Tag Archives: nonbinary transition

waiting for top surgery

[TW: body dysphoria]

sometimes i’m so patient about top surgery. i know it’ll happen one day and freaking out won’t make it happen any sooner. right? that’s what i tell myself, anyway.

but, fuck, i need that shit right now. my dysphoria gets worse all the time. sometimes i try to ignore it so i don’t just panic, but it’s getting harder.

i have trouble with mirrors. if i look in the mirror, i won’t see mx. punk and i might cry. i think it’s better when i’m naked cuz then i can see exactly what the problem is; it’s those 2 round things and they need to come off. the rest is just me and i can see where i end and my tits begin. but it’s really hard with clothes on cuz then my whole body just looks wrong.

i can’t bind now cuz it’s summer and i don’t wanna die of heatstroke, so i hunch when i’m in public. i try not to hunch, but i hunch right back over as soon as i stop paying attention. and i wanna fucking stop hunching over before i permanently fuck up my back, but i can’t relax with my e-cup tits sticking out. which sounds fucking silly, but yeah.

when i was in school, i increasingly stayed home from school cuz of body dysphoria. i’d spend all day taking care of myself; i’d have long showers, hang out naked (cuz of the clothes-problem i described above), write, and snuggle my sweetheart. i don’t think i ever skipped school more than once or twice a month, but it was weird cuz i didn’t skip once til last year when my body dysphoria got really bad.

anyway, what i’m saying is that i’m starting to feel like this is really fucking urgent, but i haven’t done much to save money. i haven’t put up a donate button or opened a savings account where i can put money so i won’t spend it by accident. but i will. i’ll start with a bank account and a donate button on my blog.

and i’m ok. i know i’m ok. i know i’ll keep being ok. shit’s going really well, ya know? and i know i’ll get top surgery one day. so i’m ok.

patience is hard. but it’s easier when i draw pictures of me being patient:
Image

layers of dysphoria

lately, i’ve been thinking about the ways i experience dysphoria.  my dysphoria seems to occur in layers like a rainbow jar cake, only shitty instead of awesome.

also, i’m gonna try to keep this organized cuz dysphoria is a big, messy topic.  yeah.

*   *   *

the top layer: social dysphoria

for a while, social dysphoria was the worst thing ever for me, but body dysphoria wasn’t a problem.  i was all like, i love my tits!  yay for my tits!  but i’m gonna die next time i get misgendered, zomg!

then i came out to a shit ton of people.  i started insisting on non-gendered pronouns, i legally changed my name, i started wearing a gender tag, and i calmed down about my social dysphoria.

i mean, it’s still a big deal for me cuz i get read as a binary person 100% of the time, but i feel like i can fucking respond to misgendering.  like, you fucking misgender me and i will correct you.  i know where all the gender-inclusive bathrooms are in my town and i refuse to use gendered bathrooms.  my teachers know i’m a nonbinary trans* person, my family knows, my buddies know– and most of them are supportive.  basically, i’m transitioning socially and i’m fucking handling my social dysphoria like a boss.

i think my social dysphoria will always be an issue cuz, like, i don’t know what to do even do in order to consistently be read as nonbinary.  i think i’d settle for confusing some people for a split second, ya know?  like, “what are you?!!  oh, you look like a woman/man.  ok, then.”  that’d be good enough, i think.  so social dysphoria forever, though it’s somewhat alleviated.

*   *   *

the next layer: body dysphoria

body dysphoria wasn’t an issue for me for a long time, though i struggled with it during puberty.  like, shit sucked for a while, but i guess i buried my body dysphoria or something cuz there were long years when it didn’t even come up.  now that i’m not obsessing over my social dysphoria, though, it turns out there’s a gross mess of body dysphoria underneath the social dysphoria.  oog.

(note: for me, body dysphoria is about my tits and my…”inside-junk.”  i’m not going to do anything about my inside-junk for a while, if ever, but my tits are GOING.  and i can’t talk about my inside-junk cuz dysphoria.  so let’s not go there, lovelies.)

so i’ve been binding more and more often, having meltdowns when i can’t get flat enough (or can’t bind cuz i have to sing at school), and fantasizing about killing a rich person and stealing their money to fund top surgery.

i do this thing where i put on 2 binders, put on my magical binding clothes (they’re encrusted with faery dust and they make me look flatter), look in the mirror, and try to see myself in there.  now that i have 2 binders that work well together, it’s usually not hard to see mx. punk in the mirror.  usually, i just glance in the mirror and start crying in relief.

before i had 2 binders, though, i couldn’t get very flat at ALL.  i’d struggle with the velcro and the flesh, get all leaky and upset, give up on getting flatter, and squint at my reflection to try to find mx. punk.

the first time i did that was in spring 2012.  except, it wasn’t really the first time.  it was the first time in fucking YEARS, but when i started trying to find the mx. punk in the mirror, i remembered doing it before.  i did it constantly in middle school.  like, go to the bathroom– squish tits down and squint at the mirror.  try on clothes– squish tits down and squint at the mirror.  etc.

i think i seriously buried that shit.

so, yeah.  top surgery asap.  it’ll probably take years, but i’ll save the money somehow.  it’s funny how quickly i went from “i love my tits” to “get them off get them OFF!  GETTHEMTHEFUCKOFFME!!!!”  i guess that’s what happens when you peel back one layer of dysphoria and find another layer of dysphoria.

*   *   *

i don’t know where i’m going with this ramble-y post, but i think i’ll stop now.  i should be doing homework anyway.  any thoughts, cats?  has anyone else experienced this weird layering of dysphoria?  and what if there’re more layers?!!  talk to me, peoples!  <3

in other news: my tits!

i’m of the opinion that tits are often fun to discuss, so i’m gonna write another post about my tits.  huzzah!  if you’re interested in my tits but you haven’t been keeping up with all my tit-related posts, see here and here for further discussion of my tits.

i started seeing a counsellor sometime this month and we’ve mainly been talking about my tits.  mostly, top surgery YES? or top surgery NO?  it’s been pretty useful and my counsellor is pretty awesome.  like, did not have to tell her about nonbinary gender– she was already on that shit.

so she’s been helping me untangle my brain a bit.  one thing we’ve worked out is this: when i think of doing future-things with my sweetheart, i usually imagine myself without tits.  and when i DO imagine myself doing future-things with my sweetheart while titted, i get pretty down.   like, disappointed and regretful.  so that’s something.

my counsellor also thinks it might be significant that i would get top surgery TOMORROW if i could find my tits a new home.  we explored this a bit and i think i’m empathizing with my tits too much.  like it’d be mean to just cut them off and leave them somewhere.

this kind of thing is a big issue for me.  this one time, my sweetheart and i were going to make curry with a sugar pumpkin.  while making it, my sweetheart passed me the intact pumpkin– and i snuggled it.  it was round, it was in my lap, and i wanted to protect it.  we ended up having to “set it free” in the forest cuz i cried uncontrollably when my sweetheart tried to chop it up.  also, i’ll buy the last item in a clearance bin cuz it looks lonely.  i also pat our dehumidifier on the head cuz it’s doing a good job.

so i think i’m getting my weird empathy for inanimate things entangled with my tits.  i need to fucking work that shit out.

i’ve also discovered that i hate the work of the only surgeon who’s covered by medical insurance in my province.  seriously.  there’s just one surgeon and he does a lumpy job.  so no thanks, i’d rather spend years saving up for a non-lumpy chest.  thanks, though.  O.0

i’m really leaning toward top surgery and i’m going to start saving up all my buttons and string just in case.  i still have shit to untangle, but i think i know where this is headed.

as always, i’d love some more advice/kind words about this. also, thanks for reading, cats!

ps:  magically, reneta just wrote something pretty relevant in a reply to one of my comments on her rad blog.  “I think it’s a sign that there [are] things about your body you feel are holding you back as a person.”  oh, yes.  yes, i think so, sparkle-cat.