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joannechocolat · 1 year

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On Power, and on Powering Through, and Why They’re Really Not the Same

I don’t pay much attention to personal attacks in reviews. It comes as the flipside of success; an attempt by the critic to puncture what they see as too much success. But I still remember one review, just after the film of Chocolat, when two of my novels happened to be in the Top 5 at the same time, in which a (male) newspaper critic referred to me dismissively as a premenopausal woman writer. I was a little taken aback. Clearly, it was meant to disparage, but I was only 35, ten years away from the perimenopause. What exactly did he mean? It wasn’t a comment about the book (which I doubt he had even read). The obvious misogyny aside, it seemed to express resentment, not of my books, but of me, myself, my right to take up space in his world. That word – premenopausal – was at the same time a comment on my age, my looks, my value, and a strong suggestion that someone like me shouldn’t be this successful, shouldn’t be writing bestsellers, shouldn’t be so – visible.

I don’t recall the name of the man, or the paper for which he was writing. He was far from being the only journalist who felt I didn’t deserve success. I shrugged off the unpleasant comment, but he’d meant it to hurt, and it did. I still wonder why he – and his editor - thought that was appropriate. I also wonder why, 20 years on, women are still dealing with this kind of thing. It’s still not enough for a woman to be successful in her chosen field. Whatever her achievements, you can be pretty sure that at some point, some man in his 50s or 60s – maybe an Oxbridge graduate, author of an unpublished novel or two - will offer his opinion on her desirability, either in the national Press, or most likely nowadays, by means of social media. The subtext is clear: women who don’t conform to societal values of what a woman should be are asking for this kind of treatment; especially those who dare to achieve more than their detractors.

10 years after that nasty review, I finally began the journey into perimenopause. No-one told me it was happening. No-one in the media was talking about it at the time. Even my doctor never thought to mention that my symptoms – the insomnia, headaches, mood swings, anxiety, depression, sleep paralysis, hair loss, brown patches on my skin – might have a single origin. I began to feel I was losing my mind: as if I were starting to disappear. I started to doubt my own senses. I blamed it all on the stress from my job. My mother had powered through menopause – or so she led me to believe – and made no secret of her contempt for modern women who complained, or treated the symptoms as anything more than a minor inconvenience.

And so I did the same. I powered through; and when at last I began to experience the classic symptoms of menopause - irregular bleeding, hot flushes, exhaustion, night sweats so bad that I would awake in sheets that were wringing wet – it did not occur to me to seek help. After over a year of this, I finally went to my doctor, who took a few tests, cheerfully announced I was menopausal, and when I inquired after HRT, advised me to power through – that phrase again - and let Mother Nature take her course. The internet was slightly more helpful. I took up running, lost weight, cut down on alcohol, downed supplements and sleeping pills and vitamin D, and felt a little better. Then, breast cancer came to call, and by the time my treatment was done, the symptoms had more or less disappeared, or at least had been superseded by the symptoms of chemo. I congratulated myself at having powered through cancer as well as surviving menopause.

But two years later, I feel old. I look that way, too. I’ve aged ten years. Some of that’s the cancer, of course. I was quite open about my treatment when I was powering through it – partly in order to pre-empt any questions about my hair loss or any of the all-too visible effects of three courses of chemo. Not that it stopped the comments, though. Even at my lowest ebb, a sector of social media made it clear that my only concern should be to look young and feminine to anonymous men on Twitter.

Right now, I don’t feel either. My hair has gone grey and very thin. My skin, too, seems thinner; both physically and mentally. At a recent publishing event, several acquaintances failed to recognize me; others just looked through me as if I had become invisible. Invisibility would be a relief; I find myself dressing for camouflage. I tend to wear baggy black outfits. I got my OBE last week. Photographs in the Press show me talking to Prince William. I’m wearing a boxy black trouser suit, flat shoes and a red fedora. I think I look nice. Not glamorous, but comfortable; quirky; unpretentious.

On a thread of largely supportive messages, one Twitter user pops up to say: Jesus, who’d accept an honour looking like that middle-aged disaster? @Joannechocolat thought she’d make an impact? She needs a stylist. If you look in the dictionary for the definition of “dowdy”, it features this photo.

It’s not the same man who belittled me over 20 years ago. But the sentiment hasn’t changed. Regardless of your achievements, as a woman, you’ll always be judged on your age and fuckability. I ought to be used to this by now. But somehow, that comment got to me. Going through menopause isn’t just a series of physical symptoms. It’s how other people make you feel; old, unattractive, and strangely ashamed.

I think of the Glass Delusion, a mental disorder common between the 14th and 17th centuries, characterized by the belief that the sufferer was made of glass. King Charles VI of France famously suffered from this delusion, and so did Princess Alexandra Amélie, daughter of Ludwig 1st of Bavaria. The condition affected mostly high-profile individuals; writers, royals, intellectuals. The physician to Philip II of Spain writes of an unnamed royal who believed he was a glass vase, which made him terribly fragile, and able to disappear at will. It seems to have been a reaction to feelings of social anxiety, fear of change and the unknown, a feeling both of vulnerability and invisibility.

I can relate. Since the menopause, I’ve felt increasingly broken. I don’t believe I’m a glass vase, and yet I know what it feels like to want to be wrapped in a protective duvet all day. I’ve started buying cushions. I feel both transparent, and under the lens, as if the light might consume me. On social media, I’ve learnt to block the people who make mean comments. To make myself invisible. To hide myself in plain sight. I power through, but sometimes I think: why do women power through? And who told them that powering through meant suffering in silence?

Fortunately, some things have changed since I went through the menopause. Over the past few years, we’ve seen more people talking about their experiences. Menopause is likely to affect half the population. We should be talking about it. If men experienced half these symptoms, you bet they’d be discussing it. Because power isn’t silence. You’d think that, as writer, I would have worked that out sooner. Words are power. Sharing is strength. Communication breaks down barriers. And sometimes, power means speaking up for those less able to speak for themselves.

I look at myself in the mirror. I see my mother’s mouth; my father’s eyes. I see the woman I used to be; the woman I will one day become. I see the woman my husband loves, a woman he still finds attractive. A woman with a grown-up child who makes her proud every single day. A menopausal woman. A cancer survivor. A woman who writes books that make other people sit up and think. A woman who doesn’t need the approval of some man she’s never met to be happy. She can be happy now. I can. And finally, I understand. Powering through isn’t about learning to be invisible. It isn’t about acceptance, or shame, or letting Nature take its course, or lying about feeling broken. It’s looking beyond your reflection. It’s seeing yourself, not through the lens of other people’s expectations, but as yourself. The sum of everything you’ve been; of everyone who loves you. Of claiming your right to be more than glass, or your reflection in it. The right to be valued. The right to shine, regardless of age or reproductive status. Men seldom question their own right to these things. But women have to fight for them. That’s why it’s so exhausting.

This morning, instead of putting on my usual baggy black sweatshirt, I chose a bright yellow pullover. I looked at myself in the mirror. It’s not a great colour on me now, but it feels like dressing in sunshine. My husband came into the bathroom. You look –

My husband rarely gives compliments. I can’t remember the last time he commented on how I was dressed. I wondered what he was going to say. Dowdy, perhaps? Inappropriate? Like a menopausal woman in dire need of a stylist?

At last, he said: When you smile like that, you look like a friendly assassin.

A friendly assassin. I’ll take that.

Shining like the sun. That’s me.

#menopause #cancer

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b0tster · 9 months

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seen all these trans asks and I'm a gremblin who wants to be a part of it too!

i want to say how amazing it is that so many trans people are out and proud about who they are, i wouldn't be where i am today if it wasn't for all of you wonderful trans people!

for as long as i can remember i always wanted to be a girl, my earliest memories is being like 5? 6? and making up a daydream that i was a faraway princess from another universe except some evil thing drove me and my parents out and i ended up here, in the "wrong body" (not that i think that anymore, i will forever be grateful for HRT, it is amazing for allowing me to make my body my own)

all it took was an offhanded comment by a sex-ed teacher about people transitioning and just knowing it was possible was enough to send me into a spiral and completely change everything i knew whati was now, i was trans! i was also terrified, the cis people around me rarely ever spoke in a positive light about them and a cursory look at the process online and I'dneed to go to a child court, which means I'dhave to tell my parents, i sunk into a pretty major depression about how long it would take, if it would even possible, how much hassle I'd have to go through and stayed in this funk for 4-5 years, and it led to me [cw suicide]: very nearly taking my own life

/cw

after this i made the effort to seriously start transitioning, getting friends who were supportive (and didn't need contraceptives for their intended purpose) to sneak me contraceptive pills whilst i waited for the intentionally (bc the government is fucking awful to trans people) tortuous process of getting HRT prescribed and transitioning.

i transitioned almost 6? 7? years ago now (i wasn't much a part of the larger trans community back then so i never saved my HRT anniversary and now i forgot 😭 )

i don't regret any of it, and if you think you might be trans at all, there's no better time to start the process than now, leaving it and letting it fester bc you're worried about the hassle of it or the reactions of people or w/e won't do any good! especially if like lillith said you'd do it if there was less hassle! The hassle is intentional to try and stop you from transitioning by bigots, don't let them win!

obviously, just wanna make clear this comes from a place of being able to afrord, and a desire to be on, HRT and you're not any lesser if you can't afford or don't want to take HRT!

holy shit. thanks for sharing this incredible story

#lilith answers #trans #lgbt

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omgcatboi · 2 months

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Are you a “eat until death” type of person? I know you want to get fatter, but 800 pounds is a lot…

Answer below the cut (:

I'm not sure how to read the intentions behind this anon, rather they be good or bad. But I'm going to answer anyways because I do get asked this from time to time.

( disclaimer because I can already hear people trying to argue with me, but my aunt who was 700 pounds lived until her 60's and she was fat her entire life, so no, she didn't die immediately from gaining weight. Nor will I. )

Am I an ' eat until death ' type of person;

I absolutely am, but I limit my ' death feedism ' posting here ( as well as tag it ) and am thinking of making another side blog to remove that posting from here entirely for the comfort of my followers. I'm not eating with intention to end myself, I just feel like life is what you make of it and anything can happen at any point to cut us a short deal. Also, my cultural beliefs are that the entire purpose of life is to experience it. So that's what I want to do. Death isn't the end goal, and I do eat many healthy foods ( and encourage it often on my blog so that other feedees can gain weight more healthily. ) I just know I wanna get as big as possible, and that may bring along a good handful of complications that can result in death.

TW ; talk of fascism and American imperialism as well as transphobia / legislation enforcing bigotry.

Also, not to get all doom and gloom but look at the state of this world. Look at the dying planet we have limited time on. Each day a new fascist bill gets passed here in America alone. If death takes me out this hellscape then it's doing me a hell of a favor, because there IS no other way out. Not without a ton of money for a passport and applying for citizenship overseas as well as paying American taxes AFTER moving out. And even then, America IS the empire of our age. It influences the rest of the world. And it has already been invading other countries and enforcing fascist dictatorships either directly or indirectly for MANY years now. So even if I COULD hypothetically move out, I'd still be at risk of being under Americas extreme rule anyway. Or worse, I'd end up in a situation like P/lestinian just like Vi/tnam was.

I know what I'm saying is dark and depressing, as well as anxiety inducing, but I'm showing that I've put plenty of thought behind this decision. Just like I did before starting HRT even tho I ALWAYS knew I am trans. And I don't need anyone trying to talk me out of the lifestyle I am living. Besides, with my genetics, I'm going to keep gaining regardless. It happened to my aunt who was roughly 700 pounds, and even then, she was near her 60's when she passed. I'm only gaining faster, not less. ( And she wasn't gaining intentionally, she just didn't care about fitting into other people's idea of what she should be and what she should do. )

In her 60's

60'S

I don't want to be old and wrinkly ( no hate tho those who are ) I don't want to live that damn long ( like 70's and older ) just. Nah. I'm good.

I'm just enjoying my time while I have it.

( this next part is not about people with triggers who are triggered by death feedism or very fat bodies. So if that is you, stop exposing yourself to this bc I tagged it and talked about it plenty before getting to this point of the post. )

And as a footnote to anyone who may be reading this, if you have an issue with people getting ' too big ' 1) you need to check that way of thinking because you ARE in the feedism / fat kink community. And that INCLUDES people who are, gasp, suprise, FAT. And 2) you should spend some time reflecting on what lead you to harboring that way of thinking.

Not saying this anon holds these views at all, I'm just mentioning it because it is my blog and we are on the topic. ( Plus I'm Knipping everything in the bud now as far as the group of people who will try and spew any level of fatphobia at me for this. In which case I'm not even going to read what y'all say, I'm just going to block you lol. )

One love and allat 😌

#fatty answers #tw death feedism #death feedism #death feedee #death feedist

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doberbutts · 4 months

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I have to tell you I adore you and all your fabulous fur babies!

I would like to ask if you can talk about your experience being on t, specifically the mental and emotional aspects of the hrt process. I have read a lot about the physical changes that happen, but I don't see anyone talking about how your personality, mood, energy, etc. change.

Thanks!

Hey thanks!

Honestly while there is a lot of misinformation regarding what testosterone does to your emotions, I feel lucky that my endocrinologist never really said anything except that I may feel wild mood swings or have trouble controlling my anger in the first few months as my body and mind adjusted to the new swing in hormones.

This is pretty normal for any hormone you take- when you first start, you may find yourself experiencing mood swings and feeling emotions more intensely. That's why kids deep into puberty tend to be, um, a bit out of control with their emotions. It's also why this happens again as you age into your twilight years, when your body once again changes its hormone output and can set things a bit out of whack. Or if you get pregnant. Or if you start hormonal birth control. Or if you take a steroid for something not even sex hormone related. Messing with your hormones can seriously throw off your grasp on your feelings and moods.

But the good news is, it's not permenant. By the time you're 5 months in, you should start feeling more like "you" again, unless your dose changes for whatever reason. And, even better, the "you" you feel like? Usually is a much more mentally happy person.

On a personal level, I didn't have random fits of anger. Which is interesting, because I have a documented anger problem that I have taken anger management for because I have had black-out rages [usually inspired by one of my sisters deliberately hurting one of my pets] [for instance she swung one of my pet rats at the wall by the tail like she was going to kill him and the next thing I know our mother is pulling me off of her as I'm pummelling her face with my fists on the ground and I do not remember the in-between] [I'm not sorry, fuck around and find out, don't hurt my animals and I won't hurt you] [also this sister sent me to the ER in a previous fight where she'd bodily picked me up and thrown me through a window so like. Don't feel too bad for her that I finally snapped and gave her a taste of what she constantly did to me]

In fact, I've had *multiple* people who know the "before" and "after" tell me that I'm much calmer and more emotionally steady than I've ever been. And that I'm happier too. I also used to anger-cry a *lot*, pretty much any time I got angry I'd also cry, but that also stopped happening so now I don't really get angry and when I do I don't cry about it.

I would say anxiety's probably about the same but depression is much better. Compared to who I was before leaving my hometown vs now, I can confidently say that I no longer consider the odds of whether my shower curtain rod can hold me for long enough. I'm much better at recognizing when my mental health is getting bad and when I need to take a step back. I get stressed and I can go "okay, I need to break away from this before I completely lose it" well in advance. Which is great! Mental stability and joy and security for the win!

I will say I don't really cry anymore. It does occasionally feel like I'm not really able to. One of Creed's songs came on and I teared up and my throat got all fuzzy but I think only one of two tears actually came out, vs losing him pre-T we're talking ugly cry scream-sobbing in my [now-ex]'s arms. Which, yes, some of it is just distance from the grief since it was two years ago. But also I've never been so in control that I only cried a literal couple tears' worth. Usually the waterworks start and then take a long time to end.

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emililyqueer · 25 days

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so... this is just kind of a personal emotional dump. i don't want to bring anyone down, you can ignore this if you just want to do the sexy stuff.

but it is an insight into me, so ya know. here it is. it turned out a lot longer than i wanted... to be honest it's sort of turned into my life story. um. sorry.

i spent so much of my life being ashamed and confused and depressed. i suppose, the thing is... i'm tired of watching other people live the life that i wanted to live.

i was brought up in a very conservative small town, in the middle of fkin nowhere. the place was extremely homogenous. no (visibly) gay or trans people, almost no people of colour. i had a single, disabled mother. my dad was very mentally ill, and he was abusive and violent with it, and even though he left when i was in single digits, he's left some very deep scars on me. i went to school under the time of the Section 28 law - which is to say, LGBT issues were banned in school, and bullying gay and trans kids was absolutely allowed to happen, or else the teachers could be seen as "taking a side" on a "controversial issue". this happened to me multiple times. i hated school. even though i started off in life with a passion of learning, going there broke my enthusiasm for literally decades.

i was queer, and i was in denial. i... sort of understood, i think?? but i realised very young that i couldn't rely on anyone, not my parents, not my teachers, not my peers. i grew up obsessed with the idea of self-reliance and some fucked up idea of personal strength. even after a university friend of mine came out, and i realised i might be trans, i still clung to these ideas, to masculinity and self-isolation. they had kept me "safe" and i felt i needed them. i abused drink and drugs because i felt empty and just wanted to fucking feel something, at least something other than anxiety and despair. it felt like parts of me were missing. most of the time, i felt either nothing, or fear, or stress, unless i was high.

i had health problems, i didn't have any energy or concentration (i later learned that i had ADD), i was depressed, and i had chronic migraines. i went to university to study a BSc in computer science, and i couldn't complete it due to these health problems.

and yeah, the health problems and depression became disabling... because of that i was constantly broke. this country, the tory party especially (but not only the tories), hates disabled people with a passion. i was into political activism at the time and the number of deaths of sick and disabled people coming out of the initial austerity era actually kind of broke my faith in society, i couldn't believe this was being allowed to happen.

as an aside - that was a choice. austerity was a choice, and it came with a body count in the tens of thousands (according to the British Medical Journal) before they just stopped fucking counting. this is a thing that actually happened in one of the richest countries on earth, and it happened as the richest people in that country only got richer and richer, and then we just... forgot, because disabled people don't fucking matter, do we? i'm sorry to get political in the middle of my own miserable ramble but these bastards need to burn in hell for what they did. fuck the tories

anyway.

because i abused my body, and i couldn't afford decent healthcare, or transition related stuff, i actually wrote off my appearance. i decided i would never be able to look good or feel good about myself. there was a brief time when i first got on HRT where i felt great about the future, but once i realised how badly i'd already hurt myself... i just gave up. for a lot of my life i was convinced that i wouldn't be here in the next few months or years, so why build a future?

my desires and sense of identity were just completely buried under a mountain of shame, self loathing, lack of direction, and substance abuse. i lost so, so many years.

so... how are things today? my living situation is crap. it's secure, but miserable. one tiny room, with mold in it which is aggravating my allergies. my financial situation is still bad, but it's not critical - i am struggling to afford some medications, but generally i'm afloat. i am, so far, just about able to maintain a small old car, which i rely on, because i live in the sticks and there's fck all public transport here. mentally, i still struggle, but it's so so much better than it was, and it is getting better. my physical health is... concerning me; i have a lot less energy than i'd like, and i'm in almost always in pain. in terms of drugs, i am mostly clean. i don't really drink, i don't smoke (neither tobacco nor anything else), but i do use prescription painkillers.

one of the bigger things is my gender and sexuality... confusing as hell, i'm in a superposition between trans woman and like... femboy, or sissy feminine man. i don't really understand it, parts of all these things appeal strongly to me on a deep, honest, fundamental level. i'm really not sure how to interpret this.

and, well, when i look at some certain sex workers and models... i feel equal parts inspired, and like i want to cry. i keep seeing people who lived the life i always wanted, and i see how fucking happy and successful they are, and i feel so many things all at once.

but... i am still here. i do still have time left. and i do know a few things about me for sure:

i am a reasonably intelligent person. i'm good with computers, electronics, and cars. i like music, travelling, and um i think i like cooking??? and of course video games. i mean duh, i'm a queer on the internet! :p

i'm determined, i don't want to lie down and die any more, i want things to get better for me, i want a future.

but i think... above all? it's the things i was ashamed of that i love the most. i love kink, i love femininity, i love showing off, i desire outrageous sexual experiences, and looking hot and changing the person i see in the mirror. i want to do porn, to revel in eroticism and queerness, and i want to take these things seriously.

so, that's what i'm going to do. that's why i'm posting this here alongside the fun kinky stuff. it's important, this is me.

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notebeans-galaxy · 11 months

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you wanna know something? I was extremely ambitious as a child. I've wanted to be an engineer and an astrophysicist since before I learned long division. I wanted to be a writer by the time I was 9, and I wanted to be a singer by the time I was 11.

That ambition decreased in middle & high school, but it never fully went away; I decided I also wanted to be a visual artist and a programmer and a polyglot and an activist. On the more casual side I want to study genetics, pharmacology, voice acting, literature, linguistics, anthropology, the occult, & religious history.

I was a straight A student in elementary school. I wasn't just a straight A student, I was a dedicated nerd; I genuinely enjoyed school despite severe social ostracization and I thought most of my homework was interesting enough that I wasn't bored while doing it.

And somehow, despite that, despite that I've always been ambitious and always sought challenge and that I was competitive to a fault, I somehow managed to convince myself I was lazy in middle and high school when my grades dropped due to severe unaddressed childhood trauma causing mental health issues, my ADHD medication losing effectiveness from being on it for a decade, and multiple undiagnosed chronic illnesses. I never actually stopped trying. I'd just convinced myself that because I couldn't complete classwork with the same attention I used to, that because I was stressed and exhausted and had to rest more often, that it was somehow my fault that my grades got worse. No, I'm fucking disabled. No one ever bothered to tell me that ADHD was a disability until I was in high school, no one but me realized I was depressed or autistic until I asked for diagnoses, no one ever took the severity of my chronic fatigue or post-exertional malaise or orthostatic intolerance seriously enough. fuck the way estrogen interacts with dysautonomia y'all it's so bad, testosterone HRT was more effective treatment for it than anything else. i still need salt tablets but my POTS is stable now entirely because of T.

I think the real kicker is that all it took was a bus to my house for me to attend school again. The barriers to success for disabled students often have such simple solutions and yet no one's willing to implement them until forced to. I was convinced for years that it was my own failures & incompetence that were the issue, and all it took was not being forced to walk.

I'm going to start college in the fall and I know it's possible for me to achieve some of the things I've had my sights set on since I was a kid. I still have chronic fatigue and chronic pain and non-24 complicates scheduling, but calculus is a hell of a lot easier when you aren't suffering 3+ types of cognitive impairment simultaneously. side note why is calculus Like That I can do physics related calculus because i learned integrals and derivatives before literally anything else because i was taking AP Physics: Mechanics concurrently with Calc AB during my first attempt at 12th grade, but i struggle to comprehend the rest of it.

A few years ago, I'd resigned myself to not being able to pursue my interests. I figured I wouldn't be able to succeed in anything I tried due to how ill I was. And while I still may not be able to study all of the things I'm interested in at a college, I sure as hell can pursue the most important ones — the original four things I wanted to do with my life. Writing and music can easily remain hobbies; I don't need those to be part of my career to feel fulfilled in them. I'm planning to study cosmology in the distant future (from what I understand, you need a Ph.D to even get started) and I'll be basing my class choices around that; underclassmen all have undeclared majors at my college, but as of now I'm planning to frame my schedule around pursuit of a physics degree (which is also easily transferrable to engineering!). Crushing college debt, here I come — but it's worth it to study astronomy, physics, & cosmology.

All it took was a bus. All it took for me to graduate high school was a bus.

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safety-pin-punk · 2 days

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Hey Key,

It feels appropriate to ask you whether I can vent this but I figure tumblr anon communication is a bit slow.

So I was on my way back to my college town on Easter Monday

An acquaintance (not friend) of mine visited family in the same city so we decided to take a train together

Frame of reference: I’m 25NB, she’s 20FTM (she prefers her feminine given name and she/her since she isn’t actively transitioning yet)

We are both physically disabled and mentally ill

Being the queer neurodivergent I am, I went !!! at her and immediately started talking because hey, commonalities!

Half an hour in we moved on from physical disability to talking about the mental stuff and I mention I’m self-do autistic. And she goes “Nah. You can’t be.” And I go “Huh?” “You’re too talkative! You’re ADHD, yes, but you are too social and talkative to be autistic.”

Like… gee, man, maybe because we have met a few times and immediately clocked you as queer and neurodivergent? You think that might be why I’m comfortable talking rapid-fire?

“Nah, we don’t know each other that well, so that can’t be it.”

Right… and then she told me she doesn’t “want to endorse self-dx” because she thinks she might be hypochondriac and therefor any and all self-dx or preemptive diagnose “might make things worse because I think it’s worse than it is”

Like, yes, I understand and she explained she does experience psychosomatic symptoms in response to being stressed/ burnt out. I don’t deny psychosomatic responses. I believe that.

But also she straight-up refuses to look up anything that might help her?? When we were talking about physical disability (we both have chronic pain) I immediately pulled out my phone to send some coping ressources and self-help stuff

And she went “no, I never look at [coping] things, I worry if I read that, I will just convince myself that I’m worse than I actually am.”

Which, okay, reasonable boundary…

I told her about how I started using a walking cane, on my own, decided for myself that it helps. And also how most of my splints/ bandages are self-bought and self-administered because no doctor acknowledged my chronic pain so far.

And she goes “I sometimes have days where I have to drag my leg. I’m like-paraplegic when my psychosomatic symptoms get to their worst. But I would never use a cane! I don’t want to stand out, you know? I don’t want to catch attention.”

And I’m sitting there screaming internally like “You are entitled to be seen! You deserve accommodations! You just said some days you could use a wheelchair!! What the FUCK?!”

Yeah… and the longer our talk goes on, the more I read between the lines that she believes “if I do everything right, it will mostly go away”

Like, she forced herself to stick to “fibro-diet” to combat her rheuma and fibro, which is great on the surface. And then she tells me she forces herself out of bed and forces herself to cook, even if she doesn’t feel like eating, but she just pushes through because “the anti/inflammation diet can help with rheumatism”

And just– …my internal screaming continued.

I don’t want to dislike her! I recognise she’s young(er) and she’s naive and blue-eyed. While I’m just a cynic who’s been depressed for the majority of my life and I stopped giving a fuck about “not standing out” because my neurodivergent ass is too autistic and too ADHD to interact with people without standing out

Like, I’m ““high-functioning”” but at the same time I’m the kind of autistic who never had the chance to fit in. I have always been and will always be “the standoffish weird kid”.

But I just feel bad for her and at the same time I know I don’t want to become friends with someone who’s this blue-eyed “it will all be good if I just do the right thing”

I’m frustrated with her as an acquaintance and I just know if she tries to become my friend I have to give her sooooo many lectures

Among all these other things about how she is allowed to be non-binary and how she doesn’t need HRT to be trans and how she doesn’t have to cower in fear of changes HRT would do to her body because even if she’s binary FTM nobody’s forcing her to go on testo.

Just… so much frustration after this one 3h train ride :/

Fully agree, tumblr anon communication is very slow. Especially on my blog. I go through moods where I answer a bunch of things at once and then dont for a while. (sorry) Long post under cut

First of all, I am so sorry about your friend invalidating your self-dx autism. Personally I'm all for self-dx, anyone whose dealt with doctors long enough knows how hard, how many hoops you have to jump through, and the amount of time and money required to get diagnosed with ANYTHING. I've definitely dealt with my fair share of non-medical professionals telling me both "You dont have this thing I have" but also "You definitely have this thing I dont have".

I see why you are frustrated by someone seemingly not wanting to help themselves. But it seems like she is trying, she just has never been exposed to the right resources to help her. Its kinda like. I went to a SUPER christian university, and there was this gay guy, wonderful dude. His view of his own queerness though? I had only read about people like him online until I met him. He was a pastors son, his whole life he grew up knowing that being gay was wrong and bad. He never had access to the resources he needed to learn how to love that part of himself. Not his own fault at all, but by the time he got to college, there was no changing his views. He now goes around preaching to other kids about his experiences being gay and how he represses it because God. He absolutely broke my heart.

My point it, your friend is young and naieve. She probably has never had access to the resources and information you have. Her experiences have probably been *wildly* different from yours. You can't force a 'fuck it' attitude onto someone like that. You just kinda have to wait and hope they grow into it on their own. Theres nothing wrong with not wanting to be friends with someone like that though. You are responsible for currating your own social experiences. I completely understand your frustration with the whole situation though.

#mail tag #long post

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kagrenacs · 2 years

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This pride month I wanted to discuss my transition a bit, I’ve had a couple people thinking about going on hrt wondering about what testosterone therapy is like. Up front I wanna say I wasn’t on it for very long at all, voice dysphoria was my problem, so I only needed to go on for 8 months until I was happy. I also messed up my dosing for four of those months, instead of 0.5ml I took 0.05 ml of T -_-

I’m lucky to have had a fairly easy time going on T. There’s a few doctors who have sacrificed so much for our community. The woman I saw was fired twice for providing a legal medical service to trans people. When going through the system, it can take up to five years to get referred T, pre-Covid. (I was going to DIY it if they denied me, at the time I had found a supplier of T gel, unfortunately it seems down though)

We discussed risks, namely being the production of too many red blood cells which can lead to stroke and tissue damage, however the risk is small, (one study says 11%) less than that of smokers. Your primary care provider usually monitors your hemoglobin levels because of this. Our main concern was the fact that I have premenstral dysphoric disorder, and have really struggled with really severe depressive episodes before my periods. Unfortunately there isn’t too resources or much discussion on pmdd and it’s interaction with HRT, beyond women undergoing feminizing hormone therapy potentially having pmdd symptoms. Ultimately though I don’t think I noticed any significant impact on my mood, and I don’t have periods.

I found this chart really helpful as a general guideline to what changes happened when. Everything is dependant on your genetics, looking at cis male relatives can be a good pointer to how your puberty will be.

I noticed skin oiliness first, even with my T micro-micro dose. (However there’s prescriptions to help with acne). I’d get acne around where chin hairs were coming in, near the 3 month of proper dosing, 6 months total mark. The thicker, coarser hair sticks around, I’m not sure if mine is growing as fast, or if i’m just not noticing more hair come in. But it still grows and I still like to shave it back a bit. I never got too much body hair besides leg hair, I have a little bit of belly hair and some slightly longer arm and breast hairs. I believe this is a genetic thing though, my brother isn’t particularly hairy yet either.

I saw a bit of changed patterns of fat distribution around month 4/7, I also increased T by .10 mL at this time. The veins in my arms and hands became much more prominent, I had less round cheeks, though nothing really noticeable. I’ve been off T for 3 months now and everything has returned to pre-t patterns.

A little after the fat redistribution I saw increased strength in small ways, especially in my hands. I was skeptical of that being real, but I managed to cut through some pork so well I cut right through an old plastic plate D: Bottom growth also happened around that time.

It took about 16 weeks total, about 4 weeks proper dosing to first hear the start of the voice changes. I tapered by dose off around 25 weeks, doing it every 2 weeks to slowly inch to where I wanted, and I was happy by 30 weeks. I was starting to grow moustache hairs around then, won’t lie that’s partly why I stopped T, I don’t like moustaches. My voice did change afterwards, I have the ability to pitch it a bit higher now, but it didn’t go to my pre-T voice. I think this snippet I found on google beautifully sums it up.

#transgender #nonbinary #detrans #(<- tagging it as that bc i think it could help for the wide variety of experiences under that umbrella I still am trans tho)

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isthishidden · 1 month

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It's been a little while. I'm not sure anyone will have noticed, since I've never been the most active. Things have been a lot, lately, and I've not had the most time. I just want to take some time to ramble for a bit, scream into the Void. You know the drill.

I feel constantly exhausted. Part of that is physical, because I don't get to sleep until about 2am and wake up somewhere between 8-10am. Part of it is depression. It's coming back, despite my best efforts. I think the anxiety about being in this middling space between degrees is affecting my sense of self worth, which is in turn amping up all the negative self talk and shit my brain spews at me. Another part of the exhaustion is just how shit everything is, beyond the depression. Trying to make new friends feels pointless, because the chances are that they'll hate me for being trans, or bisexual, or whatever. Romance seems entirely off the table for the same reason. I desperately want to move out, but my job doesn't pay enough for that and I can't see how living with room-mates would be any better than living with my parents. I'm burnt out on all the video games I enjoy, just waiting for the next updates. My HRT is still in short supply, and I'm going to have to beg my doctor to prescribe me tablets because I cannot get the patches I've been on consistently, or even at all.

It's not all bad, though. My graduation ceremony is soon, I've gotten a job so I actually have a bit of disposable income, I'm fairly sure I've figured out that I'm mildly autistic, which explains some things I've found very frustrating, and it's finally cold enough for me to wear long sleeves again.

Things are tough, but I'm trying to stay on top of them. I really shouldn't have stopped seeing my psychologist, but I needed to focus on uni and it was expensive.

#hidden missives

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mueritos · 2 years

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Hello!! Fellow transmasc enby hispanic here!!!

I started T Friday and I did a lot of research that said this may be normal but I wanted to personally wanted to inquire you out of peace of mind!!

I'm on day 3 and started my menstrual cycle yesterday, I was fine yesterday but today I've been feeling hormonally out of wack very anxious and sad. My heart beat feels like it's been raised up(is that normal). I'm on sub q injections once a week (.25 mg) I will definetly notify my Dr if anything! I couldn't find too much info on this either but I was wondering if you know if taking anti depressants is affected by starting T? I take 20 mg celexa daily and have been for 5+ months and it has helped me life savingly with my depression and anxiety. I just hope my meds don't stop working and it'd just my body adjusting. Sucks to feel the worst symptoms first like sweatiness and hot flashes 😵‍💫

Hiya! Ive actually been in a very similar situation starting out t. Two days after my first shot, I got my period and felt like I wanted to run a marathon, or have a marathon fuck. Literally like a restless dog in sleep HAHA your hormones r responsible for a lot of your bodys actions, and you may notice spikes in ur anxiety due to a number of reasons, including ur wonky hormones changing your emotional and mental state, and anxiety from being hyper vigilant of ur body when u start on HRT. Testosterone DOES increase heart rate, which is why they give you the whole spiel before starting HRT that youre now at risk of heart disease, stroke, and cardiac arrest (essentially, youre no more at risk than any other endocrinologically male person). Im not on an meds besides HRT, so I wud suggest talking to anyone who is on anti depressants and t, and Im sure there is someone who is willing to add on their experience in the notes below. Ive personally felt spikes of my heart rate increasing every now and then and I do believe its the tie, but also from anxiety and how I process it now im on HRT (albiet, my hormones r much more stable and higher). Testosterone can "dull" your feelings and make it difficult to feel at times, so i tend to unintentionally hold those feelings until they sort of burst in spurts of anxiety like that. HRT is HRT and the changes are unavoidable, but adjusting dosage, keeping an eye on yourself, talking to ur doctor, and implementing other coping mechanisms can help. If you feel like u want to talk to ur doctor about ur heart rate, pls do so!

#muertoresponds #hrt

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 11 months

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So TW medical bitterness, cancer, hysterectomy, abnormal periods, mental health, past abuse. I just want to encourage others with my story, I guess.

Since 2018, I knew something was wrong with my uterus, but I figured I was just young and didn't know stuff yet. I developed late emotionally/physically, like not even getting anything near a stereotypical period until I was 22, even though I'd been spotting since 12.

I started bleeding a lot and never really stopped, even with a fist-sized blood clot that nearly made me pass out. But I got on birth control for the anemia and they said it would reset my reproductive system.

Which for a lot of people it does! Not so for me.

Fast forward to 2020, and I'm in the hospital for a pulmonary embolism that was caused by the very same birth control that kept me from bleeding to death. I asked to get a hysterectomy because something ain't right.

They told me that I being was dramatic and swapped me to progesterone-only birth control. I didn't stop asking though.

Fast forward again to 2022, last November, and I got on antidepressants for the first time. Honestly, it's amazing no longer having a maelstrom of ADHD, anxiety (thanks hospital stay), and depression in my head where I feel lost.

But then I started bleeding again. The antidepressants overrode my birth control. So I quickly switched to another antidepressant and got into the gynecologist who put me on a progesterone booster.

They did an ultrasound and get this, in the 3 days I bled, my body made 19 mm of uterine lining. 19! A month later when I went back to see how much had been dissolved by the higher dose of meds (as is supposed to happen), I was only down to 16 mm of lining!

Obviously, it's not working and I produce far more than should be possible. NO SHIT.

Anyway, so March of this year, I had a D&C surgery. They scrape out my uterus and send all the contents to the lab for testing.

LO AND BEHOLD, TWO WEEKS LATER I AM CALLED IN BETWEEN NORMAL PATIENTS AND TOLD THAT I HAVE UTERINE CANCER.

The only thing I cried about was that I no longer have to fight to get the hysterectomy because it's now seen as a lifesaving operation instead of "convenience".

I'm the one driving this meat suit and I told them there was something wrong for YEARS.

So, in 8 days (April 27th, 2023, since I don't know when this will get shared), I get a hysterectomy and my life back. All the risks of birth control, the weight gain, so much will be gone and I can lower doses on my other meds.

Yes, I'm fat and they can blame as much as they want on that fact, but now that the causes of my overeating are finally getting fixed, I'm losing said weight and I will finally be free.

I'm a subset of asexual with sexual abuse trauma, so while I know the big choice I'm losing, I would rather be alive and foster kids when I'm older than have kids/a relationship and be the emotional/verbal abuser that my parents were because it's so internalized that I haven't dug it out yet.

Never stop asking. Never let them sweep you off to the side. Make your doctor rule out everything until they finally do what you want.

I'm bitter, I admit it. I'm bitter against my mom for not diagnosing me with my ADHD and getting me medicated as a child. My first adderall was my 30th birthday, because I snuck behind her back for it. I don't give a shit about the stigma of mental health, I want to be free. I want to be me.

Find the good doctors out there and hang onto them. Dig your feet in and stand up. AFAB are more than the uteruses we are born with. Fat people are more than just our fat. We are people worth getting real genuine help by the medical field. We need more people to learn how people of different races are built differently too.

I now can't even take HRT (to stave off menopause) because I've had both embolism and cancer.

I admit, I wasn't strong enough to fight against my family for the help I needed, and I'm not sure if it was because I was a coward or just not mature enough. But I'm a human being.

I'm going to win and be happy, even if it takes me fighting for the rest of my life to be seen as worthwhile. I'm so tired, but I won't fall. I can't.

-Audra

Hi Audra,

I'm so sorry that you struggled to get a proper diagnosis and treatment, but I'm glad that you could get the help you needed. Your experiences highlight the importance of advocating for ourselves and persistently seeking the help and treatment we deserve.

The bitterness you feel towards your mom and the healthcare system is valid. It's natural to have complex emotions when reflecting on the past and the support that could have made a significant difference in your life. But the focus now is on your well-being and reclaiming your life.

Please know that you are more than the conditions you've faced. You are a human being deserving of compassion, understanding, and comprehensive healthcare. It's essential to take care of yourself mentally and physically as you continue your healing journey.

I hope I could help. Please feel free to reach out if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #audra #tw abuse #tw medical abuse

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zinniajones · 1 year

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“Extremely strong atheism”

(tw death, fear, life-threatening danger, anxiety, drug use, war, cancer, car accident, near-death experience)

(copied from Twitter)

So "dread of ego dissolution" is a measure of an adverse psychedelic effect where you are terrified your self is being destroyed (similar to what I saw when I almost died?), and having this happen from psychedelics is associated with worsening depression (frontiersin.org/articles/10.33…)

I feel like when you've seen what actually happens when you die and your self is erased into nonexistence (speaking from my actual experience of almost dying, not a hallucinogen) it's almost impossible to stop being aware of it at every moment and freaking out about it constantly

I think my awareness of this may be an absolute contraindication to ever trying psychedelics again. There isn't ever going to be a "set and setting" where I'm not constantly aware and terrified of death, and you aren't supposed to give someone psychedelics when that's going on

Drugs like psilocybin and MDMA are also used to treat traumatic stress and PTSD, but even if that does anything (the overall effect might not be all that impressive), there's just something about this particular experience I had of seeing what death actually consists of

It's not like any drug I ever happen to take is going to change anything about our fundamental situation as decaying material beings trapped for a finite span in a physical universe before we're killed and erased like an animal dying. How is hallucinating supposed to fix this? I didn't have an out of body experience at all when it was happening, and actually, since HRT made me stop dissociating, it's possible it helped keep me grounded inside my body as it was being killed and my perception stayed completely fixed in place as everything was closing out

There's also some positive version of this apparently experienced under psychedelic use called "oceanic boundlessness" associated with better outcomes and improvement in depression symptoms. There's an entire history of calling it "oceanic". Why does it have to be that :(

But yeah, when you know that reality is actually a fucking horrifying nightmare you're trapped in and your body can literally die and wipe out your entire self forever, taking a drug that generates more apparent altered realities of an unclear nature seems extremely dangerous

And if there were a drug that did anything to fix this, it would have to be some kind of hypothetical drug that actually changes beliefs and values, something that makes you acquire a belief in an afterlife or postmortem "survival" even when there's still no evidence of this

Which would also be a really worrying effect for a drug to have and it's probably really good that drugs can't do that

I wish this was something that could be more conventionally addressed like depression, or like a specific phobia of water, but there's not a way to exposure-therapy yourself about the fact that death is still always there and waiting to finish the job of erasing you at any moment

Nobody understands why that experience isn't something I can just get over. I could spend however much money on therapy and still come out the other end as a body that knows it's going to die

A lot of "bad trip" experiences with psychedelics involve reports of something like fear that one will be trapped in a place for eternity or will experience something going on forever. Not the fear and certainty that everything is actually about to end in the next few seconds

I wish I had a subjective eternity to be terrified of, at least you'd still exist at all

I've been extremely angry since then, more than usual, at Christian religions claiming there is a hell, because I don't consider this a threat, I consider this a bogus promise they'll never make good on

It's "hell"? Who cares about that part? The point is they're telling people you get to keep existing after you die which is awful and untrue and a disservice to everyone

I have actually screamed at campus preachers about how this is worse than hell and how dare they even promise us hell? I'm hopeful that going through some studies of what is happening during "ego dissolution" in psychedelic use may provide some information on what my brain was doing and perceiving while I was drowning, although it should be specific to the the "dread" part (pharmrev.aspetjournals.org/content/74/4/8…)

I'm still very confused about how being dunked underwater for less than 5 seconds, and not having my body physiologically die or even come close, caused me to acquire that significant of an experience and apparent knowledge in what seemed like one key moment

Previous thread on how, at least on paper, this suggests cocaine is something that reinforces your sense of self and increases your confidence in a way apparently opposite of ego dissolution. I can't confirm that because you can't just be doing cocaine

That scale above was able to, for instance, show that cocaine use has an almost opposite effect of "ego dissolution" seen with psychedelics. Cocaine and psychedelics are tapping on the same slider there. So that's like saying doing cocaine was a life-changing spiritual experience (https://twitter.com/ZJemptv/status/1589853648074727424)

But does cocaine make you stop being afraid of death all the time? I really hope that when I do die I'm so out of it at that point that I have no real lucidity or comprehension at all of what's happening, because being completely aware that it's happening is the worst thing ever

I've had to stop describing it in so much detail because it was starting to give a couple people frequent ruminations about death after they read what I was saying and they hadn't even had a near-death experience, so just, going into death suddenly with eyes wide open is so bad

It also completely upends your life when you survive, there is so much now that I just don't care about anymore, because I can't force myself to consider it important enough to be worth spending my limited time on

I mean I completely understand now why my paternal grandfather absolutely lost his shit and went off the rails after serving in the Korean War and why my dad did the same twice after almost dying in a car accident at 18 and almost dying of leukemia in his early 30s

It has a way of absolutely arresting your attention, although in their cases it also led to an incredible amount of egregiously erratic and sometimes uncontrolled irrational behavior that was dangerous to themselves and others

As in problematic substance use, violence, unaddressed severe mental illness, a ton of destructive and maladaptive behaviors that I personally am not interested in leaning into

Anyway, I need a specific term for: this fusion of true belief and deep knowledge, reinforced by acquired experience, of an atheistic nonspiritual physicalism-materialism/other nondualism in the nature of the universe and consciousness, that entails destruction upon bodily death

Because this experience strongly confirmed for me some kind of Atheism And Then Some

I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm thinking about this on some level at literally all times since the moment it happened at approximately 1:00 PM on September 2. There's no way not to be aware of it even just as the backdrop of everything, and frequently it gets foregrounded

I've never believed in anything more deeply and strongly and genuinely than what I saw and experienced that day

There's weak atheism, there's strong atheism, and then there's this "extremely strong atheism" that honestly seems to have been imposed on me, in the form of an experience similar to the "faith conviction" sometimes described by adherents as their form of religious epiphany

Just not like a conversion, but a very emphatic reaffirmation that what I previously believed on a deep level is also in fact true in reality on a deep level

#tw death #tw drowning #near death experience #near death tw #drugs tw #tw drugs #tw war #Zinnia Jones #atheism #extremely strong atheism

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queerautism · 2 years

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oh, oh! i can combine shitting on doctors with shitting on teachers! strap in, this one's a doozy.

when i was eleven, i developed an intense fear of going to school and was diagnosed with severe depression, social anxiety and a bunch of other stuff. my teachers made no efforts to accommodate me and eventually i had to be checked into a mental hospital, where i spent a good four months facing severe medical abuse and bullying from other inmates until i learned how to act neurotypical.

i then spent a couple of years masking successfully enough to get through school, until i was fifteen and i began getting what i didn't realize were daily meltdowns from the pure exhaustion of it all. my teachers were unsupportive, put a lot of pressure on me and, under the threat of fining me if i didn't give them a good reason for my not going to school, forced me to come out as trans, which at the time i had only known for a couple of months, and then fined me anyway, repeatedly, almost forcing me to have to give up the only therapy that actually worked and wasn't abusive because i wasn't able to pay for it anymore.

they then made me go and get an assessment by our country's department of health, which literally had a poster talking about children "suffering from adhd" in their waiting room, and it only got worse. they made me take an iq test, which should tell you everything you need to know about how outdated their ideas are, and the doctor who was assessing me consistently spewed intense ableism ("if you have working legs and working arms, you can go to school" - actual fucking quote) and spent a good half hour grilling me about being trans, asking me if i felt uncomfortable having breasts and periods, if i was planning to undergo hrt and surgery, all the while stopping every two sentences to assure me she did not have aaanything against trans people at all. yeah right.

at the end of the assessment, with the help of my therapist (bless him, i'm still so grateful he came along, i would not have made it through without him), we got her to the point where she basically agreed i wasn't able to go to school regularly and needed accommodations, even though she still judged me as capable of going (see: the working legs and arms line. ugh.)

so, my school twisted her words to mean "actually, we did give you accommodations (they didn't, not the ones i asked for, any even if they did, they were always bound to a lot of pressure and endless conditions i was incapable of meeting) so here's another fine. have fun. :)"

anyway, i'm 18 now and out of school. i wasn't able to drop out until recently, but i did and it's the best choice i ever made. i'm in recovery right now, starting an internship at a job with a very lovely family business who were more than willing to accommodate me. i'm not sure where ill go from here, but i'm healing, finally.

I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. I'm so proud of you for finding something that works for you, though! That's fucking awesome

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wigglesthepretty · 29 days

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Happy Trans Day of Visibility

It's March 31st which is apparently Happy Trans Day of Visibility which I knew of but this is the first year where I'm openly trans but at a weird stop where I'm not currently actively transitioning (see last months rant) which also means it's a new month so 6 months on HRT's. I'm honestly not feeling a whole lot better mentally than last month I'm pretty dang depressed and it's pretty dang hard to get up and exist somedays. It's not the transitioning casing it it's more a lifetime of depression I was able to hold at bay before HRTs reconnected me with my emotional self (blah blah see last month) I'm still not moving forward with transitioning I'm not sure if its permanent or a just a break I just know I can't deal with it right now and just don't have the mental motivation. Which gives me conflicts about celebrating a Trans Day or being in Trans communities and group part of me feels like I don't deserve them or impostery I'm pretty sure that's my bad brain talking I can't be the only person that this has happened and I know in my heart I'm trans even if I'm not presenting I'm also still taking my HRT's and am getting noticeable boob growth I might have to learn to bind if it keeps up. Anyways its Trans Day of Visibility and despite my inner conflict I wish all the trans friend a wonderful day. I've meet so many good beans er eggs in so many communities over the years. Also thank you the allies and supporters who make us feel safe and welcome you are beautiful too <3

#transisbeautiful #transgender #trans journey #hrt stuff #bad brain #transfem #trans day of visibility

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lacefuneral · 3 months

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okay so. i've been away from twitter forever but. i want to talk about my OFMD SMAU concept that never exited the drafting/planning stage.

because i am a person that really struggles to complete things, i didn't want to start a story and then not finish. i wanted the entire SMAU written, images edited, posts planned out, etc. in advance. and then just... take my time letting updates come out, knowing that the entire story was already done.

but like. i never got around to even starting it so. no one knows about it. except for my close friends. and i will likely never finish it. so!

I started writing this SMAU in 2022, when they were at their peak. things like piña coladas, etc.

and around this time, i had also just recently come out as gay, i was fresh out of a breakup, and i felt really alienated and alone. i wanted to try and reach out to members of my community and make friends locally, so i started going to events and potlucks. started going to the library and checking out books about queer history. and i also discovered an app called Lex.

now..... when i was drafting this document, Lex was a VERY different app. it is unrecognizable now, compared to the one i first encountered.

and i thought to myself "this app is terrible. it would be an incredible setting for a story where two people fall in love. there is so much room for error."

i also just imagined like, a 50 year old man trying to use an app primarily frequented by millennials and gen z and that cracked me up

so here was the premise.

the story begins with texts between a husband and wife. neither of them are named. the reader assumes that this is stede and mary, and they're right! but they're also wrong. because, you see, stede is the wife. and mary is the husband. and they are two queer transgender people who do not know this yet.

their marriage is falling apart. mary is never home, stede feels overwhelmed with the kids. mary realizes that she's trans and secretly orders a dress, which she hides from stede. she is fired from the corporate design firm she works at (not explained in-universe, but it was due to transmisogyny). she breaks down, fails to find work for a while, and eventually comes out to stede as a trans woman.

for a while, mary and stede's lives seem much better. mary is in therapy, on HRT. she has a new job with the Widow Collective, which is a highly-respected group of woman artists that showcase in galleries and such. her new hours means that she spends more time at home with the kids. she's going on date nights with stede.

but stede feels... off. like something about their marriage is still wrong. he thinks the problem is depression. he seeks therapy, only to realize that he is also transgender.

their lives actually get even worse after this. stede still doesn't understand what's wrong with him. mary worries that stede doesn't see her as the same person, or maybe doesn't recognize her as a woman. she's also afraid of stede's.... well.... stedeness. he's very flamboyant and loud and puts all sorts of crazy decorations in their yard. and she is so scared that he'll direct too much attention to their family, and that because they're both trans, people will want to take their children away. she tells stede to stop being so childish (which she later apologizes for)

finally, stede forgets to delete his search history and mary discovers that stede's been looking at gay porn. like. a LOT of gay porn. she's relieved, and realizes the problem is that stede is only attracted to men. this comes as a legitimate surprise to stede when mary tells him this, even though he was literally the one looking at gay porn

mary and stede amicably divorce and stede moves into an apartment by himself. mary retains custody over the kids (although they are friends, and stede visits with his children when possible) as mary is the more responsible parent, has a better paying job, and is home far more often. she also starts dating doug. bisexual queen.

stede takes this opportunity to learn about himself and to make friends in the gay community, despite spending the first 50 years of his life living as a straight cisgender woman, and is deeply out of his element.

he meets lucius, who is working at the library and guides stede to the LGBT section. stede tells him that he's "making up for lost time" and the two exchange numbers.

stede decides to try and make more friends, and googles around various search terms until he discovers Grindr. believing it to be a social media app, he downloads it, only to be bombarded with unsolicited dick pics. he finds lucius' profile by mistake, and reaches out to him for help.

lucius tells him that he's on the wrong app, and that because he's old he should try facebook. stede refuses, and asks about twitter. lucius warns him away from twitter. eventually, lucius admits that he's heard of an app called Lex. while he hasn't used it, he knows friends of his have to learn about local events like clothing swaps

now. here is when the specific timeframe matters. because lex is different now.

you used to not be able to comment on people's posts. you could only DM or make your own public post. (this was funny because when people made discourse it covered the entire page). and lex had (has?) a limit of like. 5 posts per month. and each post has a character limit.

so i thought it would be very funny if stede burned all of his in one go by mistake, one message broken up into five parts, and the people on the app made fun of him for this.

also, ed sees his posts, but because you can't comment at this time, he just leaves Roses. which, on the app, have a romantic implication. it's like, flirty.

anyway. stede has one rose from Ed, who has no profile pic, so he just shrugs and ignores that. but his DMs are filled with spam and the timeline is mocking him, so he's dejected.

but then, jim (my friend zach pointed out that, actually, this role makes more sense to be Oluwande, and i agree. so. Oluwande, actually.) reaches out to stede via DM and informs him that there is a combination potluck knife-throwing event that he and jim are holding, and that he's welcome to go

at the potluck, stede meets Ed (who is also a trans man), but is quickly glared-away by a scowling izzy hands. stede tells lucius about this (describing ed in great detail) and lucius informs him that he Simply Must make a Missed Connections post about the hot leather daddy he saw. he drafts one for stede, which stede deems too sexual.

he writes his own, which is very dorky and earnest. platonic.

his post receives a rose from Ed again. this time, stede looks at ed's post history. he notices that Ed has made his own Missed Connections post, which is romantic and flirty in tone.

after showing it to lucius, lucius tells stede that the post is about him, so stede rushes to look at the profile itself again.

ed still has no profile picture, and barely any information. but his "Looking For" section lists two things: events and hookups, and stede's heart sinks.

at this point in time, stede is just trying to make friends. he isn't ready for romance, let alone sex, and he's worried that ed doesn't want a friend (stede's own profile reads "Looking for: Friends, Events"), so he doesn't message him.

a few days later, stede is riding his bike in the park and crashes. ed stands over his mangled form and helps him up, and stede thinks that he's died and is seeing an angel. ed takes him to urgent care to get checked out for serious injuries (stede, it turns out, just has bruises and scrapes.) and this event allows them to talk and become friends

later, stede expresses his relief that ed wanted to be his friend, explaining that he isn't ready for a relationship at this time. (ed, meanwhile is like. completely and utterly enamored by him, but is respecting his boundaries.) and talks about his marriage and how he never really felt right with mary (probably because stede was never a woman), but that they were married for 14 years. that they'd met on a cruise ship and neither of them had found love yet, and had they decided to settle for one another. he wonders if he felt pressured to do the "get married and have kids" thing because of societal misogyny, but he cares about mary and adores his children, so he doesn't regret his choices.

now. this is where my document stops. but ed and stede grow closer, and they eventually start dating and stede has good sex for the first time in his life and they move in together and start a business together and everyone lives happily forevar aftar. yey!

oh i forgot to mention this but like. izzy is one of those unpleasant trans guys with a ton of internalized transphobia, and jack is a chaser.

ed has his own trauma/issues because of these men. and stede helps him to find the courage to tell them to fuck off. and once izzy is gone ed feels more comfortable experimenting with his gender presentation. ed's also been out since the 90s and has lived through a lot of homophobia and has been in the leather scene for a long time. and actually won several leather competitions. this is all stuff i never got around to writing down because. [gestures to this post] i was writing a lot of stuff already.

also mary is a recovering alcoholic. and she and stede met at the bar on a cruise ship because it was Singles Night. and mary was there to drink, but stede was there to find love. and stede just assumes that mary is there for the same reason as him, and she doesn't correct him. and their marriage leads to her sobriety, which is great. but she experiences a relapse after her firing, and then goes back into recovery.

stede, because of his ex wife's struggle with alcoholism, avoids alcohol himself (which he started when they got married, and simply never picked up a drink again after that). but he's totally fine going to bars. so ed and stede will be in like, this dingy biker bar and ed's knocking back shots and stede is like. politely sipping on his little glass of plain orange juice. which i think is silly visual

anyway. that's the general concept. the SMAU never even had a name, even. i had no idea what to call it. but i still think about this AU fondly. smiles

#jay.rtf

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