I’m getting a bit sentimental these days, as I always do when a year comes to its end. I had big plans for this year, but I wasn’t really able to accomplish any of them. The only thing I managed to do was to work more, and actually I work 20 hours a week now. That’s how much John works on two very normal days LOL The most frustrating thing about 2017 is that I didn’t really get one step closer to having boobs. After Thailand I have intensified contact with some trans-people and I was able to figure out that being trans doesn’t necessarily involve having your cock cut off LOL Obviously being trans can be defined as “not being comfortable in your birth-gender or in its gender-role in society” as well, and then obviously I’m sort of trans or at least might be. My therapist recently told me that he always knew I had “trouble” with my gender-role and that was the most awkward session we ever had LOL He says we will never be able to figure out whether I’m a real kind of trans-person or more like a fake-kind-of-trans-person, due to the abuse. Obviously being severly abused from a very young age on can lead to your personality breaking into several personalities, and even though I don’t suffer from multiple personality disorder, my wish to be impotent and the more female part can be the result of having to be the female for my father. Yup, that makes sense. I don’t even feel bad about that and I guess it’s really insane and distorted, but I get aroused by the fact that my father fucked me into never even trying to be a real male LOL My therapist says that my case is very complicated, because if I’m only that sort of fake-trans-by-childabuse-person, hormones wouldn’t be the best way to treat me. And this means: even more years of worthless, shitty therapeutic sessions to find out that yes, my father destroyed what might have become a personality and instead made me a useful, greedy bitch that hates its body, gender, life and all, but without even getting the chance to have boobs and be impotent LOL
I consider telling him lies and telling everyone lies who has the power to decide whether or not I can get hormones. People don’t get shocked when you tell them you were born in the wrong body, but they get shocked when you tell them the truth: that you just want to be inferior, because that’s how you really feel, maybe because of the abuse, but you really feel like worthless scum and want to have a body that’s made to be humiliated and used. I want to be impotent, I just want to be a set of holes with two nice boobs, because that’s how I feel ever since. I want to be the worthless slut I always was, for everyone to see. If that’s trans to you, then I’m trans. If that’s broken and insane to you, well, then I’m broken and insane. I don’t care too much about that, I just want things to start to change.
In my eyes it’s just pure irony that most therapists think that you’re on a good way to recovery when you mourn being a victim and struggle against it, but that they think you are really insane and helplessly ill when you embrace being a victim and love it. Sometimes it just makes me mad that someone who didn’t go through hell wants to tell me how to get out of it, even though I found my own way of coping with it and accepting what it did to me. At the moment I don’t know whether I shall continue to go to see my therapist, because everything he says doesn’t really help me. I don’t understand why he can’t accept that being broken is fine for me. At least he admitted that he’s not a specialist in these things and in January he will make an appointment for me with someone who is. At the moment I don’t see any use for that, because I think he will also just tell me that we need much more sessions and BLAH BLAH BLAH But anyway.
Above all, the Holiday season always makes me a bit sad and I can never accomplish what my brother wants from me. This year I wore trousers and a shirt with a tie and I felt so ridiculous that I played with a fork underneath the table cloth until I bled, but nobody noticed, apart from John at home. I guess appearing normal is vital and it keeps everyone happy apart from me, so I smear a big old grin into my face to keep everyone happy apart from myself.