A Comparison

Sometimes a change cannot solely be documented in the written word. I've been making video diaries to spew my thoughts since before starting T. I've never intended to share the entirety of any of these videos (they're far too personal), but I have thought about using bits of them for comparison purposes. Since I think I'm funny, I took my constant comments on the lighting and edited them together. Be warned, my language does include some light swearing  (just in case you happen to have a small child nearby).

This Is Not A Happy Post

If you were looking for something positive, for stories of goodness and words of happiness to lift your spirits, this is not the place. If you're looking for unfiltered honesty, raw emotion, and at times downright ranting, you're in the right spot.

My blog has been collecting cobwebs since August of last year. Well, now I'm back to spew my trans thoughts and feelings. A lot has happened so get ready for a downpour.…

Last November marks the turning point. October wasn't too bad. Neal was gone most of the month for a long trip to Alaska then back down the coast, which was the hardest.  (Neal is my partner. Don't think I've ever mentioned them by name.) I missed them dearly. During that time I started practices for the murder mystery, and my bosses went out of town for a week. Yes, I certainly had some hard times, but no challenges were too much. After all, we had finally found another employee back at the end of June, and we seemed set for the upcoming Christmas season. That was my biggest stress earlier in the year. As long as that was taken care of, all would be fine.

Surprise surprise, hell was about to break loose again.

Let me put this straight: I will never forgive our ex employee for what she did. Trust me, I've fucking tried, but this was blatant abandonment. Please, somebody explain to me how this is ok? She knew from the beginning that our busiest time of year is Christmas … that's one. In August, she told us that she was staying with us and not going back to her old job teaching at a small local school… that's two. Beginning of November she informs my bosses her last day is the last day of November… yeah, you're out of my good books. I don't care if she was trying to do better for herself. If you need a better schedule I get it,  but don't abandon people right before things are about to get crazy. It's not like this is a terrible job either. Oh boo hoo, I can get guaranteed 40 hours of work a week in Mammoth… I mean, what the fuck? Well guess what, my bosses and I kicked ass all December and survived. Take that.

Mid-November I hit my one year on testosterone mark. Seeing as I was deep in panic mode regarding the upcoming December, and I was already quite busy with other things I've mentioned, I never did much of an update.  That was when I really had intended on resurrecting my poor blog here. It was worthy of an update. A lot has happened. Then again, maybe an update would have been all repetition of what I'd been saying in several posts last year.I did manage to put together a slideshow of my progress that was a nice marker. Pictures always get more of a response from people than words. As someone who loves writing, I can't say that's a particularly nice thought.

I had hoped that I would have made more headway on my name change by November but even up till the moment I'm writing this, nothing has changed. I'm going to write a whole separate post on that one. There's a lot I can say in regards to that. Luckily the only time I really face my name is when I notarize. The majority of the world - no matter what gender they perceive me as - knows I like to be called Sam.

That does lead me into the brunt of my frustration, however.

I am misgendered CONSTANTLY. I am also a coward who never corrects people. (See post: "Where's the confidence" for more detail. Nothing has changed). Right now, I'm gunna talk about why misgendering sucks so much.

If you are trans, this next part isn't for you. You know. For the sake of example, imagine you, the reader, were assigned the gender of "male" upon birth due to certain genitals. Also, we are going to assume you are cisgender which is the opposite of transgender, meaning you identify with the gender you were assigned with at birth. Basically, you were assigned male, you feel male, you are male. Ok, now that that's settled …. Imagine if everyone in your life called you ma'am or she or her. Every day. How long could you put up with that? This isn't just a matter of caring what people think. If people are constantly calling you something you're not, completely missing your identity, it starts to fucking hurt.

I mean, speaking for myself, I've tried to ignore it. I can't anymore. I'm having nightmares now where someone will misgender me, and I straight up scream in their face that they are wrong. Part of me is terrified im gunna do that in real life one day without meaning to. I'm not that person but enough stress can do crazy things. I mean, stress gave me a terrible rash on and off for the past year that I finally seemed to have gotten rid of… but that's all we need to say about that.

Back to that misgendering thing… it's hard to put to words exactly what it does. It's like I'm two different people: the real Sam, the me I believe myself to be, and "Samantha," the girl. I feel 100% Sam but then someone hits me with a "she" or a "ma'am" and I'm confused. Who are they talking about? What girl? You mean me? Huh? This goes through my head all the time, and it gets worse each day. The more confident I feel within myself and my identity, the larger the rift between myself and this imaginary girl people have known grows. I wish I could explain the full mindfuck this causes, but really, I don't think you can completely understand it unless you've experienced it on some level. I'm sure there are parallell examples that are non trans related, I just am not aware of any in this momemt to bring forth as evidence.

You'd think with all this, I'd be tired enough to start enforcing my pronouns, correcting people when they're wrong… that would be a negatory. I'm not going to explain my reasons for not doing so. I already have. I don't want to keep rehashing it because I don't like my reasons. I don't want to continue to make excuses for myself. I just want to say that I need to make a change or I'm going to explode.

I know I've said "I'm saying this to make myself accountable" way too many times as well. It's not like that is making much of a difference. All it does is make me feel more guilty, which is the last thing I need. I mean, I'm my own worst enemy. The meanest person to me… is me. All I do is try to put myself in others' shoes, try to think of why they may do or say certain things and then give them the benefit of the doubt. But, I've taken it too far.  Now I'm so to the wrong side of things that I'm afraid of correcting people because I don't want to embarrass them or make them feel bad. This is not right. I'm to the point that I feel selfish when I think of myself. Transitioning has been such a test for myself in this. I've had to do so many things that my brain wants to say are selfish when that's not true. I'm just trying to feel comfortable within myself. Is that so hard to ask, Sam, really? It's not selfish to want to feel happy, to want to feel hope.

I was to the point I couldn't even visualize the future. It all felt too impossible. Life doesn't feel that way anymore. Yes, I still get frustrated, anxious, and depressed; but those feelings are far less than they used to be - and a lot of them stem from my not standing up for myself anyway. Not that transitioning will ever 100% cure those feelings because they don't 100% stem from being trans. Does this mean I now know exactly what I'm doing with my future? No. It does mean I now feel like there is a future for me.  Life seems to be bringing things together for me now anyway. For a 26 year old, I am actually incredibly stable. I have a full time job, I have my own place, I'm in a great relationship, I pay all my bills on time… hell, I've already filed my 2017 taxes.

This actually takes me to an interesting point. You see there's another divide I've felt. It's not quite as maddening as the Sam/Samantha misgendering one. This one is more curious than frustrating. I've always looked young for my age. That's nothing new. I remember I was 21 and had someone ask me if I was 16… so yeah, I'm used to it. Since I've started transitioning, that has only accentuated this fact. I realize I look young. Probably, what, 18? Maybe a little older? Maybe younger? Depends on the person. Anyway, even I see this when I look in the mirror. Sometimes it causes dysphoria, sometimes it doesn't. When it does, its usually because I'm really not feeling anywhere mentally close to the "teenager" I look like and it kind of weirds me out. Still I'd rather people see me as an 18 year old boy than a girl of any age. It's worse to be misgendered. What's even more curious is there are times I do feel close to that teenager mentality. Confused, angsty, at times emotionally unstable, etcetera… there were times especially last year I had to sit back and remind myself that was happening. Hell, there are times I remind myself now. This is still happening and will continue. Changes don't stop after a year. Back to the point, it's interesting to have to think of these things. There are days I'm so caught in it I feel like Harry Potter from Potter Puppet Pals when he's just banging his head against the wall constantly going "angst, angst, angst." (If you don't know what I'm talking about, look it up on YouTube). Those are the days I have to constantly remind myself to be nice and make sure I'm not taking my mood out on others. Those also happen to be the hardest days to keep it together at work. Unfortunately theres no such thing as an "overwhelmed by puberty or dysphoria" days at work and I have to keep on keeping on (even though I'd rather be curled up under a blanket in the dark at home, binge listening to Twenty One Pilots or The Wall by Pink Floyd). It takes a lot of energy. How bout we leave it at that?

On that note, I think I've spewed on this blog enough for this time around. Tune in next time for more tales from Sam's mind.

Where's the Confidence?

Hey there, Readers. It's been awhile. What can I say? A lot has happened since my last post. I've tried multiple times to write a new one, but the words wouldn't come… until now.

I've been very busy as of late. July had a lot going on. I got back from vacation and jumped once again into work. We have some slow days but this summer has been way busier than last year. Not to mention we never had a shoulder season break. Luckily, when I got back there was a new employee there who had started a couple days before I left. During the course of my trip she had gotten some good training in. I hate training. When you're trying to balance a busy work day while trying to stop and explain every step of what youre doing at the same time, it gets intense. I mean there was still plenty of training I had to deal with, but I got to miss out on a week of it at least. Besides that there has also been play practice. That's right, I'm doing Shakespeare in the Woods again. But this time I have a part I really like and I'm being true to myself. The difference between this year and last year is crazy. But more on that another time…

The last couple weeks have been hard. It's been very busy and for some reason the depression has come back for a little visit. I've been working on getting it out of here but anyone who has struggled with depression knows that's easier said than done. It makes me so extra tired and my nightmares have returned. It makes going to work and then practice in one day a daunting challenge - though to my credit I still get it done and manage to have fun at practice too.

But certainly there's something else feeding this black cloud, yes? That would be correct. It is the disappointment in myself. Dont worry. I will explain.

Building self confidence is challenging. Though everyone keeps telling me how brave I am, I feel less so. I don't stand as firm in myself as I should. Yes I came out at work and they agreed to calling me Sam but not one single time have I been gendered correctly, nor has an effort been made to try, but most importantly, I have not been doing anything to correct it. That is where I am failing myself.

How is anyone supposed to know? How are people supposed to get it of they don't start hearing the righr pronouns being used for me? I'm slowly starting to look less obviously female. Though I still get gendered female quite often, there have been a few times I have been gendered properly by strangers that happened over the last month. Each moment made my day. It's a sign to me of progress. I'm getting closer. (On the 16th I'll be  9 months on HRT. that's a long time.) But, if i start correcting people, start making it so others hear the right pronouns being used for me, then I will hear what I want to hear more. So why haven't I? Part of it is that I'm afriad of getting into a debate. I don't know what people will say and I'm always afraid I'll be expected to explain myself, something I don't always have the energy for. I'm also afraid of offending people, I guess. We all get annoyed when we get corrected a lot. I mean, I suppose it's less I'm afraid of offending people (though that's it a little) and more afraid of just getting on people's nerves. Are any of these thoughts right? No. Not really. I'm getting hurt by this going on and I just need to suck it up and not care what people think. I'm too tired for an explanation? I'll send people to this blog. That's what it's for anyway. I dont wanna annoy people? Too fucking bad. I'm annoyed. Other people can have a turn now.

I feel that way, but in the moment, I shrink. I need to stop. Every time I hesitate when I have to choose between bathrooms - and then choose that same awful womens room - I feel so terrible inside. I feel like I'm sabotaging myself. But I'm so afraid I will go the other way and be confronted. "What are you doing in here? You dont belong in here?" Its a fear, whether the likelihood of it happening is slim. I mean, I go in the women's room and I certainly don't feel like I belong there. I rejoice whenever I find a unisex bathroom. They are always safe.

I live in a far more accepting community than I give it credit. People surprise me every day with how cool they can be. Why i can't let that fuel my confidence is beyond me. I feel good. I mean, I'm struggling at the moment, but I keep putting it in perspective by telling myself, "Yeah, well, what was struggling like this time last year?" It was ten times worse last year. I am on a much better path. The job now is to own it even more and to work on that "who gives a crap what anyone thinks about me" mindset I've always wanted but never been able to hold onto because of fear. Goal number one? Come out to my new coworker. She goes by what my bosses laid out for her, and what was that? Sam is a she. A girl. One of the ladies. [Excuse me while I barf]. To be honest talking to them again is up there too. We'll call it a 2 part goal.… see what I just did there? I put it in writing to make myself accountable. I'm already at wits end. We're coming up on the final straw.

This wasn't a particularly long post, but all of this has been swirling around in my head. Feeling the slightest bit better now. If I can complete that goal, I'll be WAY better.

Six Months Stronger

It's been 6 months since I started testosterone, people. 6 months. To say I'm excited at the coming of this realization is an understatement. It's officially official as of today. I've been dancing around doing an update of things. It seems that 6 months was the mark to do it. I don't even know where to start. I'm just gunna get typing, and we'll see where it goes.

I see myself a little more each day, not just because my physical appearance is slowly changing, but because things are aligning within myself. As my hormones continue to be where they should be, I feel an ever strengthening peace within myself. That doesn't mean I still don't get anxiety, but this peace is different than being calm. It's hard for me to describe.

Honestly, I've been struggling with my anxiety lately. A lot of things in life have been piling up, pushing me to my limits. I don't always like to share that I'm struggling. I want people to see that I'm strong, that I can handle things. I'm afraid of people telling me to stop doing certain things. I don't know where it got in my head that if I show people my anxiety (especially when it pops up in response to, say, having to deal with some of the harder aspects of transition) that they're gunna say, "Well, transitioning is doing that so you should just stop transitioning." 1) No one has ever said any such thing to me and 2) My anxiety issues started waaaay before I started transitioning. I've had them forever and I know that hiding being trans has been making it worse, yet my brain can't seem to wrap itself around that sometimes.

I learned somewhere along the way that if you cause something to happen, you've gotta deal with it. Let me explain. Say, I make the decision to stay up late. Well, if im groggy the next morning for work then I have to deal with it and push through it. I made the decision to make things harder, so now I have to figure out how to function through it. See what I mean? It's not a bad way to think, but my brain likes to take it to the extreme and past logical sense sometimes. Anxiety sucks, what can I say? So, when I'm stressing about financial restraints and stuff I have to get done for myself, my brain goes, "You're not allowed to complain about being stressed because you're the one who chose to add on this extra journey into you life." But Brain, you've got something wrong there. This wasn't a choice, not like you think. I couldn't have continued on as things were. I would have gotten worse and worse, shriveling further into myself. I'm scared to think of what would have happened. So maybe this was a choice, a choice to stop the pain. It's no different than the choice to start taking anti anxiety meds or anti depressants.

Through it all, I walk with a little more confidence. I feel more at ease with myself, the person I am. Is my dysphoria gone? God, no. Some days it's almost crippling, but a lot of the emotional wacko is gone. Recently, I saw my endocrinologist to check in on how I'm doing with the hormones. I do these trips every few months. It's another good basis for comparison. Even just noticing how different (better) I feel now compared to the last trip 3 months ago is crazy. But, I must admit, it's hard to notice most of the time. It's easy to take pictures and do comparisons to see the outside changes, but how do you gauge the changes on the inside? I'm thankful last year I started a journal. I look back at entries especially from last summer and realize that I'm so much better in my head now than I was then. It's harder to talk about the emotional changes because they're so personal, which is interesting considering they're the most important changes.

What else is different? Quite a bit. 6 months of second puberty does a lot. Hair everywhere, gradual vocal changes, unending hunger, and lots of acne are the biggest changes. They were all expected. The hair has actually come faster than I thought. Could it come faster? Sure, but it's just fine right now. The voice changes aren't fast enough, but I just have to be patient (as with any changes, really). As of right now, I've been noticing a lot more cracking and throat soreness. I'm quite sure this is indication I'm heading into more change in the vocal department. The hunger was never something I had put much thought to even if i had been forewarned, but holy goodness am I constantly starving or what. No sooner have I thought I'm stuffed then bam I'm hungry again. It's a good thing I got back into working out at the beginning of this; otherwise, I would have turned into a balloon rather than made as much progress gaining muscle as I have. Now the acne.… I dreaded this one. This is something a lot of trans guys conplain about and I swear mine started on day 1. I seem to keep it mostly under control. It's not as bad as it could be but lets be honest, seeing any acne at all is too much acne. I had just gotten to a point where ny skin had been relatively clear for a good stretch. Ah well. It's worth it.

I could go into more detail, but that's getting close to awkward territory. Wanna hear more about what I've been dealing with? Send me a private message. Really, I love to talk about it; yet, in a blog sense, if i keep going, I'm just gunna start rambling. Truly though, the more I get a chance to talk about being trans like it's normal, the easier it gets. I like treating it like it's nothing weird, like it's any other Dr's appointment, like me getting my shots is no big deal. It makes me feel less like some science experiement and more like a normal person who just happens to need help with getting the proper hormones. You know, some trans guys like to talk about being trans like it's a hormone imbalance, like they're just guys who have an issue with their hormones and got puberty late because it took so long to start correcting the levels. I'm not saying every guy looks at it that way, and I'm not so sure how I feel about looking at it that way. But… for explaining it to people… Well, I think there are people out there it would be beneficial to have that explanation around for. 

So there you have it, my messy little 6 month update. Thanks for sticking with me. Tune in next time for more trans adventures.

P.S. -  I threw in a comparison photo. The left is 6 months ago, the right is a few days ago.

Neverending Selfie

Before I was so rudely interrupted by a nasty virus as well as the unwelcome Period Beast (see previous post), I was working on this post. This was originally supposed to at least partially be about how I've been feeling better in my body, yet in these past couple weeks, that enormous positivity I had regarding such things has been lost and is just now resurfacing. In fact, I've been struggling with not only dysphoria, but feelings of worthlessness that are in no way tied to my being trans (Because, you know, my life isn't just being trans after all. That just happens to be what I blog about most). Despite all that, I'm going to attempt to pick up where I left off here.

So, as the title implies, selfies. I am just as guilty as anybody of taking selfies. I rarely share them, but I have a ridiculous amount of them stocked up. You wouldn't know this by looking at my social media. Not only do I hate sharing pictures, but after I first came out, I purged my Facebook and Instagram as well. Many times I take these pictures fully intending to share them (to update a profile pic, usually), but inevitably, I hate the picture and either delete it or file it away. I've been doing this for years. I mean, when I say I have them stocked up, I'm not even kidding. As much as I dislike these pictures, you think I wouldn't have held onto them right? Yet, there they are in the cloud, deep in the pictures section in a folder marked "me." Though, I can hardly say any of these pictures truly reflect me.

Every so often I go back and look at these pictures. I'm not sure why. All it does it make me uncomfortable. Before I realized I was trans, I would look at them and not understand this discomfort. Now, I get it's because I'm looking at a person who isn't me. I see this girl that I was trying so hard to be, the ultimate character I ever played. I see the phases in style, especially hair color, as I searched endlessly for the winning combination in outward appearance that would make me feel good about myself. I don't even have to go far. I look back to a year ago, two years ago, and I'm hit with an overwhelming amount of emotion. I can see the sadness in my eyes. I can remember the exact moment taking that picture and how unhappy I was. I can literally place myself back in that slice of time and remember how dissatisfied I would feel looking at those pictures right after taking them - or even while I was taking them for that matter. I felt fake, like I was trying too hard, like that wasn't me.

I look back now with the knowledge I've gained about myself, and it's so weird. I don't recognize that person. It's kind of funny, now that I see a stranger in these photos, for the first time I recognize a beauty I never saw before. Yes I was beautiful, but I never felt that way. And when I notice that beauty, when I find myself seeing it, I also feel a certain sadness. I know there are parts of me that mourn for that girl. At times, I feel downright guilty for wanting to destroy her. Why couldn't I be happy as her? Why couldn't I make it work? I tried so fucking hard to be her, and it took separating myself from that person to finally understand how hard I was trying and how much worse it was making me feel.

So if it hits me so hard, why do I look at these pictures? Before I knew what it was, I did it to try and force myself to see some beauty in me. I would look at them and say, "Sam, you look great. Why can't you be happy in your skin?" Now I look back to remind myself why I can't go back just because transitioning is scary. It's easy for my brain to tell me that this is too much for me, that I'll never get where I want to be, especially when the Period Beast hits. I mean, I was getting much better at not letting it do that, reminding myself to be patient. It's when the bitch that I discussed in my last post gets into my head that I get fucked over. In the past couple weeks, I have felt so hopeless about a lot of things not just transition related, mostly just related to me as a human being. Lets just say no matter what I do, the self hatred goes from a five to a twenty whenever the cycle comes around. Anyway, back to selfies... that was the point of this post, right?

Since I started transitioning, the amount of pictures I take and hold onto has increased. Not that the amount I share has increased by much. Still, it helps to have these pictures on deck. It's true that you don't notice the subtle changes unless you have a side by side comparison to really stare at. So, every week or two, I make myself a side by side and look at it a while to remind myself that progress is happening. It's actually quite helpful. Not that I've felt like sharing it with anyone. The only person who has seen any of these is my sister and I think she's seen one. A month or two ago. I feel awkward sharing pictures of me, especially of my transition. It's not weird to share. You go to Instagram, and there are so many guys sharing their story through pictures. It's inspiring when they do it. Me, I'd rather share a picture of the mountains. But I still take pictures of me for me, that never stops.

I guess you could say one reason I don't share pictures as much is because I'm afraid of being reminded of the slow progress, of people not seeing what I see. I mean, every day I see the person inside a little more and even when I don't see him I *feel* him. That still seems to be just me (and maybe some people close to me). At work, people still see me as this girl. At the store. In passing. I start to wonder if I've really made as much progress as I've thought. I know I have, but it's so hard to see it. It gets me down, I'm not gunna lie. It's easier said than done, but I am working on not letting other people define my happiness. I mean, just because I don't pass doesn't make me any less trans, any less of the guy I know I am. The hardest part is remembering that. And it's the selfies that are integral in being that reminder.

So, even if the pictures aren't exactly what I want to see just yet, the seemingly neverending quest for the selfie that truly reflects Samuel continues. He'll show up eventually. Just gotta be patient, trust the process, and most importantly, keep in mind that it isn't passing that makes me a man.

To truly end this post, I'm going to do something that makes me more than a little uncomfortable. Here come the selfies… Maybe you see what I see, maybe you don't. Want to know what I see? I see fake smiles in the first group, sad memories, discomfort, but ever so slowly, I see a certain happiness begin to grow in the second group. It's that happiness that I've been searching for, and as time goes on, I look forward to watching it grow.

The Beast Came Back

This is extremely personal, but if I don't get it out and explain why I'm so done right now I am going to explode.

After four months of freedom, without any sort of warning, my period came back. Do I know why? No. Is it normal after being on testosterone and it having gone away? Actually, most probably yes according to my google searches. (I called my Dr. and left a message all the same just in case, but I have yet to hear back).

I feel like I'm being such a baby about this. I've gotten through this before. I'm not even bleeding as much as a normal period - which is more of a confirmation to me that this is sort of just a "cleansing out" if you get what I'm saying. The problem is I have all the cramps, all the issues with eating, and all the emotional mindfuck that is normal for the periods I used to get.

The cramps I can deal with, the fact that my stomach instantly dislikes all food and will throw it up at a moments notice - or worse, just have me queasy and gassy for hours on end and I can't throw up - is not something I can handle so well. Mind you, this happens no matter what I eat be it good or bad, too much or very little. It's like my normal stomach problems are amplified by 1000%. There's a reason I started eating vegan and then gluten free, and unfortunately, it had nothing to do with the animals. It was for the health benefits (though I did start learning about the animal side later on and definitely stand for that as well, don't get me wrong. I came for my health and will be staying for the animals and the environment).

But… the emotional side - now that's what really fucks me. I become a person I don't even recognize. I feel bad when I'm around people because I get it, I become irrational and bipolar. I lose all sense. I become so negative. No one wants to be around me less when I'm like this than me. Still, I end up isolating myself and coming to battle with this bitch who's so mean.

I tell you, I try to be positive, but it feels like all happiness is suddenly sucked out of me. I get bursts of it back but there's always a crash that has me crying and upset, full of negative thoughts. It becomes very draining to take reign of this and cast it away. It becomes too easy to get down on my body. My chest begins to hurt as it becomes tender and that makes it harder to ignore. It's not the only body part that does this for that matter, but I don't want to name the other one. My body itself feels swollen. I do best to avoid looking at myself, to push it out of my head.

Still, every little thing sets me off, and I know it's irrational, but I fall into panic anyway. Everything feels wrong and there's a massive frustration that will come over me at times. I'll start shaking and won't be able to stay still. Many times it end in tears which only makes me more upset. Things that shouldn't offend me do. I become ridiculously sensitive. Like I said, I don't like nor recognize this person. But I'm stuck with her all the same. I guess you could say this is one of the biggest aspects of that female side that hits me and takes control of me. It's the hardest to escape because it's an impossible thing to control when it hits.

I know it will be over in a few days, and I've been really trying to console myself by finding distractions. It's in those moments that it hits me with one of those waves, one whopping blow, and I'm brought to my knees with so much emotion I don't know what to do with it that I've been really losing it these last couple days. I feel lonely and angry and my brain tries to project it onto others or little things, but in the end I always realize the thing I'm angry at is me, my body, how wrong it all feels.

I know this is a short post, but I needed to get this out. The act of writing this helped to pull me from one of those dark moments. Off to a land I music I now shall go.

The Weight

I had an actual post I was working on, but I haven't been able to focus. I've been dealing with a lot of chest dysphoria lately, so I decided to write a poem about that instead. Please note that when I say I've written poetry, I'm not following a specific form. I go with the flow of what comes to me. So, here it is.

The Weight

There's a weight upon my chest.
It just began to grow.
It once was flat, but now it's not.
They told me this is how it would go.
I thought that I'd be fine.
It's normal, that's what they said.
Yet there's a nagging anxiety in the back of my head

There's a weight upon my chest.
One side larger than the other.
Only by a smidge, yet I want to cry for mother.
Something isn't right.
Couldn't one just shrink?
I don't care if they're small,
Even not there at all,
Not a single wink.

There's a weight upon my chest.
It only makes me feel fat.
None of my shirts look right.
How can I fix that?
Do I need to diet?
Find a boyfriend who likes my boobs?
I'm feeling very empty.
There must be something I can do.

There's a weight upon my chest.
It's driving me insane.
It's shrunk a lot,
I'm so damn skinny,
Yet I still feel the pain.
It's hard to see an indent.
I still feel fat.
I still feel wrong.
Someone please, help me.
I don't know what's going on.

There's a weight upon my chest.
It's grown back out again.
Every bounce.
Every flounce.
It's all I see when I look down.
This shirt isn't that low cut,
At least that's what I thought.
I wish I had worn a tshirt,
Even if that doesn't fix it all.

There's a weight upon my chest.
I need to crush it down.
I bought myself a binder.
Will this help me now?
There's a new kind of constriction.
It's different to breathe.
But, oh my god, my shirt looks right.
I don't feel fat.
I'm free!

There's a weight upon my chest.
I cannot bind today.
There's phlegm in there.
I need the range,
To cough it all away.
But, now the sadness has returned.
Again, I'm feeling wrong.
I feel so much more aware of this.
After having a solution for so long.

There's a weight upon my chest.
The sickness still remains.
No matter how much I want to
I cannot bind again today.
This is wearing me down.
I'm getting very tired.
There has to be a permanent way
To tell my chest it's fired.

There's a weight upon my chest.
One day I could have it cut away.
But, that's easier said than done.
It's an awfully large bill to pay.
It's not just the cost.
Such procedures are apt to affect one's life.
After all, recovery lasts far beyond the day beneath the knife.

There's a weight upon my chest.
Until it's gone away,
I'll bind when I can.
If I can't, I'll just have to say--
"Don't think about it.
"Don't look down.
"It will all be okay.
"Chest or not, what makes you, you isn't going to change."