The language of my body, spoken in tears

Oh. My. God. When I start an entry like that, you should know something very important and profound has happened! A great thing, absolutely amazing. And beautiful. I haven't felt this relaxed and at ease since... I literally can't remember. A decade ago? Two decades? My mother's womb? I don't know. It's a little hard to type cause my fingers feel like spaghetti. I'm THAT relaxed. It's so amazing. Okay, I'll tell you what happened!

I did the meditation thing to reach beyond my grief, to find what was hidden beyond it. Well... it did not quite go as I had expected. It took an entirely different route. There is nothing behind the grief. My mind tricked me! The wall of grief is not a door. There was no opening, nowhere to get in. However, it was the grief itself that I needed to reach.

I did all kinds of preparations to reach my inner child. I wrote a letter to her, in Swedish, even using my birth name. I went down to my storage room in the cellar and picked up plushies and clothes from my childhood, and piled it all up on my desk, along with a naked Barbie doll. The Barbie because... I was obsessed with their boobs as a kid and kept playing with them and had all sorts of games that involved the Barbie's tits. Everything from those violent games that involved cutting off their tits (in imagination, I didn't break the dolls) and having the Ken dolls eat the Barbie's (imaginary) boobs on a plate... to sexual games that mostly involved two Barbies being very cosy with each other's boobs and making out. I guess that was my idea of lesbian sex as a kid. I was most definitely OBSESSED with boobs long before I grew a pair myself. Also all the probably hundreds of drawings I made of women's bare chests, usually with ridiculously huge boobs that exceeded the size of the rest of the entire woman... by far. Guessing I always had a thing for big boobs, ahaha. It fascinated me so much, that kind of body part. And uhm yeah I was so fucking gay already back then! I think I was attracted to boobs, and female curves in general, already at like age 5 or something. That predates my attraction to anything or anyone male... by around 3 years. Interesting. So anyhow, I just thought that playing with that Barbie a bit now could maybe trigger something about boobs in me.

Well at first I put on my old nightie from my childhood, panties and black sweatpants. Then sat down by my computer, put on a playlist with songs I either remembered from my childhood or that just reminds me of it. Calm songs. And then I meditated a bit to get relaxed and try to get distracting thoughts out of my mind. I then played a little with the toys and the other clothes (a favourite shirt I had age 4 through 8) to try to reach my inner child but kinda felt like it wasn't working. I thought I was just being impatient so I relaxed some more and read that letter I had written to my inner child. Nothing. I was more confused than impatient at that point.

So I put the toys away and reached my hand under the nightie to touch my chest. It made me uncomfortable and it felt like I was tearing at something very painful within my chest. As if I had internal wounds that felt cold when I added pressure. Like putting ice against a bruise. Weird feeling, and most certainly psychological. So that triggered something and I grimased at how it made me feel but it wasn't quite enough. So I thought "fuck it" and took off the nightie...

I grabbed and stroke my chest in ways that reminded me of how flat it is, and forced myself to stare at it. It was desperate movement as if I was scratching at a door begging to be let inside. Until the door (figuratively) burst open. An extremely intense pain and sadness hit me HARD, so very hard... and I started to cry. I bent over my knee to hold my head with one hand and keep touching my chest with the other as I cried and cried and cried... It was that hulking, ugly kind of cry when you just can't hold yourself together at all and there's just tears and snot everywhere and you wrinkle up your face and make almost childlike noises. I started shaking and holding myself tighter.

I cried out "I miss my boobs, I miss them so much" over and over along with "I want them back, I want my boobs back". Then I cried out "What I have I done, what have I done" over and over. Other phrases that I blurped out after that were:
"I loved them so much, I really did, I loved them so much"
"They were mine, my boobs"
"They were so cute, my little boobies"
"They felt so good to touch and just hold in my hands and squeeze together"
"Why did I do it, why?"

Then I started talking in phrases directed to myself, while still crying hard:
"I promise I'll fix this, I'll fix it in any way I can"
"I know it can get better, cause I'll do anything I can to make it better"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry"
"I failed you"
"I'll love the new boobs so much, they'll also be mine, my own boobs and I'll love them more than I ever could the old ones"
"It will get better, I know it will, I promise"

And then my cries started to lift and get lighter. When they had stopped I remained in my position for a moment, noticed I soaked my entire knee in snot and tears. I just breathed for a moment to collect myself before I slowly lift up my head and sat up straight again. I felt immensely cleansed, like I had just gotten out from a spa or something. I smiled and said "Thank you" to myself, for giving me that incredible release.

Then I put on my bra and regular clothes again, and felt so incredibly comforted by the breast forms on my chest. More right than ever. I made a cup of blue fruit tea and went out for a smoke to just wind down and soothe myself a little bit extra. According to the music playlist I had been listening to, I had been crying for around 10 minutes. I've cried like that before, last time was some 5 years ago, but I have never experienced such an intensely relieving and cleansed feeling afterwards before. I think I know why: for the first time I ever, I didn't feel like it was embarrassing or a sign of weakness to cry. And for the first time ever, I let myself feel all that pain I had bottled up for so long, and truly express it all, without judgement. It felt so natural, and I loved every tear, and every movement and sound I made, cause it was all genuine and I let myself cry genuinely and just let it all out.

And damn... I really feel like I did get it all out. Everything. Like it rinsed me clean. A million times cleaner than I've ever felt before. Like true, actual purity. Not the crap lie of "purity" that Christianity talks about. No, actual, natural purity. The purity of being true to yourself and loving your flaws, and caring for your pain. No blame, no shame. And I think I even also connected to... a feeling of innocence. Like I had done nothing wrong or it didn't matter if I had, cause I knew I can fix it somehow, I knew I can make it better.

In short, what I found was that my grief needed me to really know it. It needed for me to know its true depth and all the feelings captured within it. It needed to reassure me that yes... I truly need breast reconstruction surgery. I got and still get a very clear "signalling" feeling that that was the message. But oh my god, my mind is such a sassy bitch for having me so scared and worried about what it wanted to show me, and then it calms and soothes me like nothing ever has before and reassures me I was right about needing new boobs. My entire body needs new boobs. I could feel it how my shaking limbs somehow all gathered towards my chest as if every single cell within me tried to comfort my chest and rebuild it. It was a very strange and sad, but also very beautiful feeling. Like an entire city gathering to mourn one dead person cause that person had been much more loved than they ever thought they were in life. And it makes the bloody news how an entire city grieves. And watching that news clip sends shivers down your spine cause of all that collective grief but also all that collective love and care.

That's how it felt when I cried, like my entire body showed collective grief, love and care for my chest in a way I never could have expected and it sent shivers down my spine. And all those phrases I said were my truest, most genuine feelings and thoughts about my chest, that just fell out of my mouth. If I hadn't been so worried about disturbing the neighbours, I would have screamed too. Just screamed my pain out loud. But I didn't want to risk having the cops called on me again cause of the neighbours thinking I'm being murdered or something... so I held back that scream. For convenience's sake.

Do I know for sure now that I truly, most definitely want and need that surgery. Yes. YES. Fucking yes! There's no doubt about it. Literally my entire body cried out "need new boobs, can't manage without them" in a sobbing choir! I think the answer can't get much clearer than that!

Of course I will still keep my senses keen on any new signs, messages, thought, feelings or inklings I may get. All the way up to the point of surgery, I will listen to my body, all of it. Even if so my feet suddenly start having doubts about boob surgery! But unless I get any contradicting and/or doubtful anythings my senses can pick up on, I will get that surgery. Cause I just KNOW it's right. I feel it all the way into my soul now. Something that feels THIS very right for me simply won't be a mistake. I can't figure out a single reason why it could in any capacity be a mistake. No matter how hard or deep I dig for such a reason, there are none to be found.

But god damn... it was just such an incredible experience. And exactly what I needed. Oh fuck I've needed it since the beginning of July! I've begged for it, prayed for it, literally kneeled and pleaded for it to happen. "Release me, please" I kept begging and hoping. Guess I had to do it myself, like usually! But wow... that was truly beyond liberating. I'm gonna go eat soon, before I'll fall asleep. If I can manage to post this first. I'm gonna have to post it unedited, cause I struggle too much to keep my eyes open to be able to read. Literally. I hope you'll survive the typos.

Strength in hairs

So I've been thinking, pondering... if I should shave my hair off. I don't really want to, although I guess it could be exciting in some sense. The actual reason I'm considering it is because my hair is so horrible looking and in such bad quality now that I literally can't think of any way to possibly save it. I'm always wearing a wig in public now, and I'm planning on buying more wigs in different colours and styles. So like... if my hair just looks like a rat's ass that I don't want to show in public anyway, and I'm wearing wigs anyway... what's the point of keeping it on my head? I don't even bother to keep up with dyeing or trimming it. It's like I've already given up on it.

I think what I fear or worry the most about if I'd really shave it is... well, losing a part of my femininity, losing another part of my body (even though it's not a permanent "loss" it's still a pretty big thing), and that my hair is a big comfort for me. I've never felt comfortable in short hair, as either or any gender. I've had short hair as a girl before, at around age 16, and obviously as a kid (0-7ish) when my parents didn't allow me to grow my hair out. And I then also had short hair as a guy when I was like 21, and then again at age 24. So I have had short hair, but felt really uncomfortable about it every time. But then I also get really annoyed at my hair when it's long, although I very rarely ever get any wish to cut if off. I usually just get a wish to tie it up.

It was at 24 that I also cut it cause it was horribly damaged. That time was from way too intense bleaching. I bleached it literally 12 times... oops. That fried my hair completely so I went from waist length to a short kinda typical "guy style" yeah that short blonde backslick which I still have photos of on my facebook page. However, I can't really "just" get a short hairstyle now. It's damaged to the roots, or even into the roots. Cause what grows out is very, very thin and brittle. It keeps breaking off close to the scalp. I don't know what's happened to it, if it's the testo or something else. Cause about 3-4 years ago and all the time before that, it was very thick and lots of it. Now, I have about a quarter of what I used to, and the hairs themselves are about half the thickness and so brittle they literally break in my hands. If I'd take one strand in my hands and snap it, it requires no effort at all. I can see my scalp through it, like what little is left of it doesn't even cover the skin it grows on anymore. That is a bad look. So seriously, I think the only thing I even can do about it at this point is to cut it all off.

So erhm well... my hair is dead. I just don't have the courage to bury it. I don't need more things about my body to mourn though... It's like... up until recently (few months ago) I kept beating the dead horse, but then I stopped and I'm letting it be, but it's still lying there and I don't have the heart to let it actually rest in peace. I still keep it in my damn stable and keep bringing it food and water, just hoping it may still come back to life again.

I've always loved having long hair... I never got the black, hip-long, thick hair I always dreamed of having since I was a kid. That long wigs are just not comfortable to wear at all. They slip off even with glue, get really fucking entangled and take forever to detangle. I know, there might still be hope for my hair at some point. If it is the testo causing it to have gotten so thin and brittle, there is a slim chance that the longer I stay off the testo my hair might possibly regain some of its former strength, eventually. But even if so, shaving it might still be a better solution than keeping it. Cause it might look better when it grows out again then. It still keeps growing at a normal rate. So I mean, just shaving it once wouldn't be an irreversible change. It's just hair, right?

Well I'm gonna need to think about this a hell of a lot more before I'll make any actual decision on it. I would prefer to wait until after I have boobs again, cause I think then it would be easier to deal with losing the femininity that having long hair comes with, if I at least have boobs to feel feminine with, as a comfort. But I also know that I'm just feeling worse and worse about my hair by the fucking day. If it doesn't get better soon I'm likely gonna have a breakdown about it either way. Also, I can't keep post-pobning literally everything until after I have new boobs. Life doesn't stop for that.

Also, a VERY important sidenote about boobs:
While masturbating last night... even though I hate touching my flat chest, I decided to give it a go, just to try out something new. What I did was squeezing one side of my chest, like really hard as if there was a boob there that I was squeezing excitedly, repeatedly and constantly, while holding a vibe against my clit, and fuck almighty... it felt so good. And I felt my super strong orgasm also internally, despite no penetration (cause I'd have needed a third hand to manage that). I managed to trick my mind to think I was actually squeezing my own, real boob, and it felt sooo good. Not just good, it touched my soul. It made me feel an intensely amazing connection between my chest and my pussy that I have literally never felt before. Like there were sparks shooting between them through my stomach, enticing each other to orgasm. Damn, it was so beautiful.

I felt like a complete woman, super attractive and just right. It made me think that... maybe I've already cured away my chest-trauma feelings as well? Cause... it had no "dirt" in it, that feeling of being aroused by touching my chest in a way that made me feel as though it was my breast I was touching, in a very "womanly" erotic way (yes I squeezed it very hard, but it didn't hurt at all, it felt just awesome, do remember my nerves are a little dead in that area)... it had no "dirt"... it was pure. I'm still very dysphoric and grieving about my chest, but in that moment I connected to it, more than I ever had before. I connected to it because I could literaly FEEL like I had breasts again, and I loved every second of it. That's some fucking badass "mind over matter" alright! That moment felt like the clearest sign EVER that I will be whole again with new boobs. And likely also ridiculously sexually fulfilled...

But back to my hair issue:
This is not an easy decision to try to make. And I'm trying to not be upset by it. Like... lots of women look really badass with a bald head, and many also see it as a freeing and empowering thing to do. But then it's also super common for women who lose their hair to grieve like fuck. So erhm yeah...

But then it also gets tricky cause I don't think I'd be comfortable with having a beard if I had no hair on my head. Like I'd just feel like I'd look like a total dude and not at all that sweetly femme with a male touch. Unless I'd wear a wig of course. So I mean I could do so that I'd only have a beard if I'm wearing a wig but shave my face if I'd go without a wig. I think I have gotten a lot braver in general since detransing, but this still feels like it's very far from my comfort zone, and it's difficult for me to even just toy with the idea. It's like some really hot potato I really don't wanna hold in my hands.

But it might also be freeing if I'd actually dare to let go of that comfort and actually work on my issues with that. I don't know if that's a gendered thing... cause men seem to be less bothered by shaving their heads, and most of my guy friends have at least tried it once or twice, even if they've got super thick, nice hair with no signs of balding. And most balding guys I know don't seem to have cared much about shaving off the rest. But of course some do and have struggled with it. Just like some women never have any issue with shaving their heads or having very short hair. But I've gotta wonder if that's societal or biological. Like... why exactly are women more likely to feel emotionally attached to their hair, than men are to theirs? Cause it could totally be societal, about women often being told they should be pretty and have long hair. But then even a lot of butch women who don't really care about looking "pretty" seem to have the same emotional hangup about shaving it like many femme women do, and some femme women don't have that hangup. So I dunno. Could be a combination of societal and biological, maybe.

It made me think of a movie I watched a really long time ago. I liked it but it had a lot of boring scenes too. It's called "G.I. Jane" and is about a woman who joins the army (I've forgotten her reason for joining it) and she rebels against the sexism in the military like that she was considered "weak" for being female and it also bothered her that she was allowed to keep her hair long cause the men were required to shave theirs. Around halfway into the movie she gets her hair entangled or slightly stuck in clothes or whatever, like it doesn't injure her at all, but it slows her down and she's already struggling to keep up with the men, so she decides to shave it off. And that gives her the mental strength and bravery that she needs to reach her potential as a soldier. So that's like... quite a "girl power" movie and is of course based on the "G.I. Joe" thing, whatever that was I don't quite remember but I'm pretty sure it's an "action figure" like a masc doll for little boys to play with. It's like a Ken doll in military clothes... But if that doll came from a movie, or a comic, or whatever... I dunno. But anyhow.

I really have too much to deal with already. With my boob-grief, accepting my facial hair, detransing in general, all the trauma stuff... I really don't need to deal with hair-grief as well right now. Also it's winter, meaning it's too fucking cold to be that hairless. I don't know, I really don't know... I guess it could be pretty awesome in some ways though... Like I could change eyebrow colour (with makeup, or dye cause those are kept short-haired) whenever I wanted, I could get lace scarves like a sorrow veil and wear on my head, and I think it could look very intense and striking with a sharp and femme goth makeup look. Like Anna Varney! She's a trans woman who is non-transitioning due to her religion, is very depressed, makes beautiful music by singing and is considered somewhat of a goth legend with her band Sopor Aeternus. She wears a very femme, dark clothing style that reminds me of mourning clothing from the 19th century, often has really long nails, she's bald (likely due to male pattern baldness) but sometimes wears a half-wig (that start on the top of the head so shows like a very high forehead) in some elaborate style, or a sorrow veil. She's quite old, I think, (like 60+) and not particularly "pretty" per se, but she has a lot of badass vibes, her style is very beautiful and incredibly artistic. She makes beauty out of her grief. So in that sense I see beauty in the way she looks.

It's often debated if she's really trans or not, but I think the song "Anima II" of hers really confirms that she is. In that song she sings about herself as a woman with really had dysphoria about her male body, and it literally has the lyric line "my true self is female" soooo like how much clearer can it possibly get? Well, she's never said it outright in interviews and seems to be very quiet about her personal life to the paparazzi. But whatever, I guess. Reading her wiki, she's got a pretty interesting, and very sad, story though.

But enough ranting about that musician. I just brought her up cause just IF I'd ever dare to shave my head, she could definitely be a style inspiration for me. Also, head jewellery?! Like a creation of thin chains with small berloques that are meant to be worn on the head. Would also be awesome on a bald head. I think I've got a pretty neat head shape, but not easy to know for sure. I don't think it has any big bumps or dents, at least. Although I know I have a few little brown spots here and there on it, where I've had it partially shaved (like sidecuts) before. Also when I had my head partially shaved in the past, I really liked to just stroke that very, very soft stubble. Like it felt a bit like velvet, and it was soothing to just play with. I'll... hold onto that mental image.

But what really makes me contemplate it is... well, I feel kinda embarrassed by my hair now. Because I still keep holding onto it even though it looks so awful. I mean fuck, I even wore my wig for my id card... cause I couldn't stand the idea of showing my nasty nest of hair on such a picture. I don't know if that's allowed, but no one said anything about it, and nor did I, so it did end up in the pic on the card that I now have. And I think I'd actually feel more comfortable walking around in public bald than I do with the hair I have on my head now. I think that in itself is a pretty compelling reason. And maybe it is just me being a wuss that's keeping me hesitating. Also it would be really fucking nice to not have to deal with hair-brushing, tying it up whenever (I almost always have it tied up at home), getting hair in my eyes and mouth all the god damn time, not having to bother with 300 rounds of conditioning or even buying super expensive conditioners (I'd probably still use some cheap ones for just moisturing my head in the shower with, though).

Yeah, I feel super scared about doing it, but at the same time... I kinda want to? I think it might be freeing. If not else so because of just daring to let go of my stupid hair, like it might be a release from what has essentially become a burden. And because it's something I've been holding onto beyond the point of it being reasonable or even mentally healthy. But I also think it would be very difficult to go through with. I think I'd likely break down and panic soon afterwards, or even in the middle of the process. I wish I'd have a friend or someone who could take over then to finish it, if I'd still be committed to it but just too upset to handle holding the clippers. Cause I think that would trigger a lot of emotions in me. Which is also why I absolutely would NOT want to go to a hair salon for it. Just... no fucking way I'd let myself break down at a hair salon. Although that must be the one kind of haircut that simply no hairdresser even possibly could fuck up. Like, they can't go too short or cut it the wrong way if the intended result would be zero hair left. I mean... unless they'd chop off my ears too, I guess...

But yeah.. of course I'm also aware of that going from back length to no hair would be a very big step. I very much know that. Which is probably also why just thinking about doing this makes me nauseous. I've never been able to hold that thought for more than a few seconds before. But then I always used to love my hair, which I don't anymore. I hate it. It's horrible and it's just a hopeless mess, and its only good use these days is to help keep my wig in place, and keep my head somewhat warm and/or protected from sunlight. But there is wig glue/tape and hats can keep my head warm and/or protected. So if that's the only use my hair has now... it's pretty useless, cause I don't really need it for any of those things.

I think I'll order one or two more wigs first, and try to imagine what being bald could look like on me. Like just wearing my wig cap (which is close to my skin tone in colour) on my hair tied up and really stare into the mirror with that look and see if I could like it. Cause I think that's as close to "looking bald" as I can make myself before actually doing it.

The kind of wigs I really want is one to be in the same (or similar) kind of brown/blonde ombre colours as my real hair is in now, cause I really like that style, but it's difficult to find such a wig. Saw one on Amazon that of course doesn't ship to Sweden... and I don't want to have to bother with contacting some super expensive wig company to have one custom made. Nah. I'd like for it to have bangs so it doesn't need to be lace front, and it also doesn't need to be made of real hair. Some higher quality synthetic hair would be just fine.

For another wig I don't know if I'd want a plain brown (possibly for Anna but also for myself) in either a long-ish or mid-length style... or maybe something in a lighter copper or bronze colour. I dunno, I do have a thing for warm brown and blonde colours on hair nowadays, but I don't want a fully blonde wig. I don't like that look on myself, and I feel kinda proudly brunette these days. But I would like some blonde details to like give it a golden hint. However, brown with blonde highlights is the most boring hair colour style ever. It's been so nagged out, and the entire 90's and 00's ruined it by overdoing it. But if I can't find some nice looking brown/blonde combo wig, I guess I'll just throw my money at a plain brown wig then. Also need to buy more wig tape. And maybe some sorrow veils (but also I'd wear them like backwards, in a non-traditional way, so not over my face, btw, but more like a hood).

And I don't think I'll get enough courage (or stupidity) to do it before I'd get that/those wig/wigs and given it some more thought. Although I must admit a small part of me kinda wants to do it right now. I know I shouldn't though. I need to be a bit more certain about it first, or at least a bit more mentally prepared. And also, have some comforts readily available in case I'd really panic or break down about it. Although just running to bed and lying down wrapped up in my duvet might be a really good "escape route" if my feelings would get way too overwhelming. Also I don't know if I should tell my mother about it first or just shock her with the result afterwards. I don't think she'd be particularly shocked though, more like a bit surprised and possibly confused. I don't really want to talk to her about any aspect of my looks nowadays, and I don't want her opinion on it. At least not before, as that might make me feel more insecure and hesitant about doing it, than I already am.

I'm the kinda person who usually wants as little input from others about my decisions as possible. Because if I don't ask for input or don't get any advice on it, then I can be more sure that the decision is entirely, and genuinely my own choice. And not something I do because of other people's influences. But I also need to vent my thoughts on stuff like this, cause they simply don't fit in my head. And I usually don't mind input from friends or people that I know would speak from what's in my best interest and not just their own ideas of what they think of it in general.

Like I've been vehemently against the look of bald heads for the vast majority of my life, so if someone had asked me back then, if I thought they should shave their head, I would have said "no, don't do it" because of my own personal feelings on it, and not because of me actually caring about what would be the best or most helpful advice for that specific person. I do appreciate the opinions of well-meaning, good friends. Just not those of my non-supportive, naggy parents.

So yeah, I'm not against it anymore, apparently! I kinda always knew that someday I would shave my head, at least as an inkling of a thought. And strangely I always thought it would be badass to do as a woman, but kinda not as a man. Because as a woman it would be really going against societal expectations, and far outside of my own comfort zone, but as a man it would just have been... boring? But I do still get a strong emotional reaction towards it. It's a mix of positive and negative feelings, much of which I've already explained quite well in this entry. That I connect bravery, strength, and badassery as well as a certain kind of beauty towards it on the positive side - but then there are my fears and thoughts of losing comfort and femininity, on the negative side. This is of course only really applicable to baldness on women, and by extent, also on feminine men. Because I'm feminine, and sometimes I look, feel and sound like a man, but it is as a woman that I walk this Earth.

Would I regret it, if I'd do it? Well, I might. But I don't think that would be so bad if I would. It does grow out again, and I could still wear my wig as I already do. It wouldn't change much in practice, except it might make me wanna hide my head when not wearing a wig if I'd regret it. But as it is winter soon, I could quite easily solve that issue by wearing hoods, even indoors, or even get a simple at-home-wig. And then already within a month or two, it would be a buzzcut and no longer bald. But then I might also not regret it, and might even shave it again as it grows out. If I'd like it, I may actually wanna maintain it for a while.

I think it very much is different to be contemplating this decision now, as a woman in my detransition, than if I had done it as a guy before detransing. Cause then I'd very likely have been regretting it now, as I was so happy about that I had long hair as a man, letting me in detransition have long hair as a woman too... for a while. I really needed that, a lot. But maybe I can let go of that now. Looking at my pros and cons... it does seem like it's leaning quite heavily for doing it, as I should not let simply my fears stop me. And there are other comforts to find. Around me, within me and on my body. I don't need to hoard comforts for the sake of hoarding them! However, the timing might not be ideal, considering I already have a bunch of other difficult issues to deal with now. I dunno, I'll sleep on it or something. Not right now but, whenever I'll sleep. And walk around with just my wig cap on my head for a while to "test the look". Well, if I squint real hard in dim light it might almost kinda look like a bald head...

Oh btw, if I'll do it... I won't keep the hair itself as some kind of trophy or memory. I'd just trash it. Cause I have enough nostalgic things in my apartment that is literally just trash. I need to move the fuck on from that sort of hoarding too. I'd still have all the pictures of how I looked with it on my head. That's better than the whole fucking nasty bundle of it in a drawer.

(And about the title of this entry, it comes from the old saying "strength in numbers" but in a sarcastic way, as in, I shouldn't rely my strength on how much or what kind of hairs I have on my head and/or body.)

This year is starting to get kinda intense... in the sense that this year so far is the most fucking intense one of my life so far, and if I'll also face yet another one of my biggest fears: shaving my head, I'm gonna deserve more than just a medal, okay?! Fuck, 2018 is one heck of a roller-coaster... I wonder how much will have changed by the time of New Years Eve. I barely every recognise January-me of this year compared to this October-me. So now I'm really curious what December-me will be like, looking onto the next January-me with bright eyes... and I wonder what I'll be promising the stars for the next coming year. I'm looking forward to it.

Things restored imperfectly

You know what? If I won't like the scarring on my new boobs when I get them, I could get a tattoo. I've seen some really gorgeous, feminine, gothy chest tattoos that would be badass. Like those "under boob" ones that come up in a point between the boobs, and look like lace. I could get something like that but let it trail up on the boobs as well, towards the nipples. Cause I suspect most if not all of the scarring would end up on the lower halves of the boobs. But then also the scars might not even bother me.

I saw some short youtube vids about breast reconstruction and well... seems like the ones with skin grafts (if I would need to get that kind) take several stages to complete, and they're kinda like a phalloplasty, but for the chest. It would leave far less scarring on the donor site(s) though, and most likely that would be taken from the back, butt, thigh or stomach. The scars there would just be a line, so nothing like a phalloplasty donor site scar that look like burn wounds. I mean, if I'd need to go that route, I could try to opt for either thighs or butt (because it would be for making two boobs and not just one I'm guessing tissue would be taken from both sides of the body instead of just one side, as was shown in the videos) so I could get a butt lift included for free or slimmer thighs. That would be pretty neat.

I wonder what my situation with body hair will be like by that time though, cause I'd prefer not getting hairy boobs. But then on the other hand, my chest is already hairy so maybe it wouldn't be so big of a deal.

But I am still hoping it will be enough to just get implants. Like with expanders first or something. That would be amazing though, with expanders. Cause then it be like literally watching them grow! With growing pains included! Almost like a third puberty! I mean, if I count my male puberty as my second puberty. I think that would be a very... positively intense experience, as well as letting me get used to getting new boobs over time. So I'm hoping for that method to be a viable option for me.

My brain has been bothering me with images and sounds from a tv series. A character dying from breast cancer complications. I know I don't have that struggle, but the way her feelings about her post-op chest are portrayed, although they only sit around bleak in my memory now, resonate with that part of my heart that hurts when it gets triggered. And I was just writing and editing a longer text for tumblr when that character's entire death scene kept playing on a constant loop in my head... I'm restless, I can't focus. It hurts and I'm sad.

But well at least I did manage to sort out my feelings about getting breast reconstruction a bit more, and they solidified a more too. The key points are:

- That I actually want to be able to embrace my chest as it is now but feel too fucking ripped apart to manage it. Like it's not possible without boobs there.

- That it's not even a fight at all. It's more like I'm trying to comfort something inconsolable, and it's heartbreaking. Cause it's myself I'm trying to comfort, it's my own mental wounds I'm trying to kiss better, but they won't heal. So I'm not even fighting with myself on this at all. I'm not holding a battle axe against my feelings, I'm holding a first aid kit.

- Also about my feelings having changed: Cause as a guy it was hard for me to embrace my fem parts, and as a woman I struggle to accept my masc traits instead. And the irony is that it's still the same body and the same mind; just different perspectives, and a lot more knowledge about myself. I can't "go back" to feeling like I used to, cause I know too much now.

Like for example if there was a rumour going around about a hurricane approaching my village, but no one really knows for sure, I might think "it's probably not a real threat, maybe just a slight storm coming or something" so I'm not worried. But then a reliable news source confirms it with lots of info, then I'd likely get really fucking worried and panicky. Cause getting more knowledge changes perspectives. Same with my chest: before I thought it wasn'st such a big deal and like I could handle it cause I didn't know my true feelings about it or what it meant or even the real reason I had my top surgery. But now I know and literally it's like "I can't unsee this" and thus, it's affecting me a lot worse now in detransition.

- (about my what if's) But I don't think those are actual doubts. I think they're a mix of desperation in my grief of pleading for the dead to wake up again (as in not wanting to accept my harsh reality) - and my fear of ending up making a mistake again.

- I know I can't go back in time to undo top surgery, although that would have been practical. So I know I'll need to reconcile with that shard of my past whether I'll get the reconstruction or not. But I also feel like I can't even begin to reconcile with it without that reconstruction.

- It is to the point where I am dependent on my breast forms. I can't go around without them very long at all (only for showers and sleep). They're not enough but they're something, and that something I'm holding onto with a desperate grip for my dear life, and refusing to let go of.

- And I do feel certain that more surgery is what I need, already taking into consideration that I want to alter body as little as possible from here on to find my peace with it. But I also have to accept that sometimes some things hurt too much to embrace as they are, and then you need to take a different route to find that peace.

Like I can reconcile with pretty much all the permanent changes that the testo gave me, even the difficult ones, and I'm pretty sure I can find ways to be fine with them (without removing/fixing them) although it's difficult and may be a long process, I feel it is possible. But with my chest what I feel is so different it can't even be measured with the same scale, so I need to take a different approach.

And also this little kinda sidenote realisation:
- They're (the breast forms) like a child's comfort blanket. But then I always hold onto my comforts as though I'm still a child, scared of losing something I love, even if it's just been gone for 2 seconds. I panic, and it ramps up so quickly, as if the world is suddenly falling apart at my feet. I know that is probably very directly connected to my traumas, because it is a very old, and irrational, fear. It is most definitely a child's fear.

To wrap all that up:
By going for surgery I'm not trying to escape having to reconcile with and embrace my chest, but rather using the surgery as an aid to reach that goal. An aid that I need for that specific part of my body but not the rest of it. That I have to take a "part by part" approach and upon doing so I see that I need to work in different ways with my chest specifically, and then it hit me more firmly that getting the reconstruction is in fact something that I NEED to get but wish I didn't have to do. So it's a means of necessity to obtain the same goal as with the rest of my body, but just needs a bit more specialised care for me to get there with it.

I do definitely keep in my mind that surgery should be a last resort and not the first thing you go for. And it wasn't the first thing I reached for. Padded bras and shaving my chest was the first thing. Then taping a fake cleavage. Then trying to embrace it as it is. Then breast forms. Then trying to focus on the positive aspects of it. Then trying to ignore it and just letting it be there. All has failed or is too far from enough. My chest is like a wall of sadness that won't stop crying no matter what I try to comfort it with. And I know that what it says between snivels is that it needs new breasts to feel at home and comforted, and that nothing else could console it. I feel like a stressed out mother trying to comfort her constantly crying child, in all the ways she can possibly think of, but nothing is working. And the child's pain and sadness creeps into my soul, until eventually all I could do was just being there and whispering calmingly "I'm here, I'm here" and that's the state I've been stuck in for the last couple of months or so now.

And then hearing that I can get the reconstruction via the gender clinic lifted much of the weight that that sadness has brought. That too, was a form of confirmation that I truly need that surgery. The crying child finally responded and gave me a hug. Although it's still crying, it has hope now. And it's the only thing that's given it hope so far. To me that is a very important sign, that soft, careful hug I felt from within myself upon hearing I can get the surgery. I think that was my heart's way of telling me "yes, this is what I need".

I know I have to get that surgery, no matter how scary it is. No matter how much I'd rather there was a less invasive and less scary way to heal my wounds. I've tried everything I can think of, but to no avail. There might be a lot of things about the surgery that scares me, and also that little thought in the back of my mind that says "I never thought I'd ever want to get a breast reconstruction" as though it's the wildest and weirdest and most "not me" thought ever, even despite all that... I long for it. And the thought of having it done soothes me so much, like it makes my heart sigh of relief. And I feel like I'll love my new boobs no matter what, even if they're a scarred and uneven mess... cause I'll give them all the love that I never could give my original boobs.

But I also keep in mind that I might struggle at first. That I might feel unease at what they look like or their weight on my chest, and that they might bring me flashbacks to my past traumas. So I plan to be super self-caring and gentle with both my chest and my mind, and be super keen on giving myself time to adjust, and allowing myself to feel that unease. Not judge that feeling as "I made another mistake" at least not right away, cause that's not certain at all. And I think that's super important. And I'll most definitely try my absolute hardest to not force myself to love them or hurry that process up. If it needs time, so be it. I've got time. And if that becomes a very difficult struggle with little to no progress, then I'll look into what I could do about that. Like if I might need to seek a revision, or consult in some therapist about my trauma feelings, or even just go to a spa or something relaxing like that... or whatever might come in handy to help me cope better.

Cause I know I've always struggled to embrace or to not feel "iffy" about natural things that have been artificially made or things restored imperfectly. I'm pretty sure that comes from that teddy bear I had as a child that the family dog ate, that it created a kind of trauma and a phobia. And it just hits me now... that is exactly what I fear about my chest after reconstruction. Just thinking about that teddy I had as a child... and how horrible I felt about it after my father had fixed it for me. It looked WRONG and it made it crawl under my skin whenever I looked at it or tried to touch it. I felt so guilty that I couldn't love it. Eventually I had to stuff into a drawer or something where I could forget it ever even existed. But of course it doesn't work that way, because I always remembered it. And the phobia it caused always followed me. I wonder if I still have it somewhere. If I could find it....

Oh god I'm crying. This hit a particularly sore spot in me. And it's not just sore, it's really painful and bleeding. I doubt I still have that teddy and even if I don't... I'm gonna need to really deal with that phobia/trauma of mine, cause now it's about my body. I can't stuff my chest into a drawer and try to forget it ever existed. Fuck, it's gonna be sooo difficult. How could I have missed that piece? My body is gonna be that teddy... it already is but even more so after surgery, when it's been "restored imperfectly". Fuck.

I'll really try to find that teddy, as there's only one place it could possibly be, in my storage room. And if I'll find it... I'll bring it up into my apartment and have it in my bed at night and on my desk at day, and use it to deal with that phobia once and for all. If I can't find it, I'll just try my best to expose myself to other things that trigger that phobia, and kiss my fingers when I feel that creeped out tingly feeling in them after touching what triggered me. No matter how painful and how difficult, I need to work with this now. I can't ignore it anymore.

Well, at least there I found the explanation for another one of my "doubts"... but yikes, that's a painful splinter jammed into my heart. I've no idea how to yank it out. I can feel it's the source of a lot of pain. But yeah... I'm glad I found it.

I wish I had a better option than surgery, but I don't. This is my best option so I'm just gonna have to work with it as well as I can. And if that means going through another grieving process (cause of comparing my new boobs to my lost ones) so be it and I'll get through that too. No one grieves forever. No one grieves forever.

Before my top surgery, I wasn't aware of that I carried a trauma about my chest that showed itself as a form of gender dysphoria, so I took the wrong route in my attempt to heal my pain. Like taking the wrong medication for any illness you could have been misdiagnosed with. But now I know the truth behind that pain and also know how best to heal it, and even tried it out on other parts of my body with truly exceptionally amazing results. So the risks of me being wrong again now, I feel are extremely low.

And I feel all the more certain the more I'm looking into it, and the more I'm able to connect to my emotions again as my natural hormone levels restore within my body. I feel, more and more, like I can trust myself again. My gentle, yet brutally honest approach to my insecurities, worries, fears, desires, wishes and hopes, really does feel like a ride in the exact right direction. And I keep getting it confirmed that I'm not messing up at all this time. This time, I'm actually healing myself, not just thinking or assuming that I am.

I wonder if another reason for my insecurity could be that this "truth" I've discovered is essentially a self-diagnosis, and the "wrong" was an actual, medically made, (mis)diagnosis, as far as I know. Perhaps it will solidify my feelings and thoughts on this even further if the psychologist I'll see in Stockholm who's gonna re-evaluate my gender situation will confirm that I am in fact not a transsexual, do not have gender dysphoria and that I was in fact, really, truly, misdiagnosed. Cause I think so. Just getting that medically professional opinion that I'm not mistaken now instead of back then. And that I'm even sitting here and thinking that might be the case, I think says a lot about how much I really want to make sure this time. I got burned, really badly burned, by that mistake I made, and now I'm scared to go near that stove again.

But with all that said, I still feel on a very deep level that breast reconstruction surgery is what I truly want and need. I feel a lot of positivity and soothing calm around it. Like it is going to restore my body, as much as anything can. I do long for it, I yearn for it, and I can't stop thinking about how awesome it will be. But the actual completeness that I seek from myself, I will need to work on on a soul-level to find. Just having the surgery won't make me complete, it is merely a necessary tool to find that completeness. I will find it though, eventually.

This one thing also hit me recently:
Sometimes I hear trans people say that if someone has no doubts about going into surgery or taking hrt, then that's a red flag that something is wrong. During my entire transition, when I was in it, I felt like I had no doubts. Suddenly, I understand what they mean. It's not that I didn't have doubts, it's that I did but refused to acknowledge them and that's what led to this disaster. It has now taught me to always, always listen to my heart: it knows me better than my mind does, and it always wants what's best for me.

Just a sidenote to finish this entry with:
Having been on testosterone taught me the value of logic and keeping it cool in difficult situations. Going back to estrogen teaches me the value of emotions and allowing yourself to break down every once in a while. Both are just as important and valuable, and that also helps me become a little less sexist. I am loving women more and more, and I don't think as poorly of them anymore, by far, compared to just a month or two ago. As I also come to love myself and my own womanhood more and more.

I'm not nonbinary, although I'm glad I looked into it without judgement. Just that I feel so very connected to and uplifted by thinking of myself as a woman says really all I need to know about my gender. I'm proudly a woman and I revel in being one. I re-invented myself as my own kind of woman and that's very important for me. Thinking of myself as nonbinary would just be another escape from who I truly am.

Yes, I am strange, unconventional and androgynous, and sometimes I feel like a man, but so what? It doesn't make me less of a woman or not a woman. It just makes me a different kind of woman. Because the term "woman" has no limits. Limiting myself to that term is not actually a limit at all, but a world of possibilities and potential. And I know now that I can find and already have found, a hell of a lot of strength in that.

I don't think I can explain in words what being a woman means to me, but I feel it like a spark of warming and energising light within myself. It is a bright fire that needs no fuel to burn. All it needs is the space to exist.

Back to the gender clinic... 4 years later

So, the appointment at the gender clinic in Stockholm... but first, one major complaint about the trip in general: I got stung by a wasp! The nasty bug had fallen down on my wig and I didn't know what it was so tried to remove it with my hand... it didn't like that! So it stung me on my finger. But luckily it wasn't a bad sting. It just hurt for a while and got slightly swollen. It's still a little sore, but not too bad. I know exactly where that little bugger came from: there's a nest of them on my parents' porch, where I sat to smoke. The few that are still alive heat up on the ceiling lamp out there, which was right above me. So the wasp that stung me must have fallen down from that lamp and onto my head. God damn creatures... I'm not scared of them, but they do make me very uncomfortable when they're close. I don't panic around them, but I sure tense up quite a bit. So, as soon as that one had been dealt with, I was calm again and really just bitter about the pain in my finger.

But let's move on from that slight misfortune. At the appointment I met with the therapist alone, and she asked if I preferred her asking me questions or me just telling, and I said questions would be better. So she first asked me boring stuff about how I live, what I do for a living, if I have a partner, and so on. And then she asked me about how, why and when I started thinking I wanted to detransition. I tried my best to explain my situation with that, mention a little about my breakup with Y (cause I think that was my first very small step towards detransing), and also talked about Anna's part in all of that, cause she did play a huge part. Without my switching with her, that day in late June, I would likely never have come to this realisation. So I thought it was important to bring up.

It was however difficult for me to explain what my switching with Anna means and how she is not me yet she is. Like that about her not being a part of my consciousness but acts and appears as though she's a different person in my mind and sometimes in control of my body. It's weird. It's rare. I bet that therapist doesn't often get to hear about that kinda stuff happening to real people in reality.

Anyhow, moving on. I also told her about my "shadow work" like that's how I've been managing to dig up and accept uncomfortable aspects of my mind, which was part of my more direct approach towards discovering my truth. I think she understood that better. A therapist (actually her title is doctor (within psychiatry) which is a high rank with lots of education required) is likely to know about one of the most world known founders of modern psychology: Carl Jung, and his most famous theories. I'm an amateur, but she did seem to understand why I've chosen to be my own therapist, and seemed to like that it's been helpful for me. I dunno, something glistened in her eyes when I talked about it.

I also told her that I think my dysphoria was solely a reaction from my past traumas, because since I started healing them from within, the dysphoria has been disappearing more and more until eventually it was completely gone. I told her I quite often get called "he/him" by strangers etc, but that it also doesn't bother me, and I really don't mind being called "she/her" either. That pronouns indifference of mine. So then she also asked me what I felt the most uncomfortable/dysphoric about now, and I said just straight out and very clearly: "my chest". I know I have a tendency to beat around the bush, sound unsure and sugarcoat things I struggle to talk about even when I am super sure about them, because I get uncertain about what reaction I might get; but this time I really did outdo myself! I was very straight to the point, clear and concise. I'm proud of myself for that achievement. That actually surprised me, that I could manage that with sheer will-power.

Then we did look at her computer at some of the earlier notes from the time of my treatment at their gender clinic (from years 2013 and 2014) and some of the notes from the gender clinic in Uppsala where I got my diagnosis (from years 2009 through 2012). She said that when she took my case, back in 2013, she had looked through my case/file in regards to what the clinic in Uppsala had noted about me during my evaluation, and thought it was alright and nothing odd about my diagnosis. But we found one REALLY odd thing about the Uppsala clinic's notes though, and it kinda shocked me: it said they had referred me to endo for starting me on testo, back in 2011...

They most certainly had NOT. Or at least I never got told about anything such and nor did I get any appointment for endo back then. I can't have been so out of my mind with my suicidality and addictions etc that I simply missed that. Not fucking possible. That simply did not happen. Unless I could have switched with Anna and blacked out?! I'm guessing that's a faint possibility. If she could have told them off claiming I didn't want it. Cause if it was late in 2011, that could have happened, theoretically. I don't think I got any more appointments with them into 2012 (I then moved to Gotland in June 2012, and sought the clinic in Stockholm) and like I wondered why. Shit. That would explain that! Well of course I can't blame Anna now if she did do that. Not that it helped in the long run though, but still. I think if she did that, I'd almost actually be thankful? Or at least I'd be very compassionate to her, knowing how very much she did NOT want to go on testo. If that was her one and only time showing herself in public, just to do that... damn, that would have been impressive of her!

And I'm actually considering that as a possibility cause there is a lot I still don't know about my mind. And damn, reading that note hit me out of nowhere. If she finds those complete papers from Uppsala... I'd wanna read them too. This is so fucked up! I wonder if that 7 years old referral can be found in the system somewhere, like if it can be traced... to find out if I was actually referred to an endo back then or not.

This is really grinding my gears, man!

Reading that note was... strange. I saw it on the screen myself. It said "(me) has been referred to endocrinologist for starting testosterone" dated at 2011. 2 years before I remember having actually gotten it. I was self-medicating with testo back then, or around that time. I stopped the self-medding in August 2011. Then I was off testo for 2 years until I got it from the clinic's in Stockholm referral to an endo on Gotland.

Something she told me too, that with that I have Asperger's. She asked me if it's possible I could be a bit "fixated" or "stuck" on this detransing thing. It was a little harsh, but she told me very gently and I could see she had true concern about that. So I told her I'll give it some thought.

But oh my god, I can't delay it anymore, I have to say the greatest news! I will very likely be able to get breast reconstruction surgery from there!!! Oh my jolly good grievens, suuuuch a relief to hear that! And also sooner than I thought. The plan is this:

- I'll need to see a psychologist to do a "mini evaluation" to basically revoke my transsexualism diagnosis and make sure that I'm on the right track now and also so that they can write a letter for the "powers that be" (the state board, highest creed of the country) that will grant me a female gender marker again. It's to basically abate (overturn) that I was granted a legal sex change, to change it back. The board that handles such cases requires a psychologist's note but my therapist said they'd very very likely grant it. So like, no worries. They just need a reason, that's why the hassle.

- So I'll need to see that psychologist a few times or so, and that will apparently be done over the next months to 6 months or so, depending on the psychologist's and my availability. Although apparently video appointments could be an option. Like with webcam. Then I'll get to see the gender therapist again in February next year, which is also, btw, very close to my rape (12th) anniversary. 2 days before it to be exact.

- And then after that evaluation is done and if everything seems to be alright, she'll send a referral for plastic surgery!!! Which means, I could even get it within a year from now! Oh my god, that's so exciting! (And yeah btw, I've already reconciled with that I'll most likely get scarred boobs. Cause you know what? My chest has been scarred for the past 4 years already. And the old scars can be lessened too with surgical alterations. But the flatness is what's REALLY bothering me, not the scarring, current or future ones. So yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll love my new boobies, scars included. Both my mind and heart have calmed down significantly about that. It's not a big deal at all, for me now. Having gotten that a lot more realistic expectation some weeks ago was harsh at first, but since then I've felt much better about it, and now I don't feel deterred by it at all.)

But also, I want to clarify that she asked me about how I felt about having had top surgery before, and I told her about my "instant post-op regret" that I buried and shoved away, cause I thought it was a permanent change and like there was no going back, so might as well try to like it. And that I was like happy about it on the surface, but in actuality I felt really terrible about it. And also clarified that it was not about the result itself being bad. I said I think it looks really good, like if I had been a trans man it would have been amazingly good (but not "perfect" but then I've never been a perfectionist) but I'm a woman and.... yeah, yikes. So she seemed to understand that my missing having breasts and wanting new ones is a wish that goes really deep.

Then she also asked me about some various testo changes and how I felt about them now. She started with my facial hair and to that I said that I'm unsure and need more time to figure out if I want to keep it or not. I said that to purposely give an "open answer" just in case my feelings might change on that, considering I'm so dithering on it. It does NOT mean I'd go against my feelings to fit into society, it simply is to give myself the option just in case I'd actually start to feel really really bad about it and come to that decision on my own to want it removed. Then she asked me about my body hair, and I told her it bothers me, especially that on my chest and stomach. She said that might likely get reduced by giving my body more time off testo. That has been my thought too.

And... then she literally whispered when she asked me how I feel about my clit having grown on testo... even though it was just the two of us in that room. But I get it was because of it being a rather sensitive question. It was a little awkward, but I shook off that feeling quickly. And I told her, clearly and and simply, that "it doesn't bother me". (I do love it, along with the rest of my pussy). I gave her no more details than that simple statement though. I guess I could have said that my reasoning for that is that well, it's still a clit (and not a dick) and some women have larger ones naturally, and mine didn't get THAT large on testo. It's still just one inch (exactly 2,5 cm) and I know some trans guys grow theirs to several inches, like up to about 10 cm. That would likely have made me uncomfortable about it now, if mine had grown that big. But it didn't, and that might be a big reason as to why I'm still fine with it.

But then I really didn't feel like digging deep into the topic of my clit, with her. That its increased size doesn't bother me is probably enough information for her to know. But yeah, if it's brought up again and/or she wants more details about how I feel about any parts and all of my body, I'll try to be a bit more elaborate then...

She also asked me about my voice and I said I'm fine with that too. I think it's really good that she did ask me about all those various things, because I clearly feel very different about a lot of the changes I got from my transition. That's a lot better than if she had just straight up assumed I wanted to reverse everything or even none of it, for that matter. So that felt very good and non-judgemental. She treated me as just a person, and neither as a trans man nor a cis woman, with whatever expectations there might be on either of those two categories. Yeah I'm a cis woman, but I'm not exactly an "average Ms. Jane Doe girl next door" kind of cis woman, am I?

She did only ask me about the permanent effects. Which makes sense, cause no need to discuss the things that will return and/or reverse on their own, given more time off testo. I think we did discuss periods a bit too though, but I don't remember much of that, and it probably wasn't very interesting either. Btw, my "period dysphoria" vanished when I started loving my pussy. They appeared to have been connected. Since then, I've just been thinking that periods would be annoying, but not dysphoria-inducing in any way. So that's how I know I'll handle them. I mean, unless they end up becoming super extreme, like they've been in the past, simply in terms of practicality.

We did also take a look at my the results of my hormone levels, that I got tested 10 days ago. Apparently my testo is at 20, which is within normal range for adult males, so I don't think it's dropped much, if at all. However my estrogen was actually quite high, at 230-something. It's not "high" for adult females, but it's in the lower end of "normal" for women, like she explained it can be like that during certain times of the menstrual cycle for cis women. I was a bit happy about that number though. My ovaries are alive!!! They've risen from their slumber! I didn't think they were dead, but just... it's just nice to see them waking up again. My little estro-bulbs.

But with my testo still being that high, I think I have even more reason to ask my endo (whom I'll see on Monday) about testo-blockers. Cause this might take half an eternity if I'm just gonna wait for the testo to leave my body. But then also, it's only been 3 weeks that I've been off testo, technically. So it might start dropping for real within a month or so from now. I really don't know though. Despite the return of the periods (that will happen but hasn't yet) I really do look forward to being free from that extra testo. I just hope going off it won't kill my sex drive. But somehow I don't think it will. I've always been a horny girl, considering my 20 years long masturbation habit. I've wanked off the past two thirds of my life! Not really, I know, but it was fun to say.

So, now I'm waiting for an appointment with whichever psychologist they'll assign me. Also, she did say that usually the detrans evaluation is meant to be done by the same psychologist who did the original trans evaluation on the patient, but in my case.... it was in Uppsala and apparently that psychologist is not working there, or at all, anymore! I'm guessing he's retired. He was kinda old already back then and was close to getting retired, and that was back in 2009, meaning 9 years ago. So, wouldn't surprise me at all he's not working anymore. So, for my detrans evaluation, I'll get some new psychologist, and in Stockholm, instead.

I did tell her also, btw, that I feel it was something iffy about the team in Uppsala, how they treated my case. She didn't have all the papers from them in her office today, so she promised she'll look hard to find them for our next appointment in February, so we can go through it properly. I think that's good, really good actually. That might also allow for me to truly, once and for all, get to the bottom of just HOW iffy they were. If I was hit with actual malpractice from their part, possibly even. I think that's worth looking into, especially now considering my detransing. If they actually fucked up my case, I think that should be brought to light. They'd be in real trouble if that happened though, but somehow I don't much care for saving their reputation if so. They misdiagnosed me. I've no reason to feel sorry for their fuckups if I'm their fuckup.

She also asked me about other detransitioners (and she used the word "detransition" with a Swedish pronounciation, which intrigued me), if they've often gone through trauma, and I said that yes, that seems to be very common. I should have also told her that other very common reasons are internalised misogyny (in detrans women), internalised homophobia (most common in detrans lesbian women) and dissociative disorders (seems more common in detrans men), but I couldn't find the Swedish words for any of those things. I could have translated the first one to just "sexism about/targetting one's own gender, and feeling bad about it" and the second one possibly to "feeling bad about being attracted to the same sex" or some stronger word than "bad" maybe. But I was nervous and too focused on myself, maybe.

But I could clearly tell she was very keen of learning something, ANYTHING about detransitioners in general. And yeah she kinda saw an opportunity with me there, haha. I don't think that was a bad move of her's though. Cause it wasn't insensitive and only took up like half a minute of our conversation.

I didn't bring up my own bisexuality, by the way. I just thought of that now. But I think really though my detransing was not because of my bi-denial, even though my bi-denial was definitely connected to my detransing. I'm not sure how to explain that in simple terms, but like.... both my original dysphoria and my bi-denial spawned from the same pile of crap, but they are both actually two separate issues. Until I detransed, then I could let go of my bi-denial cause of being more true to myself in general. But my bi-denial was not, as I see it, a cause for my dysphoria or why I thought I was trans.

But now I'm getting off on a tangent. So maybe it's time I'll finish this entry before I'll just keep writing until I fall asleep. I don't think there's any more important things for me to add about my appointment. But yeah, also that according to her professional opinion, I did get misdiagnosed. But that won't be official until after the evaluation.

To sum it up, it was a very informative and rewarding conversation. It cleared up a lot of what I was uncertain of, she seemed to understand me (at least somewhat, that dissociation stuff was tricky to explain), I did not feel pressured into anything, I'm proud of that I could speak up clearly, and it made me SOOO happy I can actually get my breast reconstruction surgery. That loosened up quite a few knots in my stomach. I feel positive about this. And I think that evaluation could be interesting to go through as well. It might even teach me something more about myself. Now I need to go sleep. Really struggled to keep my eyes open reading through the last third or so of this. It's 3am and I've been up for almost 23 hours as well. I felt to tiredness, then suddenly I'm almost snoozing on my keyboard. As per usual, that is. Ketchup effect on everything...

Living my greatest metaphor

Fuck, I hate my mother's reaction to my detransing! I'm already a mess from this damn shock of a realisation and she's just pressuring me more and more, I can't deal with it. I can't shut off her opinions and go my own way when she's constantly on me like this. It's disheartening, makes me tense and and even more confused. I wish she would just shut up and mind her own damn business. I get she's worried but this is just not cool anymore. She's never acted like this before. Whatever it is that's triggering her defense mechanism she's going out of her way to try to tell me something.

I'm starting to realise more and more what it's really about. It's her fucking prostitution hangups. Yeah I lied my way out of it this time too, but this won't hold for long. My father suddenly understands me better, and that's a literal first. I talked to my mother on the phone and except from her own highly biased opinions based in worry, she also told me something my father thought of me, that she thought would offend me but it warmed me. She said he thought that "when I was a guy I looked like a girl trying to look like a guy, and that now I look like a guy who's trying to look like a girl". He fucking nailed some of my inner most feelings. My confusion, my awkwardness, my stumbling in the dark. My thinking that I feel like a male crossdresser and that I was never truly a trans guy. He put it into words I wished that I could. How he can apparently see that, like right through me, I don't know, but that struck a chord in me, and positively so. Yes, that is how I feel too. It might sound like a harsh thing for a father to say about his detransing daughter, but the brutal honesty and directness in that statement did not make me feel like a failure at both genders... not at all... it made me feel relieved, and understood. I couldn't express that properly to my mother though.

I don't think either of my parents could understand how well that phrase resonated with me, or that I find relief in it having been said. I'm hurting, a lot. I don't think either of my parents understand that either... not at all. And I don't know how to tell them. The last thing I want is their pity, or sympathy. Or for them to suddenly start thinking I'm getting suicidal again or whatever might be going through their minds. But this pain is too real and my mother's prodding slashes my wounds open again and again. I can't deal with it.

Yeah, I'll definitely talk to the gender therapists without my mother present in the room. Cause I really need to tell them this. My mother is not being a support for me now. Not at all. She's acting like a harsh critic when what I really need is a gentle hug. I fucked myself up bad by lying to myself I was actually a guy and now she's telling me over and over again how bad I am at being a girl. Not exactly what I need. I know I'm not "bad at being a girl" cause there's simply no such thing, but that's the message she's giving me, constantly, and it's really hurtful. I want to curl up into a ball and cry, but it's better if I can get these thoughts out of me instead so they don't get stuck on a rampant loop in my head and heart. I need to sleep soon, so yeah. Gotta clear my head and I know this is the best way to do it. Just write it all down and then toss it somewhere online.

I feel like I've lost so much of my strength. Like I can't hold myself together or stand up against bullshit as well as I could before anymore. I feel so very vulnerable, like my shell broke. Well, in a way it did. I did let go of a huge escape mechanism, so in that sense, I am standing naked before the world as a woman. And it hurts so much more to be wipped on bare skin than on armour, and everyone can see all of my mistakes and wrong-doings, as well as my hindsight and grief. How do I survive myself? How do I find a way to live peacefully with the choices I've made? Cause I don't know. I don't know how much longer I can stand up, before I'll fall to my knees and start pleading. Where's my strength? I kinda need it now. No, my strength is still here. It's the forces attacking me that got even stronger, and my old armour doesn't fit my new form anymore, and thus my original strength is in need of an upgrade. It didn't get worse, it just hasn't caught up with newer malware programs yet. Oh where do I find an upgrade?

I'm cold, so very cold, I'm literally shivering and my hands are freezing. It hit me so suddenly when I had hung up the phone. Along with anger, frustration, but also emptiness. And resignation. Like wanting to sigh but being too tired to even do that. Holding the cigarette for several minutes without taking a drag cause I zoned out in the masses of thoughts fighting and climbing on each other like a bunch of starving monkeys all trying to reach a single apple hanging on a string from a roof. I couldn't even focus on a single one of all of those thoughts. And my cigarette blurred out of my focus too. And a wave of intense tiredness hit me.

I don't even remember all the crap she said and what I said but whatever. But basically it's the "slutty" type of femininity I wear that she decided to rag on me about again, and even tried to explain to me exactly what type of clothes bothered her and why. I'm so tired, mom, please leave me alone. Just leave me alone in my fucking grief. And the only fucking thing I can hold on to and feel comforted by, you're trying to tear apart cause you think whores are the sadest, most pitiful people on Earth and you don't want for me to get that kind of reputation. Well I told you now that's a tad too late cause I've already had that reputation for a long time. It doesn't bother me, it never has, cause I don't think so fucking badly of whores. They're PEOPLE, just like anyone else. That if random people think I'm a whore cause of the way I dress I really don't care cause I don't think badly of those who have that kind of job. But you don't understand and I'm hurt.

It's not even about it being my stupid "dream job" cause it's not about that. Not at its core. At it's core it's about my own subjective idea of womanhood, that I first thought of as something gross and shameful, but that I now embrace and tell her she's truly beautiful and valuable, and should be proud of herself. She's not dirt, she's gold. No matter how useless and worthless she feels for the pain she suffered. No matter how badly she hated herself for being strangers' fuckhole and that she hated herself for thinking she was just as bad as a whore. That she was broken for all that sexual trauma, that that's what made her that way, and that's what made her connect womanhood to filth.

At it's core, it's my sexual revolution. That I found pride, pleasure away from shame, self love away from thinking I was filth. I didn't wash my filth off, cause that's what I had been trying so desperately beyond the point of flaying my skin sore after hours in the shower scrubbing the same areas over and over and over again, then devastated by that the horrible filthy feeling remained so I didn't shower again for a week, and then repeated the cycle. No I left the filth on me cause I knew it was never actual filth to begin with. It was my body. And I express that with my slutty style: my way back home. To love myself, my body, my sexuality, to stand proudly next a prostitute saying "I'm not the same as you and we don't even have the same job, but I look like you and I feel like you, and I'm just as proud of you as I am of myself. I do not idolise you anymore, now I simply fight by your side, and if you don't want me to, then I'll simply be by your side." Cause I don't need to be a prostitute to resonate with that atmosphere, and I don't need to be one to dress like one. It's not about actual prostitution, it's a metaphor.

A real life metaphor, that I impersonate for the sake of releasing myself from my own prison, thus show myself as the most true me as I possibly can be, by looking like something I am not, but that I feel reflects me. It's a paradox, meant to be paradoxal, and reveal what it's hiding and hide what it's revealing. And that is why I've adopted it. It's like playing theater acting as yourself, while no one knows it's you and they tell you how badly you portrayed your own self. I can't properly explain it. I've always known this, but it's always been beyond what my words can tell. Prostitution is not really something I aspire to have as a job, or rather it doesn't matter if I do or not; it is something that I simply resonate with, as though it is speaking my truth with another story.

And that's why it hurts me when she stomps on my style because of what other people may think of me, when that's exactly why I choose to still hold on to that style... cause I, alone, know I am stronger than the crowd. "Jump, they say" but I walk away. But my own mother is in that crowd, telling me to jump. I can't. I just can't. She used to be the only person I could never lie to. Now she's the only person I can't tell the truth to. What happened? What happened...

A treasure of my mind and heart

I just wrote a reply for a post in a facebook group about opinions on non-binary, and while I wrote that reply, I got a new realisation about myself, in a particular paragraph that I'll include soon. But I just want to first say that this blog entry became something truly special that I really did not expect would happen. That single paragraph eventually spawned something bigger, something way bigger, and very important. Not just important, but profoundly crucial for my journey. Sharing this feels like sharing a piece of my heart's inner-most core, something very pure and truly beautiful, which I'll very gladly share, with a bright smile on my face.

Here's the paragraph, and then follows the rest:

"What of that is gender dysphoria or not, I don't know. Having had top surgery was a mistake for me as it made me feel like I lost an integral part of my body, but it feels more like I've been amputated than induced gender dysphoria. Although that difference may be very subtle. I don't think I miss my boobs because they were female, but because they were simply a part of my body that I now feel incomplete without, like any other limb. And I think that is the same reason I don't want to undo the changes I've gotten from T, as they are too, now a part of me. And why I don't think I ever got dysphoric about being on T might be because it never removed anything from my body, but only added more to it."

My thinking with that is, perhaps I never really had gender dysphoria at all. Not even now. Perhaps my perception of what makes my body "complete" has nothing to do with gender at all. But with keeping it intact. In the sense that I reacted badly to top surgery because it removed a part of my body, not because it was a gendered/sexed part. The way I feel about my chest now is very, very different from how I feel about any other aspect of my transitioned body. And I think this is a very important distinction for me to have found out about. I know what it means now but I struggle to find the right words to explain it.

What I feel about any and all of the additional changes my body went through on testosterone, ranges from frustrated to happy. There is no grief, regret or true disconnection towards any of them. At worst it's that I feel frustrated about my body- and face hair while still liking it on a deep level. At best it's my voice that I totally love and wouldn't want to change for the world. And then the rest ends up on a greyscale between those two. I do not regret having taken testosterone, but I also don't wish to go back on it, and I don't think I ever will.

If I could go back in time, and do things how I'd want for them to be now, knowing everything I know now, and if I had all the options completely free at my hand... would I then still have taken testosterone? Ah, that's quite an interesting question, isn't it? And I think you might like my answer: Actually, I think I would have wanted that.

But why would a feminine cis woman actually want to go on testosterone, if she'd know she's cis and proudly feminine? I think that's dwelling into the real complexities of gender and personal choices that even I cannot quite yet claim to be able to grasp. But I'll try, cause this is soooo fascinating, just how can I not? I think, in my personal case, that has a lot to do with my androgynous mind, and me having that male/masc side that seems to be very prominent and potent, and me now embracing it while also embracing my female/fem side, having taken testosterone and reaped its permanent effects, allows me to be both fem and masc and show both those two sides simultaneously and even better: integrated with each other as a whole person.

I do not need to compromise my love for a very feminine style anymore, which I tried to do in my teens to achieve an androgynous look. I am androgynous in my looks regardless of how I choose to dress. I am complete (except from my lack of boobs), I just rejected what my own idea of completeness means! Is that real tears? My goodness, I think it might just be... I'm crying, finally! I'm actually crying... I've waited for those tears... I've waited so long for this release... Oh my god, it feels like a HUGE weight just melted off me!

I may not have realised it before, but the sheer force that this huge revelation now hit me with is nothing but beautiful, and I can't possibly explain how much I really needed its velvety softness now caressing me from within. It feels like my literal soul is hugging me. I just let go of another one of my barriers and another wall within me fell down, letting me step a little bit closer to myself. Wow. Just wow. Little by little, I'm healing. Can you see the wounds closing? Well, I can feel it in my smile.

How about we analyse that a bit? Like what just fucking happened?

Alright, here's what happened: I just stopped rejecting my bodily androgyny cause of thinking it was a "defect" or that it's "wrong" for me to want/like it as a woman. I accepted it fully. Then I listened to what it had to say to me, and it told me: "You are complete with me, I was never wrong, regardless of your gender. You wanted me, always, on a very deep level. I was your goal, and I still am but your adult opinions of gender and your mother's love for androgyny block your acceptance of me. Let them go. I matter more. Your completeness matters more." And it all fell into place. I knew that piece of my shadow was right, so I let it forward. And as it stepped forward, it connected with my sense of self like a key clicks a lock open, and it overwhelmed me with a feeling of wholeness that made me cry and feel as though a weight was lifting from me. I now feel lighter, more relaxed, at ease, happy, together and connected to myself.

That's my Shadow Work. This wasn't planned, but I'm absolutely grateful and happy about that it happened while I was writing this, letting me document the exact and entire process without interrupting it, as well as tell you exactly how it affected me. It's very quick. That probably wasn't even 5 seconds in real-time. But it takes longer to explain it in detail. And just to be extra clear, that what my bodily androgyny "said" to me was just a feeling I got from within myself, not an actual worded message like that. I just chose to write it as a worded message as a way for me to explain what that feeling figuratively "told" me. I hope that makes sense. My body wasn't actually talking to me. But I think this was still a pretty good description of how that process actually works for me, and how strong the positive impact of it is, and how very important and effective it is.

I've gotten quite a hang of it now, and it's become not just rewarding despite the pain, but actually fun and something I look forward to the next little steps of, without being very impatient for those next steps. They happen when they're meant to, and it's not something that I can force. Now this step was especially huge. Its release was very intense compared to most previous steps. It might not seem like it was a huge thing that I unlocked, but to me it really was. The impact is what told me it really was. Now I'll leave you with this little treasure of mine, while I'll enjoy it in my privacy.

Distance and disconnect

I have to admit I'm in a sexual low now where I just can't get into that mood. For masturbation, yes, but not for sex with other people. I know why, but it's something I can't do anything about and it's frustrating me like fuck. It's because I can't fuck without boobs. I just feel so much that I need a pair of those on my chest to be able to enjoy sex with other people. Or rather, the fact that I don't have any boobs makes me too upset to even contemplate having sex with anyone. I'm trying to think like "but can't I just keep my bra on or something?" but it doesn't work. I tried that once but I just wanted for him to touch my chest... the boobs that weren't there. It hurt even more than being bare-chested. Masturbation works cause well I'm addicted for starters, but also cause in fantasy I can have boobs.

I hate it for every time I have to dig into this pain and admit it's fucking with me. On multiple levels. Sex while having a flat chest only worked before I detransed because I had not yet acknowledged these feelings and they were kept hidden deep in my mind where they couldn't bother me. Now that I've brought them up to the surface, they won't rest and I can't ignore them anymore. And it worked those two times after detransing cause those feelings hadn't yet shown me their true, ugly face, and I still managed to suppress them somewhat, by holding on to how it used to be before. But now I can't anymore.

I think that time has passed and my old methods are useless now. I think now the only way I could possibly make it work again before breast reconstruction, would be if I could find other strategies, to cope with this new dysphoria that has surfaced to stay. I don't even know what methods though, if wearing a bra doesn't work at all. I'd absolutely hate it if this shit forces me into yet another period of unwanted abstinence... well it's been a couple of months of it already and I've just kept trying to ignore my feelings, and work around them somehow, but no matter what I try I can't. Just can't make myself see anyone for sex. But I need and want sex... fuck this stings.

Cause I just embraced being bisexual and am finally trying to date other women for the first time ever... and now this?! No. Just no! I won't accept that. I just won't. It could be years until I can get that surgery... I need to think of something I can do to help coping in sexual situations until then. I wonder.... if I was with someone I could feel safer with and maybe even trust to some degree. Maybe that could make me feel good enough about my chest to enjoy sex and find that mood for it again. Could I really aim to get a girlfriend on that sort of premise though? And am I even ready for another relationship? Oh god, it would be so hard... but it might actually be worth it. I can't deal with dating men now, and uh, call me bigoted if you want to, but I think I only want to date cis women now. Bi or lesbian doesn't matter to me though.

And no, I would not feel great about possibly having to ditch a trans women for that reason alone... but FUCK I need a damn break from anything and everything trans in my dating life, especially for long term stuff. It would be too strenuous now and this detransing sucks the everloving life-force out of me. The last thing I need is a living breathing trigger of a girlfriend. Yeah I hate using the word "triggers/triggered" in terms of social stuff, but that's also something I have to admit. That I'm almost constantly actually getting triggered by trans people's transitions now, both ftm and mtf, because of my detransing.

I just cannot handle seeing or hearing about people wanting to change their bodies that way, or having changed them already. It gets my heart in a knot. Each to their own and all of that, but for myself, I need to take a distance from that stuff. I don't know how though. I don't want to stop talking to my trans friends who can't stop talking about their transitions or wanting to transition but at the same time I've also become so incredibly biased that I can't even possibly be encouraging of them doing that. I get silent or say something else instead, or keep it as brief as I possibly can and then feel like crap about it cause it got into my heart. I'm sorry but I'm in too much pain, cause transitioning is literally what caused that pain for me. And then getting myself triggered by it like that over and over and over again and again... it's not good. It feels like scratching open the same wound over and over, preventing it from healing. It needs to heal before I can scratch that area again. I need to say stop and take a step back, but even that I don't know how to.

So yeah, in dating I really need space from that stuff. Especially in dating. Cause nothing is as intimate and up-close as that. Also considering my most recent ex was Y, so that's a rather fresh scar as well. I think I really, really want to connect and build a beautiful relationship with woman who doesn't have any history of transitioning and isn't struggling with anything trans now, who's confident about her body and gender. Whom I could just curl up close to and hold softly tightly with my entire body and feel comforted by her warmth and calmness, without worrying about accidentally triggering some god damn random dysphoria that I was not aware of. And to explore her unaltered, natural body that's beautiful and sexy just the way it is... cover it with my kisses, every inch. And she'd not be insecure about showing me her every inch and let me close enough to touch, kiss and love all of her. And only then, I think I could do the same and feel good about it. No fuck, I think I'd feel absolutely amazing about it.

I need the influences of a woman like that... and then just hope I'll have something good I could give her too. I mean, except from my love, care, passion, kindness, charm and teasing. Perhaps I need to find someone who really needs those things as much as she can give me what I need. Well, wish me good luck with that, I guess... But a confident cis woman who's not intimidated by me, would be a good start, I think. Then take it from there.

I think maybe if I was loved like that, and treated gently, I could both enjoy sex intensely with her and my own arousal, as well as feel much less worried about being "bad in bed" as it would be my first time with another woman. Perhaps she'd even feel honoured by that I couldn't give away my lesbian virginity to just about any woman... that it had to be her, specifically. Whoever she may be.

I think I long for love and romance much more than I may want to admit. That too. So yeah, maybe I'll try to get into some actual dating, I dunno. I'll need to be careful, and keen on listening to myself. Also keep working on my half-assed meditation so I can learn to relax again, and trust my own body. That too, I think would also be very important for a relationship. I'm literally too disconnected from my own body and mind to truly connect to anyone else's body and mind. But I know I can change that, if I just try and give it a chance or two, and keep working on it. So I'll do that, as well as working on my communication skills or lack thereof. Someday soon I'll hopefully be dating material as well.