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sundazesun · 26 days

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"I’M SICK TO DEATH OF HEARING OF HOW everything fucking hurts trans people’s feelings & how I’m obliged to erase myself & my reality, constantly police my speech & have it policed for me, & walk on eggshells to center their narcissistic fragility.

I’m sick to death hearing that trans people are the most oppressed people in the entire world. Affluent, western white men in their 30s, 40s, 50s wearing dresses are not fucking oppressed AT ALL, let alone more than poor black & brown girls in the developing world.

I’m sick to death hearing that TW being told they can’t get their dicks out in places where women & girls are vulnerable is denying them rights & the worst possible hardship any human has ever faced. If that’s the worst you ever face you are privileged, not oppressed.

I’m sick to death of women being asked to prove that vast numbers of us are in peril of brutal rape & death for our objections to sharing private spaces with males to be considered valid, & anything short of that being seen as an acceptable price to validate.

I’m sick to death of hearing that TWAW even if they take no hormones, have no surgery, see no doctors, get no diagnosis, experience no dysphoria, & keep their beards, but when we ask questions suddenly all the TW will kill themselves from triggered dysphoria.

I’m sick to death hearing that women talking about surviving male violence are “weaponizing their trauma” against trans people when the entire trans movement is founded on the weaponized trauma of their (supposed) dysphoria & emotional blackmail.

I’m sick to death of hearing “no one’s saying sex isn’t real” & “sex & gender are different” while being told there’s no such thing as a biological female, women have dicks, males have periods & get cervical cancer, a clitoris is just a small penis.

I’m sick to death of hearing how hard it is to be trans when every politician, mainstream media outlet, corporation, charity, & celebrity is in the thrall of trans ideology while women who say humans can’t change sex are vilified, doxxed, fired, & otherwise cancelled.

I’m sick to death of hearing that endometriosis, menstruation, miscarriage, abortion, street harassment, sexual objectification, & unpaid domestic labor are examples of “cis privilege.”

I’m sick to death of being told that women & girls who dare to set boundaries are hateful bigots; that men are entitled to decide whether our boundaries are justified & whether they will be granted; & that straight dysphoric men are entitled to sex from lesbians.

I’m sick to death of white people with BLM in their bios saying women who say humans can’t change sex are the same as nazis and white supremacists while also saying that black women are indistinguishable from dysphoric men.

I’m sick to death of being told that “humans can’t change sex” is the epitome of violent hatred but “choke on my fat ladycock, t*rf cunt,” “kill t*rfs,” “t*rfs get raped with my barbed wire-wrapped baseball bat” are considered justifiable, if not downright righteous.

I’m sick to death of hearing that injured male pride is a catastrophic violation of human rights that must be avoided at all costs, up to and including the sacrifice of female bodies—but female rights & trauma are at best irrelevant. Sick. To. Fucking. Death."

@feminist_rachel on twitter

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aroaceconfessions · 1 year

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tws ahead of time: venting, discussion of medical examinations of sex organs (pap smear), masturbation mention

so i am. very asexual. sex ambivalent but i’m really just not interested overall. i’m also afab. which means when i’m 21 i’m gonna have to get a pap smear. which is gonna SUCK

being trans makes this twice as bad. i’m low dysphoria but the idea of ANYTHING entering my body like that makes me want to cry. like i get panic attacks at the thought of having to put in a tampon (i’m a pads person) it’s like. bad. technically i’d be able to handle it (had a short period of time before realizing i was ace + trans where i thought i HAD to masturbate bc “everyone did it” (my parents gave good sex ed but normalized masturbation a bit too much lmao)) but i’d hate every minute of it

so the idea of a pap smear horrifies me. first off- i have to let a doctor see me half-naked. this part doesn’t bug me too much because . it’s a doctor and it’s completely non-sexual but i still don’t like the idea of anyone seeing . that

then i’d have to just fucking sit there while they put a fucking giant cold metal tool in my body so they can reach my fucking CERVIX???? and THEN they’d have to brush cells OFF of said cervix??? no. no no NO that gives me such bad anxiety it’s fucking insane.

i’m also terrified it’ll hurt because. i’m not gonna be sexually active and i don’t even fucking use tampons. and i KNOW that if i go to a good gyn then they will find ways to help me be less scared or feel it less but i still hate the idea of sharing that vulnerability. i’m a crier and i do not want to cry in front of a doctor because i’m scared of such a normal procedure. it’s less a fear of judgement and more just a pride thing i think. i know they deal with it frequently i’m just kinda horrified. the idea of coming out as ace to someone who has control over my health is also actually terrifying esp bc i live in texas

if i could i’d just get my whole uterus removed and solve the problem but apparently it “produces important hormones” that i don’t want to throw off balance so. guess i’m stuck

idk i need to talk to my mom about it (she gives good advice) or maybe my aunt (similar feelings towards sex as me) but god it just sounds so scary. i’m incredibly scared for it.

that being said if you have a cervix and are 21+ (25 if ur british) then you do need to get a pap smear once every three years. it may be horrifying but cervical cancer is way scarier. i’m sorry it sucks for us but it’s like life-or-death important. can’t really afford to skip out on it unfortunately :(

if anyone else has similar worries and/or has had a pap smear i’d love to hear about it in the notes. no pressure of course privacy n all but it’d make me feel less alone so if you’re comfy sharing. hope everyone’s having a good [time of day]

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hauntedselves · 10 months

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therapy yesterday (tw: health anxiety, specifically heart-related; contamination OCD)

so i probably have health anxiety. i've been having some physical symptoms which led me to get an electrocardiogram (ECG) and then a 24hr ECG - and of course i didn't have any symptoms during, only before and after 🙄- but i talked to my psych about how i get all obsessive over it (e.g. i get palpitations, i check what that could mean, i worry i'm having a heart attack, the anxiety causes the palpitations to get worse, the cycle continues). and turns out she wrote her masters thesis on heart-related health anxiety so literally the best person i could be talking to about this!

in typical health anxiety fashion i spent all of today researching health anxiety. i found a subreddit (r/HealthAnxiety) and reading their posts has been really helpful. i also found a workbook on health anxiety so i'll read that.

the thing to remember is that i'm still here. like... i've had many episodes of these heart symptoms and i'm not dead.

of course though, all the symptoms of a heart attack are the same as symptoms of anxiety & panic attacks. which makes it hard! but then the trick is to wait, as hard as that is. if you're really having a heart attack, your body knows. panic attacks are awful but they won't kill you.

if i had been assessed as a kid, i reckon i would've been diagnosed with OCD (and painfully obvious autism lol). i read Roald Dahl's autobiography when i was a kid and he wrote about having appendicitis which scared the shit out of me. obviously treatment and prognosis of appendicitis is way better in 2023 than it was in the early 1900s lol. but if i felt any amount of abdominal pain i'd be mentally running through the symptoms of appendicitis and freak myself out over it. (a small reason why i got a hysterectomy was so that i'd be 100% certain that i could never get a ruptured ovarian cyst, or endometriosis, or cervical cancer, etc.).

i was also obsessed with (and terrified of) natural disasters. i'd memorised all the cloud shapes and patterns and what they meant and i was always analysing the clouds to make sure a tornado wasn't about to happen (worth noting i live in a part of the world where tornadoes literally do not happen). or i'd see a mountain that was vaguely pointy and i'd be like, oh shit what if that's a volcano. or i'd be at the beach and be obsessively checking the sky and sea to make sure i'd be prepared if a tsunami were to happen (again, there's no volcanic activity here or tsunamis). bushfires do happen and can be pretty severe (our house came close to burning down a few times) and i still fixate on them during bushfire season but definitely not to the point i did as a kid.

i also went through a phase were i'd never be sure if i washed my hands after going to the loo, so i'd go back to the bathroom multiple times to wash them again. classic OCD there.

my psych and i theorise that these anxiety/OCD-like symptoms are the result of autism and trauma (as everything seems to be in my life lol). it makes sense - a little (undiagnosed) autistic kid in a chaotic, unstable environment hyperfixates on control and uncertainty (OCD)... and develops a fear of pain and death. an injury can be controlled, there's a process and uniformity to it (e.g. you cut your finger, so you wash it and get a bandaid, and over time it heals). an abusive environment is unpredictable and can't be controlled, so you focus on what you can control (and dissociate from the rest). once again, i have to wonder how much easier and better my life would be if it weren't for all the trauma lol...

#dogpost #personal #hs' anxiety #health anxiety #illness anxiety #hypochondria #the dr thought it might be mild serotonin syndrome (tho unlikely) so i had to stop my anti-anxiety meds ironically #obsessive compulsive related disorders #somatic symptoms #hypochondriasis #ocd #obsessive compulsive disorder #in my unprofessional opinion i think HA is a type of OCD (it has obsessions (health) & compulsions (checking & reassurance))#also the queue has run out so i'll be not very active for a bit while i get through my drafts and fill up the queue again

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discountedmuses · 1 year

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(( Hey, Hi, Henlo, I come forward with a very out of character post, but it pretty important stuff.

CW/TW - Medical things, AFAB Health, Mentions of Cancer

To make a long story somewhat short, I am a transman, have been on T since 2017 and after having 2 irregular pap smears and a colposcopy to investigate, it was determined that I have CIN2, which can develop into cancer. Considering this popped up within the last 2 years, it's extremely concerning and because Im on T, my chances of getting cervical cancer is much much higher.

I've put together a GoFundMe to help me raise money for the costs of getting a hysterectomy to help prevent me from getting cancer. I had already been wanting to get one done for transitional reasons. I've been told that I need to get this operation done within the next year or so before this can further develop. We're hoping that my insurance will approve it on the grounds of cancer prevention so I don't have to get several therapist letters to get it approved.

I'm a fulltime artist and fursuit maker so coming up with the funds for this a long with money to pay for my bills while I'm not 100% functional is gonna be difficult for me to come across. Anything and everything will truly help. Sharing is very very much appreciated and encouraged ;w;))

#ooc #mun speaks #zach speaks #gofundme #gfm #trans #transgender #afab #hysterectomy #sharing this would super super help me

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boltedfruit · 2 years

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Today was my one month hysterectomy post op! If you are also ftm and wanting to know what the process was like, this is that post.

So for context: I'm 28, came out at 26 which is also when I started hormones. The month I turned 27 I got my top surgery (double incision). This is only relevant because I compare the two experiences. (Top surgery was worse recovery-wise for me.) I also live in California and went through insurance.

Pre op: So pre op was normal. They took my blood, added anti-nausea medicine to my IV antibiotic drip, because I specifically asked for it. When I got my top surgery I threw up once about an hour after I got home, which I was very nauseous for. Any type of abdominal surgery is it only made worse when your body is squishing itself together to throw up otl. But thankfully I had zero nausea or vomiting this time post op. So if you're like me, ask for anti-nausea meds before surgery. They also shave basically from your chest down to your suprapubic area.

What I had: I had a laparoscopic robotic total hysterectomy, where they removed my uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes, and my left ovary. I kept my right one for future bone health and any future egg harvesting if I ever want to do reverse IVF. I also don't have a family history of ovarian cancer, so that was a big deciding factor for me too.

Right after surgery: Where my top surgery took 6 hours and was generally a flippant experience by the staff, this surgery took around 2.5 hours and the staff was great. The only thing I didn't like was a nurse assumed I was diabetic for some reason and put me on a no food diet outside of jello. I stayed overnight and nobody would listen to me insisting I wasn't diabetic and wouldn't get clearance from the doctor until over 24 hours since I last ate. My doctor told me the next morning I should have had a no restriction diet, and eating normally after a robotic hysterectomy was totally normal and encouraged.

Post op bleeding and tw: I've seen other stories and vlogs of people who have had the same procedure done and explain how the nurses didn't help them move around or go to the bathroom, or in one really shocking case let the patient walk a trail of blood from the cervical sutures from his bed to the bathroom. I was worried about that, but after my experience I wonder if that wasn't just a new or uncaring nurse or half assed suture job. My experience was I hardly bled the entire post op. I had very heavy clotting periods before I started hrt, and had one mild instance where basically a pad was used. But all other bleeding was just light spotting. I also had healthy organs and have never been pregnant so that is a factor I'm assuming as well. But if you are worried, ask your surgeon what type of suture/stitch they plan on using and how that affects any expected bleeding. Even ask them to show you how they do it. You should not be pouring blood after surgery.

I was discharged around noon the day after surgery and I had to walk up stairs to get to my apartment. That was fine, this surgery didn't leave me off my feet like my top surgery had.

At home recovery went well. I propped myself up in bed and sleeping was slightly awkward but nowhere near as awkward as sleeping with top surgery drains was. The first five or six days post op it was hard to stand all the way straightened up, there was an internal pull, which was mainly on my left side, so I'm assuming for me it was because that side had more things removed. Laying on either side was hard until about a week and a half post op. At a day shy of two weeks post op I felt completely normal again. I also was cleared to take baths again.

I had four incisions, one of each side of my belly button and one in my belly button. But I still don't know where the fourth is, and the nurses at the hospital couldn't find it either?? So we were all like idk man. Honestly the one in the belly button is the hardest because (for me at least) with weight and a roll you just have a hard time keeping the area dry after an incision is left there. I'm 5’4 and weight 198lbs, and the way I hold weight it's not like I have a lot of folds of skin, but it was an awkward spot. My surgeon closed the incisions with internal stitches and skin glue. And around a week that glue came off, so to stop seepage I just used medical tape and a square of gauze over my belly button and changed it frequently throughout the day. It's nowhere near as bad as dealing with top surgery drains though.

At a month post op I've been cleared for everything except like power lifting until six weeks, which I don't do anyway. Compared to top surgery, having a total hysterectomy robotically was a breeze. I wasn't even told to limit sodium intake, so idk if that's a thing across the board when it comes to hysterectomies or just in my case. But nothing beats sausage after having like half a pound of jello cups.

My next step is meta, which I found out I got approved for, so I hope to get that done soon.

If anyone has questions about a part of the process, even if it's really TMI or not, I'm happy to answer!

#ftm hysterectomy #hysterectomy #laparoscopic hysterectomy #transgender #transgender hysterectomy

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idiotuvu-blog · 23 days

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plucked petals

Hiii!!!

This is my first time posting a fan fic on here, it's not a self-insert and follows my OC, Ivy!

I really hope ya'll like it and if there's anything I should change or tweak please let me know- I'm open to criticism and pointers about where this should head. :) I do wanna open this up to some smut and romance but I'm not 100% sure.

TW: ANGST ASF!! death of a parent (mom), Chris being a shitty dad, smoking, mild cussing, self-hatred (in a way), and cancer.

Word count: 2,575

ENJOY!!!

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I never really knew my dad. I know his name, I know that he looks a little bit like me, and I know my mom was crazy over him but other than that? Nothing. I remember his faint outline from before he left us when I was 4, but who remembers stuff that far back the correct way? My mom kept a picture of him around but it was only a couple. One was them, clearly drunk, at a party back in 2001, celebrating the new year.

My mom’s pale face had red from the liquor dancing with her blush, it went hand in hand with her wild red hair, curls poking out from different directions. Her smile was always the prettiest thing, I’m glad I inherited her joy. On the other side of the picture was an equally, if not more, drunk man. His tan skin and dark brown hair stood out next to my mom, he was tall and very lean. My mom would say “Oh, Ivy. He was a Greek statue come to life” Her high-pitched voice always soothed me “He carried me into my room one time, I was blushin' up a storm!” she would finish with a laugh.

Once I turned 16 her laugh quit being full of life, it would end with a cough or her catching her breath. One day when she was at work, she worked at the post office in town, she passed out as she was helping someone mail something off. I got a call from one of my mom’s friends and I immediately skipped 7th period to go to the hospital, my mom and I were connected in a way that I couldn’t explain.

I always thought it was that she saw my dad in me, we didn’t look exactly like twins but I leaned a little bit to how he looked. We shared the same blue eyes, dark brown hair, and wide shoulders. I always hated my shoulders, just another thing on the list. They made me look even wider than I was, my plush body wasn’t as big as my mom’s but it was still something that made me stand out.

When I got into the room my mom looked terrible, her smile was dulled and her wild hair was spread over the pillow she was leaning on. I rushed over and picked her hand, my thumb creasing her hand and all she did was look up at me, a little smile on her face. The doctors came in and explained that she had cervical cancer and it was spreading at an alarming rate, there was nothing they could do other than just offer her meds for the pain.

We cried, of course, we cried more than we’ve ever cried. A couple of hours passed after some shared tears and prayers, I wasn’t very religious but at that moment I knew I had to beg whoever was up there for something, anything. My phone started buzzing in my pocket, I grabbed it and read the name carefully ‘Dad’. The last time I heard from him was when I was 12, he was some military guy that moved around a lot.

He lived in Oregon, which was very far from Wisconsin, and didn’t talk about his work a lot. He always missed holidays and birthdays, he never called, only a short ‘Happy birthday, sport’ or ‘Merry Christmas, kiddo’ text and some little gift he would send me. Usually some shitty art box or makeup box, he never knew what I liked or what my interests are and I always blamed myself for that. I thought I messed everything up just by existing, by just being born and breathing, or maybe it was the fact I wasn’t a boy.

Maybe he wanted to be a boy dad? To play baseball with someone or teach them how to work on a car, not princess parties or Barbies. I thought about this as I watched his name disappear from my phone. Maybe he was coming home? Had some change of heart or finally wanted to talk to me. I looked over at my mom and I gave her a fake smile “It’s Tiffany, I’m gonna step out and call her back, okay? I’ll be right outside.” I would tell her- not wanting to say ‘Hi, remember the man who left you and moved across the country? Well, he finally wants to hopefully play dad so I’m gonna call him back!’. She just nodded her head, the medicine made her tired so as I stood up I kissed her forehead and left the room, holding my phone with a tight grip.

I stepped out into the hall and stared at the message on my phone that popped up after I missed the call from him.

"DAD: Hey kiddo, call me back. "

I just stared at the message, ‘kiddo’ was always my name to him. Never Ivy, my real name, or hell even our shared last name Redfield. I let go of a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and I hit the redial button next to his name. The line rang for about 2 rings before a gruff voice that I didn’t remember spoke up “Hello?” it said, as if I was bothering him. I stuttered for a moment “Hi, it's uh… It’s Ivy. What’s up?” I tried to sound unbothered but I’m guessing I failed since there was a pause on his end. “I heard what happened, with your mom and I guess I’m just checking in on you”.

My thoughts raced with questions, ‘How did he know? It’s only been 3 hours since the doctors talked to us and neither of us has been on our phones…’. “Oh really?” I wanted to ask how but honestly I didn’t care- I was mad. Mad that my mother dying, the mother of his only child dying. My blood boiled a little as I forced a nice reply. “I’m rolling with the punches I guess, mom is sleeping and I’m uh…” I take a deep breath to try to calm myself down before tears rush down my face, not wanting to face his harsh reality. “I feel like I’m drowning.” I choke out, tears making their way down my face. It was uncontrollable now, I was letting my walls down for a man who I hadn’t seen in 12 years.

I was guilty of being an open book, I mean I could open up to someone just minding their business. I guess I caught him off guard as he looked around for a minute to respond to me as if I was making this hard for him. As if I’m just something he can just talk to for 5 minutes and it’ll make up for years of missing that key father figure in my life. “I figured,” he said, his voice still strong and unwavering. I opened my mouth, I was an off-put, how dare he call me to just make me feel worse? My mother is dying slowly, painfully, and with her 16-year-old daughter as a crutch to ease the pain, along with her meds. “I wanted to offer you to move in with me,” He said, someone talking in the background on his side, sounded like he was at some mall or somewhere busy. At this point I’m mad, he wants me to leave my mom? Alone?

I wipe my tears and try to straighten myself up, ‘no’ I wanted to say ‘why the hell would you even offer me to leave mom?’ I wanted to bark. Instead, I just said “Why?”, a feeble and weak notion of how I’m feeling- defeated and done. “I know this is hard for you. I wanted to offer to enroll you in school here in California. I could get you into a good academy and after you can come to work with me.” He said in a very matter-of-fact tone. I roll my eyes, ‘guess he moved again’ I think to myself.

That was it. I was mad, pissed, and manic even. This was just a recruitment to whatever the hell he does for a job, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that my mom was dying, he didn’t care that I was in one of the toughest situations in my life, he wanted a perfect little daughter. Someone feeble, who would go ‘Yes Dad! I would love to make up for the 12 years you missed! Please! Pick me!’ and little did he know I split.

I wanted to be his perfect daughter, I wanted to go out on daddy-daughter dates or go to the zoo with him or hell- work with him at whatever shit hole military place he was at but I shook that thought out of my head, keeping my priorities straight. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth “I-” I was ready to give him a piece of my mind, to tell him off for everything, making me feel like I wasn’t enough, making me question myself but I was cut off by the other end of my phone “Redfield, we’re ready to roll out” some woman’s voice cut through. I heard him mumble a ‘one second’ before turning his, apparently important, attention to me. “Just think it over, kiddo. I’ll talk to you later” and a second later the phone line cut out.

I stood there for a moment, shocked. 4 minutes and 12 seconds is how long I was worth to him before ending our conversation without hesitation. I made my way back into the room and sat next to my sleeping mom, the medicine must have knocked her out. I was glad since I had silent tears running down my face.

Jump to the present with me, It’s 9 am and I’m dressed in a black dress with my makeup and hair down as rain smeared my perfect facade and pelted down on me. I just got done burying my mom. I’m 22 now and 10 times more fragile than I was at 16, I stand alone as the crowd of people disperse. My eyes are glued onto my mom’s closed casket, there are roses with a heart on the top, I put my hand on the lower part of the casket and I lower my head. Tears started mixing with the rain, and the thunder drowned out my loud wailing as I started to rest my forehead on the casket.

I was finally able to let out all of my emotions and I was alone- no mom by my side to move the hair out of my face, no mom to kiss my head and say ‘It’s okay Ivy, even diamonds are made under a lot of pressure’. There was no more light anymore and just like the weather, I was not holding back, letting my weak side show after 4 years of being the strong one, watching her hair fall out because of the medicine or watching her lose a bunch of weight to where she was skin and bone. She stopped walking after her 3rd year of medicine and we went everywhere together when she would sleep I would do online classwork for my college classes, I wanted to make her proud.

“God bless her.” a gruff voice said beside me, I watched the tan hand place a rose onto the heart of roses on her casket. I stood up straight and noticed the colossal man next to me was my father. He smelled like wood and a faint cologne that I couldn’t pinpoint, his blue eyes matched mine. He was in a black suit and in his other hand he held an obituary for my mother ‘Annabeth Marshal’, her name stood out to me before my matching blue eyes flicked back to his. “How…” I weakly start to speak but he cuts me off before I can finish “I wanted to support you, you’re my daughter and I love you.” he said as if that would fix the now 16 years apart from him. I run my hands through my hair as I try to compose myself “Support me? Now?” I ask him, my voice laced with venom.

“It’s been 16 years since you left and you expect me to what, let you back in my life? You called once, sent an occasional text and now you want me to believe that you love me?” I start crying harder, my words coming out choked. My hands shook with anger but all he did was look at me with surprise, his eyes wide. I noticed someone else I don’t know standing on a hill about 20 feet away smoking a cigarette, he looked like he was with my dad and was watching us. My eyes snap back to my dad “You couldn’t even come alone?” I ask him. My dad shook his head “It isn’t like that, Ivy” he said back, his tone becoming slightly more stern, “Oh!” I laugh “You know my name now?” I shake my head at him, I’m angry and the random man watching us while smoking is making everything else worse. “Of course, I know your name, you’re my daughter, and I, as your father-” He starts but I cut him off.

“You’re my father now? I haven’t seen you in years!” I cry a little bit harder and he sighs “I’m sorry about that, I needed to protect you and your mother. Listen, I want to be a better man for you. I’m sorry, but please… Listen to me.” he says as he moves his hand onto my shoulder. Once I feel the warmth from his hand on my shoulder, I start to lose control. I crumble because I realize I still love my dad and I want his acceptance. I’m confused as my head naturally finds its way to his chest and I start to sob, it’s like I’m a baby again and he’s holding me for the first time. He starts talking again, softer and a little bit nicer but still stern “I want you to move in with me. Make your mom even more proud of you than she already was. Start over fresh.” He says as he starts to softly rub my back as I cry harder. I catch my breath for a minute as his words linger in the air and I think about it for a minute. I huff a little as I mumble against his chest “Okay… I will.” I feel so small and weak as his chest rumbles with a laugh and he ruffles my hair.

“Great, Let’s get you a bag and I’ll send someone to get the rest of your stuff,” he says and I eat it up. I’m putty in his hands and it feels great, I’m finally with my dad. He started to lead me to a black car with tinted windows where the man who was smoking was leaning against. Watching is even more and I get to see him fully. He looks around my dad’s age dirty blonde hair with some grey, he has some stubble on his chin and he’s weirdly handsome. The black suit he’s wearing is just as drenched as my dress and my dad’s suit. look back at my mother’s casket for the last time and I take a deep breath, knowing she would have wanted this for me.

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THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

Please let me know if theres anything I should add or if I should write a part 2! :)

#chris redfield angst #chris redfield #plus size reader #oc #residentevil oc #angst #chris being a shitty dad #chris redfield dad #Spotify

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opha · 1 year

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traumadumping, disregard

tws: sexual assault, medical abuse, genital-focused language, cancer, all the good stuff.

there’s a very good informational post about pap smears and HPV going around right now that i struggled for roughly an hour with trying to add info to without traumadumping and i evidently could not.

see, i had a very fun pap near the end of last year where my genius pcp decided that she didn’t need to lube the speculum for her patient with fibromyalgia (which means i experience pain on an amplified scale compared to other people) and chronic pelvic pain. i should know better by now than to think when a doctor says something may be uncomfortable, i’m not going to have to grit my teeth to keep from screaming. in her infinite wisdom, my pcp decided getting it done ASAP was more important than listening to me or mitigating my pain in any way, and settled for giving me half-panicked reassurances that “there won’t be any bleeding!”

she left the room looking scared for her job, and good tbh.

from that pap, i got a shiny new high-risk HPV diagnosis. the fun thing? i only could’ve got it from a guy who i’ve never had any sexual contact with, via kissing my HPV-vaccinated girlfriend who had forgotten she’d just given him head. i tried to google around about vaccinated people being able to transmit HPV from other sources, and it’s basically unsearchable. there’s no solid evidence for kissing as a viable transmission route either. so even if i’d known that routine STI testing (which my girlfriend has all her other partners do before fluid bonding) doesn’t look for HPV, i wouldn’t have been able to account for this. double fun.

cancer in my family has been 100% fatal so far, going back to my great-grandparents, btw.

anyway. i still have to get a colposcopy, which is a more intensive vaginal and cervical exam that may or may not involve biopsies. i had to shop around for someone who’s trauma-informed, and basically no one who takes medicaid is trauma-informed, so i’m having to make do with “a very sweet lady” who agreed to consult with me. (that’s how the nurse described her. it’s funny, but excuse me if i don’t laugh.)

i didn’t realize until tonight, but i’m actually taking the diagnosis harder than the assault. go figure. sexual assault is old hat for me. cancer is fresher. i don’t know how to deal with it. trying to dissociate from it like i do with everything else kind of worked, until this made it real again.

i’m thinking more and more about when i tried to get a hysterectomy in my early 20s, because the pelvic pain was unbearable, i’d been trying for years to find a diagnosis, and i wasn’t in pain management yet. got told i’d want to have kids even after i said my gender identity was incongruent with having children and if i wanted to raise a child that badly, i’d adopt.

people are so fucking fixated on biological children that they’ll deny you your own bodily autonomy to preserve your theoretical ability to have them. i’m intersex, so i’m probably infertile anyway. it makes me sick.

i don’t know where i’m going with this. i just needed to put it somewhere so i can fucking sleep. i’m so tired of being nothing but the accumulation of human damage.

#week 3 of acute insomnia btw #doing great

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ceyrann · 1 year

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rant below cut. tw: body image (idk if it’s dysphoria or not but yeah just a heads up for y’all)

So. My weight has been increasing drastically throughout the year and I went to a gynecologist recently. I knew I had PCOS since years back ago where I had to undergo ovarian cystectomy. But I never knew PCOS is basically hormonal imbalance, which definitely can affect my weight.

Now my weight is basically obese and I don’t like it. But when I’m upset I turn to eating sweets, which increases fat and which further imbalances the fucking hormones, which then increases fat and it is obviously a viscous cycle.

Not to mention my mom’s side of the family had breast and cervical cancer history. And my dad’s side have diabetes history. And according to doc, these both have to do with hormones. Which makes me, the offspring of these two groups, be involved with conditions where my hormones fucking messed up.

I just reached home and my mom is asking me when will I lose weight. I don’t know? Maybe when I stop feeling like shit? When I get to move my body and go get things done? I don’t know I really don’t......

#ceyrann #ceyrants #literal rants #tw: body image

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ftb-writes · 2 years

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Prompt fill! Prompt fill! Come get your prompt fill!

The next prompt is another free prompt! In the meantime, here's the fill!

TW: Suicide

The Gila monster really isn't at fault here. You need to know that first off, before I lay everything out. It's not Godzilla's fault.

They say Gila monsters are the most venomous lizards in North America. They also say Gilas tend to be so lazy and slow you have to practically stick your hand in their mouth and close their jaws for them.

Both these things were true.

I've been battling cancer all my life. It started with several bouts of skin cancer as a child and teen -- difficult for a child, yes, but manageable and not as life-threatening as some cancers can be. The chemo and skin grafts were worse than the skin cancer, honestly. By the time I was fifteen, I'd kicked all the cancer and been officially declared cancer-free. I thought it was over.

Things got worse on my eighteenth birthday. I'd had my first PAP smear a week before-- I'd been nervous and uncomfortable, but my mom had gone along and was in the waiting room to take me to Chipotle afterwards, so I got through it with only mild squirming. On my fucking birthday, I got the news that I had cervical cancer. After a five year battle with that, and seemingly endless rounds of more chemo, I was finally declared -- once again -- cancer-free.

A year after that I started getting sick and weak. I was tired constantly. This was a song and dance I'd done before, and I recognized the signs. Osteosarcoma, this time, which within a month had metastasized and entered my brain.

I've been given two months at best. It's crazy. You never think it's gonna be you, and it was me three fucking times.

I've decided to go out on my own terms. Figured I might as well put my biology degree to use at least once, and so started by first finding new homes for all my reptiles and amphibians I had so diligently kept -- all except Godzilla, my male Gila. He'd always liked me more than anyone. I raised him from an egg. Please, make sure nothing bad happens to him. A good zoo would probably love him for an antivenom program, and he'd have all the food and lady lizards he could want.

It's not his fault.

I've set up a few good cameras in the corners of the now empty room -- only Godzilla's enclosure is left in here. I'm going to record the venom's effects. For posterity's sake. Please, with all the respect you can, tell my family that they did their best and that I love them. I do. But I know they won't understand. They never liked my little pets. Please, don't let them blame the Gila.

Let them blame the cancer, if they need to blame something.

You can tell Mom I never got married because I'm gay, though. Dad's known for years, but it'll give Mom fits. I think I'd like to see that, from wherever I end up when I'm gone.

Just take care of Godzilla. He's a good boy, and he only ever did what Gilas do best -- be a lazy little turd-nugget who only wanted food and cuddles. I gave him treats for the part he played. He's a good boy. He played the part beautifully. Maybe, someday, I'll get to see him again. I'd like that.

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