13 months post op

I've never really talked about how I get more and more okay with my choice of operation technique on my chest. Like at first I was like "fuck I don't care about scars" and went ahead with the double incision even though I was offered the peri areolar technique if I wanted to do that one instead. I was also almost certain that with the size my chest was (about a B-cup) it would not turn out good.

Then after I had actually had the surgery I was almost regretting that choice of technique. I thought "fuck now I'm stuck with two obvious scars that screams how trans I am" and wished I had chosen the other method instead. When I first started thinking about top surgery I was certain I was gonna go with the peri areolar technique as I had a large A-cup and they were firm at that time.

But, after 5 years of binding and just time also probably being a factor in itself, they got a little saggy and they also got bigger from the birth control pills that I took when I was 18-19. And I started realising how hard it would be to get a good enough result from that method with what I had. It became more important that I got a nice, flat chest instead of a scar free chest. Now, I can never have my dream chest, completely scar free and masculine looking.

I do feel a bit sad and frustrated about that fact, but I also have more important things to whine about. My chest is very flat (although still a little tiny bulgy in the middle which I think is only something that I notice) my nipples look great and my scars are fading. I'm still not that fond of those scars but they bother me less and less. Cause maybe I don't care if people figure out that I'm trans because of them? It's better than some of the horrible results of peri areaolar that I have seen that I could have gotten instead.

And I do also go back to my old thoughts about the scars. I was scarred already. Thin white lines cover my entire body after years upon years of self harm. Even on my chest, because I hated my boobs so much. Those scars are still there, unevenly crossing my nipples and it does look a little weird. I do however like all my self harm scars, so why can't I like my surgical scars?

Maybe it just takes time, getting used to it, you know. I'm already far more used to how it looks now compared to right after the surgery. I never once regretted having my boobs removed, but it has been taking some getting used to. When I first saw the result in the shower at home, about a week post op, I nearly damn fainted.

Yeah... I'm a little weak at heart. And I've never had surgery before. I had tried to visualise what it could look like before I had that surgery, but it still couldn't prepare me for the actual result. And it was difficult getting used to being shirtless out in public last summer, the first summer post op. My scars glowed purple and I remember that I tried to cover them with make-up, haha.

It did give me a freeing sensation and that it was more than right, but it was like... I don't know how to explain it. Like I was doing something wrong by being shirtless outside when it was incredibly hot weather. I'm male, I'm not very overweight and I don't have boobs anymore. It shouldn't feel like I'm doing something wrong, but it does. I've been afraid to admit that.

It's a feeling I've been trying to shake off. Among my family my sister is the only one who's seen my new chest, last summer when we went swimming in the lake near my family's house. Or I swam and she read a book on the beach. I was wearing only swim shorts for the first time post op and it gave me that feeling, that I did something wrong, but it was also amazing.

I hope I will feel better this summer. I'm actually worried what my father would say if he saw me shirtless in public. And my mother too, for that matter. She's said that some men just aren't comfortable being topless and I don't know for sure, but I think she hinted at me to keep my shirts on.

And I think my father is either gonna be jealous that I can do it, but he's too uncomfortable being shirtless himself. Or he would react negatively because I know he still sees me as a girl. A bearded and flat chested girl with a deep voice who's name is John... well, I've never claimed to understand my father, but there is a Swedish saying about that it's hard to teach old dogs to sit.

Well, it's gonna happen sooner or later, when I'm hanging at my family's place a very hot summer's day. If it's just the 4 of us, why would it be embarrassing? But they're probably gonna ask if I do that out in the public too, to which I'd have to say yes. Somehow, their opinions colour mine. That it's wrong of me and I'm being an embarrassment.

I wish it wasn't so, I wish I could just be confident about it and comfortable with it. But I think, or hope, that I'll get more so in time. Maybe, just maybe, I can get into working out and becoming a little muscular, which could increase my confidence a notch or two.

But anyway, in my mind, I didn't really have to choose between two surgery techniques, I only had one option that would fit with how my body looked before the operation. And what I really have to come to terms with, is that the B-cups I had made that option, not me. I would not have had the patience to do several operations to get my chest even over time with the other method. I had waited for 5 years and 5 years too many to have my mastectomy, I had to go with the quick fix because I could not wait any longer.

My impatience was very valid and I don't regret having it done with the double incision technique. Anyway, I've been ranting this enough now, I think, and here's a few very delayed 1 year post op pictures which are actually taken today, 13 months post op. As you can see the scars are not that visible anymore, they slowly blend in with the colour of my skin. They are uneven because of how the stitches were placed. My areolae are still a little dark and my tattoo still looks awesome. I've had that one for 8 years in September.

As I've already posted an update on how my chest is doing one year post op I won't mention all that again now. No, this entry is mainly about why I ended up choosing that specific operation technique and how I feel about the result in general.

Not able to let go

I've finally decided that I won't do a hysterectomy, and probably not any other form of bottom surgery either. Sure, I still want it, but I just want to have a child first. At least give it a try, I don't know how well my organs work after 3-ish years on testosterone (1 plus almost 2 years) or if they ever worked as intended.

I won't jump onto that immediately though, I still have a lot of practical planning and such to do. Becoming a parent isn't a decision that should be made impulsively. But I know that I want it one day and I'm not gonna rob myself of my ability to have children.

Also, the longer I am on testosterone and the older I get, it will be harder to become pregnant. I also have that on my mind. Although I'm still only 25 years old (for about another month before I turn 26) I am scared of becoming too old for it. Also scared of dying before I ever get that far.

So, in spite of everything, in this moment, I have sort of already decided to have a child sometime in the future. It could be within a year or several years from now. But it's gonna happen. I don't care how unfit I am, I'll make it work somehow. It's really not about passing on my genes, or how to say it, it's just that I'm absolutely certain I won't meet the requirements for adoption. Like ever. I'm trans, not straight, not in a stable relationship with anyone, I'm mentally ill and can't take care of myself. How could I ever be given that option? It's not gonna happen.

So, I know the only way I could ever become a parent is to just bake one in the oven myself. And that I will, eventually, one day. I don't know if it's so much about getting ready for it, I already know that I am. I have thought about it and gotten ready for it for about 2 years, after all. No, it's more about getting ready practically and somehow finding a not so dangerous way of ending up pregnant.

I do plan to raise the kid myself, not gonna look for a decent partner to help me or whatever. I want the kid entirely my own and I just think randomly hooking up with a second father or a mother (that would then adopt) would just complicate things. Although, how can I raise a kid entirely on my own when I can't even take care of myself? Well, that is the biggest question, now isn't it?

I haven't figured out an answer for it, only new questions that I can't answer either. It would be the project of my life, basically. But as much as I know right now is simply this: don't get a hysterectomy, don't poke around there as I need things down there to be perfectly intact. And hope with all my fingers crossed that I am not infertile already. Could possibly test that as well though, by going to gynaecologist, I mean.

Those are the things I can do as of now, I won't just blindly jump into it. I'll try to plan around it as much as I can, but try to somewhat keep my plans secret from my parents. They don't want me reproducing and I know that they don't even like kids. So yeah... they don't want to become grand parents but it's my choice and fuck what they want.

Fuck what anyone else wants, by the way. I'm not doing it traditionally because I've given up on ever getting a decent partner in my life, and somehow, I don't think it would work with K if we ever end up together. If we do, things would probably get more complicated. I don't know, they might get easier too. If he even wants kids, I don't know that either.

I'm trying to leave him out of the picture, making it entirely my decision and that's the way it should be. I don't really care about anything else as of now, I believe things will sort themselves out.

Is it possible that I have some kind of motherly feelings going on only because of how my body is? I mean, it's not exactly common for young men who are tragically single to want a baby. For whatever reasons, I think it's possible that it changes things that I'm not shaped like most of those young men. If it's got something to do with my brain or my reproductive organs, or my upbringing or whatever, I can't really pinpoint it. But I think it's a possibility that my strong wishes for wanting a child one day is related to that my body was originally female and still partially is.

I don't know how much science is behind it, but I've heard about that the brains of transsexuals are possibly of their correct gender, that a ftm would have a male brain and vice versa. But if that is correct, I've always believed that my brain is either entirely female or not gendered at all. I don't think I have a male brain despite being male.

But it could be all bullshit, what do I know. Maybe I don't believe that brains have genders at all. But the mind do, and possibly the soul too. I would never see myself as a mother though, even when I'm carrying my child under my heart, it's a gendered word and I would only accept the words father, dad or parent.

I know of a person, I won't tell his name or anything, but he's also ftm and has given birth to a child post his transition. I know that he managed to get the papers stating him as the father to his child, although there was some hassle around it.

I wouldn't be the only transman to give birth to a child, but certainly one of the first Swedish ones. I hope I won't get too famous for it, I'd still prefer being stealth as much as I possibly could during a pregnancy. Say I have a beer belly or something, haha. Sad that the world just can't let people be.

And in a way I'm suddenly glad that it's 2015 and the times are not as oppressed as they were before. Back to when for example transsexuals were forced to get sterilised to be able to change their gender marker. It's still uncommon, for transmen to have children, but I think I'd get accepted in a way maybe I wouldn't have back 10, 15 or 20 years ago.

Though I do not strive for that sort of fame, I don't want to end up in the newspaper for simply having a child with all my disabilities and what not. People have children literally all the time, I don't want to be made special for it. Perhaps I can avoid it somehow, I don't know. Perhaps I'd be so damn fucking thrilled over having a child that I wouldn't even be bothered by that. How can I know?

My thoughts and feelings are running wild but I try to contain myself, a little. I never really contain myself on this blog, and maybe I just need a place to vent? I haven't been able to really let go of that wanting, for a child, since it first started echoing in my head and heart sometime during the winter/spring of 2013, exactly 2 years ago.

I was still seeing my DBT therapist when I ranted to her about my sudden wish to become a parent. It must have been awkward, but I sort of trusted my therapist back then. Mostly, that wish has lied dormant since then and the thoughts only haunt me sometimes.

I'd stop smoking for a child. I think I actually would, to not harm the little life in me. And of course stop drinking too, but I think that would be easier, it's just a part time addiction and not really important to me. And try to cope with my eating disorder (no starving or purging), aaand of course I'd be scared of the weight gain and try my best to not gain more weight than necessary. To not get like 20 kg extra weight, is what I mean.

Over all, I'd try to be good to myself during a pregnancy. As good as I possibly can and still be able to at least somewhat control my anxiety. A good thing about living on allowance, I could easily skip school whenever for something like that. Just another thought. My thoughts seem to be endless recently, just spinning in my head like whirl winds. But I'll try to stop them for now, again, but I don't know how.

It's just that my longing for children just gets more intense all the time and I know that I will get one eventually. Just one, by the way, I think that's about as much as I can handle, and let's just hope then that I don't get twins...

I wonder so much what it could be like, maybe the only happiness I can ever get in this life. Until social services takes them away from me... yeah, I do realise that is also a possibility. It would wreck my world, but even that thought doesn't keep me from wanting to try for a family.

Okay... long ass entry about me wanting a child in the mess that is my life not long after another baby ranting entry that I made just a couple of days ago or so. But it's what's on my mind and I just really wanted to vent and rant about it.

Also I wanted to inform you that I do plan to plan around it as much as I can and that I'll try to go about it in a decent way somehow. I don't know how or when, but not right now. Definitely not right now! -I try to tell the impatient me that just wants and wants and wants. For crying out loud, it really really shouldn't be impulsive, no matter how fucking much I want it.

Still in this mess

I know I haven't been writing so much about it lately, but my eating disorder still takes up a lot of time and space in my mind. It's just that I don't have much to say about it, just a lot of thinking. I seem to have actually gained a few kilos (ugh, damn I hate it more than you can imagine, but that's the reality of it) and I'm more than desperate to lose them again. And more, but I guess you already figured that out.

If it's at all possible I'm gonna stay under 400 calories of food for today. I'm still drinking every night (for almost 3 weeks now, except from last Saturday when I ran out of booze) and I don't count my drinks into my daily calorie limits. Although I probably should, cause these fake white russian's must be quite calorific.

I'm gonna try an every other day plan kinda thing, to eat little to no food every other day and eat more the other days. Fast on Saturdays, eat 300-400 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Eat at most 900 on the other days. Mix it around, see if I can get my body to stop fucking up my weight and make me lose some again. It's worth a try... at least I have to start somewhere and no matter how much I want to, I can't shock my body right back down to 500 calories a day.

I've been trying so hard for months now, to get back into downright starvation, but it's just so damn hard. And I literally think I get fatter every day. It's horrible, I'm such a mess, but everyone is so happy that I'm eating more. Well, I'm not! I'm fucking miserable at the weight I am now. Especially since I've gained. I just need a few things: a flat stomach, visible ribs, visible hip bones, a bigger thigh gap, hips visibly more narrow than my shoulders. And I think that is very doable, if I could just stop fucking eating.

Well, I've still never been that thin, so guessing at what weight I will achieve all those things is close to impossible. But I think 44 kg is my ultimate goal weight, cause damn if I don't have all that by then something's definitely wrong with my body. That would probably be the average weight of a 10 year old... But I take it one thing at a time, at first, my stomach just has to get flat. That is my number one priority.

Cause it's so annoying that I have to dress a certain way to hide my belly fat. It's close to traumatising every time I take a shower and I see all that fat. All I see is the fat, yet everyone seems to think that I'm thin. Last time I weighed I was at 56,4 kg and that is just... I don't know, it's a fairly low number, so how come I'm so god damn fat?! And why am I literally the only one who thinks I'm fat? I don't understand my own eating disorder, I really don't.

It just fucks with my head 24/7 and I just have nowhere to turn. My shrink whom I really do like doesn't know much of a daft about it, my dietitian just wants what's best for my body and my doctor is only interested in how it can get better for me if I change for the better. Honestly... I just want to tell them all to fuck off and let me starve myself until I die from malnutrition.

Cause I don't care about getting better. I hate my body beyond anyone's comprehension, I hate it so god damn much. I hate it more than I would normally dare to admit, cause I feel like I'm supposed to like it more now, after having transitioned from female to male. But truth be told, I don't think I've ever hated my body this much before. It's not doing anything right! I want to be thin and handsome, look like a cis-dude would look like at my age, weight and height. But instead, I just feel like I look like an intersexual freak from outer space. Honestly, all I ever want is for it to change. I can't stand it the way it is now. I really can't.

This is just a complain message to you all. I'm really not getting anywhere right now. I'm waiting until the spring or so before I go under the knife again just to be 100% sure that that is what I truly want and need, as what is left of my transition. My starvation isn't going much at all in the for me right direction right now. I'm just making new diet plans that I never manage to follow. But this is an update, and that's really all I wanted to give you.

One hell or another

If it wasn't suicide, I would kill you right now. I'm that fucking sick of you. I know I shouldn't think the worst, but we haven't been fighting like this for a long time. I think it's war again and I don't know why. We've been through every imaginable tragedy, we swore a truce. To never start bickering without good reason, to never start a new war. What the fuck happened to that truce, my frenemy?

Yeah, me and Anna again. I hate her so fucking much right now. Cause these last few days or so I've been cursing and screaming at the top of my lungs at her quite a lot and right now I just grabbed the razor blade and dragged it across my skin because I couldn't make her shut the fuck up.

She's annoying me with questions and insults she knows hurt me when I'm the most vulnerable. No one gets underneath my skin, except her, because I literally have no other choice. She's like a fucking virus in my mind and there's no escape. Ever. There never has been.

For 16 years I've put up with her crap and if this goes to hell again, I'm telling the shrinks. I'm legally male now, it shouldn't be an obstacle anymore, whether they think I'm trans enough or not because of her. If only she was male... maybe I should lie and say she's male and say another name? No, I wouldn't be able to stick to that kind of lie, "Anna" is a name permanently imprinted on me. And I want to unprint her. Get some peace and quiet for once.

Cause if this is war again... I certainly can't handle yet another war between us two. I need to do something constructive about this situation, but I don't know what. For 9 years I've kept quiet about her before the psychiatry, for 6 of those years because of my transsexualism, do I even dare telling about her now? What if they would do everything in their power to make sure I won't continue to get treated for my absolutely genuine transsexualism? Do I really have to choose between one hell and another?

Would I regret it if I open my mouth about her to my shrink? Cause if we're really going to raise a hell of our own again, me and Anna, I don't think I could stand it. All I know is that I'm not rational or thinking clearly when I'm upset, and I'm upset a lot lately. And she's just on and on me constantly, I can't shut her up, I can't get her to leave me alone. What the fuck happened to our truce?!

No. If this gets to any degree of worse, I'm opening my damn mouth about her. I've had enough. For 16 fucking years of being controlled by a voice in my head, I've had enough. Yeah, I'm drunk and I hate my fucking life. I can't even get drunk alone. I can't do anything alone, not even going to the bloody bathroom, cause you guess what? I'm never ever alone.

I don't even remember what it was like before her. I was so young, just 9 years old. I've sobered up now, and I'm a little less angry. But the fact still remains, I still have to deal with this situation somehow. I know taking pills doesn't help against her. All those kind of pills ever did was making me fat and stupid. I'd rather be dead in that case. But maybe there could be some other kind of help to get. I don't know, I really don't know if I'd even dare talking about her. Like ever.

Last and first time was such a disaster I regretted it with everything I had in me for years. Well, we'll see what I'll decide for, but talking about her openly like that is not a decision that should be taken lightly. It could still have devastating consequences. I have to be careful, my whole life depends on my secret. I just have to reach a point where nothing else matters, where her words are more likely to kill me than forced de-transition ever would.

The damage I do

So uhm, what to write here today... can start with the boring stuff: the lock to my apartment door has now been permanently changed and I (hopefully) don't have to worry about getting locked out anymore.

Good stuff: my ID-card is now finished and I'm gonna pick it up on Tuesday or Wednesday, and it will say that I'm male and have my new personal identity number on it. Yay! It still makes me smile just thinking about it.

Weird stuff: I've noticed that my digestion is going way better since I started consuming oatmeal porridge like crazy. I get fibres and things are just going real smooth. I've never really thought about how good it can be to have a high fibre diet. That it's good for weight loss too. I get about 20-30 grams per day now, which actually happens to be the recommended amount, though I am getting little else.

Depressing stuff: I'm still fat and I hate my body more than ever. I can't even stand to look at it. I binged last night and I'm denying it somehow.

Annoying stuff: I didn't think of weighing my dreads so I don't know how much that adds to my actual weight... so now I have to go even lower because I still need to see the number 52 in kg on the scale. Nice surprise when I take them out again later on, I hope. That I'll weigh less than the scale has told me, I mean.

Funny stuff: Nope, can't think of anything.

And to finish it off: I sort of plan to fast on Sunday or Monday or both days to get down at least half a kilo. And I need to fix this about the binges, I really really need to. They're destroying me, both physically and mentally.

Did you know it actually hurts physically when I eat more than just child-like portions nowadays? And shifting between literally starving and shoving down food like there's no tomorrow just can't be good for my body. It feels like I'm welcoming digestive problems. And then let's not get into the massive amount of emotional damage it does. I just can't live that way, I'd rather starve to death, so that's what I'm working on.

Trying to be more active here...

So today hasn't been very exciting. I lost 0,2 kg over the time I slept today (8 hours) and I'm down to 54,9 kg. I still feel the need to hide my body when I go outside; in baggy sweatpants and my big, long, black jacket/coat and preferably I only go out when it's dark. Hopefully, I just have to, have lost enough weight to get some confidence back by Tuesday, cause I need to be in Visby on that particular day. And can't go there in sweatpants.

What weight that would be I don't know, but at most 54, more likely 53 kg. If I continue to lose weight every day like this it will be possible for me to be at a more tolerable weight by Tuesday, since it's almost a whole week until then so. Did you guys realise that it's only 3 weeks left until Christmas Eve?! Cause I just did.

My current goal weight for Christmas is "as low as possible" but at most 52 kg. I just need to at least be underweight and hit some kind of goal or I'll feel like a complete and utter failure. (As if I don't already). Cause I wanted to be at 47 kg by then, but seeing as it's only 3 weeks left... that's not gonna be possible to reach.

Oh, well. Then I've also put my dreads back in to my hair just now. It was easier this time and now I know which techniques are best. It still took me a bunch of hours though, but didn't keep track of time. I just don't care to count exactly everything in my life. Some things just has to be approximate.

Cause I'm so obsessed with numbers already, they're taking over enough of my life as it is. I don't need to make it worse by counting hours or other stupid things like cigarettes or whatever. Keep it on a "need to know" basis.

I finished my short story yesterday, that one about a transsexual, goth vampire that no one cared to read. Not that I care about praise or anything, I don't know. I was thinking of posting it on tumblr as well, but thinking maybe that would somehow be outing myself because the main character is a transsexual man, like me.

I'm not out about my gender situation on tumblr, but it's been a lot more about that lately there. I follow 3 or 4 other transguys and they've all been reblogging stuff about it. I wonder when a confession will find its way out to my dashboard. I wouldn't mind that of course, but I'd still hesitate to open myself up about it too. Even if... no, I can't say it.

I'm comfortable being sort of stealth to most people these days. Someone once said something to me that sticks to me still. They simply said "be careful who you out yourself to" or something close to it, I can't find the most accurate translation right now, nor does it matter. I didn't think about it much at first, or well I did, but not that way.

What else... yeah I just started watching a new tv-show that I might or might not like. It's called "Red band society" and I only started watching it because it depicts a person with an eating disorder. It's quite new, created this year, and it's about a bunch of kids/teenagers at a hospital where they kinda live for a lot of different reasons. Like they hang and go to school there while in treatment for random things.

Oh well, I guess that's it for today. I'm still embroidering and watching "Angel", playing WoW and trying to lose weight. Everything is the same.

They finally changed it

Woho! Got my new personal identity number in the mail today! It's got both a 7 and a 3 in it, I'm pleased. It ends with the same number as my old number, gotta be by chance. Wow, now I really am a man, even legally, I mean.

Maybe that's why I like odd numbers, it just struck me, because they're male? And I've been wondering half my life which one I'd eventually get. For your information, I got a 3. The number itself holds no specific value to me, it was just curiosity, but that is a good number, right? They say all good things comes in three's.

Now I have no idea what needs to be fixed according to my new number and legal gender, except that I need a new ID-card. Maybe something with the bank, hospital records/my medical chart, and what more it could possibly be. Yay! I'm so happy I finally got it changed! Okay, I just wanted to say that.

I just got a letter...

...from Socialstyrelsen, and now I'm legally male. Woho, finally! That only took 5 years... I don't know what my new personal identity number is yet, but the letter said to wait for Skatteverket to notify me about that. Exciting! Now I can finally get a new ID-card as well, my old one's been falling apart for a while now. And my mother will help me with all the practical stuff that needs changing.

Now I'm not really transsexual anymore, am I? Not technically at least, cause my mind is male, my sex is male and my body is... well, still in progress, but catching up. Damn, I can't believe how much has happened this year... In retrospect, I've been pretty busy. I wonder if the diagnosis will go away now, or if it's gonna be left on paper just to be sure I can still get the remaining surgeries and can continue getting my testosterone?

Wow, you can't believe how amazing this is! I'm no longer FtM, I'm male! Like what I've always wanted, what I've always been and finally society is catching up with my brain. It's finally been done, so very finally. So much has happened this week I've hardly had time to breathe, at least it feels a bit like that. Good things and bad things and neutral things. And this year...

I don't remember much from the first 3 months but in March I had my chest operation. I went from having long back hair to short blonde to short brown. I stopped smoking for a month in February. Went from 70 kg to 53 kg. Got an eating disorder. Got my legal sex change done from female to male. Got eating disorder diagnosed. Still haven't given up on K and don't think I ever will. Got my lip pierced and it stayed that way. Wrote a whole book in 3 weeks.

A lot of stuff has happened and that's just the cliff notes. 2014 ended up being one of the most interesting years of my life, and one of the best too. We'll see what I'll say about that after Christmas and New Year's though. Okay, just wanted to share the great news, and now I have, so yeah.

Death for a better body

Who ever wants to gain weight? I ask myself sometimes. Cause to me, I just can't understand it, how anyone would want to become bigger or curvier. I suppose what I don't understand is super, ultra femininity and masculinity.

I want to be somewhere in between. I don't want curves, I don't want muscles. Just skin and bones. Well, a dick would be nice too though. But I can't have everything. I don't understand the ideal of curvy women and muscular men. Not when it's to an exaggeration, how people can strive for that. Sure I like women with nice curves and sure a little muscles on men can be really hot, but come on. There's gotta be a limit to it!

I'm not sure what I'm getting it. What I find attractive on others isn't necessarily what I find attractive on myself. Just because I don't want to look like Brad Pitt doesn't mean I don't find him attractive. I've always had that hammering in my mind though, because I'm pansexual and transgender, gender has just been one big chaotic confusion to me ever since I was little.

Somehow I still look at girls, as I did long before as a child and young teenager, to see if I could be alright with looking like them, minus their breasts. Because it's easier to find a boyish looking girl and imagine having her body, than a really handsome man because he would obviously have what I envy so much, what I can literally never have.

And that hurts, what I can't have. Longing for it, wishing I had it, yearning for it, dying to have that. It can even make me cry myself to sleep because my body is so fucked up I literally can't stand it. I think I look like a hairy woman without breasts and I can't fucking deal with it. What I want to see is a man without a dick, it's basically the same thing now, but I can't even see that. If I could, I think that would have been more than enough.

But I can't. All I see is errors and failure, ugliness and fat. All I want to see is a man in the mirror. A slender man, he doesn't even have to be that handsome, just... it's these fucking hips and thighs. They ruin everything. Everything.
And I'm just so very scared that they will never go away with this weight loss. That I'll sit here in two or three months close to 40 kg, crying myself to sleep because the dream was a failure, my body is still disgusting and there's literally nothing that I can do about it.

Could I end up committing suicide for a body that I can not obtain? It's possible. It is actually possible that my transsexualism will be the reason that I will end my life. That's just too damn sad I can't find words for it. That no matter what the state and I myself could ever do to help me live with myself, it was never enough. That it didn't improve my life enough to make it endurable.

Anorexia can't destroy my life, it was already destroyed. It can make it even worse, but you see, that's where I don't care anymore. Cause it's always gonna become worse in one aspect or another. It never ends.

Not sure I should tell you this...

Transitioning from female to male, for me, it doesn't make me a happy person. But it saved my life. I don't know if I should see transsexualism as an illness, cause I doubt that's the right word for it, but transitioning, for me, is like a treatment for something that was/is wrong with me. Some scientists say that you get it because of something going wrong with your hormones before you're born, so I suppose that in one way or another it's at least biological.

I think it's funny though, that no one really knows why some people are transsexual. I mean, what makes it occur in the first place. I find that interesting. Like nature's little quirks without any reason or rhyme. It's sad though, cause I wish no one would have to be transsexual. Because it can be such an awful experience with dysphoria, society not accepting you, friends and family not accepting you, and it's so hard to just live with it. Because it is.

Now, I can only speak for myself and some of my friends who are in the same situation perhaps, but it is hard. It's hard to live with your own body that you can't even stand looking at half the time and when you finally have a good day then someone comes by and questions your gender and you're down to zero again. It's hard when no clothes fit you and if they do it brings out what you're trying to hide. It's hard feeling like a stranger in your own body.

I don't think I'm actually transsexual in the usual/conventional way, but all the more I just wanna be a regular guy. When I first came out and stopped pretending to be a girl, when I changed my name and pronouns, I took pride in being transgendered. I wanted the world to know my background and the journey that lied ahead of me. But now... I don't know, but I get more stealth every day. I don't wanna be seen as the "woman who became a man" because it hurts.

It hurts to be constantly reminded of what I'm trying to hide. I'm open here, because I need to vent and have a free zone or something, where I can just unleash everything (almost). I've been thinking a lot about it recently, again, me being trans and stuff. And what I should do about it. I'm thinking of undergoing SRS but I'm not sure. It's like... I don't know. I feel like I want it and need it even, but not sure if it's worth the risks. Cause there are always risks about surgery, whatever the kind, and well yeah, it's kind of a sensitive area. You really don't want it to get ruined.

Right now, my emotions and my reasoning clash, they don't fit. Reason whispers no, but emotion screams yes, so which one should I listen to? I've decided to give myself six months to think about it, dwell on it, ponder over it. Besides, I'm not allowed to do it until Rättsliga Rådet gives me their approval and legal gender change. So I'm thinking it will take some time for them to get their heads together and tell me that I'm cleared, and in the meantime I'm gonna think about it.

Then call my surgeon to ask a gazillion questions and learning more about the procedure before I reach my final decision. At least that's my plan. In the meantime, I'm weighing pros and cons and ask myself the same questions over and over until I know how to answer them with both reason and emotion on the same level.

I don't need to hurry it up though, damn I could ponder over it until I'm 90 years old if I want to, it's just that I don't want this hanging over me for 65 more years. If you know what I mean. My main question is: can I live with what I have, or do I need to be complete? Cause that's what it's mostly about, I just wanna be complete. And also I get dysphoria and shit regarding that too.

I don't know how much I wanna talk about this, but... I don't know, sexually it doesn't quite matter as much what I look like. Cause seriously, I'm basically asexual and it's always been hard for me to find pleasure in it. Don't know if it would make it better if I change how things look, could be better, could be worse, I have no idea. But I doubt it could get worse, to be honest, it can't get much worse. I seriously don't know what I like or don't like sexually, I have to re-explore when/if I get a new partner either way.

Dunno if that's the testosterone making things feel differently or if it's because I've never had the chance to actually explore. Cause honestly, most men, especially straight cismen, only want one thing when they're with a person equipped the way I am (and no I don't know how they could be with me and still consider themselves straight, it's not like I am or even look like a girl). There's just no arguing. If I don't like it that way, then I must not like sex at all, right? Well, maybe I fucking don't.

So anyway, what I'm trying to say is that if I choose to go through with SRS, I will have no idea if it could improve my already seriously shitty sex life. But at least then, I would be viewed as an actual guy and not a freak, sadly. NOT why I wanna do it though, cause those kind of people who view me as a freak are just not coming anyway near me and definitely not in under my clothes. Just making that clear. I would never do any kind of surgery to please anyone else but myself. That's just the way it is.

Every day I'm getting a little bit closer to a decision, a little closer to a "yes" and a little further from a "no". So who knows, maybe one day I'll be going in for surgery again. But I'll make damn sure I'm making the right choice before I do so.



*SRS = sexual reassignment surgery (the "sex change" operation, in case you didn't know about the acronym).

Becoming cisgendered

I can only think of two downsides with taking testosterone which are: the acne and my inability to cry. I've always had both a lot of acne and a hard time crying, but both have become worse since I started with the hormones. Though those are the ONLY downsides, so the positive weigh up like hella lot. With all the physical changes such as I really love how deep my voice has gotten, body hair, fat redistribution, facial hair, muscle gain and so on. And the mental changes like how my thoughts are more direct, that I feel more "even" in my mood, how I can separate thoughts and feelings in a whole different way, how not that much affects me emotionally anymore.

I know I've said, a long time ago, that I'd always consider myself as a guy until I'm done with this second puberty and everything before I'm gonna start considering myself as a man instead. Like I can't be a "teenager" and a man at the same time, even though my age is kinda right for that term. I don't know, maybe it's silly. But I'm 25, I think I'm starting to grow out the youngster phase and become an actual adult. I often refer to people from around and over 20 years old as men and women rather than guys and girls. But it's still strange to me to consider myself a man, you know. Like I'm still too young for it but still I'm not. Hard to explain, I guess.

I'm slowly starting to put this transsexual deal behind me, that I'm sort of somehow becoming cisgendered, if that makes any sense. Like before I was a guy in a girl's body, but now that same body isn't that much of a girl's anymore. So I'm becoming a guy in a guy's body which would be the exact definition of being cisgendered. The feeling of satisfaction is indescribable. That I'm finally starting to feel at home in my own body even though I have possible future surgeries left to do and I'm still legally female.

I'm still pondering over and want to have SRS (sexual reassignment surgery, the "sex change operation" as people so mistakenly call it), but my doubts are still the same. Do I need it? Do I want to risk losing sensation? Will it change my life to the better? The question of "need" is the biggest somehow, because I don't just know what to answer but also how to answer it. Like what does "need" mean? Like maybe if it's actually a necessary procedure to go through with, or like if maybe I ask myself if I somehow need it more than I need what I have now. And also it overlaps with the question of how it could make my life any better, to have that kind of surgery.

Perhaps it's an idea of becoming complete. To not be "stuck" in an in between state of being male or female. Like it's the last part of me that is still (somewhat) female and I don't like that. It does give me dysphoria, come to think of it. Not so much when I'm alone or with people that I trust, but in naked situations of any kind and that's a part of life too. I'm leaning more and more to actually go through with it, actually. Because a part of me thinks that I do need it, that it will in fact make my life better, if it can reduce if not completely take away dysphoria and make me feel more complete.

I have to think about it some more of course, and maybe then I can reach a decision for when I've gotten the legal sex change done and the time has come to act on it. Of course I don't have to do it right away, but it seems to me like the simplest if I have decided already at that time. In about six months or so, give or take, I would presume. They're slow at the department that decides if I'm allowed to change my legal sex or not, and I need their approval before I can get SRS. I don't worry about it though. All of me, my mother and the people in charge of my journey from physically female to male agree on that there should be no doubts. I'm kinda confident about that. But yeah, it takes time...

And then there are waiting lists for surgery at Karolinska hospital which would be where I would turn. If I can make up my bloody mind, that is. And I'm probably gonna get sterilised first, and then there are some things that I would like to discuss with a surgeon before I reach my final decision. I won't go into any nasty details here or with anyone else than close friends and a surgeon. Just so you know, it's a bit too private, even for me. Exactly what I look like down there and how I would want it to look, which method I wanna do and why, are simply just none of your business. Because I say so.

I didn't intend for this to become an entry about transsexualism, but apparently it turned out that way. It started with that I'm planning on letting my half retarded sideburns grow out again, and that I think my facial hair in that area (and others) have increased due to taking testosterone. It glads me that it seems like I one day will be able to grow a full beard, which isn't gonna happen for every transman out there. It's quite common to get what has been referred to as a "chin beard" where it only grows under your chin and down your neck. I kinda have that right now, but it's slowly growing more upwards and to the cheeks. It will just take some time...

That is one of the things I mostly hope for when it comes to more physical changes. Otherwise I'm hoping for more fat redistribution and maybe some more body hair, which is also working on expanding as we speak. But anyways, time will tell but I'm impatient. Gotta post this now, before I write more nonsense.

Interpret this

Heatstroke. I get heatstroke from the inside. Do you know what that is like? It feels like I'm on fire, but I'm not. I ate too much yesterday, so I have to go to the gym and work out a little extra with the cardio exercise. Just want to work off bad conscience and guilt. I buy fitness magazines and try to get some advice. Don't know if it's any good advice though. And I know I'm doing it wrong by starving and exercising at the same time. But I do it to lose weight fast.

They say you shouldn't starve because you'll gain the weight again when you go back to eating normally again. Bwah, they are so generalising! I won't go back to eating "normally" since I don't want to and I never have. Even if I would I wouldn't do it over night, but slowly eat more and more, careful as fuck not to gain the weight again. I will never allow myself to get that fat again. Ever.

I wonder what it's gonna look like when my nipples fall off. Whenever that will be. The part of the scar I can see around them is about the same colour my nipples were in before the surgery. They will of course become paler with time, the scars, so maybe I'll tattoo there or something. I don't know. Gonna meet my surgeon again sometime in the summer, so I'll see what's the verdict.

Ugh, I have this feeling that someone's watching me right now, since I got back home from my family's place. Not with video cameras, but sort of magically, or astral somehow. It's weird. Anna says I'm just crazy and that only schizo's believe that stuff. It's a nice interpretation coming from an imaginary person...

I've had a few rough days with mild symptoms. I've seen messages directed to me (from car registration plates, street signs and in magazines), felt watched and that people are reading my thoughts. Shadows in the corner of my eye, something strange in the air, like ghosts or something. No voices other than Anna's and no real hallucinations though. I've been balancing on the edge between sanity and insanity again.

Oh, by the way. Sex change happening in the autumn!* Then I will (hopefully) be reassigned to legally male and get my new personal identity number and all that. My dream come true. Get a new ID-card. It's about time, it's broken and all already, even though it has one more year before it expires. Last time I got a new ID-card was right after my name change. Didn't think it would take four more years until I had to get a new one again... kinda hoped it would be sooner.

Don't know how I could have forgotten that was said during my meeting in Huddinge before. I've been thinking so much about K that I hardly think of or remember anything else. My mind is a mystery...



*I know I shouldn't use the words "sex change" because my gender has always been male, even though I was assigned female at birth, it's just that I find it simple to say.

Truth

I've been more truthful than ever in this blog recently. It's not that I owe you that, it's just that I'm tired of polishing the real stories in a way so that they would sound better somehow. I'm complicated. I'm really fucking complicated and most things in my life are odd, ended up unexpectedly and don't quite fit the way they're supposed to have been.

For example. My transsexualism. I was never very masculine or boyish as a child. I didn't like playing with boys toys even though I was in fact offered them. My mannerism wasn't that of a boy's, it was awkward and on the girly side. Though I wanted to be a boy, I wanted it more than what I actually was. I envied other boys, but I didn't think of myself as one. I saw that I was a girl and I just simply hated it. It was more of a wanting. A strong, very sincere wanting that never left me.

It wasn't until my late teens that I started to feel that I never quite was a girl, it wasn't until I tried too hard to be a girl. I tried so hard at the end that I ended up looking and feeling like a total drag queen. When the high heels and short, revealing skirts just didn't sit right anymore. Sometimes after I came out I tried to perform, pretend that I wanted to pass when I really didn't care. All I ever wanted was a masculine body, a dark voice and a man's name. Well, I started to crave more along the way though. I'm not saying that I'm not transsexual, all I'm saying is that I'm a bit of a wildcard. Unusual, as with most other things, I'm not the typical transsexual. I've hid things like that, afraid I wouldn't be taken seriously.

Now that was just an example. I can't bring up everything, not at once at least. But I do want to, and I have thought it through. Especially now, people can't take things back from me. Things like that in that example that I cannot live without. I couldn't live without the treatment for my transsexualism, you know that. I fought for it so desperately for five years after I started out when I was 20.

I'm no any longer afraid that people will question how genuine I really am with this, all I have to say is that I threatened with suicide and tried to kill myself 4 times in less than a week because I couldn't get the treatment. I would of course have chosen a more fatal technique if it wasn't for that little inconvenience that I was locked inside a psychiatric ward, and most likely would have succeeded if I did. So it wasn't just an act of desperation to get them to take me seriously, it was real.

All of this, it's real. No, I don't think that you doubt that. You should know me pretty well by now. But I know there are people who would, if I would come clean like that. Oh well, enough sadness and despair for now. I will bring up more later, though there will of course always be things I'd rather keep to myself. Now if I could only remember how to stop writing... seriously, I've been writing non stop for about three hours now. That landed me on 3758 words for today. Hepp.

Just a name

I still can't say my old name (the one I was given at birth) in my head. Can't even think of it. And still, if I meet someone with that name I react to it. Like ice through my back. I'm not comfortable telling it to anyone who didn't know me already from before I picked the name I have now. I did once and I regret it, but it just slipped out cause I was pushed to tell.

Friendly, jokingly, but still pushed. If any of you think that it's okay to do that, it's not. It's not okay to force a transperson to tell the name they were given at birth if they're not comfortable with that. No matter how damn curious you are. It can cause tremendous anxiety and it can be very triggering. I don't want to be associated with that name. It's like a curse or something.

Like what's the big deal, it's just a name, right? I honestly don't know, to tell you the truth. It is just a name, but there's something more to it, something I can't really put my finger on. To me, it's a bit like I think if someone knows that name they would think of me as a girl. That they would think that's who I really am. But I'm not that person.

I hated that name always. I hated my parents for giving me it. I was uncomfortable with it throughout my childhood and teens. Wanted to change it, so eventually I came up with another female name: Kazanndra. That was the girl I tried to be. The girl in drag that was supposed to be me. I could be Kazanndra for a while, but the name I was given at birth, I never was that person. Ever.

So maybe it sits a bit deeper for me, that I can't even breathe my old name in syllables on a piece of glass without getting anxiety. Cause I hated it all along and it wasn't just because I'm trans. My parents told me that I was that name, no they implied it, but also literally.

It was a bland and boring name without any sort of feeling to it. It was like air, any girl or woman in the entire world could have it. Everyone but me and I was the one who was it. I did not want to be my name, so one of the reasons why I picked my name was that it was an act of rebellion that I took a name that is also a bland name that any guy could have - because it is just a name.

Bargain

A part of me now believes that I sold my soul to the devil for a nice body and luck in love. The down side would be that I will only live for a few more years, and then I will inevitably kill myself. I accepted that (though it took some time), but it wasn't until recently that I added one plus one, so to say.

Things have gone remarkably well lately, and always when I pray to Satan he fulfils my wishes. But to what price? That's why I didn't understand it before. When I signed that contract in my own blood, things started to change.

Have I not watched Ghost Rider?! Yes, I have and a gazillion other movies that depicts just how much of a bad idea it is to sign contracts with your own blood. Stupid fuck!

I don't know what will happen after I die because of this, but I think I only sold a part of my soul, not the entire kit. I don't even carry around all of my soul. Some of it is somewhere else, and incommunicado, you know.

I couldn't just let myself get ravaged by misery until I break and kill myself because my whole life just became a horrible mistake. I'd rather be satisfied for just two years and then kill myself because I know that my time is up. Leave this world feeling that at least I had something in the end. It's worth it, damn it's worth it.

I realise that for the bargain to work I still have to pray and work my ass off to achieve what I want for the rest of my life. Then what's the point? You might ask. The point is that I will be able to reach my goals without failing. It won't be and it isn't a fairytale magic thing. Satan can't make my scars after the surgery to heal miraculously over night, for example, but what he can do is to make sure that it heals well and without complications. (If that doesn't happen we're gonna have a little chat)

The bargain is about changing two major parts of my life for the better. The trans related stuff, and mostly my dysphoria. My body, in simplicity. Then it's also about my love, K, and my feelings for him. And that's why I still get depressions, nightmares, phobias, sleep- and eating problems and such. Cause that isn't a part of the bargain.

It is much, since my life literally depends on those two things. I can get by with bad habits (especially since I'm not gonna live so much longer) and most of my problems can be helped or fixed with medication and psychotherapy. But my dysphoria, and my fucked up heart... that I really needed some help with.

But of course this could all also be a delusion. It's not normal to believe that you sold your soul to the devil...

What's in my power

I think maybe it's a bit warmer today, cause I went outside wearing my leather coat with only a fish net shirt underneath on my upper body and it wasn't that cold at all. Well, it wasn't that warm and cosy either, but still. Just did it to take some photos. Needed some nice ones with my new haircut. Now everything smells like hairspray though... and I need to get some nice wax for my hair.

Think I'm gonna take the bandage off my horizontal scars soon, cause the wounds have closed up by now. So no need, I mean. I feel so damn restless today. like I wanna run around and exercise and stuff. It's like I actually want to go to the gym, not just thinking I need to. Spring, it does things to you.

Need to heal up for at least another month, possibly even two. I know of other transguys who started working out just a few weeks after their top surgery, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. The nice weather isn't helping.

My hands are shaking for no reason. It's annoying, almost dropping my cigarette in my lap. That's frigging dangerous. And I like my new pants. They're a little too short, but I've completely moved in to them. Black, tight, comfortable, and I look good in them. Well, as good as I can, that is. My major dysphoria is my ass and thighs now. My weight is still a problem, but I'd rather gain muscles now. Priorities. And I'm not fat, not even close, no matter how fat I think I am.

Though I know that I pass very well now, especially with the short hair and all, but I'm always a bit afraid that people would question my gender if they paid too much attention to my body. And I really want to work that ass off, kinda literally. Though I suppose I could do that, carefully, as long as I don't restrain my upper body too much in the process.

But the yeah, bulking up my upper body would be a compensation of sorts. Been on testosterone long enough for it to be fairly easy for me to gain muscles now, so that will hopefully not be a problem, as long as I'm patient enough.

Patience. Now that has started to become a problem as of lately. It's like I've been waiting and waiting and given things so much time it feels like I'm gonna grow grey hair at an early age. It's like all I have is time and I have nothing else to give and I'm getting tired of that. I wish I had some effort to give, or some sort of inner power. Cause I can't help but feeling powerless.

I'm betting with Anna now, which is perhaps kinda weird. About me getting a low level character in WoW to level 10 before I get tired of him. She's betting that I won't, and if she's right I'm gonna go and eat breakfast. If I'm right, I can starve a little longer. Cause we can't really bet on money or anything substantial like that. Took some time to figure something out that can actually be paid in reality. I bet you're all on her side on this, am I right?

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.

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.

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.