I posted a blog entry here yesterday, but regretted it almost immediately so took it down again. It's rare that I do that, only happened once before. It was about my thoughts on if being trans might not be a real thing... and I just got so worried it would be very hurtful, so an hour or so after I had posted it in the early morning hours, I took it down again. I decided it wasn't worth possibly losing friends over just my nagging need to vent some stupid thoughts. They are very controversial, and quite likely even outright transphobic. Yeah, they are. Maybe best to keep that shit to myself. The blog entry I wrote is still saved as a draft, and saved on my computer additionally, so it's not scrapped, just hidden from the public.
I tried to phrase my opnions as carefully as possible, but it still became blunt and I realised that no matter how I'd phrase such opinions, it wouldn't matter, cause the opinions themselves are utter shit. I might tell them in an e-mail or personal messages if you'd REALLY want to know them, but not without first assuring me you wouldn't ditch our friendship over it. I don't know if you actually managed to read that before I hid the entry. I hope not. I guess, if you did though... I'm so sorry, I never intended for my thoughts and opinions on transsexualism to change like that. I only wanted to figure out my own gender situation and still my curiosity on what "the other side" thinks. I still care about trans people and I don't think they're doing anything wrong by transitioning, medically, legally or socially. Also I do not condone misgendering, whether I actually view it as such or not.
And if you didn't read that... good. Even if it wouldn't have hurt you, that really made me feel horrible to just express it. I must have been so selfish even wanting to vent those thoughts. At the very least I should only vent them to cis people, or better yet get a terf friend to vent them with. I guess this is what's so difficult for me that my thoughts and feelings keep changing so much and so radically over time, that I always eventually end up in a situation where I feel the need to hide a new aspect of myself to good friends I never wanted to hide anything from, out of fear.
My mind has become so maluable that it practically liquified and now nothing is stable within it. Every thought, every feeling, every opinion no matter how important to me... has the potential of changing radically. It's at the point where I'm not certain of anything. I could even become a hardcore Christian at some point, or a rampant nazi, or a super leftist man-hating feminist. Or anything, at any point. My curiosity takes me places and I'm still too easily fooled by what "sounds good" until eventually neither side of the argument "sounds good" and I'm just confused. Then that part of my mind has been moulded and shaped too many times to hold itself together anymore, it comes apart, and I have no clear or solid opinion on that thing anymore. Or I keep switching between very different opinions on that topic very frequently, like from day to day. The pendulum swings itself off from its hinges.
This actually happens but I'm not sure why, other than that I think my ability to tell what is reasonable opinions (of others) or unreasonable gets unstable and stops working, and I'm literally unable to tell if I agree or not. That happened with feminism and anti-feminism. And I think that now it's happening with pro-trans and anti-trans opinions. I don't know why this happens with me, or what I could do about it. Cause just giving it time and not overthinking it for that time doesn't seem to work, even given years. I don't know. Maybe my brain is just overworked in general and can't handle the intensity of all the stimuli. But it's frustrating nonetheless.
I'm having a shitty day, because of or on top of that. I went to bed at around 5 am this morning, then woke up around 7 when my mother called to wake me up so that I could call the gender clinic. I didn't. I couldn't. Felt like utter shit and dead tired. Refused to get out of bed. So I drifted in and out of sleep for another 10 hours until I eventually dragged my ass out of bed at 5 pm. I dreamed about detransition stuff. That I was hanging out drinking booze (Minttu, and some other stuff I don't remember) with my father and some random guys of his age, some of which I knew, some I didn't. And they told me several times that the fact I had a deep voice and facial hair made me "not really a woman" which annoyed me and I told them that's ridiculous and that they were wrong. It wasn't a bad dream though, the guys were more joking than cruel, the dream didn't have a negative atmosphere to it, although it was more neutral than good.
I don't remember most of my nightly dreams lately, but I'm fairly sure I've been detransitioning in all of them ever since that happened in real life.
Before I went to bed I also felt extra horrible about my chest. I was looking at some youtube videos from the webshop (Amoena) I ordered my most recent... well, mastectomy bra, from. And it just hit me sooo hard when I watched a video featuring a woman getting fitted for a breast form to match the one breast she had left, and then her joy seeing herself in the mirror with two matching breasts, and the woman helping her out and leading the video talking about their female customers "feeling whole again" with their breast forms, I felt like something was literally shattering within my chest.
I think I'm really struggling with this on a very deep, emotional level. Both my regret of getting top surgery and the lack of breasts on my chest, as well as that it was my own decision, and that it wasn't cancer. That they were healthy breasts that I had removed... that hurts more than I can fathom. And I think, I'm struggling to accept it. The missing pieces are hurting me immensely with their absense. And in my sleep I kept waking up wondering where my breasts were... I fumbled for them, literally, in that half awake-half asleep state where you're not quite aware of your surroundings.
I hate that feeling. It digs holes within me, gouging me out. It's my grief, like looking for a lost loved one in a state of delirium. Struggling to accept and you're not sure which state is the reality and which is your cruel imagination. It's gonna hurt either which way, and you're not sure you want to know, but your hands are desperately searching to find out. Your hands want to know that your mind is wrong, but your hands are wrong and your mind is not. Finding that, I just wanted to go back to sleep again, dream that awful feeling away. But it never works that way. It only creates a repeating pattern of confusion, desperate searching, knowing, pain, then back to confusion again. Until I wake up and accept the reality.
My own breast forms don't comfort me as much today. Today they remind me of what should be there instead, but I'd feel even worse without them. Carved out to hollowness. And I think I'm angry at myself for having transitioned, but the sadness and grief takes over and drown my words. I'm comfort-eating chocolate but it grosses me out and I worry it might make me fat if I continue, which saddens me more. That's a vicious cycle too. I'm out of words for now.
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