Reminder and freak out

Oh fuck, I had somehow forgotten... what if I'm pregnant?! I never got myself tested since that guy I fucked came in me. That stalker guy whom I eventually ended up having sex with despite being creeped out by him. He came in my vag at least once, maybe it was twice. When even was that... one or two months ago? Er, no idea. Okay my older blog post about that event tells me that was August 12th, which is a little over 5 weeks ago.

That could maybe possibly explain my weird stomach pains and possibly my extreme cravings for cake and chocolate. But I mean of course it's not likely... right? Like maybe I would have noticed more symptoms if I'm really 5 weeks pregnant? Like I've gotten no morning sickness, but then not everyone does. And uh okay according to google that wouldn't likely happen before week 6 anyhow. However I've been kinda bloated... I did notice a week or so ago that my stomach does look a bit bigger than normally, which I thought was weird, cause I've not gotten bigger anywhere else... which is not normal for how fat usually adds onto my body when I gain weight. It usually only goes onto my thighs/ass. And I rarely ever get bloated.

I did look up symptoms for week 5 and I only have about half of those. 2 of them I can't get, which are missed period and breast changes. But the ones I do recognise myself in are food cravings, constipation (but this happens rather frequently for me anyway), abdominal cramps, bloating, lightheadedness, and some more fatigue than usual. Okay I'm getting really fucking angsty and nauseous from reading that website. Ugh.

But this is making me seriously worried... Even though I know it's unlikely cause of the testo, it could still be possible. Testosterone is not a birth control. I should probably at least just fucking try to remember buying some pregnancy tests from the pharmacy just to still my worries about it if not else. While also trying to be mentally prepared for the worst. And for the panic that would likely ensure if those tests would somehow show positive.

I can feel it twisting and turning in my stomach just thinking about the possibility of something like a tiny baby growing in me... and ugh just writing that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. And Anna asks me: "What would you do with it if you're pregnant?" and all I could say was: "Please don't ask me that." So apparently I'm still battling with that. Perhaps I am not entirely sure if I might want a kid or not, and the thought of maybe having to choose... kinda terrifies me.

If I'd want a kid though, I likely wouldn't mind carrying it myself or even giving birth. I wouldn't be dysphoric about it, and it could be a rather beautiful experience. Yeah birthing would be painful, duh, but also so what. But right now I'm kinda panicking about it cause I'm so fucking unprepared and the timing couldn't possibly be worse, and because I don't know if I'd wanna keep it or not. Also I wouldn't be able to do it in a very healthy way, and so I'd worry about the kid being born wrong. Like with birth defects and what not. Like no way I could stay away from cigarettes for 9 freaking months, or from coffee for that matter. And I likely wouldn't be able to eat more healthy or quit my medication that could very likely be harmful for a kid. And also, I've just quit testosterone. Even if I'm pregnant now it likely wouldn't survive the very high levels of that hormone that are still in my system, and my estrogen levels are also likely very low. If that's so, I'll likely get a miscarriage soon if I haven't already. That could also explain the random pains from my reproductive system that I've been getting lately... They're pretty intense pains. Like knife-sharp kinda intense. However if I'd get a miscarriage that would solve my problem of not wanting to make a decision. If my body would simply choose for me.

Yeah yeah I fucking get it. I should be more careful with my sexual escapades. Unless I really do want to plop out the kid of a total stranger who was a really annoying and kinda creepy guy. Well, depends on his medical history, I guess. But also, no I don't think that's the actually important thing to worry about in terms of that. I think the most important factor with that is: I would not be able to raise a kid alone. I can't even raise myself alone! Or a house plant! And also if I got a kid now (or 8 months from now), I'd be even more stuck on this island and even more dependent on my parents' support. And they really don't want grandkids. So just no. But ugh this scares me. I don't want to have to make that decision. Of standing there with a pregnancy with the only two options being: abortion or carrying it to term. But I also have to find out if that's what I'm stuck with, before it gets too late to even get it legally aborted or I'd be standing there with just one option. I think "too late" would be week 18. But for my own personal opinions on abortion, I'd morally and emotionally probably not be able to do it after week 10-ish. So I still have time, but not forever.

I don't know if I want a kid. Maybe I do. Despite everything I've said so far about me vehemently not wanting one. But it scares the living crap out of me regardless. Because now is simply not a good time, and I don't think I'd be a good mother, but also I'm probably not very fertile at all, plus ageing... if I am pregnant now, despite how unlikely it is... it might be the only chance I could get. So wasting that chance... I might not wanna do, despite this being a very bad timing for it. And I'm also scared I'd regret aborting it. That it would haunt me and I'd not be able to let go of that child that could have been. Then I don't know if I'd rather live with that, or let that child exist even if I'd end up not being able to take care of it properly, or if it could end up with birth defects. But then morally I think that would be very cruel to do to the kid. If it was someone else I'd call them selfish and irresponsible. But I would, for whatever it's worth, at least try to get healthier for a pregnancy then.

I do feel somewhat of a very latent yearning for kids, deep within my mind. But I don't know if that is just my biological inclination for simply being female and an adult so my brain telling me to reproduce; and not a true wish from my own heart, if raising a kid is something I actually want. I think I still, for the most part, don't want to allow myself a kid, because I'm scared I'd hurt it. Either during the pregnancy itself, or by neglect, or by being actually abusive. My temper is an issue, my lack of patience also. Like if the kid would scream a lot, I think I'd eventually just ignore it and drown out the noise with music in headphones. And letting it go around in dirty clothes cause I can't bring myself to do laundry. And feeding it with the same dirty bottle cause I can't bring myself to clean it. And scream and curse at the kid when it frustrates me or won't listen. That I might start treating it like an inanimate object that annoys me and forget that it's human. And forget about it for hours at a time cause I was listening to music or playing WoW and just in my own world. And it would also likely be so mentally demanding of me that I'd just either get a mental breakdown instantly or need to hand it over to someone else more often than not. Not exactly parenting 101.

And then that little practical issue about that I'd simply be physically unable to breastfeed, which would further reduce my chances of bonding with the kid. Also, notice how I keep referring to what could be my child as an "it" instead of "they" or "he/she"? I'm de-humanising it. So I might want a kid but would I really be able to care for, or emotionally connect to it, or even see it as a human being? I'm getting a headache just thinking about it...

I know I shouldn't worry about this now before even having found out if I'm knocked up or not. But I can't help that my head is spinning around it, and I think I just need to vent these thoughts. I've probably forgotten about it again soon. I'm not terribly upset about it. I'm mostly just... I dunno, slightly upset but more just confused, I think. I don't really know what I'm feeling. Some amount of fear, but it's not really all that intense. A longing and wanting that I don't want to admit to having. I know it's unlikely, but I think what actually spawns most of this fear is that some part of me... wants for me to be pregnant. And the other parts of me are attacking that hint of a wanting as though it is a virus. I don't want to want it. I don't want to accept wanting it. And this might also be why I've been having unprotected sex so carelessly, because on some level I do want a child to come out of it. Well, fuck.

So, this ranting and this fear has more to do with my sudden knowing of that on some level it seems I do want a kid, but I don't know how genuine that wish is or if it would be wise to let it ever have its way. But then of course I'm also kinda panicking about if I'm really pregnant already or not, as well as not quite understanding how I could literally forget about it. But if I am, just if and it's the biggest IF you can imagine... oh hell will be raised within me. Cause I'd then really struggle to make a decision whether to keep it or get rid of it. But let's take that fight then, if that's the case. There's really no use for me to worry about that right now. So, see this rant more as me venting my suddenly shifting point of view about parenthood in general. But that shift was caused by me thinking "What if I'm pregnant right now?" however. And I do still worry if I am. I'll try to get those damn pregnancy tests bought tomorrow. And if I could just stop squeezing my stomach to then panic about what could be growing in it, and repeat that every 5th minute, that would be awesome!

My bisexuality, and sexual mindfulness

I wrote the majority of this text yesterday, and intended to post it before i went to bed, but the power went out so I was unable to. The power was out from 9pm to 12am (midnight) by which time I had already gone to bed cause I had gotten bored with solving cross-word puzzles in candle light. However, the power must have gone out on the entire island, cause even the street lights went out. That made the night very, very dark. I went out for cigarettes 3 times during that intense darkness, with just my cell phone as a light source. And looked up at the sky... the most amazing black sky riddled with beautiful stars! And I saw two falling stars! I tried to take a picture of it, but the stars didn't show up on the camera at all. But damn it was pretty.

Anyhow, let's move on to the actual entry. But first a warning: this contains sexual content, especially in the last third, and may cause (un)wanted arousal. The topics are: first 2/3 is about my bisexuality and last 1/3 is about my sexual healing with masturbation.

Alright, yesterday I applied to join a few bisexual groups on facebook. One's a humour group about "bi culture", one's a support group that allows all LGBT people to join and is very trans-inclusive (but the vast majority seems to be bi cis), and one's a group only for bi and lesbian women over 18 but I'm unsure of its exact purpose. I've now been accepted into the first two of those three groups, but no notification yet from the last one. Okay I looked it up again and it appears my request to join must have been denied? Cause it doesn't say "request pending" anymore, it just says "join group". It doesn't say in the description or the rules that it only only allows Americans to join, but considering they asked where I'm from in the "questions to join" and I said Sweden, the only reason I can think of is that I was denied for my location. Or that they might have been suspicious of either my gender, age, sexuality, or my reasons for wanting to join. Or denied me because of personal info about me on my profile, such as my political- and/or religious stance. It's iffy, but yeah whatever.

I dreamed about my bisexuality this night. I don't remember the details of the dream but I remember the feelings from it. That I was ashamed, scared, worried, embarrassed, confused, and felt judged. Since joining and looking into the bisexual support fb group, I did notice there are quite many there who struggle with denial and accepting their sexuality. Someone even made a post about having been in denial about it for most of his life cause of childhood trauma and dissociation, and that it took a lot of extensive therapy for him to finally come to terms with it and accept it. And there was an entire thread where several bi women expressed insecurity and shame for not having been with women yet despite being "old". The majority of them are at my age, around 30. Some even younger.

I want to write a story, fiction, that includes female bisexuality somehow. Maybe also detransition. Possibly wanna include a trans woman somewhere as well. If it's gonna centre around someone detransing, I think it would make sense that person has a lot of trans friends and/or connections to the trans community. However if they're a detransing woman, would be more likely that character has trans men friends rather than trans women friends, but could of course have both. Maybe I'd also wanna include DID stuff. Yes, and trauma. But I've no ideas for an actual plot.

In movies etc about DID I do recognise myself in what it's like having an alter, in living with the long term effects of trauma, in having a very "split" or fragmented sense of self, in not recognising yourself even when you look into a mirror, etc. Severe dissociation can do that by the way, and I've always felt like I'm looking at a stranger in the mirror, regardless of which gender it shows me as. It's not about the gender. Like obviously I recognise the face and know it's mine, but I feel a very strong emotional detachment to it, that makes it feel and look "unreal" like "I don't actually look like this but I've no idea why or how". And yeah, having transitioned with testo has massively increased that detachment. I always feel like a "who are you? I don't know this face" every time I look in a mirror or look at a picture of myself. I recognise it, but I do not recognise it as mine. It's not a panicky or scared disconnect, it's a calm confusion. It doesn't spark fear, and quite often it actually is a kinda good feeling that I can very easily emotionally reject my own face as my own by just... kinda agree with the dissociation and letting it do its thing. It allows me to not deal with how I actually feel about it.

Actually, when I first thought of writing my story about Malik and Tarsem, the "Suburban night watchers" story, it sprouted from just one sentence. I was out for a cigarette some evening a few weeks before I started writing it, when I suddenly thought to myself: "I wanna write a story about a guy who falls in love with a rapist" and that was my first idea that eventually led to that entire story and those characters.

But back to my bisexuality cause that's what I really wanna write about. I don't think I have at any point previously. Or, at least not in depth. I think about my bisexuality and inevitably it leads me to all of my intimate/flirting experiences with woman. There has been a few, but none of them led very far. They all feel to me like "failed attempts" at connecting and getting something good out of it. I don't think I had high demands on any of the women I tried to connect with, but I wanted sex and often got the hint or even the promise, that it was gonna happen, but then it never did and so... yeah, that disappointed me. But even more so, their deceptiveness and playing with my feelings bothers me more. That, I think, has probably a lot to do with my reluctance and discomfort with pursuing dating women. Cause I have tried, and it not go well.

My first kinda gay experience was when I was 17 and the guy classmate I was having my first few straight sexual experiences with at the time, who knew I was bi, asked me one day if I would be interested in a threesome with him and a female friend of his. She was 16, kinda cute and kinda hot but not like extremely so. Blonde, a bit overweight but not really fat. She had beautiful curves, but I don't remember what her face looked like anymore. I didn't feel much for her at first, but when her clothes came off I was definitely attracted. I've forgotten her name. He had invited her over when I stayed at his place one day. It didn't become much of a threesome, cause I was barely even included. I was still uncertain of giving up my virginity to him and still at that point I said "no" to him penetrating me, which he accepted despondently and went ahead to fuck her instead while I watched them. She let me kiss her and touch her breasts, and I kissed him a bit too, but ultimately it was them having sex and I was just there.

But I really did enjoy kissing her and touching her boobs. I think I kissed her nipples too. Like they were just soooo soft and incredibly sexy, I was in total awe. It was the first time I had ever felt another girl's breasts. They were large, maybe DD- or even E-cups. But she was uninterested and it eventually started to feel like she just let me do that to "give a show" for him, so when I started noticing her disinterest, it put me off. She didn't touch me at all and she barely responded to my kisses. At first I didn't know if she was just shy and nervous, but then I figured out that she wasn't there for me at all... and I felt, yeah, really fucking rejected and unwanted. Like I had expected that she agreeing to a threesome meant she wanted at least some intimacy with me, but that was clearly not her intentions. I don't think I was acting rapey at all, I mean come on I was 17 and truly thought she wanted my touch, and as soon as I noticed she wasn't into it, I stopped. I don't know if she was even into women at all, but I got the impression that she was not. But of course it's possible that she was just not into me. Either way, that "threesome" was a total flop.

Then in my early 20's, meaning the entire span of ages 20-23-ish, I did end up making out with a few women at parties, but they too, were never actually interested. Like it was just them being drunk straight women who thought it was exciting to kiss other women at parties and touch each others' tits, but they could never do pussy. I was out as a trans guy at that point, but I didn't exactly pass (my voice always revealed I was female) and I always told everyone that I had a female body, simply because I wanted sex. So they did reject me because they were not into women, even though I was living as a guy.

Then I met her, the woman who ended up in a relationship with one of my crushes at the time whom I had a vaguely sexual relationship with at parties. We three agreed that we were all allowed to kiss each other and make out, but nothing directly sexual. But then one day I ended up going on an Åland cruise with them and another mutual friends of ours. And when we got back to Uppsala after that cruise, I ended up agreeing with the couple to have a threesome with them. Apparently I had not learned from my previous threesome flop mistakes, and this second one became much the same. Before we went to bed she said that she thought I had already fully transitioned, to which I didn't really know what to say cause I had never said anything such and thought she knew, and it caught me off guard but I said something like "no... I'm barely even on testosterone..." either way, I was honest with her. She was disappointed by that but still seemed to want me in bed with her and her boyfriend. I tried to shake it off, but from then on I knew I could just throw all of my expectations and wishes in the trash.

And well. They had sex with each other while I lied next to them, but they were both keen on not showing their private parts to me. I displayed myself fully. Of course I respected their choice but it felt very unequal and like we should have discussed the "rules" first. I kissed him and touched his chest a bit, and I kissed her too. But that was it. I asked them if I was allowed to do any actual touching and they said very hesitantly "no" while really beating around the bush about it but I wasn't stupid so I took the hint with the sugar-coating and kept my hands to myself. She had told me at some point much earlier that she was bi too. But that was the biggest god damn lie ever. An actually bi woman would not be disappointed to know someone she's clearly attracted to has a female body, and show such clear disinterest in any sort of female on female intimacy. I knew it wasn't just her not being specifically into me all of a sudden, she lost interest because of me having female parts. So I'm promptly revoking her "bi card". At least her boyfriend was openly honest about being straight and confused about his attraction to me as a trans guy at the time. And for that, I respect him much more. But oh well. So that "threesome" was another total flop.

And sometime after that I started feeling an internal anger towards women who literally fooled me to think they were into me when they were actually straight women who didn't wanna go near my pussy or have their pussies anywhere near me. I felt duped and used. Like they just "used" my bisexuality to get some "gay experience" like it was just some sort of game for them. And I categorise these kind of women as a term I've only rarely heard used by others: "bistraightuals." Meaning straight people pretending to be bisexual. They're usually women wanting male attention by kissing girls but sometimes I think it's really just them thinking it's harmless party fun. How they're different from "bicurious" women is that these particular women KNOW they're not into women, but give a very deceptive perception of that they are.

Bistraightual men seem to be far more rare, but I've met a few of them too. They're the ones who've pretended to be into men out of courtesy when they've been attracted to me (as a trans guy), to then later on come clean and admit they're actually only into women. I've been upset by the male bistraightuals as well, but not so much cause ultimately they were attracted to me and lied with good intentions, but the female bistraightuals have really upset me with their god damn lies and games. Maybe I'm a total party pooper, but that's just assholery, really. If straight women wanna do that with each other cause it may be a quick way to get dick, I've got no problem with it, but for fuck's sake don't play games with actually bi and lesbian women's feelings.

It's almost bordering to being homophobic, or at least very insensitive to people with a same sex attraction. It almost implies that these sort of people view homo- and bisexuality as a "lifestyle" or a fashion statement. But really, just don't tell and show people that you're "very sexually interested" in them, to then ten minutes later slither away with a "oh I'm not even into your bio sex at all, it was just for fun, no hard feelings" cause I swear to Satan... that's the kinda thing that makes it harder for me to trust people, and it's what makes me lose hope in humanity.

And so I think my such experiences have made me kinda wary of women's intentions when they show sexual interest in me. I always take a step back, look them up and down to try to see if they're actually honest, and ask: are you REALLY into me? And that too makes me insecure about trying to date women. Cause I've literally had several experiences of women outright PRETENDING to be into me, and that just hurts. I really don't wanna end up with more deceptive bistraightuals on my hands. Been there, done that. Had enough of it!

But I also have to, although I know it's not entirely nice, but for the sake of my conflicted feelings, count in Y to my gay experiences. Not denying his male-aligned gender or his wish to be seen as male, but I cannot look beyond his biological reality being the same as mine. At the time I felt bad that I felt our relationship was gay, in a totally politically incorrent way. I felt that it was the gayest relationship I had ever been in thus far, both because our genders were the same (as I saw it and felt back then) and because our bio sex was the same as well. It felt double-gay in a sense that I thought he never would have wanted for me to highlight. I felt like my feelings were being transphobic, plain and simple. But I got a relief from that feeling cause for once I could actually think of a situation I was in as 100% gay and not both straight and gay at the same time.

And I always thought that the sex I had with him was kind of lesbian. I struggled with that feeling in me, and I felt like I could not express it or discuss it with him. I felt like that would have been important. As it had a lot to do with both my internalised lesbophobia and how I viewed both him and myself. And me hiding that feeling from him caused even more tension within me. Like I blamed myself for feeling that way, yet I couldn't change it. I loved him for who he was, both his mind and his body. But I also knew, that I likely would not have been sexually attracted to his body if I had not been into women. That chafed. That I loved his body as I would have loved a woman's body, but I loved his mind as I would have loved a man's mind. I saw both and loved both, but for different reasons. I felt like it would have been very dysphoria-inducing for him if I had told him that, and it felt like my feelings were wrong.

But I think that now, a little less harsh on myself, I can't say that sex with Y wasn't at least female on female sex, even though it was not woman on woman sex. I can't look beyond a female physical reality and truly think of it as male, but I can absolutely love and appreciate a female physical reality and treat it as though it is male. But I also think that the reason why I can do that latter thing, is because I am bisexual and therefore appreciate and have the capacity to love both female and male bodies, while also being able to love both female and male minds, separately and together. Which combination of either mind+body or physical traits, does not matter for my ability to love and be sexually attracted. But what my feelings tell me is that regardless of his body I still saw his mind as male, but also that regardless of his mind I still saw his body as female.

So thus, my feelings viewed my relationship with him as gay, as in between two guys loving each other, but the sex we had as gay, as in between two females. And I still feel the same way about that. However I wasn't truly male-gendered so maybe in restospect the relationship was kinda straight, but then it gets actually complicated and I don't have the energy or wish to get into that can of worms right now, so let's just leave it at that.

But I digress. I meant to only briefly bring up my stance on trans people in regards to my bisexuality, in the meaning that it is my belief that my attraction to both mtf's and ftm's is largely because of my bisexuality. I don't see it as that I'm in any way sexually attracted to neurological gender, I'm only sexually attracted to bodies. But of course I am romantically attracted to people's minds which does include how they perceive their gender. But, the way I see my sexual orientation is that I'm biSEXual, as in I have a sexual attraction to people of both sexes, not both genders. Although it includes both genders. Theoretically it includes anything anyone would want to call a gender, cause it doesn't change how or if I'm attracted to their bodies.

So I'm kinda trying to say that I view sex with anyone with a female equipment as lesbian sex but still view trans men as men and if I'd be in a relationship with one (again) I'd regard that connection as straight, as I'm a woman and he'd be a man. Because I view my sexual orientation as being towards sex and not gender and the way I simply feel about my actual sexual experiences is what's happening with the genitals. If I somehow need to explain why I'm so focused on genitals when it comes to sex: because that's literally what's being used during the act. And because sex is largely a very physical experience for me. Touch and sight are probably the senses I'm the most keen on when I'm fucking. So then if I see a dick, and feel a dick then I'm gonna zoom the fuck in on that male organ and probably forget about the rest of the person. It's not personal. Literally. It's me getting very unpersonal and I'm objectifying cis and trans and male and female people just as extremely much and equally when I'm at it.

But yeah, I just don't intend to be transphobic but if my sexuality somehow is... well, I can't help it. Hot take, but maybe the actual problem here is not how I view men and women in regards to my sexuality, but rather dysphoric people sometimes being so fucking cranky that their expectations on cis people frankly have gotten unreasonable. Like they should then get a fucking grip on themselves and stop letting their dysphoria get out on cis people cause we "don't love you the right way". We're trying. This is really just the best thing I could do about it in regards to trans people, to separate sex and gender but I still have to acknowledge and respect that my own sexuality is towards sex, not gender.

I just wanted to get a better overview on how I see my attraction going to both sexes and why I have to count my experiences with Y as "lesbian" even though I know that's wildly problematic. That I see it that way simply because I differentiate bio sex from gender. My intent is NOT to be hurtful to him or trans men in general, or to trans women cause this applies to them as well, but that I also don't think I should have to apologise for something I simply cannot change about myself when I'm trying to be as kind about it as possible.

But I think that's all I can think of in terms of my bisexuality right now, at least without going all the way down into the dissociation stuff and internalised misogyny and internalised lesbophobia and that mess. I can't really reach it right now, but I think at least what I described about the "bistraightuals" explains quite a lot of my distrust in women for dating.

But now to something completely different and far more positive and uplifting.

I just masturbated and tried something that I've never done before: fingered myself. The experience was more than just amazing, okay it felt like I was orgasming before I was even orgasming. The buildup was super intensely pleasurable and long-lasting. That I could feel my own contractions and the wet softness inside, my body's positive response sucking my fingers into myself yearning for my own touch, that I enjoyed both the touch and the act of touching hightened my pleasure in a circular, ever ramping up pattern of pleasure causing pleasure until I exploded in an amazing, wild orgasm that had me moaning and gasping and spasming uncontrollably.

And it taught me that no matter how awful I once felt about my pussy, no matter how intensely I've once hated it, no matter how thoroughly disgusted and upset I've been by its existence... I now love it unconditionally and I love loving it and giving it the most intensely loving experiences I possibly can. This is not just masturbation; it is ultimately, making love to myself. This is relishing in the inexplicably intense satisfaction and relief of a nearly lifelong wound that has now completely healed and shows no signs of even the slightest scarring. I'm at the brink of tears for how absolutely beautiful this feeling is. It feels more beautiful than any love that any other person could possibly give me. I can with complete honesty and love in my heart say that my pussy is beautiful, it is sexy and a truly amazing part of my body that I am more than just grateful for having been blessed with. I adore it. I do not think that people who've never hated their pussies could ever experience this kind of love for their pussies. And I also think that this is not just a normal experience of being cis.

It catches me thinking, in the pause of a breath, that this love... is literally because of my trauma, the pain of my past dysphoria, my mistake of transitioning and the agony of regretting it. Without all that pain, I would never have come to find and experience this love from my own caress. It tears at me, as though it's pulling me in two opposing directions. I still struggle to forgive myself for the pain I've put myself through due to denial and not listening to myself, but I can appreciate, at least partially, that pleasure that grows from pain is really exquisite and extra sweet. Give me time to forgive me for my pain, and I'm sure I'll come to appreciate it too.

But in this sense, I really do believe that I've healed a huge wound that was connected to my trauma, by jerking off. But it wasn't the masturbation itself, it was how I went about it. It was my mindset, my goals, my methods, my patience. It was that through masturbation that I learned to truly listen to my body and not reject its signals. That journey started when I began exploring anal about a year and a half ago, because I for the first time started paying utmost attention to every slightest sensation I got from my exploration, and the result I got was not just very nice orgasms, but a new, very fulfilling pleasure that was much more psychological than physical. With that, I noticed a connection between my mind and the sexual parts of my body that I wasn't really aware of before.

It might sound silly, but for several months I used buttplugs as a comfort blanket. Because me using them somehow tapped into a psychological nerve or something, it let me reach a state of relaxation and comfort that was not even sexual but much more like meditation. It soothed me to my core. But I became addicted to it and eventually I wore a plug in nearly 24/7 and only took a couple of hours break from it per week. Eventually it made my ass too sore and I had to take a longer break of several weeks. The way my mind reacted to stopping the use of plugs was intensely negative. It felt like my mind was craving a drug. My ass got better eventually, but I could never reach that feeling of inner peace from anything anal again, and I do mourn the loss of that feeling. But it did show me a possibility I never thought could exist: perfect alignment between my body and mind. It literally, temporarily removed my dissociative fog.

And it hits me now that's what I've been trying to achieve. To disperse the constant mist of dissociation and truly connect to myself. It also hits me, that it might actually quite possibly have been this meditative sexual exploration, starting already over a year ago, that was my very first hint of a step towards my detransition. In the sense that it let me start dispersing my dissociative mist, wich might likely have revealed previously hidden feelings that I have about my body and gender. Feelings that I had dissociated away from, that I then, kinda accidentally, brought up to the surface.

Then about a year after my anal adventures, I approached the same principle with my vag. But much more and more in depth. Pun not intended... Cause not only did I listen to my body's signals about the physical sensations, I also listened to my subconscious mind's signals of what it wanted in regards to my plans on srs and whether to keep the vag or not. That was my goal, to masturbate myself to a decision, but I had a very meditative, self-reflective and therapeutic perspective to my prodding. And that I had my mind fully in on it, as in a total awareness sort of thing, while exploring myself physically, it became a full-body, full-mind and both combined experience that, to my belief, completely healed my emotional wound.

Perhaps I do keep "medicating" it by keeping up with these experiences of sexual mindfulness. But I mean I really don't mind doing that! And I'd love to keep at it with the hands on self love for the rest of my life. For as long as I can physically do it, I will. Even as an old lady I'll still grab my own pussy as much and often as I want to.

I could never before willingly stick my fingers in there, let alone keep them in there. Cause it just grossed me out so bad, and it made my dysphoric feelings completely hit the roof. To even go anywhere near that hole with my hands made me feel really anxious and distressed. I couldn't even stand accidentally getting the wetness on my clit. And pre-transition I didn't even know that fingering myself was something that I could do. It hadn't struck my mind, and no one talked about it or did it on me back then. But I think I wouldn't have wanted to even if I had known about that being possible to do. I did, all the way up to until this year, feel like my genitals were "unclean" even when they were newly washed. It was a mental feeling of being tainted for simply having a pussy. I kinda thought of that area on my body as some kind of nasty swamp that just couldn't even get clean. When masturbating before, I did avoid direct contact with my hands/fingers there as much as possible. Like by using a vibe and/or dildo and not putting my hands directly on things there.

So, for me to now, for the first time ever, just reach in and feel around... and so fully enjoying it with no negative feelings of grossness at all... that was huge. And yep, of course I'll do it again!

Regret and grief

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.

Child of trauma (poem)

That's where it all began, a child of trauma uncertain of her place
trapped in the echoes of a pain that she couldn't face
and it all mattered in the end
all the wounds I couldn't comprehend

A checkered blue dress that I only wore once
became riddled with a shame that fear outruns
and my silence began to trap the hurt
like flies gathering around excrements and dirt

And all my tragedies coincide
with my tears of treason and the comfort that I was denied
That's where I wanted to hide
in my reluctance to deal with what I pushed aside

My fears exceed what I am fearing
my body conceals what I am wearing
Half here, half there, my hands don't feel like my own
am I still the child that never became fully grown

Stunted by a deep belief that I was someone else
man or woman, there's something other that compels
my journey to be a tragedy; back to square one
now stop and stare at my own deformed creation, but don't run

My mind split by agony, and I'm distorted to defy
everything that I never needed to rectify
and my denial is my release
shattering me, piece by piece

Cause that's where it all began
in the breaking of everything better than
a child of trauma who couldn't find her place
trapped in her pain that I now must face

Filling my insatiable void

That feeling when you just know you're a sex addict, when you just think "what the fuck am I doing?" you know? Well, I hope you don't know. Yeah, I just fucked... my stalker.

Although the good news is: he's probably not a creep. I got very clear asperger/autism vibes from him when I saw him in person. He's really just that socially awkward and really doesn't actually understand personal space and limits. His explanation to having acted stalker-ish? That he was just horny. He's like that... I dunno, imagine an awkward teen nerd who lives in his mother's basement, then moves out and starts driving tractors for a living, and then finds a hookup site... yeah. Totally harmless, but just very very awkward. It was weird to have such a guy for a bed-mate. Just gotta say that. It was an experience.

He was very sweet, in person. Adorkable, kinda. Really not a hottie, and talked way too much, but yeah he totally fucked me good, and I even came. I came really hard, like I spasmed uncontrollably for probably half a minute while he fucked me and it felt extremely good. He was very patient with me and caring. He stayed for 3 hours, and didn't complain about me taking cigarette breaks. I got my orgasm about half an hour before he left at 1 am. He came twice, inside me, an hour or so apart. I'll likely get some pregnancy tests in a while just to be sure, but right now I don't worry about it. It's unlikely I'd get knocked up.

But just whyyyy did I do this?! When I wrote him the text the evening before this current night, stating "Fuck you're nagging. Come to my place then and you can get some pussy" I couldn't figure out why I went along with it. If it was just to get him to stop nagging with all his million text messages, or cause I thought here's a guy who very desperately wants me and he's very available, so why not just take the opportunity. Yes, he texted me again. And again. And againagainagainagaaaaaain! I dunno how much, but around 20 or so texts per day since a couple of days ago. I ignored him until I caved in. Now how the fuck am I supposed to get rid of him?! This probably made it a million times worse, cause now he thinks I want to continue seeing him.

I didn't know I was this much of a mess... that I'd actually fuck a guy who's stalking me and driving me fucking crazy with a million messages. Like what kind of level is this to stoop down to?! Fucking hell, what's wrong with me?! I should probably lay off of qruiser for a while, but I know I'm not going to. My list of everyone I've had sex with (yes I write them all down in a document) is starting to look ridiculous. This has been a crazy year. The last 3 of them I don't know the names of, so I had to write either their online profile names or just a short description of them. I've fucked 5 different guys this year alone. In total we're now up at 19 guys, and of course keep counting. Makes me think of a song by Cher in which she sings "your list of lovers is looking like a resume"... I'm starting to wonder if my neighbours think I'm a prostitute, considering they must have noticed I get random, often quite trashy-looking, middle aged male strangers coming for short visits every now and then, and often at night. Well it must seem suspicious if they've noticed it.

But let's get back on topic. This fucking sex addiction... making me do stuff that no one in their bloody right mind would do... and then my conscience hits me. That this is not right and where might it eventually lead to? I could fuck literally anyone. There's danger in that, that I don't want to think about. And then suddenly it hits me... that is literally why I could fuck anyone... because I'm a sex addict: it makes me not care about who it is or what they look like or what they are like or anything, because all I care about is that pleasure. And filling both my figurative and literal void.

In a comic magazine that I subscribe to, the actually physical paper kind of comic magazine, I found one strip that spoke to me so clearly on this very topic. It was a conversation between two women who are friends, where one says to the other that she keeps meeting some sketchy guy and can't figure out why she keeps meeting him. And then she says "I guess he fills a void" and her friend giggles cause of the underlying meaning that the guy fills the void in her pussy. And she says, embarrassed by her friend's giggling "No, but I meant..." I should get some magnets so that I can put it up on my fridge. I've cut it out from the magazine already and it's been lying on my microwave for a few weeks now. I love it and it's perfect.

I feel sad now. Yes, it clearly seems my insatiable pussy is gonna be the end of me, one day. If I continue like this. Good I'm dealing with the trauma stuff in therapy now, and I'm sure I'll bring up my sex addiction at some point. Just trying to find a good point to sneak it into the conversation, somewhere it fits. We continued with my timeline yesterday, and got up until the point of around age 15 in my life. Before we got into that though, I did actually tell her about this stalker guy, and fucking hell... I told her I'd keep pushing him away and stand my ground... and then not even 10 hours later I have him in my bed, fucking each other like crazy. My life is the butt of a joke. I honestly don't know if I should laugh or cry about this. My emotions are so confused. My thoughts are too. I don't know why I did it. This could have gone very wrong, and it still can. He might get obsessed with me, for real, now after this. And by the way, I didn't give him my adress, he already had that information as well, cause I asked him if he needed my adress or already had it.

I've no idea where he could be taking this moment of affection now, if he'll become a stalker for real. It scares me now. He might really just be too dumb to know he's crossing the line and I might just be too dumb to get a grip on myself to tell him that clearly, without hesitating and wavering shyly. But it's just that. I think both my stupidity and his stupidity could do some real harm between us. Well that's exactly why I don't ever again want to actually date other people who have the same kind of mental disabilities as I do. It's a huge misunderstanding and clash waiting to happen, cause it creates a huge breach in communication. Sure, this is not a relationship as such, but he might start thinking it is, and that's what I worry about.

Well I got myself into this mess, didn't I?
And I was the one to fuck this mess, wasn't I? 
Oh dear lord, what the fuck am I doing...

Yeah I'm not being self-destructive at all, am I? The thing about that though is that I simply don't know when I'm self-harming or not. It has become part of the essence of me, an integral part of my persona, and it is in fact inseparable from the rest of me. So I can't tell it apart from the rest.

This low feels so damn far down that I'm not even trying to climb up from it. I'm just sitting here, staring upwards, shaking my head in disbelief and thinking "now how the fuck am I supposed to get back up from here?!"

The tugging grief of my regret

It's fucked up but sometimes I still catch myself wishing I could look like a hot guy. I know that's my escapism re-surfacing like "don't want to be a woman cause that's riddled with pain, man is safer" and I'm just like "shut up already, you've had your dance, now let me be". Like it just saddens me, that shards of my broken dream still cut me, now after my realisation that I was never a guy to begin with and I'm really just a traumatised woman, but I want to make it better and make it work for me, in a way that I don't feel broken. So getting those "oh but you could go back to living a lie" kinda thoughts is just really heavy, you know? And kinda disheartening. Or rather, heart-stabbing.

I don't really have a concept of gender. Like what even is being a man or a woman. Detransitioning confused that for me. I mean, I think of myself as a woman cause I'm comfortable presenting as one and want to have a female body, but I don't feel any sense of belonging to either gender or groups of other people of either gender. I feel just as detached from women as I do from men. I think my transition was also largely seeking a sense of belonging. And I almost, very almost, found it there. But then it was snatched away from me and I feel lost again. I don't feel a sense of belonging with cis people either, although I know I'm part of that demographic. I feel kinda lost in between being trans and cis, like I've got one foot on each side, not wanting to fully step over to either side.

I don't think either of this makes me nonbinary somehow. I think it just makes me utterly confused about who or what I am due to both my trauma and my transition that I ended up regretting. It's like I have to start over from scratch and I've no idea where to go or where I currently am even. I feel like I've lost something, not gained something. Like a piece of me was ripped off and now I'm struggling to hold myself together without that piece. And I'm scrambling to find another piece to replace it with so I can stop falling apart.

I know that many detransitioned women are radfems and thus I've come across a few who are, online. I sometimes hear the same gender-confusion in their words too, and I wonder if that's just what happens when you detransition. That maybe many of us feel like we've lost a part of ourselves that we can't quite cope well without, but we also don't seem to really know what it is that we lost. But I think it largely is that sense of belonging, to the trans community, and then as we are more or less shunned from it upon detransition, that hurts. And yet we don't quite belong with the cis demographic either, cause of our transition histories. We end up in between a bit, at least for some time while trying to figure all that stuff out.

In much of the trans community, we're suddenly seen as a threat and our stories not valid anymore. However, the truscum/transmed part of the trans community seems (so far) to be very supportive of those who detransition. Although I have to be a bit careful to not be used as an example of "how harmful the tucute ideology is, cause look it makes people regret hrt/surgery and then detransition, like this poor girl here" when that in fact was not the reason I transitioned nor the reason I detransitioned. I don't want to be used for anyone's personal or political agenda, whether I agree with that agenda or not, if it's twisting my truth to mean something else. I think I'll always have to watch my step wherever I take my story. Cause it is controversal, hardly understood, often misconstrued and wrongfully judged, and definitely often used for various agendas although most of those are transphobic.

I think it's stupid. That just because some people detransition that would somehow "de-legitimise" transsexualism as a real condition. Like what, if I had gotten misdiagnosed with diabetes and gotten bad reactions from the insulin, that doesn't mean no one has diabetes and insulin shots are pure poison? That argumment is so bafflingly retarded that I don't even have the energy to roll my eyes about it or facepalm. I have a brain. I can use it. I wish certain idiots online would stop assuming otherwise.

I just ache to be at peace with my body. I know that fixing up the transition tragedy will only be half the work needed. I know that very well. I have connected with my womanhood and some of the physical aspects pertaining to that, but it's still an ongoing and deep pain, a process and my trans-escapism resurfacing from time to time is to me a clear sign that I really still am struggling to fully accept myself. I've taken huge steps in the right direction but I'm still far from the... finishing line, if there even is such a thing. My point is I'm not there yet, whatever "there" is.

I may have really bad "reverse dysphoria" and a deep sadness over my female traits I lost and over the male traits I gained, and I'm sure that regaining what I've lost and getting rid of what I've gained will be a huge relief and liftening of a burden. But I'm also sure that I'll still feel a certain sense of hollowness even when my body looks and is as though it's been fully restored and maybe even more womanly than it was before. Cause such deep effects of trauma don't just go away over an insight.

I'm pretty sure that, for example with getting new breasts, I'd feel immensely happy about that, but that I'd also get moments of panic, feeling like "these shouldn't be on my chest" cause my trauma basically wants to sexually nullify my body and keep it without female sex characteristics. Or it sees me as a prepubescent child, which I do not want to look like at all. So that's not a genuine wish, but another aspect of my trans-self-defense-mechanism. That's a conflict in my mind I will have to sort out, with or without the help of actual therapy. I could probably sort that kind of thing out on my own, cause I did exactly that about my vagina. That was a long, intense and painful journey in and of itself, but I came out of it crying out of happiness and fully loving that traumatised part of my body that I had previously hated.

Whatever I did, I did exactly what was needed. And I think I could do the same wthing with my chest, but I can't do it without the breasts I yearn to have. I'm broken without them. I feel mutilated, amputated, with a phantom limb sensation strong enough to keep me captive in my own pain. It feels like the absolute worst form of self harm I've ever done to myself.

Yes, it does feel a lot like my transition was in fact a form of self harm and now my detransition is me trying to heal myself. And I've lost limbs to my own desperation and pain. That pains me more than I can put into words. I'm older now, I'm wiser. I know not to reach for razorblades or litres of booze, or scramble for any and all pills I can find, just to numb some feelings and shut down some thoughts. I deal more wisely, but pain is still pain, and it ravages me just as much, if not more. Cause the regret itself and knowing this was all self-inflicted... it compresses my chest by force and squeezes all the blood out of my heart until what's left feels like a hollow cavity of how hopeless it feels to want to comfort the inconsolable, of wanting to restore what cannot be undone. Like a sudden wish to be able to wake the dead after a loved one's passing.

This is grief. And I'm screaming, helplessly shaking the cold body of what cannot be revived... the cold body of what I killed... I'm screaming, what have I done?

That is only to paint a picture of what I feel, it's meant to be abstract, not literal. I managed to portray it quite well, as my heart agrees with it somehow. I don't know, it resonates. But my point is I need new tits to be able to work with my emotional hangups about having tits. Cause I simply cannot work with something I do not have. As if I would have lost my legs, I'd need prosthetics to learn how to walk again. Thus, I need tits to learn how to love them.

I really liked my outfit and general style for my grocery shopping today. It really got a kinda "classy but dark" vibe to it... so like a lawyer? Also my makeup got extremely smooth and neat looking with my new makeup sponge and that I managed to do the closest shave ever without cutting my face up at all. But anyway I really liked the look I had today. I think I feel extra awesome about it when I dress in what I'd consider a more "adult feminine" way, cause it further helps me realise I really am fine with having grown up to become a woman, cause that was the one thing I so desperately wanted to avoid, in my transition. So it feels like a huge step, even though it's just some pieces of fabric and residue of makeup. Cause when I look into the mirror when dolled up that way, and seeing a pretty looking woman who is around 30 years old, and not a man or a teen... I feel strangely at ease. Like that's what I am? And the mirror finally shows it.

I think it's possible that the testosterone aged my looks a bit, so that I look more of my actual age or even slightly older, as a woman now. But I looked slightly younger than my age as a man. Cause it's a pattern I often see among trans people, that trans women often struggle with "looking too old" and trans men struggle with "looking too young". It has to be the hormones, I think. And I don't think that's negative however I do need to get used to it, cause I'm still not sure who's face that is in the mirror.

Regardless of how I make myself look or if I don't do anything, I don't recognise my face as my own. I don't think I ever have though. It's always looked and felt like the face of someone else. A stranger that I know all too well. I think that's the constant and always looming dissociation though, that I just don't really connect to my body most of the time, although some parts I connect more or less to than others and how much tends to vary from day to day. It's very weird, actually. I feel like my body changes, although very subtly, from day to day. Like some days I feel like I'm significantly taller and other days much shorter instead, like I can feel it physically as though I've gained or lost several centimetres of height over night somehow. I like the days when I feel shorter better, cause I tend to feel more... pardon the pun but it's perfect: grounded.

And at other times my hands feel foreign to me. Like they're someone else's hands. It's weird but also a very magnificent feeling, like it's kinda "wow" about it in a beautiful way. I tend to wave around with my fingers in dancing motions then, kinda, to like just explore the strangeness of that feeling and be in awe about it. Also rather often my legs feel foreign to me in a very similar manner, but then also with the added weirdness that it sometimes makes me walk around to places I don't intend to go to, like I'm just not paying attention to what my brain is up to. I think that is exactly what this is: my brain disconnecting from itself and not paying attention to itself properly. And that creates these sorta alien physical sensations. They don't scare me at all. In fact I tend to feel more visually appealing or attractive when some or all of my limbs feel foreign to me, and my motions feel softer and lighter, more delicate and harmonic. Almost like I'm halfway into a dream.

These are very common experiences for me, I get them almost every day, or several days a week at least. So I'm used to it and it doesn't scare me, but it does mean I feel like a stranger to my own body most of the time, and I can't remember a time I have not felt that disconnect. To some degree or another, I've been constantly dissociating for as far back into my past as I can remember. I tend to call it a "haze" and "mist" cause it kinda puts like a filter between me and... and well myself as well as the world around me. It clogs my mind and lets me see, feel and hear through an unclear and soft nylon-stocking filter.

I think why it's so hard for me to describe my dissociation, is because I don't think I really know anything else. I don't have anything to compre it to. Like I don't know what the antonym of dissociation would even feel like. What's that, clarity? I mean I logically know that my body is mine, cause like who else's would it be? My late grandma's? But mentally it doesn't connect to me much at all. I connect to my pussy quite a lot, my eyes and my hair, but that's about it.

That might also actually be THE explanation for my almost complete lack of appetite this past 1,5 year: I've dissociated away from my sense of hunger.

It explains it perfectly, actually. Cause I can still feel physical hunger just the same, but my mind just doesn't latch onto it but instead shuns it as something foreign and unreal that it doesn't understand or accept as its own feeling. Like it forgot what the physical sensation hunger means and why it's there. It gets angry at it and feels threatened by it. Like a scared animal hissing at someone trying to feed it cause it doesn't trust or understand the hand that feeds it. My dissociation makes everything, externally as well as internally, feel vague, surreal, and very hard to kinda hold onto. I have a very, very huge mind-body disconnect. And they can't communicate with each other at all.

It's more or less always been like that, although shifting focus sometimes, but it used to be to a lesser degree when I was a kid, I think. I think it got worse and/or started, that general dissociation, when I was around 10-12 years old. No it must have been sooner, i was barely even aware of my surroundings as a 5-6 year old! Like I could sit in some shrub and play with my kid toys and not notice that several hours had passed and the entire school was looking for me. That happened a few times. Well at least my bullies couldn't find me either. But then neither could I. And I still can't.

I'm starting to wonder if there even is a "me" to find? Perhaps I have the wrong perspective, and that it's not about finding, cause I've been here all along, haven't I? What kind of mystical force or feeling am I even looking for? I wonder. But maybe life should be about being and creating instead of looking for things. I hate it when I lose something in my home and I can't find it right away. It angers and frustrates me. Eventually I get despondent and drained and then decide to do what I should have done from the start: let it find me instead. What goes around comes around. I think I can apply the same logic to the home that is my mind as well.

I know that I chose to cram in as much experiences as possible into this one life, before I got here, to learn as much as possible and get as much out of one lifetime as possible. Yet I keep blaming God for my misery. That doesn't add up. I caused my misery, cause misery teaches you things and wises you up. I chose the hard way, and thus the only one I can blame is myself. Although I don't think I should. I think I'm trying to reach some kind of "nirvana" in this one life, although that should theoretically not be possible, despite my two previous lives making this life my third. I mean at least it's not my first life, but still very soon for ending the reincarnation cycle. I got fed up with it. I think I'm trying to beat the odds. And where I'm at in life now... I've been opening and closing a lot of doors. It feels like for the first time ever I'm starting to actually become honest to myself. Even if that means losing all of my core beliefs and being left with nothing. Well, nothing but wisdom.

I don't fight it as much anymore, I try not to. Try to welcome the uncomfortable thoughts and let them have their say. Analyse them and find out what they mean. I have more than just a feeling that this journey will lead to most, if not all, of my core beliefs to turn out to be false. And it will hurt me immensely, but it will also strengthen me. Eventually. Am I prepared for that? No, I never will be. That's not something I can prepare myself for. But the harsh truth somehow matters and means more to me now than false comfort does. I'm really taking the "red pill" I guess, as a "The Matrix" metaphor. And if I really want to make the most out of my life and achieve the seemingly impossible for my own personal gain, I have to face that immense fear. So I will. Come hell or high water, I'm gonna learn how to swim until nothing can drown me.

Facing and living my fear of detransitioning gave me just enough strength to know I can do exactly that. Not all at once or right now, but at whatever points I'll feel that pulling towards each of those depths beckoning me from within myself. I have a lot of contacts within my subconscious mind. I'm ironically/contradictory very conscious of it and have a few actually direct connections to it already. Although connecting to them is a bit more complicated and difficult than making a phone call.

God damn I just keep ranting all night... I need sleep, but my mind won't shut up. I want that future though, but most of all I want the journey to it. I did learn to appreciate the small things. I did actually. Yeah, I know now that me and Y definitely met at the wrong points in our lives, like we talked about. But it was right in the sense that I learned a lot from it. I'm starting to see patterns in what that relationship in my past meant for my future. A lot I never could have even remotely foreseen back then, not even 2 years ago. I've changed so much, yet I remained the same.

Dark sides of hookups

So I've decided to meet up with a new guy again, on Thursday, and he'll be staying here with me for a few days. I do feel iffy about him and I don't know why I agreed to meet him. Yeah, I'm "thinking with my pussy" and my sex addiction is taking me places again. I felt iffy about him from the start, as he sent me 4 or 5 messages on qruiser asking if he could crash at my place and fuck me. I ignored him then. Then he sent me text messages to my phone, but I had not given him my number. I asked him how he got it and he said he had dug up my real name from some old diary posts I had made on qruiser and then looked me up online. Creepy.

Then we started talking on the phone as well, and the way he went on and on about wanting to be in a relationship with me and kept bringing up how he "wouldn't mind it" if he got me knocked up... eeeh kinda gets my feelings in a twist about this whole thing. I told him up front that if he got me knocked up I'd get rid of the kid asap cause I don't want kids. I don't think the message got through to him. Cause he just kept saying it would work out cause of being two people caring for the kid, etc. It says on his (very bare) profile that he wants kids. Well I'm not gonna give him one. And about the relationship nagging I've been more vague, like saying "we'll see about that" like we haven't even met yet even. That is creepy too. This is by far the creepiest guy I've ever decided to have sex with and I know I shouldn't.

I really have to learn to say no when they're giving me bad vibes like this. Or my insatiable pussy is gonna be the end of me. Especially now that I'm getting several times over more attention on hookup sites cause of being a cis girl, meaning I'm just gonna have to say no to some people or I won't even be able to fit them all into my schedule without a "time-turner" and my risk of getting harmed and into trouble will or has already increased massively. I can't just keep saying yes to every single guy who wants to fuck me or it's gonna fuck me up. Because that's exactly what I'm doing. Yep, I've got problems. And they're huge.

Being a girl who's a sex addict and insatiable for hookups really does have a huge list of both pros and and cons. I expected this, but oh man, was I not prepared! Girls seeking hookups like this is very rare and very wanted, so, they tend to get very drowned in sexual attention on such sites. That much I knew, but I was not prepared for actually receiving that sort of reality, and I was not prepared for the consequences. Couple of days ago when I looged into qruiser after having been offline for just 2 days or so, my inbox was filled with 40 new unread messages. That is an extreme record, as before it had never been more than 10. Over 30 of those were men wanting to have sex with me. Some of them are inevitably gonna be creeps and/or dangerous.

But I definitely have thought about that, like what if I would someday want a kid, despite really not wanting to now? It likely woudn't happen even if I at some point would want to. I don't think it would be the greatest idea to raise a kid entirely on my own (or with a random creep from online), so I'd need a partner. Someone I could stand being around a little longer than 10 months. And I'm unlikely to find someone like that anytime soon. Being a smoker with a crappy diet and fucked up sleep pattern that I can't change wouldn't go well together with a pregnancy either.

The kid would likely also get asperger's due to my genes and I'm not sure I could handle a kid with special needs when I can't even handle my own special needs. I'm almost 30 and I know fertility starts going down noticably at around age 35, and there's just no way I could possibly have all I need and everything in order and actually want a kid, within 6 or so years from now. Also it's not certain at all that I'm still fertile from all these years of taking testosterone. So if I'd start trying for a kid sometime after age 35, I likely wouldn't succeed. So on that note I think it's better if I'd be fine with staying child-less, well, forever. Even if I'd change my mind sometime later on and suddenly want a kid, reality is that it's likely too late by then. I'll get cats instead, as soon as I can. I'd love to raise some cats.

I'm just thinking pragmatically and these thoughts popped up cause I'm suddenly getting a little scared about if this creepy dude I'll see on Thursday might actually knock me up and if I'd run into trouble having it aborted then. Like I don't know just how creepy that dude is. He could threaten me to keep it, for all I know. But then I also wouldn't have to tell him, so hopefully that wouldn't be an issue. But it does still make my stomach turn a bit.

I really should unbook with this guy. He's giving me such bad vibes, this doesn't feel safe. Am I walking into a trap? If only I could actually know. I don't know how to say 'no' and decline. I know that comes from the rape. That if I'd say no I'd be talked into it and/or forced and then I'd rather force myself into it despite not wanting to or being scared of the guy. Self-defense became self-harm. I don't know to learn to say no cause I keep trying to but I can't make myself do it and always give in eventually. I freeze up, lose my words and agree instead, or am vague and scared and then agree. It's not good.

Well what are my issues with this particular guy then? He gives me extremely intense stalker vibes. Like first he was very persistent on qruiser when I didn't respond, then he basically "doxxed" me and found my cell phone number which he texted me to, then now he won't stop texting me for even an hour. I swear he sends me at least one (but up to 8) texts per hour. Mostly I ignore them or give short answers seldom. And he's been very persistent and creepy about wanting to be in a relationship with me. Like we seriously didn't even know of each other's existence a week ago and barely know anything about each other, but he keeps talking about how much he wants to be in a relationship, moving in together, having kids together, yeah am I getting the point across? He's completely unreasonable and high stalker factor here.

I think actually meeting him and having sex with him in my own home could put me in danger. I don't think he'd want to let go quickly if I do that, and giving him my adress and access to my home could be a very bad move. I'm not sure he'd let go quickly even if I don't, and actually abort the mission instead. He's seriously giving me the creeps and I think I have good reason to be worried about his intentions, even though I could of course also be wrong about my fears and he might just be very socially inept but harmless. Well, my gut is telling me this is dangerous and I should not do it. My intellect tells me the same and in this moment even my pussy is having doubts about him. Like I'm not even getting horny at all thinking about meeting him anymore. Those are some pretty clear signs and red flags my body is giving me. I don't know if I think he'd actually physically hurt me, but he does seem to be very psychologically... demanding. Like he's not respecting my boundaries or personal space much at all. I even told him that I didn't want to chat constantly but he completely ignored that. That alone raised my suspicions.

Well I guess I'm just gonna have to hope I can get him to back off if I can manage to cancel this meeting, or I might have to look into getting a restraining order and/or change my phone number. Yikes, these are the dark sides to internet hookups... Cause you have literally no idea when you might hook up with someone actually dangerous.

Is there a higher risk of straight guys being like this? Dangerous, I mean. Yeah, in the sense that there are many more straight guys than there are bi and gay guys, percentually the vast majority of dangerous men are straight, logically. But I mean... am I in bigger danger as a woman than I was as a man, looking for male hookups? Perhaps I am cause there is another factor to it: that I get a lot more attention from men on those sites as a woman than I ever did as a man. About 4 or 5 times as much attention, if not more. That, in and of itself, inevitably increases the risk. Well, perhaps don't be surprised if I end up raped and murdered while wearing next to nothing in a ditch somewhere at some point... I've lived a tragic life, so I don't suppose my death will be any less tragic. It will likely be the cherry on top of that miserable cake I called life.

That doesn't bother me though. I think the dead likely don't care much about how they died. It's the ones they left behind that care about how their loved ones died. But it doesn't really matter to me how or when exactly I'll die, as long as my mind is still functioning at least until close to death-moment.

But anyhow, this got a little too dark. Sorry about that. I digressed. I don't think this particular hookup would kill me and dump me in a ditch. But I do fear he might get obsessive with me and contact me constantly and possibly even act as though we're in a relationship together and get jealous and keep pushing me about moving in together and getting babies and just... well, that should be enough of a reason. I mean, I think that's enough reason to be worried about meeting him, even though I don't fear for my life per se. Getting killed by a hookup would suck really bad, but getting a stalker on my hands would also fucking suck. I don't think he would kill me, I really don't. Although it's possible he might get threatening and/or abusive. And well, that scares me too.

The dark side of hookup culture is definitely accidentally hooking up with stalkers, rapists, killers, etc. I'm gonna really have to learn to say no when I get bad vibes like this, but I just don't know how? Usually if there's someone I'm not interested in or feel iffy about I just ignore them. But this guy I couldn't ignore cause he got my number and wouldn't stop texting. He doesn't seem to understand that he crossed a line with that, and I can't seem to convey that he did. I don't know how to stand up for myself about such things and how to not back down when being given a crappy explanation or no explanation at all. But I do fully understand it's a totally bad thing to just keep saying yes even when I don't want it for the sake of it not turning into rape or being talked into meeting up after having said no. That I'd rather hurt myself than being hurt by others. That I'd take the fall for them. And it's damaging me. Or, I'm pretty sure that does damage me in some way.

Cause it's like I break my own trust in myself, kinda. Like going against my gut feeling and forcing myself to have sex with guys I don't want to have sex with because I can't say no to them. That's almost like self-rape too. And that is me breaching my own boundaries. I don't think many people understand how much it fucks you up to let someone you're really not into feel you up and fuck your holes when you'd rather just run away, simply cause you can't say no. And for what? Isn't it just as bad to be hurt by someone else as it is to hurt yourself, in the same manner and degree? I don't know. It could actually be worse. To betray yourself instead of being hurt by someone random. Cause who should you be able to trust, if not yourself? Well I really can't trust myself. At all. I'm a hazard to myself. There's nothing I can trust myself to not do.

I don't know if that's an aspect of my sex addiction or really just a distorted aspect of hyper-vigilance due to the trauma. I mean distorted in the sense that it derives from hyper-vigilance as a form of self-defense, but is more of a self-fulfilling prophecy in which I achieve the very thing I'm trying to avoid: getting hurt. That it's sexual as well as compulsive, makes it kinda overlap with my sex addiction or be an aspect of that too. I can't quite tell them apart.

I kinda think less of myself for that sex addiction now though. And it's sexist. Cause as a man I thought it was almost kinda normal, in a way. Like guys are naturally more sexual and more often into casual sex and such. Like I was still clearly extra with my sexuality even for a guy... but now? As a woman I'm completely and utterly crazy with my sexual ways compared to other women on average, like it's not normal even in the slightest sense. That as a woman my sex addiction and sexual behaviours are clearly outrageous. And that perspective kinda weighs on me a bit. It's both because of societal norms and simply biology.

I mean, according to nature (applies to most mammals) females are hardwired to be protective of their pussies to avoid getting pregnant too often and with bad mates, while males are hardwired to want to spread their seeds everywhere to get their genes going and knock up as many females as possible. And society enforces that by saying women should "keep their legs closed" and men get praised for being more sexually active. It is a stereotype, but it is based on biology and natural breeding habits that apply to many more species than just humans. So it's not really sexist, but I'm sure it comes across like that for some people (who are probably not reading this). And so, my sexuality going beyond the opposite to what my nature says and giving my female ass the sexual behaviour of an extreme male... kinda messes with me a little bit.

But at the same time I don't want for it to be any different. I like being this overly sexual, unemotional about it and fucking hookups. In fact I wish for it to stay the same after I've gone off testo. But likely it won't. I just wish I could keep at least half of my current libido. I think I'd be miserable if it drops to zero again. But maybe it won't go down all that much actually, considering this kind of "effect" to get from solely testo, is kinda rare. I mean likely it's not only testo that makes me this intensely sexual. But we'll see, I guess.

That is basically the only thing about testo that I want to keep exactly how it currently already is. Yeah, and my fat distribution. But that's not enough to make me want to stay on it.

I still have one more day to try to make myself cancel this meeting with this guy, and the sooner the better. Cause fuck me sideways if I don't, huh?