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ashers-transition · 1 year

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1 Month T Update (January 13, 2023)

Here's my one month update for being on testosterone! (Sorry it's a bit late, life got ahead of me).

So far I have noticed no physical changes, so I will be skipping over those portions instead of just saying "no changes" over and over, and instead I'll just include the changes I have noticed.

Please check my pinned post for more info about me and why I started this blog! CWs: eye contact (in video), discussion of menstruation, discussion of appetite and disordered eating. (If I've missed any content warnings that I should include, please let me know and I will add them in).

Menstrual Cycle

So far I have only gotten my period once since starting testosterone, since this is only my one month update. In my pre T post, I mention that I struggle with chronic pain, and that I get a flare whenever I get my period, with the first day being the worst. I started a new pain medication around three months ago that has lessened those flares enough for me to be functional during them.

This month, the first day of my period was absolutely awful. Previously, if I could tell that I was about to get my period I would take some as-needed pain meds the night before to help lessen the flare, but with my new daily pain meds helping so much I stopped doing that for my more recent periods and had been fine so far.

This time, the flare was so bad that I once again was not able to function. My cramps and overall pain were so bad I could barely move, and I honestly felt like crying. I also almost passed out at one point while sitting down (my POTS is decently mild, so this is not normal for me).

I am unable to say whether this is due to the testosterone, or if it's just that my fibromyaligia and POTS decided to flare around the same time I got my period by coincidence. I'm hoping this won't be a trend, cause holy shit that sucked.

Acne

I have noticed a slight increase in acne. It hasn't gotten too bad* yet though, it's basically just like the minor breakouts I get whenever my period starts but all the time.

(*note: I fully believe that acne is a neutral feature and is not inherently bad. It only becomes an issue if it starts negatively affecting you; for example, if it becomes painful. I personally struggle with BFRBs, and acne can be a trigger for me).

Appetite

I have noticed a slight increase in my appetite. I still eat around 2-3 meals a day, but I have begun snacking more in between.

Voice

I personally haven't noticed a difference in my voice, though there does seem to be a difference between my pre T video and this one. I think it's more to do with the fact that I just naturally have a fluctuation pitch depending on how much energy I have to put into trying to lower my voice. I also have not had anyone else notice a change in my voice, including both those that I have told I'm going on T and those I haven't.

[Video description: A waist high video of Asher talking to the camera. End video description.]

[Video transcript: "Hi, my name is Asher, and this is my voice one month on T."]

Other

I mentioned previously that I was going to start taking testosterone gel, due to my BPD and ADHD making me worried about mood swings and forgetting a weekly shot. I still think this would be my ideal method of taking T, however I did end up having a mild reaction to the gel. The pictures are difficult to see, but the gel was very very drying. I knew this could be an issue because the gel is alcohol based, but it was so drying for me that the skin in the area became super rough and even started flaking. (Image one)

The are also gets red and itchy after application, and sometimes it even feels like it's burning a little. (Image two)

Due to this, I will be switching over to taking testosterone through injections, starting at the three month mark. (I paid good money for the gel so I'm going to use it all before switching lol. In the meantime I will be rotating the application area more than I have been).

#medical transition #hrt #testosterone update #t update #hrt update #testosterone gel #tranns man #transmasc #trans resources #transition resources #actually disabled

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werevulvi · 4 years

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This is not a coming out post or a declaration of new labels in any way, shape or form what so ever. This is merely me venting new thoughts and trying to detangle my feelings. I'm just experimenting around, alright.

I took a break from venting to my partner about my endless gender anxieties and instead turned to an online friend for advice on my situation, because he was open to hear about it, and asked me about my wish to go back on testosterone. This barely adult trans guy who's 10 years younger than myself, only been on testosterone for about a year and fairly recently had top surgery, has become a little bit of a mentor for me... ironically. As just a couple of years ago, I was a bit of a mentor for him as an inspirational "trans elder."

Is it right that I unload my deep, heavy inner struggles on him for advice about transition/detransition stuff? Debatable, but I'm pretty sure I have good influences on this kid, as he has matured and wised up vastly for the past couple of years that we've been friends. And yes, he's totally fine with my "terfy" gender critical, radfem opinions, despite being a transmed/truscum himself. We usually get along just fine, despite our different views. He looks up to me.

So, for whatever it's worth, I really value my friendship with him and I have a lot of respect for him.

So, anyhow. I had a chat with him yesterday, in which he kindly tried to substitute for my absolutely useless therapists. Much appreciated. And it helped me to get a new, fresh perspective on it that sparked a lot of new ideas and feelings within me. Even as a gender critical person, I think it's important to not narrow my mind down to only listening to that one world view. If I'd do that, I'd be no better than the hive-minded TRA's, okay.

What's so fresh about his world view is that he doesn't believe in nonbinary, because he understands that the only sexes that exist are male and female, and that intersex is not a third sex, and otherwise has the quite typical transmedicalist view of gender identity being connected to dysphoria and that that's something trans people are born with, alright. Furthermore, he accepts that he's bio female and always gonna be that way, but just feels better living as a man and passing as male.

So he would never shove the nonbinary label down my throat, like almost everyone else has (including my quack of a gender therapist who literally spews fake-science), and he understand that I really have dysphoria when I describe it to him, despite having mostly thought of me as "a regular cis woman deep down." He understands that my traumas fucked with my perception of gender, takes my autism and BPD into account (he's also autistic and his sister has BPD); but is also quite open to the idea of atypical dysphoria in binary trans people, and that trans men don't have to be masculine, etc. He's also totally fine with my sex-based views on sexual orientation, but regards his own sexual orientation as gender-based. So his perspective differs slightly from my own perspective, but we do have a lot of views on trans stuff in common, and are both respectful of each other's differing views.

That should be the necessary background info about him, I believe. So like... he's not like the harmful TRA's on twitter, even though he has shitty views on bisexuals (yes, that was him in my previous, angry post about bisexuals, lol. We got over that.)

What he suggested to me was basically (my rough translation of a snippet from what he said, what stood out to me the most): "Why not be openly FtM? Accept your female traits (then I mean body and terms like lesbian and that too) but put yourself in a male identity? It sounds kinda like that is what fits the best in your situation when the only thing you have dysphoria over is just what's socially male traits och not the directly bodily." It hit me hard because I had never seen it that way before. It opened up a new posibility, and that's really all I'm saying here. It's a posibility, and I want to explore it. Just telling me that I can be FtM if I just feel like it was not what I needed to hear. I discarded that from others in the past, claiming such an assertion to be silly and illogical. I miss my breasts, I regret my top surgery, I love my female body and I'm proudly a lesbian - I cannot possibly be a trans man because I don't have enough dysphoria for it! -I kept thinking.

But then... when I was instead told that I could be FtM based on that I actually want to and like passing as male, and that I can actually totally be a hyper-feminine, lesbian trans guy who is fine with his female body underneath the clothed surface... THAT lit a light in me. So, why I had been repeatedly discarding the option to be a feminine trans man in the past, wasn't because I genuinely thought it was a dumb idea, but because I didn't believe it could even be an actual option, based on my dysphoria being so... female friendly. Now... I feel like it could be an actual option.

I mean I have healed... A LOT. I've healed my connection to being female a lot. I've even accepted and embraced that I'm a lesbian. I made most of my dysphoria go away. Those are HUGE things that should absolutely not be flushed down the drain. But fact is I'm still dysphoric and without really having seen it that way before, I have been presenting as a feminine/gnc male quite a lot throughout my detransing, and that's what I'm the most comfortable with. I've stated it many times: That I love looking like a gnc man. Being a "male-passing bearded woman" oooh sounds like a trans guy to me?! Well, could be. I've felt consistently uncomfortable trying to pass as female, and my dysphoria has gotten worse the longer I've been off testosterone. Quitting voice training and saving out my beard again felt like two huge reliefs; to embrace my beloved T traits and accept that I cannot possibly hate them.

They are mine, they feel intrinsic and crucial to my body and I want them to stay. Now I'm hassling with my gender clinic to get back on testosterone again. I am going to. If at all possible.

I feel a sense of relief, but also defeat, at the thought of going back to my old label as a trans man. However, it wouldn't be the same as it was back then. I'm a proud lesbian now, I have enough pussy power to empower a whole nation of insecure women, I'm fine with being considered a woman based strictly on my biology, I've healed my connection to my female sex. I feel like a completely different person compared to the miserable, self-hating trans man I was prior to mid 2018, and I would never go back to being that sorta trans man again... but I'm contemplating the posibility of being a lesbian, openly female, gender critical trans man. Because as my friend said: why not? Let's address gender identity quickly: Would I then identify as a man? No, not really. If so, I'd wear the label trans man or FtM in the sense of being a dysphoric female who's happily transitioned, (hopefully) back on testosterone, happily male-passing and living as sort of a man socially. Then I mean living as a man in the sense of deliberately passing as male, going by male terms/pronouns (except from labeling myself lesbian and being fine with using female terms on occasion, depending on the context) but not actually identifying as any sorta gender in particular. Then why calling myself a man at all? Well... because I look like one and I love looking like one. People cannot see or hear in my voice that I'm actually female, and they don't need to know that, except from when they actually do need to know that. I want to be open about my sex being female but I feel like maaaaybe I'm not actually comfortable with calling myself a woman. At least not like 500 times a day. Because personal comfort is more important than politics. Repeat that after me.

This does however, unfortunately but of course, make me re-think my wish got get breast implants. Do I regret my top surgery? Yes. Do I miss having boobs? Yes. But it's hard as hell to present male with obvious boobs that I'd be unable to bind. Both because the implants would likely damage my internal tissues badly if I kept them pressed down like that, and because I've already whacked my ribs from previous binding pre-op. It would be way too dangerous for both those reasons. I can't help that the thought of being a trans man with silicone boobs, after top surgery, sounds insane to me... but I'm trying to look beyond that and focus on what I want for myself and what matters to me personally. If I actuallly, truly, madly, deeply, want new boobs for myself and my private personal life because I think that would improve my connection to my chest... then I should do that regardless of how insane it may seem... because of the label I'm slapping onto my ass.

The questions spinning in my head, about my chest, are:

Can I live with it?

Can I accept that I made a mistake to have top surgery, but move on with my life with how things became?

Would it be easier to become fine with it if I reclaim my former male identity, or just another escape?

Was my wish to get new breasts only connected to my identity as a woman?

Would I be able to let go of my grief and regret, and find the silver lining of having a flat chest, as a self-loving and self-caring, openly FtM person, while presenting as male?

Could I allow myself to enjoy going out bare-chested in public and enjoy the summer breeze, or pool water, directly caressing my skin, if I'd embrace that I actually enjoy looking like and living as a man who is actually female?

If I willingly and wantingly present as male, not just skipping trying to pass as female out of convenience, but embracing my male-passability as a positive thing that I actually enjoy; would that also make me comfortable, or at least okay with, not having breasts?

I need to think through all of those questions. I'll soon have my consultation for breast reconstruction. Fuck. I need another summer to explore and experiment with being flat-chested and how I really, really feel about it. My god, why is this so hard?! (breathe... relax... it’ll be alright.) Yes, I have healed my connection to my femaleness, but was that ever equal to me being happy with living as a woman? Perhaps I went too far with it to actually detransition, when there was an in-between option all along, that I just glossed over and discarded without even entertaining the thought. Perhaps the middle ground that I need to be, is not nonbinary... but a lesbian, openly female trans man? I need to experiment and explore this new-old option which I feel just opened up before me. I'm freeing my aching chest from the heavy breast forms and tight bras, even trying out packing my underwear again (I kept my small "Pierre" packer (uncut version) which is perfect for when wearing skirts, as it barely shows any bulge at all... because boner+skirt is just a really bad look alright), while still wearing my usual feminine style. I'm vaguely considering going swimming in just bottoms again (whether panties or shorts). I'm playing with the rare, male name Saphir in my mind as an alternative to my similar-sounding birth name Sara (which I currently go by, officially), and asking myself gently how I would feel about going by he/him pronouns and male terms again; just to play around and feel things out.

So far... it feels pretty fucking good. But it's only been one day and that's not a lot to go on. I need to give this a hell of a lot more time. I am not done yet. I'm merely starting, again. I only wanted to vent these thoughts and feelings while they're still fresh in my mind. So please excuse the mess, I'm still under construction and it's unfortunately taking a little longer than expected. Thank you for your waning patience.

#detrans female #ftm #gender critical #ftmtf...tm?#just exploring the idea thats all #transition #testosterone #chest issues #labels schlabels #lesbian #dysphoria

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trippin-over-my-fandoms · 5 years

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Unexpected Repercussions

(COMPLETE)

Peter Parker goes missing and SHIELD suspects Quentin Beck. The only problem is that he's been on house arrest. He has no clue where Spider-Man is. As it turns out- Peter is closer to Quentin than could have ever been guessed.

excerpt - (basically chapter 1)

Quentin Beck's apartment wasn't small by any means. His previous career at Stark Industries had left him a rather wealthy man and with that money he was able to afford a nicely sized apartment for one man. It was the size of a medium house and with an open floor plan for the kitchen, dining, and living along with a high ceiling the place felt larger than it was. Especially with the mostly white interior and minimalist style the furnishings had. It had become more cluttered recently after he was fired but before hand he was hardly ever at home and too many decorations distracted him. It was just enough to sate his OCD without over stimulating him.

Though, no matter how big it felt or how neat the decor was, it got small and boring fast for a man who had been on house arrest since July.

It was embarrassing really, absolutely humiliating. Oh how damaged his pride was.

To this day he still wasn't sure how Nick Fury and SHIELD had gotten the jump on him. One minute he's mentally tormenting Spider-Man in Berlin and the next he's stunned, electricity coursing through his veins and taking him to the ground. He had been electrocuted by plenty of experiments but never tased. It was certainly something he never wanted to feel again.

At least his own apartment was better than a five by five foot containment cell in some SHIELD facility. They had him in one of those for at least a month if not longer before they got tired of hearing him complain about it. At least that's what he told himself. It was better than being reminded that he was being used. They needed a new Tony Stark and they used him for tech upgrades. That was the most humiliating part of it all. He hated being used and working for someone else, especially when he got no credit whatsoever. His goal had been to rise up on top, be a hero and never work for anyone ever again. Only to get knocked down a reasonable amount of pegs and to wind up working for SHIELD.

He would have just hacked his way out of an ankle monitor if it had been that easy. The scar that marked the chip surgically implanted in his arm itched as a reminder that we was now basically a slave. He had tried to sort it out so maybe he could run, never to be found again, but he had only succeeded in harming himself.

Originally when it was set the perimeter was the entire building. So when he needed to stretch his legs and go beyond his apartment he'd walk the halls and sometimes take the stairs to the roof. This is when he learned he had not only a chip but an agent watching him as well. One day he had climbed up to the roof of the building only to be startled when the guy busted through the door panting (the idiot probably climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator) an brandishing one of those damn tasers. He immediately recognized him too. He had seen the guy lingering in the hall outside his apartment once or twice. After that his perimeter was set to just his apartment. He couldn't even walk out the front door without getting a small jolt from the chip. It was as if he were a dog with a shock collar.

So now he paced about his apartment restlessly. He had a treadmill but it wasn't energy he needed to burn, he needed a change of scenery. At least he had a balcony. It was awful though for the days he was stuck. When he couldn't think and ideas just weren't coming. Usually he would walk down to the park just a five minute walk from his building but now he couldn't even do that.

His frustration was pent up and he felt like screaming but he knew that would irritate the neighbors and someone would call to complain meaning the building would call SHIELD and Fury would be on his ass about it. He really hated that guy.

Quentin settled for a growl and a huff as he plopped down on his couch. He growled again as he rubbed his temples, sinking lower to where he was almost uncomfortably slouching against the cushions. He needed to think but his mind wasn't giving him anything, it was just blank, empty, void of anything helpful.

A meow sounds from his left and he glares at the cat who's positioned herself on the pillow next to him. For a cat he kept around only to keep out bugs and snakes and rodents she sure was spoiled. Well, she was mostly there for the snake part. He was deathly afraid of those but that bit of information was usually the very last thing he would tell anyone.

She meows again and even though Quentin glares at her she remains in her place. She must want food. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day they brought him groceries. Hopefully that included cat food.

They end up starring at each other for a while. Quentin tries to figure out where the couch stops and where his white cat begins. She was very good at startling him, she blended in so well with the walls that he almost never saw her coming unless he was looking for her. He assumed somehow she figured this out because she got into the habit of making her presence known when she entered a room he was in. Usually by meowing.

The cat jumps off the couch rather suddenly and runs off when the front door suddenly opens. Quentin nearly does the same since he wasn't expecting the sudden intrusion. Though, that was expected with SHIELD unfortunately.

What's odd is that Fury is the first to walk in and behind him are Hill as well as several other agents. It seems like a raid almost. Fury looks pissed but when does he ever not.

"Is it too much to hope you're bringing me groceries a day early?" He quips, still sitting and watching as the agents begin to look around the apartment. There wasn't much in it so it would be a quick job.

"Watch it or we'll send military rations again. Another two weeks of MRE's sound good to you Beck?" Nick Fury scowls, looking down at him with a challenge in his eye. Quentin rolls his eyes, the memory not exactly pleasant. He had managed to piss off SHIELD somehow and they sent him two weeks worth of military field food. He practically starved to death as a refusal to eat them. They tasted nasty anyways and he could hardly believe they fed that to their armed forces.

"I'm good thanks." He huffs, taking another glance around his apartment and the chaos going on as the agents looked in everything with a door. "Look, the tech you asked for isn't done yet so unless there's some other reason for you disturbing Delilah and me-"

"Where's Spider-Man?" Fury is blunt and his anger seeps out in his tone. He looks like he wants to grab him and pull him onto his feet. Quentin saves him the trouble and stands up, keeping eye contact the entire time. "How the hell should I know? I've been on house arrest for the past two months. Can't exactly leave the place to kidnap a kid without your dogs sniffing me out first." He's just as pointed, making sure to let it be known how unhappy he is with only being allowed as far as his balcony.

Fury doesn't ask, instead he looks up at a Maria Hill who looks eager to speak to him and all the other agents have stopped moving about. Quentin looks towards her as well.

"He's not here sir. No sign of fowl play either." She looks almost disappointed and if he thought Fury couldn't look angrier somehow he was capable. Geeze, you'd thing what your prime suspect not being the one to blame would be a relief. It doesn't stop him from throwing a mocking grin his way though. He was innocent and he felt he had every right to be upset they disrupted his day and accused him of Parker's disappearance.

He opens his mouth to say something but Hill adds, "he hasn't been taking the medications either. All but one dosage untouched since last delivery." At which his smile drops and Fury quirks a brow.

Another dreadful thing that had come out of everything. When he was still being held at the facility they did a mentally evaluation on him. If he remembered correctly he had OCD (which he already knew about), NPD, BPD, and Bipolar One. Afterwards they practically forced him to take various medicines for all of them. One time when things got bad, when he was having a rough time from being cooped up and frustrated with his work he thought he would try and take all the pills they had provided him with until he realized they were in measures doses. No more than three days worth of each. They didn't even give him more until he was out.

"And why not?" Fury asks, crossing his arms and stiffening his posture. If he didn't know any better he'd think the man was about ready to shove them down his throat.

"They don't work and I hate them," he says with a shrug, "I took them this morning and all they've managed to do was frustrate me and delay working on your shit. And the blue one makes me tired."

Of course Hill just has to argue, "it's supposed to. It's for your Bipolar One and you're supposed to take it at night to help with sleep."

He rolls his eyes and turns from Fury to her, why did they care so much about his headspace? He hadn't killed himself yet and apparently the narcissistic part of him kept him from doing just that. "Well how was I supposed to know there were different times?" Mostly he's giving her a hard time just to be a little shit but at the same time he actually didn't know that.

"If you read the directions taped onto your mirror-"

"That's enough." Fury cuts in and that's the end of it. He makes a movement with his head and the agents file out of the apartment. "If we find out Parker's disappearance has anything to do with you Beck you lose any and all privileges you have left."

Quentin rolls his eyes yet again but nods anyways. Gosh, the stick up that guys ass. He was ready for him to leave. Thankfully he does just that and he's alone yet again.

He couldn't help but wonder though, what had happened to Peter that SHIELD was looking for him. It wasn't a 'he's avoiding us' approach it was 'he's been taken and possibly dead' kind. Or maybe they were just always over dramatic.

At least he didn't have to deal with it anymore.

READ CHAPTERS 2 & 3 ON AO3

#quentin beck #mysterio #peter parker #spider man #tom holland #jake gyllenhaal #far from home #spider man far from home #ao3 #fanfic #marvel #marvel universe #au #alternate universe

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cyanpeacock · 5 years

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OK I am full of rage and confusion and exhausted indifference. I've been awake like 2 hours and my brain has done very little but bombard me with "Kill yourself. Why don't you kill yourself. Hey! Have you considered suicide recently? Kill yourself!"

my Conscious Self(?) is here like. dude, what the fuck.

brain, i'm really trying here. i have Plans for the Future. a degree, and suchlike. none... of that will Happen if we do An Suecyde.

god it's angermaking and confusioning and i KNOW. i KNOW. Just Take Your Mind Off It. i TRIED. i read Other Things. i did Other Stuff. it keeps getting in there and being a fuck bastard. so i presume i'm supposed to Talk About It?

still, what's the deal, brain. i mean, like, the Deal is BPD. i want to be Magically Cured, i am not, i'm in recovery, i am aware of improvements, and i am aware that lots of this Stuff doesn't just Vanish Overnight.

talking abt it. is a Good Thing. ppl have told me (more or less) Just Shut Up About It And It Will Go Away. and... maybe this works for them? but it does not work too great for me, if The Thing is repeatedly reinserting itself into my mind despite efforts to distract and refocus.

so why... brain do this thing.

uh, well, anxiety and panic, which keeps Busting Out and i keep slamming a lid on it and it's ineffective and unpleasant and my brain is still struggling with the concept of an emotion Not Lasting Forever. although they do. but they don't. disgusting.

habit, to a degree? i have been Rather Suicidal for a Considerable Amount Of Time. it is, uh, a couple of months since my last Attempt(tm).

ok, wow, and dissociation. yeah, i forgot i tried to die that recently. time... is weird. fluid entity, except, it's kind of linear. fuck.

there's this weird guilt and shame about repeatedly failing to Actually Die? like, what the hell, man. two fears of the unknown meet in a deserted field and completely fail to annihilate each other. ok.

hostility, because i'm aware people tried to help me w/ my fuckarooney emotions, then got pissed when nothing seemed to work? which, you know, that feels like a personal attack when you literally cannot help the way you feel, nobody can. so, what, do i be grateful they tried, or pissed because they hurt me/gave up on me? both?? that's fucking complicated???!

man, ok, ok. so, i have a History(tm) of emotional invalidation as a kid. what... does that do. oh my god, this is like, hell revision. okay. okay.

so, routine emotional invalidation as a kid, leaves that kid with a sense that if they're feeling certain emotions, they're Bad and Wrong and Ought To Be Punished/Ended/Dead.

and, uh, because of my Personal Experience(tm), i tend to get in a loop where... i'm really upset for some reason that might seem inconsequential to somebody else, and then bc people have reacted to my intense sadness with anger So Often, i learned That's How You Deal With Being Upset. You Get Angry And Rough.

so... i go sad-angry-sad-angry-sad-angry infinite loop. which, yeah, that's self-intensifying to a point where my brain ultimately goes... Time To Die This Is Unbearable.

jfc, it takes so much Time and so much Mental Focus to talk myself through this, but i know if i don't then the next bender or A&E trip or OD is That Much Sooner, and i would like to try and get to a point where this isn't Happening Every Focking Day, or i at least get some kind of used to it.

so, ok, right. i gotta... do that, assuming my own perspective again, and validate myself, and say yeah, that was emotional neglect and abuse that had me self-harming and suicidal so young. those patterns of thought and behaviour r stubborn and don't dissolve overnight. i am and always have been doing my best. i am an emotional person, and i've been attacked for that, although i can't change that, and it was and is hurtful to be accused of exaggerating/being melodramatic/etc when i literally just Feel So Fucking Much.

ok. ok. not as immediately suicidal any more. other emotions to Figure Out tho, but that's another post

#fliptext #abuse #neglect #trauma #suicide #bbbuh

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toycarousel · 6 years

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How are you doing?

Hi there, Anon~!!! Thank you for asking, that’s so kind of you~!!!!! :’3c I’m doing alright... a bit better than I was, as I’ve been going through a bit of a Dark Night of the Soul for, like. A lot longer than one night, and a lot longer than I’d hoped in general~! ; P That’s what addiction does to a person -- oftentimes, I feel like I lost a part of myself to substances, like a piece of my soul’s been wrapped in rough tarp and sealed away from me behind thick glass across oceans. I’m trying to regain that stolen aspect of myself, and to basically, like, simultaneously grip tightly the parts of life that I’m just beginning to see, to acknowledge as beautiful -- so in a way, I am slowly chipping at that glass wall, just by appreciating what my life is, and not focusing entirely on that longing for what it might be and what it isn’t~

I realize that probably sounds totally melodramatic, ahahahaha~!!!! But that’s, like, a huge feeling that I think recovering (and non-recovering, as I can still really recall what that was like) addicts experience; that stolen, hollowed out feeling. D ; It’s a process, but I’m doing it. And I have a lot more to live for than I ever saw or appreciated before I began to learn about self-compassion recently, and how to see, and feel, all of what I have~! Falling in love was something I never knew I wanted either, but it’s helped me learn to love myself as well~

Nights are now among some of the loneliest parts of my life. They used to be, like, a melancholy but peaceful refuge (I was nocturnal for a few years, and I’ve been diurnal/ish on and off for about a year now), but nights are just really saddening these days, like. When I have to say goodbye to another day I automatically feel that I’ve wasted, due to that whole, like, societal pressure to be productive.

Like I mentioned though, I’m slowly learning how to have compassion for myself, and maybe accepting the Death of the Day is a part of that, too. Acknowledging that my life isn’t where I want it to be, but that I still have so much as it is, and there’s still so much more I can do, and experience. That each current moment holds beauty and joy as well as the future will.

So, in general, I’m doing okay~!!! Lots of emotional turmoil. I was ejected from the DBT clinic I was a patient at (DBT is the main therapeutic treatment for BPD; borderline personality disorder), for an unfair and callous singular reason. And it turned out that my appointed individual psychiatrist, who I never got a good feeling from tbh, has been twisting my words behind my back, and sometimes just flat-out lying about me in order to make me out to be some sort of raging, lazy, unrepentant junkie. Which is weird, because she knows just how much I’ve quit, lowered, sacrificed, and committed to, wrt substances, both due to help from the program, and my own soul’s merit... but it’s like she doesn’t care -- she’s just too indignant, and too personally pissed at me for getting medications from my family doctor instead of her, that she’s willing to lie as much as she needs to about someone she was supposed to help heal.

So I’ve been in the middle of a huge string of filing complaints/concerns and explaining my exact, honest side of multiple events over and over so that someone in Alberta Health Services will listen and actually scrutinize this program and its practitioners, and who will be sure that my psychiatrist and any other staff member at that clinic, doesn’t get the chance to harm current and/or future patients with the same communication abuse (and other abuses) that the clinic, led by my psychiatrist, did to me. I’ll go more into all that sometime, like. That’s a massive story on its own.

As for audios, like, I’m very excited to keep working through my commissions, as I’ve been~!!! And to start on projects that are completely new for me (potential podcasts/video series,’ working on both HS but also stuff totally outside of HS, etc.~!!!) I’m also studying for my statistics midterm, sigh. D ; It’s a mandatory course for my psych/sociology degree (and p much all uni degrees in Canada rn), so I figured I’d get it outta the way, but goodness gracious is it ever time consuming. :’)

Sorry this was so long, ahahahaha~!!! I’m trying to like, organize and condense my thoughts and feelings, and soooooooooo much has been happening/happened. Thank you again for asking~!!!!!

#wren's dollhouse mutterings #recovery #communication abuse #medical abuse #therapy -#school mention -#substances mention -#ask to tag -#anons #scotchasks

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pisati · 4 years

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made the mistake of mentioning in therapy that I’ve had friends put me through some rough shit and my therapist wants to focus on that this week

but uh. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it

and it’s not that I can’t, it’s more that my therapist is still something of a stranger to me, she’s older, and while I think we get on alright I’m still not entirely comfortable telling her very personal details about certain relationships I’ve had

I’m sure I never processed it properly. I’m sure I didn’t process my dad’s death properly. I’m happy I at least have the resources for now to help with that. but I just don’t feel ready to talk about either one. I don’t like breaking down crying when I don’t feel like what I’m talking about really warrants it. I can’t tell yet if what I’m talking about is actually that painful or if I’m just telling myself it’s not.

she pointed out something to me last time that kind of stuck out. it’s something I don’t even realize I do. I’d told her about how one night last week I’d been winding down for the night and out of nowhere charlotte video called me on facebook and we ended up talking from like 8:30 to 11:45. it was an alright enough conversation, it’s nice talking to someone and having that friendly connection outside of a work environment. I don’t get that too much anymore, least of all in-person. but one of the first things I said about it was that it kind of disrupted my routine, a little warning might’ve been nice, she mostly talked about herself (not unusual for her) and interrupted me a lot... and my therapist asked if it was a good thing that it happened, though. I said, well, overall, yes. she pointed out that my first move, even after something good, was picking out all the bad things about it.

I didn’t even know I did that. I do it to myself when I talk about myself too. I feel like a child blaming everything on my mother, but she does the exact same fucking thing. I can’t imagine I didn’t get it from her. I don’t know if it feels like a neutral thing, if it just seems like humility (at least when I’m talking about myself), I just.. didn’t realize how much of my focus is on the bad feelings rather than the good ones. and now that I’m thinking about it, no fuckin wonder the good feelings don’t ever seem to be as good as the bad feelings are bad.

I want to shift my thought patterns. I do. even when we were talking about this, she pointed out that I seem to stop myself a lot too. I want to shift my thought patterns, but it’ll be a lot of energy. I think I mean to say that as a statement of fact, pointing out an obstacle I know I’ll have, and not an excuse not to try. I don’t think I worry excessively about things anymore, but I do have a tendency to mull over the ways things can go wrong or could be challenging. overall I don’t think “I could be right or I could be pleasantly surprised” is necessarily a bad approach. but it does keep my focus on the bad things.

I don’t see myself as a negative person. I know I certainly don’t want to be. but this is making me realize why people said that about me in the past. I do want the good things to be good enough. I want to be able to say something was good and not even subconsciously try to find something that wasn’t so good about it. .......that’s going to take a lot of work.

I’m not even sure I’m going to know where to start this week.

one of my friends suggested just leaving the parts involving sex out. but that’s the whole issue. that’s the part that hurt the worst. without that detail, I just sound like some clingy bitch who couldn’t get over the guys she liked and got disproportionately upset that they were sleeping with people that weren’t her.

but god I know I need to talk about it. it can’t get better if I don’t get it out and actually process it. I do have the tendency to block it all out, shove it in a box in the back of my head, and tell myself I’m fine. tell myself I was just overreacting and all that pain wasn’t warranted and actually having feelings for a person is weakness and now that I don’t feel anything for anyone I’m stronger for it. right?

nah I know it majorly messed me up. I guess I don’t have to go into all the gritty details. just. I [am? was?] the kind of person that has an emotional investment in sex. I could never have been the kind of girl that slept around in college. or, at least, I couldn’t have done it and come out of it mentally sound. l went into college with the mindset that I was invisible and not worth the effort, so anyone willing to do that must really like me. that got me into trouble when I hooked up with someone I already liked. thought he had feelings, turned out he didn’t, so that sucked. I tried to get over it, but it turned into 2.5 years of him using me. it turned into him becoming one of my best friends outside of that, me not *really* getting over the crush I had (or at least not giving up the hope that he’d change his mind), and then me getting really, really hurt watching him hook up with other girls, decide he had feelings for a few of them, do basically nothing different with them than he did with me, except with them he actually tried not to hurt them. he didn’t seem to give a shit what he did to me. didn’t seem to *really* care how much what he did hurt me. he was the one who said, after 2.5 years, we probably shouldn’t mess around anymore, because clearly it was hurting me too much. but then almost 3 years after that it was back to the same old. I tried to cut him out. I tried to distance myself. farm jam 2 years ago, I don’t even think I said a single word to him. I told people I didn’t want to see him, I didn’t even want my tent near his. I wanted to enjoy my weekend. and I honestly really did. I think I was anxious the whole time that the girl he decided he had feelings for that time would show up, but she didn’t. I spent my time with other friends and it was really nice.

he finally got the money to get a therapist. he learned he had BPD and got on meds. he talked to her about me. she talked him through how he saw things, how I must have seen things, how he didn’t seem to realize it, but what he did really hurt me. he apologized. more than once. he knows there’s really nothing to be done about it. I’ve VERY cautiously been on good terms with him again. he’s one of the only people that knows me as well as he does. or, did, anyway. we haven’t talked nearly as much as we used to since everything fell out.

I think what’s getting to me the most right now is that it seems to have been back to the same old, but it’s empty. not that it’s ever meant anything to begin with, but I don’t even know what to make of it now. at least before I still had some kind of hope that maybe he’d change his mind. now I don’t care and I don’t even want him to change his mind anyway. part of me thinks it’s self-harm, in a way. maybe not being deliberately harmful, but more that I’m actively deciding not to do what I know is better for me.

I assert my boundaries, he listens. I’m not comfortable with the same things I was before, and that’s at least in part due to the pain he caused. could be that he wrecked the part of me that was emotionally invested in it. I still sort of feel that way, though; I don’t think I could hook up with just anyone. but the last time it was just.. a suggestion. a deliberation. a decision. but not for him. he just happened to be there. and it was probably okay in my mind because it’s never been weird. god only knows how many times, how many places. almost like an old married couple; neither of us care that the other’s put on 10, 15, 20lbs. neither of us care about morning breath or greasy hair or unshaved legs or... yeah. neither of us feels like we have to put on a show for the other. I’ve only relatively recently joined the camp of feeling nothing, but I guess now we’re both there too.

I literally do not know why. I would have slapped present me hard across the face 2 years ago if I knew. all that hurt. I remember it, sort of. I guess being devoid of feelings and being isolated for so long you have the image memory but not the feeling memory. I remember sobbing until I nearly had panic attacks. I remember the burning in my chest when I just knew. I remember being able to think nothing but I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, you ruined me and I hate you. knowing he saw none of it, and was going off with whichever girl and friends and being happy. and I just had to stew in that pain alone. I was scared to tell him I missed him for fear that he’d take it the wrong way, but she didn’t even have to think about it. I was upset that he seemed so afraid that anyone should think he and I were anything. like even the idea of him dating me was so scary to him. they all knew what was going on, wasn’t like it was a secret. that hurt too. didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, except me, seems like. still can’t seem to keep his hands off me.

---

I guess that’s the worst of it. though I can’t say it didn’t take a lot to get there too. so many people I felt like I wasn’t good enough for. no matter what, it seemed like I couldn’t make anyone want to stay. I don’t mean force them, I mean.. it just seems like nothing about me is worth the effort. to anyone. that boy from high school, I understand. there was [N]; he said he loved me. he’d call me at ungodly hours of the night while I was sleeping and would ask me about my day and would listen, he said because he just liked hearing my voice. he disappeared in the middle of a conversation. never answered again. he randomly messaged me 5 or so years later, turns out he’d never deleted my number, but he was just going through some shit back then. he’s married now. [Ty] and I never really were anything. nobody brought it up. better as friends anyway, but it still kind of hurt when he stopped talking to me once he started dating someone. he’s married now too. [S] was.. something. I don’t really know what happened there. I never had feelings, but I guess at the time I thought that was the best I could do. he was the first person to ever try, at least in-person. he was my first.. pretty much everything, besides boyfriend (though evidently some people thought we were dating). and I regret every bit of it. some interesting stories though, I guess. he pushed me around once in a while, sometimes a little too hard. he guilted me into it once. decided he hated me when his friends put the moves on me, knowing full well what his feelings were. decided he hated me more when his friends invited me out instead of him, even though they’d invite him to the bars, which I wouldn’t be able to go to for another 2 years. he later apologized too. I went back to indiana one spring when I really didn’t want to-- this was after that one awful new years with A. he was really depressed and wasn’t taking his meds right and I was worried about him. I may not have had those feelings, but I still cared about him. and I hope he knew that. he’s married now too. I don’t know what to think about T. it wasn’t supposed to be anything. we were both caught a little off-guard by feelings, I think. I was surprised he liked me back. I loved staying up all night just talking; we were both horrific insomniacs and could just go and go until we decided to at least try to sleep. they warned me he was a charmer. and was he ever. but he’d still melt in my hands too. it was only a few weeks. but I think that was the closest thing to what I imagine love feels like. we were such calming presences for each other. I was going through terrible (and worsening) anxiety at the time and I couldn’t have panicked around him if I wanted to. and then I left. in his vows at his wedding he said something about how he was in a really rough, low point in his life just before he met her. he was with me just before he met her. I know he meant the things he said to me. I know we had (still have?) a lot of respect for each other. but it hurts knowing I was just some forgettable stepping stone; a waste of time, so he told people. I’m happy he’s happy. I just don’t like feeling like a final footnote in a shitty chapter of his life.

okay. now it hurts.

I hate pulling the box out. digging through it. I’ve added to it over the years and it just fucking hurts to see every single almost-maybe-was-something-but-wasn’t-and-that’s-probably-because-of-my-glaring-flaws relationship, one right after the other, and always with me ending up hurt. always with them moving on and being happier. when it’s packed into the little box I don’t have to think about it. I can maybe hope to try again. maybe. sometimes I forget why I’m so hesitant and back-and-forth about it. because it’s all packed away.

I just want one thing to work out. one person who wants to stay. I just can’t see things ending up any other way. it always fucking does. always almost-something. I hate feeling so inadequate all the time. trying to tell myself it’s not me, it’s just not the right situation. not the right person. can’t help but try and blame it on myself. I’m the common denominator here.

being a lone wolf takes a lot out of you. I think I pretend I’m a lot stronger than I am. or at least.. it’s hard work to look like I’m stronger than I feel. the lonely gets to me sometimes. I could really use a shoulder to lay my head on. another heartbeat to listen to. someone actually wanting to hold my hand. maybe one day I won’t cry over the fact that those simple nothings feel like a pipe dream.

I still don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it.

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