prime

This will be even less responsible than usual, more disjointed. There just are so many various things and I need venting. Twitter would work but getting now cross-linked with people reading that. Usually a good thing.

Intensive. Submitting two papers this week, two “as soon as possible”. 19 papers published since early 2018. Lots of grant funding (I cannot use it myself but I can use it to hire minions). Invited talks. May end up being selected as a representative towards funding bodies by my institute and by one of our consortia. As a junior PI, openly and non-passingly trans, with purple hair and witchy styles and not speaking the local language. I I pull all of this off it will be magical and I will gain strength from it.

Today is all meetings – first two, other people were no-shows. Now having coffee and breakfast before voice therapy appointment, thereafter another meeting, then another, and need at some point to drop by the office to collect my post. In my apartment is building dust and no hot water, but I met the builders and maybe they fix the latter. They know me well now as the crazy girl who still lives in the building as they repair. I hope they see me as a girl, at least. I should try to do laundry before flying off again tomorrow. Last few days spent in meetings in other locations. Tomorrow random teleconference, because perhaps I can help with yet another Cell revision and maybe earn an authorship that way.

Friday Copenhagen, meeting random frenemies and collaborators, then an old friend. Who suggested we spend a weekend there together. Whom I had a crush on once. I think. I don’t think he is making any moves on me. If he did, I would… probably respond. But mostly I think we will talk medicine and fractals and altruism and stuff like that. Which will be great.

Needing to edit the ischaemic heart disease MS this evening to make it saner, the other authors need my input. And sanity check of our own MS submitted today. My students make me so proud in this, because they really did deliver, better than I had expected. I feel warm pride and appreciation for them, want to make sure they all benefit also. And I need to get back on track with the first Cell revision (is it still Cell though? might be EHJ now?), and the revision about the mutant cyborg mice. All this-week urgent. Almost. And get on top of what I should do to help with the institute funding review. And make slides for Friday in Copenhagen. And not lose track of the creation of a data repository, need to somehow work out how to do that, if they give me an outwards-facing web server. Which I most definitely will name after a Sumerian deity.

And at some point, need to sleep. And start fasting again. I am growing heavier and I hate this overweight with all my heart. And get my boots cleaned somehow. And resole my other shoes, and look if the boot model I saw a while back actually exist in Big Foot Girl sizes somewhere. And get a second purse to put small change in so I can easily just give that to beggars instead of it accumulating.

Aside from all the people I long since should write back to, there is at least three. With one, there is clearly interest in me, and who knows how I will respond? I fear I will not be able to, and disappoint. But I also do want it. I think. With another, I am surprised to find myself so strongly drawn, in the absence of any good ways to followup. With one, just glad to be in touch, and perhaps now after all my crises lately I will be able to better just witness. There is another where I am not really sure what to do. I feel she might respond, but that I should not risk hurting her if I am the least bit unsure. Perhaps I should only move with people that I feel really strongly for, but there are also those people where whatever can be there is the right thing. And ultimately, despite all hopes and postures, and despite bonds I do have, there is still unfulfilled loneliness in me.

Three weekends ago, did chemicals with a maybe-crush in the toilet stalls of KitKat, it helped me ride out her relative non-interest at this point, I need to remember that feeling of radical acceptance so I can return to it whenever rejection makes me sad. Radical acceptance is also the name of the game of this Tolle philosopher two friends want me to read, alongside that of the anxiety self-help book I am reading. Two weekends ago, almost wept at the dancefloor until some strange man started grinding. I accepted. His pants were wet to the extent I think he already must have come once. His kisses were uncomfortably stubbly and crude, he ignored my breasts, we had no language in common. I followed him to the club bathroom stall, needed to use some force to have him understand I would not blow him (which I knew only when the chance was, literally, in my face). Gave him a very unsatisfying handjob, first time I do, mostly because I felt I needed to give him something he wanted or it would get awkward. Felt edifying and perhaps validating, but in the also mostly lonely.

Need to get apartment in order for a good reason too. One beloved person visits soon for the first time ever in Babylon. And another will visit soon thereafter, and I have hopes of being in a calmer state then and just sharing that time with them, seeing who I am when I am not haunted and when I am not lonely. I realize more and more strongly that if I could only be less stressed, and more rested, I could somehow once again do those things I could in the past – create, describe. Have ideas. I will claim it back, and share that time with my loved ones, and see what experiences we make. Whether I succeed or not, this I do much look forward to.

Oh and also, I am beginning to seriously worry if a job applicant is stalking me. I understand enthusiasm but there is something over it that somehow makes me more concerned than I otherwise would. Will see where it goes. Maybe it is all good.

So much at once. I feel so tired. I must get through this. I will. It will be good. One step at a time. Staying in the present. Remembering whenever I can to stay proud, and to act so I can stay proud.

Continuing forward.

moonwater

I’m beginning to read Sunstone again. It showed up way in the past, and I read what was then there, but back then I did not know what I was (did not know myself as a woman, which meant I could not quite know myself as domme either), and though it caught me, it was not quite so strong.

Now it was recommended to me again – by incidence – and with some additional contexts casting shadows around it that fall elsewhere. But like with “Pattern Recognition”, what I learned since changes the reading much. First, I recognize so much more. From the nerdy trans woman domme – who wears the same kind of virtually unique glasses as I! sight lenses set into reading glass frames so as not to hide any eye makeup! – to the dynamics and nervosity and perhaps most importantly, I recognize now similar wants and preferences and kinks in myself; where I felt alien from the story back then, it feels like it is almost scarily literally describing realities of my life in the present moment.

That is glorious and delightful and I am very happy to find it so. Will see how it progresses. Today is an incredibly hectic day, stressful. Being able to read the comic in-between in transit helps me recharge a little. This will be good. On another note, seems the price for Dr Enki’s services is not as high as I thought, hospital stay costs are within the quote I already had. So while I still will try for the insurance solution, given another year I could still pay privately. This calms and makes me long for the body I will have.

On yet another note, six-seven weeks without shaving gives me about a dozen actual long beard hairs. They bother me but just waiting another two days and I will finally have them electrolyzed off. There won’t be many more sessions now.

shard haddock

Today is a day of interesting vulnerability. I feel baseline anxiety levels high in that way where I worry unnecessarily about arbitrary things, where everything feels vast and difficult and scary. It’s OK, I know to navigate it. It’s been blogged about before too. I have these days rarely.

I can see three main issues influencing. Three nights with less than six hours of sleep. Near-overwhelmingly much to do in a short time. And going into off-cycle for progesterone since Monday. It has happened in the past I had states like this when going off a high-P cycle.

Four issues but who knows cause and effect, some photo angles combining with my new shorter haircut to make me dysphoric.

Neither blood sugar, caffeine or alcohol (they gave me prosecco at the hair salon) has helped.

Never mind why. It’s here and I will navigate it.

I drink coffee, do my tasks and listen to the Turrican soundtrack.

mount point

Things are heavy but what else is new?

Arriving at the conference hotel I’d felt good about my presentation all day, though I was tired and irritable. The receptionist greeted me with a “Hello… (pause) … sir.”. I mumbled by “It’s madam, actually”, don’t think I got a response. I smiled emptily and checked in and went to my room, then had waves and waves of body loathing staring at my face wondering what was wrong, writing despairing messages to loved ones, tweeting, and leaving an unsatisfied review. Cried and worked and delayed rest feeling shocked.

They tried to knock on my door, or phone me, later. Then left a letter of apology in my room with some chocolates. Fairly patronizing letter not getting the point, and sweet milk chocolate is not quite what I want most to be tempted by as a vegan on a diet. Never mind that though. I suppose I shall have to talk to them and try to explain at least a little. I am not offended or angry, I believe in no malice here. I’m just hurt, as a consequence of honest misgendering, for what it implies about my misshapen carcass body and disgusting voice. They weren’t offensive, they were careless, and I was hurt. So would they be if they were in trans modality. It will be less work emotionally to try to tell them so I can do my political duty, then I’ll just leave that chocolate behind. I have a surgery to starve for.

Understanding now better how oppressed groups experience pressure to perform emotional labour to soothe the guilt of those who hurt us.

So on that surgery, I keep moving and preparing but I feel messed up because everything happens at once and I’ve had no time to let anything sink in. I have to, so I can process. I have to let myself rest so I can do that.

It was shocking to read those worst-case scenarios but I am beginning to reach an equilibrium again, perhaps.

Someone described her Chonburi organ (the sensate area inside the vestibule left from the glans) as looking “like a penis stuck in there, scaring away any cis lesbians”. One photo I saw looked weird but others do not, and really this is a selling point of the method, it lets material be maximally reused. I can think of it as the hidden part of the cis female clitoris. I think any technique not retaining nerves would scare me more than this does. And if it looked that bad, then the Suporn clinic would not be so renowned.

On the other end, someone described her clitoris as being not very sensitive at all. Ultimately, this I know is a risk. But it must depend on individual factors. I can’t see any way in which any other surgeon could do this better, or more consistently.

So scratch those two worries.

One said she hurt whenever she grew aroused. This would be swelling somehow. She noted that some other women who had been growers rather than showers before had similar issues. This is again something hard to address. It can’t be that common, and while it probably depends on how much erectile tissue is removed/retained, that also is not something that speaks against the Suporn clinic. Chettawut is said to remove more, but I won’t go to him because of how he drops you if you have complications. Mesopotamia are said to retain material causing the “bulbus”. So here, I don’t really feel it keeps me back. It may end up being an issue, but I can’t reduce the risk and I’m hoping I would be able to deal with it if it goes poorly. Honestly the description sounded much like vestibulitis, hurting while swelling, so it may be an infection or skin thing also. Can I prevent it? Not really. The risk is there with the surgeons I consider.

Major worry is the issue with dilation. Scar contraction, granulation tissue, so that getting to depth is painful and takes long. Some needing much time even years post-op. That is one of the greatest fears, that I will find that down the line I still spend lots of painful and boring time dilating, so much that it detracts from my work or relationships, not just during recovery but thereafter.

This fear is real, it happens to people. I know that it can happen. If it does, I can wait and see, but not too long. I’d have to seek help, removing scar or granulation tissues. For that I’d need to go back to Thailand, or void my warranty and have another work on me. It might not work. There exists a worst-case scenario where I’d have to let it grow closed and be no-depth, if I heal bad and have no life. I’d mourn it like the lost uterus or XX karyotype or girlhood. I don’t want that. But surely it can’t be more than a fraction where it goes so bad?

It can still happen. I’d have to set a time limit after which I am not OK with trying more. And I wonder if the Mesopotamian “combined method” which uses partial inversion heals easier? Then again, that uses urethra inside, there will still be stitches to stretch. I don’t think I’m so afraid I’d refrain from the Suporn method because of this.

So I just have to be aware of my fallbacks. In the worst case, after years of trying, let my vagina close up. Or go back to Thailand or get Mesopotamia or another to help remove scars. But mostly, try my very best to avoid it, make the chance low.

That’s probably the greatest worry. The fistula worry is grand and terrible, but if I stay two months in Thailand then surely it would show up if it was the case? Though I might not know. But if it does happen, I would go back to Thailand – I must budget for that. It will still be cheaper than Mesopotamia privately. It also happened more than they said – maybe even no less often than in my native country. But I somehow trust that it can be fixed if it does, just like when giving birth. The worry of not detecting it early enough; not sure how scary that is. Significantly but I don’t have the energy for that fear? Fear that it will happen if I dilate carelessly, in the pushing-through stage. That is a worry. And a reason not to be made too deep. And to be careful dilating. So mostly it speaks to the above concern on dilation becoming a big issue.

What else? Someone experienced granulation issue so bad it needed revision. Some had wound separation. These… I think I can get through these.

Someone had urinary incontinence which is extremely scary, as is having to wear pads from incomplete healing for very long. The latter goes back to the dilation/healing part. But the former, if that is lasting somehow, would need treatment. But that sort of treatment I think it is known how it is carried out.

So how do I actually feel? Afraid I won’t be thin and healthy enough by December but I can deal with that. Super scared for the poor healing outcome, more than from graft rejection, more than from the fistula or incontinence, because those latter all are so relatively unlikely, and likely to be already discovered in Thailand and dealt with. Scared of chronic pain and sensitivity loss but don’t see any other surgeon being less risky there.

So it comes down to healing/dilation difficulty vs non-inversion method in the first place. I am guaranteed to regret an inversion vagina, whereas I will only regret a lost vagina in the unlikely case of persistent bad healing. So that does not hold me back.

Then that leaves me with the fear of how to go about it if I need help. Some hours by train away, or a long and expensive flight away.

That in turn balanced against cost and how long it will take to wait, or more to the point, how long until details are certain.

I seem to calm down. It’s like when I was talking with several loanbrokers, or several employers. Feeling bad over that. And it was scary to decide on a loan and apartment.

I may end up just having the surgery with Bank. We’ll see. The need is to know what to do when anything goes wrong. I probably will do as I planned and continue to prepare for.

There was a reception and I drank lots of wine. Then I spoke to the hotel representative. It was OK. Maybe they don’t understand but maybe the understand a little better now. I hope. They may do better with the next guest. I’ll eat their chocolate and drink their complementary drink, and I’ll be fine.

And the next hotel where I am misgendered I will do the same, and so on, until I no longer am.

night errors

I now have access to the accounts of many more SRS patients, including a better view of what can go wrong, and the insight that while complication statistics for the Suporn clinic very likely is still low compared to other surgeons, it is still higher than the numbers most often cited. Reading the stories of struggling girls scares me, it affects me a lot right now.

Part of me wonders if I still should not have aimed for the nearby clinic despite waiting times, just in case revisions are easier, even if that means waiting much longer. And part of me wonders if inversion vaginoplasty might be much easier dilation-wise given fewer stitches inside.

But in the end, I do not want inversion, I need that skin to be on the outside. And I’m sure every high-quality place I’d go to would have its share of issues and difficult stories. I’m queasy but I’m proceeding with my plans.

Given that I need to outline my fears, as now informed by the unhappy accounts I saw.

For a lot of women, it seems their main issue is that dilating to depth is physically difficult, stressful, painful, and that even into their second year post-op they may still have granulation tissue or bleeding, and may need to dilate daily, having to take painkillers to do so. I say a lot, but I don’t think they are a majority, but I don’t feel confident assuming I will not be one. I have to assume that daily dilation may have to be a thing for the next years. It’s somewhat similar in scope to the issues I lived with when I needed hours for angst management, that which I transitioned away from. So this I would not want permanently.

It’s a gamble. Chances are I’ll be OK. If I am not, I’ll try to have revisions. If I fail that, I’ll have to have some revision that has the vagina healing shut, giving me a zero-depth cosmetic outcome. If so I’ll regret not having inversion surgery, but if I have inversion surgery, I will also regret not having the Thai technique. So I am gambling on a no-regret outcome as a non-guaranteed possibility. Losing depth would leave me mourning a missing vagina just as much as I miss a uterus or XX karyotype, but would still mean being less dysphoric, and would still let me have outside sex. I would be in sorrow but I could live with it. And that means there is a worst-case scenario I can accept.

Worst-case in another regard is incontinence, if there is fistula or something wrong with the urethra. I don’t want to have to live with that permanently, having to wear diapers. So I’ll have to make sure I can fix that outcome if it happens. But there at least this is something that women do experience and there are surgeons who have dealt with it. Combined with the above, I feel tentatively OK in that it will be possible to deal with somehow, though I worry that any such additional stresses will be an obstacle for me spending enough effort to succeed in my work. I so wish I was a cis woman and did not have to worry like this. Though it is exactly analogous to the uncertainties of a cis woman having a baby.

Worst-case in regards to orgasmicity and clitoral sensitivity. I don’t think I can affect this save for asking for as much tissue reuse as possible. It’s a neuroanatomical lottery. My chances are probably good. But if I end up without that sensitivity, then my sex will be much like now – something I have for the sake of closeness and touch and pain, not for the sake of orgasm. I’ll mourn what I can still feel grinding against someone (and I’m really scared of this) but I know this is something that will be equally true regardless of choice of surgeon, and that the Suporn method is the one that reuses the most of the sensitive tissue.

Worst-case in regards to pain. Some women have ongoing pain, either too much from dilation, or too much when they get aroused, or from vulvitis-like symptoms, or overall. I might run this risk too. There is a small-ish risk I will have something like chronic pain. I suppose I will take this risk and then all I can do is prepare and be ready. It too should be no different between techniques.

So not all issues have clear solutions yet, though I think all eventually can be solved. There are worst-case fallbacks I would mourn but can live with. Mostly I worry over how much time this will lose me from working. Hopefully all will go well, and I will do anything and everything to improve my chances.

I feel sick from the fear, obsessive over it, but I’ve largely done all I could. I’m second-guessing my decision to have this surgery but I think that is an emotion that was to be expected and that I can keep on observing. I remain on schedule to have it, and I think I will process these fears by seeing things through their lens for a while. I’m really scared for surgery, because of the risk of imperfect outcomes, but I still want it. I must let myself navigate and experience that fear as I prepare myself.

caput draconis lexis

There was this interesting person saying she was in love with me. She took me to bed and we shared very intimate things about each other. It felt really powerful and I fell so hard and wanted so much to build something with her. Then she faded out. First, it was not wanting to meet other than Platonically. Then, it was not wanting to meet at all. Then, it was just not wanting to communicate. As far as she told me, all of this was just her issues with feeling unsafe with anyone coming too close. Her depression and dysphoria meaning she couldn’t spend time with anyone at all for the moment. Nothing wrong with me.

But then she told me in passing she was so busy with her friends, and with her new boyfriend, and that this was why she had been so distant. So I suppose she actually fell out of love, or realized she wasn’t in love with me after all. Maybe she thought she told me this somehow, but more likely she felt it was too difficult to say it to me other than in this way. So that’s an ex-something. Not an ex-partner, I suppoe, as we were not formally together, despite the above. Yet I need somehow an ex label for her in order to get over her. Ex-love? Ex-flame? Ex-lover? Ex-something, at least. Whatever it was, however little may have been actually reciprocated any longer as time wore on, whatever was there.

So be it. Am I feeling hurt? Yes, of course I am. And that also intrigues me somewhat. I’m glad to know my body is capable of holding emotions I can’t stop. Being able to hurt means I am able to love. I regret nothing. I learned such valuable things about myself, about how I love, hurt, suffer, long, respond. I learned to access my emotions even better, so in some ways she really did succeed in her welcome intention to get me out of my head. I’m stronger and more whole for this.

I’m feeling cruel as well, though I’ll let that mostly pass, I’ll have her in mind as I read of Inanna and Dumuzi in the Underworld. For whatever reason, I was not what she wanted. I am no less worthy for that. Though the pattern of that painful joke remains, that marks three people coming out of an ace/aro period, doing a test drive of intimacy with me, then moving on to whatever they really want. Boys, in two cases, cis girls in one. Not to mention the people who first tried me as a poly/kink adventure in the past. I’ll accept more applicants, I embrace my role as the safe slut to play with. Though be aware, if you get that close to me I’ll probably fall for you too. Fine. Hearts are made to be broken and to heal.

I’m feeling a little bit of headache, and a sort of determined tiredness but also some form of energy. Listening to Tami T who is remarkably appropriate for these moments. I appreciate the meaning my life contains, quite deeply. I’ll spend time making myself better. And if any of those who spurned me see me as whom I will become, then I hope they will appreciate what it was they missed out on.

On another note, did an STD test. HIV negative so far, so nothing there stopping me from surgery with the Suporn clinic.

process! process!

One aspect as it seems like, I self-misgender when I see my own tells. It was so with smell pre-transition, with stubble pre-success of laser (somewhere a year in or so, a state change), it is so still with voice as I hear it myself, with torso rectangularity, and with genitals, whenever they emerge. This is something that happens in the day-to-day moments, and the effect pain-wise lies in the feeling of falsehood and unreality that the self-misgendering brings.

It’s possible to work around any trait; this I do with others, I parse others as who they seek to be. It requires a little mental work, but I do it as a matter of course. I can do it on myself too but it either is somehow harder, or it is how that then means I have to constantly apply a filter to my self-perception. Vigilance thing.

This is why tucking is good, it turns that need off when clothed. This is why I don’t relax well during sex when naked, I’m actively translating perceptions into other representations. Live transitioning the lived experiential and social body. Medical transition shortens or eliminates those paths. It successfully did for hair removal and a lot of the HRT effects so far. I actually have a mostly smooth face, feminine eyebrows, and breasts, such as they are. I don’t need to shift those perceptions around.

I’d want that for genitals too, so I wouldn’t have moments during the day, like when dressing or going to the restroom, or when being intimate or getting aroused, when I’d be reminded of tells and self-misgender.

Then another thing, I’m sure I underestimate the pain and horror. Tiredness, pain, fear, no sleep, being drugged. Good part is, once it is started, I will be unable to stop it. I won’t have to choose to continue. I will have to. This is probably very similar to subbing. And reminds of Christ on the Cross, too. Thy will be done, not mine. Liberating from choice to be weak.

*
Then noting a new fear. What if there really is a somatic counterindication? I’m deathly afraid of that, I realize. In the same way as I’ve feared so many other things. I’m wanting to get x-rays and everything done now already, though they would be useless, they need to be recent by surgery, just to know I will be OK, which is to say, that I won’t be denied. I won’t get them yet. But I’m realizing as I hope for surgeries that I will fear the chance taken away until they sedate me. So that’s a chance to practice fear management. I’ll try to ride them but to still feel them.

fort

These are more intense days yet again. Much is not gender-related except I did it gendered, but I want to express it.

Very time-pressured during this week. One day all spent filming, with two people I have crushed on. I had a lot of fun. I was stressed I would not do it well but it worked. Seeing the movies – in some angles and lighting, it almost appears as though I pass visually. My voice does not, but I actually look pretty good. Sometimes. Photographed by a girl who knows her stuff, in good makeup.

Then the homework. I will provide more material to help make my legal case to the insurance. Then I will perhaps have the choice of Schaaf/Morath or Chettawut. May still be leaning towards the other. It feels like I am longing for surgery now.

I went to a castle (well, resort that was a monastery with horses, swans and weird art) east of Babylon, almost to the Polish border. Place and landscape were beautiful as so many things at once. The meeting took most of two days and I needed to stay focused, could not work much on my manuscripts. I stayed very visible, and kept worrying I was too pushy. I was nervous giving my talk, and as previously, froze some and tried to hide it when I talked about the part where I outline my planned research in trans people. That said, I think they recognize me. I think my strategy from before work. I am sure I do not pass as cis to these people, but they accept me. In particular, the young women smile at me. In line for the toilet stall, someone complimented my boots.

Oh, and I definitely, totally wear a miniskirt and a corset to a meeting for research leaders. No-one has told me not to. Not all is wrong with the world. Over post-dinner drinks, spoke with she who previously misgendered me. I talked about my alignment and surgery and identity, she of her minority religion. We got on well now. I think she knows me now.

Getting tired and drained already, physically, socially, intellectually. Have some hopes of meeting up with someone this weekend, and to do so in a state of such drain (not too severe but somewhat), as I somehow long to go from exhaustion to meaningful communication while extra vulnerable, this being a feature rather than a bug. I am an emotion junkie but what else is new?

Apparently I volunteered to help coordinate efforts to harmonize study protocols and patient data. That will come back to bite me but if I do deliver all of this then maybe I do have a chance at tenure. Mid-day we left to circle Babylon to another castle (this more typical) on the diametrically opposite side. I put white noise in my headphones and semi-slept in the car.

I do need to learn the language. At least clinicians, if not basic scientists, spontaneously shift to Akkadian if all present are natives. I don’t want the vulnerability and feeling of being a liability of being the person who forces that shift.

Still, evening and dinner went fine. I ate much more today than my diet plans for, this is the issue with planned conference schedules. Some good conversations. Maybe one person getting weirdly familiar, or just a mistaken feeling of mine.

After sleeping in the car and feeling relaxed and vulnerable, I find myself thinking even more fondly-but-idly of a certain collaborator. He is old and married and I don’t like men, do I? But he smells always weirdly, oddly sexy, and I know he is smart and kind and pragmatic, and sticks out for me, and cares about me. I feel safe around him. I feel like a high school girl crushing idly on her teacher. I emphatically do not want that to go anywhere whatsoever, but it does fascinate me how I seem to respond.

Tomorrow, end of second meeting. I might get to socialize thereafter. If not, I will probably try to work until I am too tired to get anywhere, then watch sci-fi. Tonight I will have more sleep than yesternight. All in all, I am vulnerable, emotional, real, and entirely satisfied and at peace with where I am and with my own volatility. At least that is part of my truth.

eh moh

These days just now, I seem to run out of spoons very quickly. Vacation mode thing most likely. On some level I know I get to, so I feel the long-term tiredness. Now feeling extremely tired and worn, will do minor things and then rest.

Also saw some claim that triggered my dysphoria a little, or rather just an opinion. Ordinarily would not faze me but right now no space in head, so putting thoughts into text. Person felt only dislike of body anatomy was a good reason to transition, compared to wanting to be seen as a man/woman or so as to relieve other issues. Here I’d counter that it really is true my other mental health issues, being to a significant part based in dysphoria, got better with transition and that this was a major otherwise unachievable benefit; that certainly is a good reason. And as for how I am seen… I am dysphoric when seen wrong, simple enough, and that has indirect consequences. Changing how I am seen reduces my dysphoria, which I need to do in order to function. That too I consider a good reason. So in a sense point all moot.

Brain tired, no logic, all weariness, will seek rest.

xaos

So much at once good and bad. Good – adventure, walking in Finnish hospital tunnels, meeting collaborators for posh vegan food, fully OK threesomes, flying back and forth. Workshop on intimacy for AMAB people with dysphorias; heard stories of South American travestitas and hijra from Pakistan; including divisions within their communities. A woman who had bottom surgery last year offered to let me see her vagina and to put a gloved finger in it; not sexual, very enlightening and empowering, all things considered. Potential future hookups with yet other people. Spending an evening writing reports, with a friend coming over for company, then staying for what turned out to be conversation, cuddling and sex. Date with a guy tomorrow, another next week – I promise this was not supposed to be a post about my sex life. Had more bottom electrolysis this morning, then lots of meetings. In which one person misgendered me, and another mentioned immune system sex differences not hormonally driven, both of which make me a dysphoric mess, at the same time as I have to make lots of decisions on project reporting, paper writing, data analysis, statistics and administration. Plus looking so much forward to the party this weekend. Am I being my own stereotype? Maybe. I love this but it is intensive.