Dear cis people,
Calling a transgender person’s before transition self pretty, beautiful or whatever is not a compliment! They hated their old self because it was something they are not. This can trigger dysphoria and severe depression.
Me personally, it makes me feel like a failure. When you say “but you were such a beautiful girl!” it translates to me “why have you wasted yourself?” “You should have tried harder to be a girl!” “I don’t care, you hated yourself. You should have appreciated it.”
15 years of my life I was this told day by day. That I should be happy to look like I did. That other women were jealous and “wished I looked like you”. That I was only depressed because “You never tried to be a real girl!” No, it’s not a fucking compliment! I don’t want to be reminded on my old self. It was so damn hard to break through that. To allow myself to be my real me. I know how sexy and beautiful I was. But this was not me! I wasn’t a girl. As much as you think I looked like one. I wasn’t a girl. Everytime I heard those “compliments” I got sad, depressed and started doubting myself. Maybe I really should try harder? Maybe I will get used to it? Maybe everyone is right and my feelings are wrong? Maybe I’m just crazy? It has almost killed me. The beginning to let my true self come out was damn hard. You can read my journey on this blog. I first came out as genderfluid because I was scared. Scared to let the girl I never was go. Scared to let my masculine side show through. I needed many months of screaming, crying and mourning about my old self. I know some people don’t like the metapher but for me it fits. This girl had to die so I could be me. I was mourning about her lost. But I needed this. I needed to say goodbye to my old self so I finally could be free. So no, I don’t want to hear how “pretty” I was. It throws me right back into the misery I was stuck for 15 years desperately trying to be the “beautiful girl” everyone saw in me. It wasn’t me!
Lately I feel more and more distant from “normal fans”. Those girls and women who see “their idol” only as an sex object. Then I read comments on Facebook and Twitter like “Maybe his pants will fall down?” , like happened to Lenny Kravitz on stage once? The whole world had seen and talked about his penis. Have you ever thought about how he felt there? He might have made a cool face, but do you really know if he wasn’t embarrassed? That he worried what his family would say about this mishap?
Or comments where you tell “your idol” how you would liked to be fucked by him? (Yes, I exactly had a comment like this on my Facebook fan-page I run dedicated to a befriended musician).
It is not “funny” to ask a rockstar on twitter “do you plan to bang someone hard tonight because you send so strong sexual energies.” I called this woman out on her behaviour and asked her, what she would say if a man would come to her and told her this. She would probably accuse him for sexual harassment. This woman completely ignored my question and said that “it was just a joke and he’ll probably laugh about it.” Yeah, he did. Retweeted her with a laughing emoji. But that’s not the point. The heavy disgusting sexism is the point! The contradictory in this is, that those women might fight against sexism in media. But then they don’t see their own produced sexism towards famous men?! How can that be? Ah yes! Because “men don’t face sexism.” So they probably think it’s not sexist to publicly speculate “how big the penis” of the lead singer of their favourite band is. This is disgusting! And disrespectful! Male celebrities are not there for your sick sexual fantasies! Those people are normal human beings like everyone else! They have families, mothers, brothers, children. Think about that before you comment on a post of your idol how much you would like to fuck him. Rockstars are not sex objects!
This post is kinda an addition to the one I wrote yesterday. The trigger for it was that a friend unfollowed me on instagram. Which is not his blame but it does triggers many things for me.
Ever since when a friend has left me again, I felt like it was my blame. I wasn’t interesting enough, haven’t showed enough what friend meant to me, haven’t shown enough interest in their lives or whatever.
Yesterday I fell in a dark hole again because of this. I feel worthless, boring, just not enough and that no one wants to be my friend anyway. The tactic I taught myself to cope with this: build a wall and be like “Okay, then I don’t want you either. I don’t need you.”
It’s hard for me to trust. Where shall I know that friend is serious with me? I always assume the worst. I was hurt too often.
I always feel like I have to give something special to make someone wanting to be my friend. And I don’t have anything. I can understand it; I am boring. I’m weird autistic and due to my chronic illness, my life is not special or interesting. Why should anyone wants to be friends with me?
I feel like, I want to give up on friendships. To only use social media now to promote my poetry and books. And not any further connections. Because why should I keep trying and getting hurt, when I can’t hold friends anyway?
I know, I actually should work this, but at the moment I don’t see a reason why. What sense does it make? Well, tomorrow I’m at my therapist again. I will talk with him about it.
(It seems I don’t even have spoons to talk about it properly.)
Making friends was always hard for me. And not only because I’m trans and rather wanted to play with the boys than the girls. But mostly because I’m autistic. I can’t read body language or facial expressions. When I was pre-school I visited a speech therapist, because I had pronouncing issues of certain letters just like “T”, “D”, “K” and “R”. Sometimes I even stumple over letters, speak too fast, or too silent and I was mutist (Selective mutism (SM) is an anxiety disorder in which a person who is normally capable of speech does not speak in specific situations or to specific people… Resource: Selective mutism-Wikipedia). At the speech therapist we also worked on recognizing facial expressions. I remember how she told my mum she should watch my behaviour because “it isn’t normal”. At this time autism was only known as Kanner autism (non-verbal, often in combination with an intelligence deficit) so it didn’t came up.
My autism made it very difficult to me to befriend people. When I was little I didn’t know how to go to a kid and start a talk. It was not like I was shy to ask. I didn’t know how to ask properly. Even though I watched them interacting with other kids, I couldn’t make up what those kids were doing different than me. It was their body language. Not only that I couldn’t read body language from others, I also don’t know what my body language shows. But it seems to be at least confusing for most people. Still today I notice how I often get weird glances from peoples in the street. And no, I don’t think it’s because of my punk style or cane. Because I do get those glances also when I’m at places where I shouldn’t stick out. But kids, and later teenagers, often told me that I was “arrogant, ignorant, selfish, heartless” etc. I don’t know what they mean. I always try to be a nice person but I always get misread.
Today I still struggle a lot to befriend people. I don’t know how it works. But I’m also a burnt child (idiom). So often I had “friends” who suddenly turned their back on me and never spoke to me again, or who pretended to be my friend only to tell nasty lies behind my back. I was bullied in school. Sometimes even physical. Because of all this, it’s very hard for me to open up to a person, to trust them and to share personal things. I’ve build a wall. I’m tired of getting betrayed and hurt. I don’t know who I can trust and who not.
Another big problem is, that I don’t need much socializing as told here. So friends often took it as “you just don’t want to”. And when I came back asking them how they were doing, I got “Now I’m good enough for you?” People don’t understand. It’s exhausting. Yes, I like to have friends but on the same moment, I don’t want to, because then I have to spend time with them so often. It’s a misery and I feel stuck.
But if I got interested in being someone’s friend, I also can get kinda clingy. As a kid I often was told I was annoying. But all I want is to show, how much I like the person and how much I want to be their friend. Another difficulty for me is, I can’t tell if the person really wants to be my friend if I’m not directly told. So I often keep trying and trying until the person is really pissed at me.
Friendships are fucking complicated for me. But maybe I’m not made for friends…
CN: suicide mention, surgeries, medical examinations
Lately I’m thinking about hysto again. I wanted this surgery since I was 15, and I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t live out my sex life because of it. No matter how long I’m on T, if I’m on birth control and use a condome, my brain still tells me “You have this organ so it’s possible to get pregnant.” And this would be a suicide reason for me. Having this organ completely blocks me.
A year ago, I thought it wasn’t possible. But on Tuesday I was in St. Joseph hospital in Berlin again because the last few weeks I experienced stronger abdominal pain. I haven’t had it this strong for ages. So I thought, it’s time for a check-up.
Good news: the doctor did an ultrasound scan of my whole abdomen (literally from bladder to up to my heart :D) The lymphangiom hasn’t grown. I only have two little cysts on my spleen, the biggest is 1,5cm. So it’s nothing to worry about.
But this also means that the abdominal cramps didn’t come from the lymphangiom. I told the doctor about my pain medication, that I was on Tilidin now for a while. He told me that Tilidin can lead to a restricted bowel movements. On Friday I was then at my pain doctor, gave him the pictures from the ultrasound and told him about the pain and what his colleague said. He prescribed me something that should help my intestine to work better. I still have abdominal pain but it has gotten better already.
When I was in hospital, I also asked the doctor about hysterectomy. (He knows I’m trans since I go there since I was a teenager.) He said, that it could be done. The surgeon just needs to know about the lymphangiom and be familiar with it. He explained to me how the lymphatic cysts usually work. I’m trying to explain. (It’s not easy in english.)
In healthy humans the lymphatic cysts heal themselves when they are hurt, like they close their wound and stop bleeding and pumping lymphatic liquid. In my disease this doesn’t work correct. The lymphatic cysts can’t heal themselves; they stay open and keep bleeding and pumping the lymphatic liquid into my body. This is what the surgeron needs to know. The doctor said that when I’ve found a surgeron, I can give him his contacts so he will advertise him on my disease.
But this is still future music. First I need to work on the PTSD or I don’t survive the surgery mantally well. That will need another few months/years I guess. I will talk to my therapist about it.
Mastectomy is now finally from the table. I had a dream about it, where I got mastec and it looked like nothing was gone, I had ugly scars and my nipples were destroyed. In my dream I said: “I’m doing this never again.” I take this as asign of my body that it doesn’t wants this surgery. Well, I don’t need it for myself anyway. I was just considering it because of the breast cancer risk. But in all, I really love my body how it is now.
I hate the noise,
I hate the lights,
but music is
what led me here.
I’m longing for to see you
just one more time.
I go through
my personal hell
through the pain and endless darkness
I’ll go through
this personal hell
to feel the fire in my heart
I feel so restless, so fucking scared
but your music makes me
and I’m in heaven.
And, I go through
my personal hell
– through the pain and endless darkness
for you, I’ll go through
this personal hell
to feel the fire in my heart
Dedicated to The 69 Eyes.