Cptsd is like. If I'm not careful, 100% of my time can be preoccupied with trauma. Either I'm dealing with active trauma responses or latent trauma processing, the former being Current and Pressing To Deal With and the latter being "Well this has been cooking for 15 years and suddenly Today I have clarity on it" so it feels just as necessary to explore.

I'm a naturally introspective person and it feels absolutely vital to figure out how I tick (so I can Predict and Explain Myself), but I think I also need to insist on taking time to smell the flowers and take a long nap.

Shaving off the beard I went through hell to grow every morning is one thing. Its keeping myself under a blanket, teeling it to hush and I'll be back to feed it when night comes. Just stay put. Just be quiet, don't let anyone see you except old friends and family. And me. I'll be back for you tonight. Plucking that beard from the roots, thinning it forever, after years of dysphoria and torture to go on T feels like burning down a house. I cried with joy when my beard connected as a young boy. I built that home with my own two hands and I lived in it. And I loved it. And it loved me. For a decade I fought for this house and it fought for me back. And when the wax heats up I am lighting a match.

I mistook my indifference with how others percieve me and my curiosity for how fun and exciting femininity is for a fulltime commitment. I based the rest of my life around it. I found the man of my dreams who looks at me and sees a girl he loves and cherishes. And he cares for the boy I was, he kisses my stubble and shivers with delight at the sound of my deep voice and revels in the size of my tdick- or clit now. (Or always has been.) But he loves me as a woman.

When the world looks at me, sometimes a person catches a glimpse of my 5 o clock shadow or the bass in my voice and think "something happened here". I am a girl, tilted to an angle, adjusted to the left, an odd flavor, but a girl. I used to never need to explain my proximity to masculinity, to queerness. It was evident, a constant. A tomboy child to butch and boy and butch again. Gone femme, gone incognito, gone silent. I revelled in the anonymity. Straight passing. I loved that. The weight was off my shoulders, the eyes were off my skin. And I don't miss being stared at. I don't really know what I miss. Not T, I got what I wanted and kept what I needed. I don't want to be a man, I'm around them enough to not want any part of that again. I think I found myself through my transition, and I am scared of losing myself. When they see a woman I have no time to say "wait, something DID happen here" and tell them I've lived a thousand lives and was so many other people just to go back to square one because I thought since it didn't matter to me, I'd take the easiest option, the one that made people be the nicest to me, the one where transphobia was something I could ally against instead of bear the weight of it on my back every second I breathe. and yes! Maybe it makes me feel stupid to think I found an easy way out only to regret it! And maybe it was fun to learn to be a girl! Transition twice and watch my body go through a third puberty! I'm not allowed to say it, I know it. It was fun to progress and go, go forward, as much as I hated it, learning everything the other girls already knew.

I suppose I just wish all that struggle showed like it used to. I have done twice the work with nothing to show for it.

Overall, all that time, all that struggle. Just for net zero.

thinking about my future, all i really want out of life is financial stability, a life-partner to build a home with, and a close-knit community of friends. when i try to imagine what happiness would look like for me, it’s a warm, crowded room full of laughter and people i love and trust. that’s it. seems so simple. so why does it feel so far out of reach?

I hate that I don't have energy for consistent close friendships :( or even rly distant friendships. Ever since I entered my perpetual autism burnout, every interaction is just too much mental energy than I can spare.

Overthinking what the other person really means, overthinking my reply, wondering if it'll come across how I intend, worrying it didn't make sense, worrying it was weird, rejection sensitive dysphoria when their reply is slightly different than I hoped.

I just!!!! I am lonely and tired

things aren't looking good for f/os from a horror series. you know what that means.

i have a dilemma i'm broke as shit but if i stop buying myself little treats i will descend into madness. do you see my issue

Me:

Somebody, anywhere I go, inevitably: is so ableist towards my mere existence I have a incapacitating mental breakdown from being subjected to their ableism

Being transmasc is like. I’m a guy who’s five foot four inches tall and is missing his penis of COURSE I have a chip on my shoulder. But I’m not gonna drive a horrible truck about it. I have some self respect

I HATE STARTING OVER

I HATE STARTING OVER

I DO NOT WANT TO BEGIN AGAIN

I am way too old for allistic subtext bullshit.

do you ever get. angry

like it's irrational you should be happy that people trust you with their negative emotions but.

sometimes it gets too much. and they ask you "can i vent?" and you can't say no. you Know they dont have an outlet.

but you're tired. and you're angry. because why is it always you. why do You have to listen.

like fuck off. find someone who cares for once, find someone who isn't tired of hearing all of your fucking shit over and over and over and over and over and over again, find someone who doesn't have mountains of their own shit to deal with, find someone you actually care about to listen to your problems.

but they still need you. so you suck it up. and then "yeah ofc whats up?"

comic about something that i still don't understand

Have I stated how much I hate the whole "Strong Black Woman" archetype and how much it's hurt me as a disabled person? I could go on for hours about how much this has such a detrimental effect on disabled black people. (And honestly just any in general who doesn't fit inside the mold.) But honestly, I'm just too tired of being forced into a role that I can't fill. It's taxing for me both physically and mentally. I wish more people would just understand that I can't do it.

shoutout to @shirajellyfish for writing the most incredibly terrifying piece of literature i have ever read!!!!!!!!!! i have experienced the full spectrum of human emotion reading their fic. my god

it's weird bc like...i definitely don't like being treated like i'm a dumb toddler by romantic partners and i want to have my autonomy as an adult person respected but i also, whether due to hyperfocus or because one of my many charming traits is that i am always trying to prove i'm not lazy, tend to really overdo things.

like i'll be out walking around until i'm in so much pain i can barely stand, i'll totally lose track of time doing something and not realize i haven't eaten in six hours, i'll stay up way too late because i won't allow myself to stop a project until it's done.

and sometimes i just want my f/os to gently remind me to stop. tell me they won't think less of me if we have to leave the place where we're on a date because i'm practically limping from all the pain i'm in. remind me to take a break and eat something. persuade me to save my work and go to bed because it's more important for me to rest. not someone who parents me but like. a gentle voice in my ear telling me they love me and they don't want me to overextend myself.

can you all hear me. hello. hello. hello. hello

(song: the crooked, the cradle by the crane wives)