at the same time also extremely lucky. Cause I seem to get both polar opposites in abundance in the most unexpected ways, times and places. I guess that's partially why I live in chaos, and partially why I'm always kept on edge unable to relax. Life in a storm: sometimes you're flying free, other times you get smacked face first into a pile of dirt and debris. Should I just go ahead with my plan and hope for the best? I know it won't be that simple. I'm not expecting it to become an easy journey. Last step of the way, it's not exactly meant to be easy. But backing out would be like taking off elsewhere when you're finally just at the finishing line that you've been fighting your way towards for a decade.

And that completely over-nagged quote "damned if I do, damned if I don't" has never before felt so true to anything in my life. Cause damn... it very, very much feels like exactly that now. Somehow I did expect it though. And I instinctively glance upwards as to hint to the god I shunned for having shunned me. And how I feel I've gone against my path by transitioning in the first place, that I wanted to, but it for whatever reason was not decided upon before my birth. And now I'm pissing off mother nature by doing something I wasn't supposed to. Something happened and I broke the contract. Took Satan's hand instead and followed him to an unbeaten path that he showed me. Now I'll hold on even tighter to his metaphorical hand as I before asked him to save my life - now I'm putting it in his hands. What else can I do, he's the only one I feel I can trust, cause he never betrayed me. He was never a leader to me, he's always just been a very good friend from the moment I stopped underestimating him, but sometimes you need for a friend to help carry you over a particularly strong current river cause he can easily help you over but alone you'd drown. Then once on the other side, you let go and walk by yourself again, beside your friend. Cause the path is mine to walk, but this particular, unexpected hurdle I wasn't prepared enough for, I do want and need some help to get across. Then I'll manage on my own again.

Of course I bloody start rambling about Satan in such a state of mental distress. What? You've never seen a religious person in mental distress before? We fumble for our gods when in need of comfort, like a cold person fumbles for blankets. Because our gods are our blankets. It might sound weird, but trust me, it's completely normal. And that my favourite god of choice just so happens to be Satan, really doesn't have anything to do with it. It just means most other religious people don't understand where I'm coming from, because I seek comfort from a smaller, often disliked and misunderstood blanket that's been pushed to the side, instead of the big and fluffy one that everyone keeps saying is the best and warmest of them all, but I don't like that one and they just don't get it. And atheists just think we're all stupid for fighting over and fumbling for blankets when they just wear jackets instead. But I digress.

Well I guess it looks like I'm gonna have a lot of front hole sex until surgery, and hope at least someone will be kind enough to stick it in my butt as well/instead to at least get some practice in that department before that's the only thing I'll have to rely on in terms of being penetrated. While hoping I won't start liking the front more, but if I do... welp, I don't know, I might as well bang my head in a dead-end wall trying to get through it while my skull gets smashed to pieces because that wall won't fucking budge. The way I see it I only really have two options to pick one or the other of: go ahead with the surgery as planned - or cancel it entirely and find some other way to handle my dysphoria as well as treating that vaginal atrophy somehow. I'd need a hysto either way though. I don't trust my uterus to behave and a permanent contraceptive would be a fucking blessing. And I'd need a straightjacket so I won't commit suicide over making such an impossible choice.

The way I really see it: I'll likely regret either decision at first, but I can't figure out for sure which one I'd also regret in the long run and which one I'd be able to live with. Maybe both? In that case it wouldn't matter what I'll do. I think, I still do feel as though going ahead with the surgery is what's gonna make me happy in the long run, which is what's most important even if that means crawling through hell first to get there. Life taught me that. Cause I can't fight dysphoria with will power and stubbornness. I learned that the hard way too. But sexual issues I could find a way to handle, cause they're not immutable and even though they might be stubborn, what exact details turn you on or not is possible, but not easy, to change. If they don't work anymore and you just have to find some other way. It's just that it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder to have sexual issues as a newly starting out prostitute. Oh god, someone please rip my head off and put it in a cement mixer. It needs a serious restart and the buttons don't work. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, then I might as well do and just fucking work with it from there on.

Cause I'd rather treat my extreme dysphoria and sacrifice a huge heap of my sexual desires... than continue like this. Cause I haven't managed very well these past 7-8 years. And this is hell. Dysphoria 24/7 and then just one random good fuck once every 5th year. How the bloody hell would that be worth saving? It just isn't, and I know it, but I'll still cry my heart out as I'll make that sacrifice. All because of nostalgia over what once worked, now 10 years ago. Yeah, nostalgia really, really is a bitch you can't fuck with. But she fucks the everloving shit with you. There's no way to find a win-win solution. It's gonna be either win-lose or lose-win. Fucking fantastic.

Maybe I should sleep on it. For a few weeks. Sleep on it, fuck on it, myeah, something like that.