In retrospect, it’s funny to me now that I was feeling afraid and sick to my stomach to the point of shaking and nearly throwing up, and their response was just so relaxed and cool. I asked if they weren’t surprised and the answer was no.
Like… WHO AM I FOOLING? ONLY MYSELF? DID EVERYONE ELSE GET THE MEMO FIRST?
Ugh, same. Can’t bear to think how many people I must have alienated or hurt with such behavior. I suppose there’s nothing to be done about the past, but listen to its lessons to be better, kinder me in the future.
I came out to the one person that matters most, and everything was OK. Like better than OK. What was the point of all that internal torture I put myself through? Finally feel like I can breathe again.
Still think the gods are having a huge laugh at my expense over the timing though.
Your comment made me realize with new clarity how much male relationships are built on a shock factor comedic antics and edgy humor, which include casual homophobia and misogyny, racism or just generally “punching down.”
But also, ick.
Me too female sign emoji hexadecimal, me too.
Hugs.
🎶
I can’t see clearly now dysphoria’s gone.
I can clear all obstacles to my peace.
We’re all our worst critics in our own heads.
Wanna see your bright, bright beautiful smile.
🎶
They want your dog to like them??? 😭❤️😭💘
I’m afraid to ask, but was balding an issue for you? (You mentioned several decades.) And is there anything to be done? I’m having next level dysphoria about my hair right now.
Had my own That Dream recently.
You know how in the movie Interstellar, there is the tesseract, an endless matrix grid showing moments in space and time?
In the dream I am in my own Trans Tesseract, seeing images of myself at future points in time going through the various stages of transition.
Woke up and my first thought was, “What a very normal cishet dream. I think I need to check some things…”
My egg cracked 💀
The people are all gone, the Langoliers just haven’t shown up yet.
Reagan is in hell waiting for heaven to trickle down.