Hello 🧿

Well I am still not really doing anything at the moment. I am sleeping a lot. I am generally tired. The only thing I really shower and get presentable for is to have a game on the weekends. And even then I contemplate not having my camera on so I don’t even have to do that. However I did have my camera off for one video a while ago and I feel like the stuff I say doesn’t make as much sense if my facial expression isn’t there to go with it. But maybe that doesn’t make sense.

I had a video appointment the other day with the plastics department and it actually massively sucked and made me really anxious. The woman was perfectly nice and helpful I just hated the constant worry of misunderstanding something or something else going wrong because I wasn’t there in person.

I have appointments coming out of my ass at the moment. Some are video appointments, some are telephone appointments where they’re just going to speak to Will, and some are unavoidably normal physical appointments. I just want to get the surgical and invasive stuff out of the way as soon as possible so I can live the rest of my life. And also stop being ugly as sin.

Beautiful Freya.
Beautiful Joop.
Bertie having a moment.I haven’t finished editing this one yet but I’m excited about it so I made the thumbnail already lol.

This one was pretty funny, but perhaps not as funny as the next one.
We decided to try a new game and I decided to be drunk at the same time. It went about as well as it sounds.

I am so pleasantly surprised at our little Discord community. We are The Spooky Crew! It started as a place to arrange Phasmophobia games and has just become a general multiplayer-horror group full of memes. I thought at best someone would be like “Anyone want a game” a couple of times a week but we actually talk in it all the time.

I detransitioned a long time ago now but it’s still quite a painful time of life to think about. The sheer torment that I put myself through because I believed that my mind and interests had to be externally displayed by my body. I believed that interests and genitals were strictly paired together, and I was so “not like the other girls” that I was clearly not a girl at all and needed a phalloplasty. It seems so absurd to me now, that I ever thought personality traits were sexed, and if I had the “wrong” trait for being a woman then I just simply had to become a man.

But it wasn’t just about traits I thought I was or wasn’t allowed to have. It was also about things that happen to women and how I could magically avoid them if I wasn’t one. I guess I imagined that if anyone ever raped me again, I’d tell them that I actually identify as a man, and then they’d magically stop? It’s only because I would have lost my soulmate that I didn’t go much further. I’m luckier than some of us have been.

I don’t like to think about that time of my life and I probably won’t open up to a psychiatrist about it any time soon, especially my current one.

(On a related note, you should Google your doctors’ names because sometimes it turns out they had patients who killed themselves because of the doctor’s terrible decisions and there was a tribunal about it and everything.)