Let's call this part 3 then. I did get another experience of experimenting with my vag yesterday, however I was a bit tipsy, so I'm taking it with a grain of salt. Cause drunk sex (whether masturbation or with someone else) is different from how it is sober. Most importantly it's less likely to be painful due to my dulled senses. I've noticed something else though, with the atrophy, which is that even when I'm being super careful and super over-lubed, penetration does cause micro-tears and I bleed a little. Like extremely small amounts of blood, it just makes the lubrication slightly pinkish in tone and doesn't cause any pain. However, that might be another sign of its fragile state.
I have a doctor's appointment for my runny nose issues at the local health district here in Hemse on Thursday (29th) and my thought is to go to the pharmacy (in the same building) after that appointment and see if I can swallow enough of my pride to actually buy that "Vagifem" stuff, cause I'm pretty sure they have it. But oh dear... I've got my heart all the way up in my throat about how extremely dysphoric I'd be buying that stuff, and people seeing me buy it, and staff asking me about why I intend to buy it. Cause I look like a cis guy and those don't tend to have vaginal issues, or vaginas at all. I don't want to out myself as trans, but might have to. I don't want to talk about having a vagina or having such issues, but again I might have to. And it turns me into a ball of anxiety. But at the same time I think that route would be easier for me to handle than going to a gyno about it. And also quicker than waiting for an appointment.
But, it is an experiment, and I'd see it as such. But I also wouldn't consider trying it if I didn't think my issues could be treated with that stuff. I've heard enough about trans guys and their vag issues while on testo, and about local estrogen treatments as a good solution for it, to feel confident enough that that's what I might be in need of myself. But I also am aware of the sketchiness of taking medication for a self-diagnosis, and that I should go to a doctor about it first, and not just go on a freaking hunch.
I just want to be more sure about if I even want to keep the vag or not before I start to invest more publically in it, if that makes sense. Cause again, I don't want for it to become an issue with whether I'll have it removed or not. Like if I'll start telling gynos and what not that I think I'll keep the vag but then it says somewhere in my medical file that I plan to have it removed, that could get tricky. So, I'd rather be more certain that I might want to keep it enough to at least not worry about the surgeons or other staff at Linköping's hospital to find out about my vag-doubts.
I guess I'm worried about surgeons thinking I'm being indecisive and shouldn't get the surgery at all, if I'm acting indecisive all of a sudden. So I want to act like, if I'll change my mind, to be very clear and secure about such a decision.
If my vag would turn out to be useless for sex after surgery with the UL and all, there would be no point in me keeping it around. And getting rid of it then, would be better, as far as I see it. However, I also need to think about that. Like would I really take such a huge risk? That having the surgery could make the vag useless, so would it really be worth that risk if I'd prefer to keep it? If I really would want to keep it for the sole purpose of getting it fucked, then keeping it with the risk of never being able to do that again, might be a bit backwards. But also, if I'd skip out of the UL as well, then it's honestly starting to come to the question of: then what's the point of getting surgery at all? And then I've made a 180 in circular logic with dysphoria face-slapping me again.
The point of having surgery at all is for me to alleviate as much of my dysphoria as possible, but preferably without fucking up my sex life too much. And that's a very difficult, if not impossible, act to balance. I feel like I have to take some risks. My thought is to go ahead with the UL which is used with vaginal tissue, but then also be quite quick (but not too quick) in the healing process to soften and stretch the scar tissue after that and hope it won't be too big of an impact. But I'm not dumb. I know I already have issues with being too tight and too rigid, having both those aspects worsened further would be a huge fucking issue. I might not be able to ever get anything thicker than a pinky finger in there. That alone, stresses me out to no end. But I need that fucking UL! Argh... And no, of course they don't do the mouth tissue grafts for that here in Sweden. It's vag tissue or no UL at all. I want to rip my issues in pieces and stomp on them.
They've passed the point of being annoying. Now they're aggravating and distressing. And I need to come to a fucking conclusion on what the fuck to do about my damn pussy. Jeez. It's been 9 years, NINE fucking years, and what have I figured out in that time? "I'd like meta, but I also like my pussy. I have severe dysphoria that severely impacts my life negatively, but I really like taking a good pounding in my pussy cause it gives me really awesome orgasms. I can't choose. Please help me before I do something regrettable." Because the issue is that I can't keep it as it is, and I can't get rid of it either and it tears me apart trying to come to any damn decision.
I need to know what my heart is trying to tell me. And I don't just want to hear some frantic "keep it, keep it, keep it" but I also need a solution to what to do about the dysphoria, if I would keep it. Cause listen here you fuck up of a heart: I can absolutely opt out of one or some other or all surgical procedures, but only if you can give me another solution to my issue of having constant, severe, soul-crippling dysphoria, which you seem to happily ignore. And if you can't give me any other option than any or all surgical procedures but just keep flailing at me, then I'm going to ignore you and go ahead with the surgery as bloody planned, capito?!
Yeah, trying to reason with an emotional blob of a heart, huh. I don't know how to interpret my emotions. I don't know what they truly want or how to possibly both treat my dysphoria and keep the vag at the same time. Because I don't think that's possible. It makes me want to tear my heart out. That annoying, bloody emotionally overloaded fucktard of a blob. I wish I could just throw it out of my body and live without a heart. Believe me I've tried, at least figuratively. I need to have a functional sex life, whether I'd want to use that as for a profession (sex work) or not. I can't possibly be or become mentally healthy with a sex life that's ruined forever. But I also can't get mentally healthy with untreatable dysphoria. Cause by the looks of it now, it seems I really do have to choose between treating my dysphoria but ruin my sex life - or keep my sex life but get ruined by my dysphoria.
Who can ever make such a decision without beating themselves bloody over it? That's like having to choose between your mental health and your physical health. I don't think you'd want to live without either of them. I feel trapped in an impossible situation. Up until recently, I've been trying to force myself to just go through with it for the sake of treating my dysphoria before it kills me. But now my heart is screaming at me at a deafening volume that that's somehow the wrong decision and I'm lost. Because the only other decision is not working either, because I'm living in it already and it's going straight to hell.
I've always swung between extremes. Now I'm stuck in the middle of two extremes, unable to swing to either direction. The sheer irony of that, beats my fucking head in. It's so incredibly hard to throw away something you've cherished and loved and still somewhat do, cause it's causing you a lot of harm. You know you have to, but you can't make yourself give it up. I wonder if people who have had to get a limb amputated go through a similar struggle to this. I've no idea if it's even remotely comparable, cause I've never had to give up a limb for medical reasons. Not a limb I'd rather keep. So I don't count my tits, because I never felt any kind of attachment/connection to them, and losing them wasn't hard at all. It was only a relief, even though I did get some post-op dysphoria about the scars. I never regretted or thought I would regret losing the tits themselves. So that's not comparable, even though that was me technically "losing limbs" because it wasn't a mental struggle.
But making a decision about my vag has me struggling harder and more rabidly than anything ever has before. I'm so extremely conflicted about it I don't know what to do at all. It feels like I need to get rid of it cause of the medical condition dysphoria severely impacting my life quality negatively - but I don't want to lose it cause of how nice it feels to have it used sexually. Both sides of that conflict are growing equally stronger and more heartbreaking by the day. Fight, fight to the death, and then tell me which one of you two survived.
I need to cry about this, at some point or another. I'm gonna need to release this immense internal pressure eventually, cause it's making me implode when I need for it to explode. It's turning me into a black hole that just keeps sucking in more tension the more I bottle up. I'm creating more monsters into my subconscious. I'm not good at handling my emotions or being honest with myself, and I'm very likely gonna get some very hard lessons in both of those, and I'm likely gonna learn it the hard way. If I'll go for having the vaginectomy, it's gonna fuck me up. But I might not have any other, better, choice. It might be the only reasonable thing I can do. But at the same time also the most emotionally painful and upsetting thing I ever could put myself through. Just keep those razorblades, knives and nooses far, far, far away from me. And provide me with lots of tea and hugs.
I feel such a heavy, huge lump in my chest the size of a basket ball made of lead, at just the thought of choosing the vaginectomy. Now knowing I can enjoy that kind of sex again... throwing it away forever, weighs very heavily on my heart. Don't fight it, don't fight it, John. Let yourself feel. It's the only way to get past it, and over to the other side. No one's here to see you crash anyway, so no need to hold back. Don't hold back. Release that pressure, or it won't go away, but only increase. Perhaps a cigarette on that.
An extreme amount of self care, and the best ever kinds of it, will be extremely necessary. I don't know how to possibly handle it. I fear it. I hurt for it. But I can't cry. I can't release that internal pressure. I'm so, so, so sorry, my heart. I mean it, I truly do. I don't have words to express how sorry I am. I'm aching with you. I'll hold you all the way through, I'll care for you as well as I possibly can. I'll let you release whatever you have bottled up inside you. I won't fight you, I'll stroke your tears away. You have every right to be upset. But I can't just take your request and go with it. It's not a solution, and I'm in a desperate need for a solution. Without an alternative, I have nothing. You know as well as I do that we've tried everything else already and nothing has helped. You know that the decision to get surgery did not come out of the blue, you know we tried everything to avoid it. You know it's the last, absolutely last, resort. And it's terrifying that we have to go for that last resort, but please, trust me. I would never go for it if there was any other solution. We have to.
Cause it pains me so much, to give that up. Permanently. With irreversible surgery. It's more than just terrifying to say "yes" to such a procedure knowing I'll miss it, not being able to ever get it back again. Such a sacrifice, it shouldn't have to be made. And the irony of causing myself such tremendous emotional pain for the sake of easing emotional pain, is not easy to wrap my head around to begin with. It has me lost and nauseous. It makes my head spin and ties knots in my heart and stomach. It makes me want to vomit. But there's just no other way. I'm gonna have to find other ways to get sexual release without the existence of my vagina. I'll miss it tremendously, but I know I'll be at peace without this dysphoria. I'll be sad, but I'll be alive. And now, very symbolically, my pussy hurts too. Perhaps it too knows, that it can't escape what's coming.
Making this decision really made me rabid. I know I made up my mind long ago, but I can't for the life of me accept my own decision. I'm fighting it furiously, despite knowing it's the only good thing I can do. It's not about being "male enough" or being accepted by others. It's about being accepted by myself and finding peace within myself. It's about reducing the horror of living with this incurable medical condition that I got a very severe degree of, and trying to solve a seemingly impossible conflict between contradicting emotions that fight each other bloody. So it's not even my emotions against my logical reasoning, it's two different aspects of my emotional side that can't agree. It's a fight between two equal opponents that both refuse to lose. It exhausts me so much to be in the middle of. I need for the fight to stop just as much as I need to alleviate my dysphoria. Cause it's hell to live with, and I can't continue down that road. I don't want to lose such an integral aspect of my sex life and pleasure, but I know I have to give it up for the sake of alleviating that dysphoria. I know there's no other way. I wish there was, oh fucking hell, if only there was another way...
And every time I come back to the decision of going with getting the hole closed up, it hurts and pains me more and more each and every time. It feels like for every time, something more breaks inside of me. I can't think of a time in my life I've had to make a more difficult decision. Not even breaking up with Y can top this. Not even remotely. That was a small hill compared to this massively massive mountain.
I know that the more I play with my pussy and like it, the more difficult it is to say goodbye to it. But I also know that I would hate myself afterwards if I hadn't made the most if it while I still had it. So I'm gonna use it, I'm gonna try to give myself the best possible orgasms and the best possible pleasure with it, for as long as I still have it. As well as trying to deal with the ever increasing dysphoria. The wait for surgery is strangely extremely stressful yet something I'm equally as impatient for. It almost stops time. No matter how much more difficult it will make it to give it up, I will use it like never before and enjoy it as much as I possibly can. There is no painless or simple way out of this, so I might as well take my pussy for the ride of its life, an unforgettable adventure, then cry rivers upon rivers over losing it forever. Like killing a best friend, because it's also my worst enemy. My life is pain, always has been. It wants for me to get the most intense possible experiences, to get the most powerful lessons. I know it does, cause I chose it. I wanted the crash course, now deal with it.
I just watched a video on youtube, some philosopher who talked about the struggles of making hard decisions, and it made me realise something. Perhaps it's not the decision itself I'm struggling to accept... but the person that I am, and the feelings that I have. I mean, I was certainly on that track, but perhaps worded it differently. Cause I think it's pretty obvious that I struggle to accept myself, but maybe I didn't connect that struggle to the decision, but rather saw it as a separate struggle. That philosopher also said that when struggling to choose between two difficult decisions, most people end up going with the easiest one.
But I know I'm a bit further ahead and know myself better than most people know themselves, which is probably why I'm heading for the harder decision of my two choices. Because I've already learned that the harder choice is usually the one to give you the best and most worthwhile experiences. I know and have already accepted (although reluctantly) that "the hard way" is the most valuable way to learn anything. While maybe most other people, at least those of around my age, have not yet come nearly as close to accept that.
She also talked about that often times it's not even about which choice is "the best one" cause they can't be measured scientifically, but in value. One of the issues with my own philosophical thinking, is that I go very far, but unintentionally skip important steps on the way. Like heading from point A to point K but skip points C, F, G and J on the way. Cause I just miss or don't see them. And then once I've gotten to point K I realise that I can't manage to get over to point L cause of the missing points before. So I have to go back and check what went wrong or do it all over from the start again. But I can't steer the directions of my thoughts without a compass. They just end up wherever they happen to end up, and usually there is no stopping them until they run out of fuel.
I know that when I come back to the point of deciding to go for the vaginectomy, I'm back to where I'm supposed to be. So no, it's not really that I can't make the decision whether to keep it or get rid of it. It's that I struggle to accept the harshness of reality. So I keep falling back into trying to find ways to keep it even though I know that's not a wise decision. It's the old back-tracking, the old keep trying to make the impossible work. The two year old me furiously trying to put together two puzzle pieces the wrong way, over and over, expecting a different result each time. Refusing to accept the reality that no matter how many times I clink the two pieces together in the wrong way, it will never work.
It's strange when I think about it like that. That I can so very perfectly compare the behaviour I presented as a 2 year old toddler to the behaviour I'm exhibiting now at age 28. It must be a permanent glitch in my mind somehow. A glitch in the matrix that just keeps repeating itself on a constant loop in different situations of my life, but in pretty much the same way. And nowadays, I'm trying beyond hard to find ways around that glitch. To stop myself in my tracks and ask myself "What makes me think it's gonna work this time? Or do I just want for the impossible to be possible? How about we work with what actually is possible instead?" and I feel like I'm at somewhat of a crossroad in my life now, where I'm forced to stop trying the same thing in the same impossible way, forced to look myself in the mirror, take the two puzzle pieces, turn only one of them and put them together the only one way they're intended to connect. And that brings me to yet another realisation: I'm one of those puzzle pieces, the world around me is the other, and I've been trying to turn the world but all I can do is turn myself to face the world.
I've always struggled to change myself for reality. It comes with the territory of loving yourself but hating the world. You don't want to change yourself then, but want the world to change for you. And forcing myself, that I love, to change for the world, that I hate, is the hardest thing I can do. I don't mean changing for other people. I mean changing aspects of myself to fit with the reality I didn't choose to be in. As in me changing my body to fit the reality of my mind. But of course the same notion can be applied to many different things, but ultimately comes down to wanting to change what you cannot and not wanting to change what you can. I think that's why my heart is screaming, hurting and crying so badly right now. Because I can't change what I want to, but can change what I don't want to. And that has me lashing out in all directions at once like some kind of fucked up rabid dog on acid.
Because the world is wrong. Because reality is wrong. And my refusal to accept that things are the ways they are has me ripping in pieces and spinning in circles. I don't know if I should just try to force myself to accept it, or try to come to some kind of acceptance. But at least this has given me a lot of insight about myself. Now I see why this is so hard for me. And it dates all the way back to when I was a toddler... Exploring my sexual vag pleasure probably won't lead to much of any revelations. I think I was digging in the wrong part of my brain. It's not really the body part or the sex aspect or the gender aspect that are the real issues in my struggle with this decision - it's my refusal to accept the reality for what it is. That I have severe dysphoria that is not gonna go away without the surgery that will remove much of my sexual pleasure. It's harsh. It's a very cruel reality to accept.
That is the cruelty of the reality I'm in, but no matter how much I kick and scream about it, it won't change that reality. All I can do is try to find peace within myself, mourn my past, and do the best I can of the future ahead of me. Yes, it will be for the better, but it will also be an immense sacrifice to make for that greatness. See it a bit like having to jump off a cliff in order to fly, and you're extremely scared of heights. You know you won't fall, you know that as soon as your feet leave the edge your wings will lift you. But your fear of that height itself holds you back. It makes you dizzy, nauseous, like you need to vomit, your head is spinning, but you know you have to or you'll spend the rest of your life on that cliff edge, wishing that you could fly. And I've lived my entire life so far on that cliff edge, I can't do it anymore, I can't stay here. So if I so have to go out crying and screaming, I'm gonna take off from that edge. Cause I know my wings will carry me. I won't fall, I won't die. I have a future ahead of me out there, and I need it, I want it, my entire being yearns for it. I can't let some fear of heights stop me from reaching that future. So I'll do it. But fucking hell it won't be easy.
No comments:
Post a Comment