Self-exploratory therapy

I'm feeling nauseous... after having looked up some vaginal tablets containing estrogen with the jolly, not at all dysphoria triggering, name "Vagifem" and a whole lot of also totally not dysphoria inducing information. I think if I just coughed hard enough my uterus would come up with the snot. And that each ovary would plop out a nostril each. Cause why not? I'm trying to give a cringy and painful enough mental image of lower dysphoria but I'm not managing it very well. But I guess, it would be better to picture those parts as one thing together, writhing and thrusting around in there as it tries to escape in any direction it can manage, like a wild animal trapped in a cage that's being zapped with electricity every time it gets close to the bars. And I'm trying to contain it, I'm zapping it. I want to release it, but the cage is my body and self-exploratory surgery is a very bad idea. That wild animal is scratching my insides and adds extra weight to me.

But anyhow. Yeah, we all fucking get it, my dysphoria is hell in my own body and there's no escape. But reading up on that medication was just so... nauseating. Like it made it a hundred times worse temporarily. But I've been thinking I maybe should look into at least just trying it out. Or you know what? Why not some kind of numbing lube instead? Why did I never think of that before?! It's genius!

Or maybe I won't need to... I'm at a loss for words. Cause prepare for the fucking tmi but this is important. Earth shatteringly important. I just masturbated with a dildo in my vag and a vibe on my clit and it was amazing and I got the strongest orgasm since I literally can't remember when. It was impossible to keep quiet. The sheer pleasure made me whimper and moan, hungering for more as I struggled to fuck myself fast and hard enough to keep up with my need. It was beyond mind-blowing. When I was done I just sat there, staring, jaw-dropped, wild-eyed and so completely satisfied. Eventually I managed to make myself move again, enough to pull the dildo out of my vag again, collect my stuff and get up. I stopped for a moment, leaning onto the table with one hand while still breathing heavier and the words that slipped out of my mouth gave me chills... I said "I haven't felt this for ten years".

Those words speak of truth. Cause although I've enjoyed vaginal since after I was 18-19 years old, it has not been pain-free, pure pleasure since then. Did I ever truly give it a second chance though? Or was I too lazy, too despondent, too tired, too torn apart, too dysphoric to truly care?

Now what do I do now? Can I still, really, throw away what I know I actually treasure? What if it's not my vag that I hate, but its carrier? Or simply just the disconnection itself? I learned to love it once. I know it keeps nagging at me, cause it feels like I might be making a terrible mistake to have it removed. I think if I keep doing this it's gonna tear me apart. But I have to. I have to, quite fittingly, get to the bottom of this mess. How, I'm not sure. But my general "plan" is to keep using my vag sexually in various ways and with various things in mind, and then carefully analyse afterwards how it made me feel before, during and after it. Then also check in later on in the future to see if I've found some new thoughts or feelings about the experience. Try to go about having vaginal sex with other men as well, cause just masturbation won't be enough for a proper study of it. Because how I feel pleasure and what kind of pleasure are extremely different with another man compared to solo play. It's a completely different kind of experience, and I think, a much more important one to study.

I'd call it a form of sexual therapy, self-therapy and also soul-searching. Perhaps it sounds lovely and pleasurable, but the whole process of digging around with a tooth pick in my own mind after every such sexual experience at least up until the point of surgery, is likely also gonna be very frustrating, stressful, difficult and I think also emotionally painful and draining. Like trying to solve a puzzle with pieces you have to pull out from inside your stomach one by one while under a barely working local anesthesia. And you have to get all the pieces out before you can stitch up and start trying to put them together. Perhaps a better name for it would be "self-exploratory therapy" as it's highly experimental. It feels like I'm gonna play Tetris with my own thoughts and feelings. Hopefully I'll find what I'm looking for before I run out of time. Why do this all by myself though? Because actual, "professional" therapy sucks ass.

Now I'm too tired to think more and need sleep, but I know that if I'll leave this un-posted now I won't get back to it again later on. So I'll post this un-edited. I hope I didn't make any grave mistakes or errors with my spelling and grammar. If so, I might edit the already posted entry tomorrow.