What did she say, self loathing gets in the way of feeling gender dysphoria. I don't know if that is the proper wording. It is like watching the boy pick up the hay bale and toss it onto a wagon, and have anger at yourself because you can barely lift the bale off the ground. It doesn't help that you get yelled at when you don't have the strength to lift the hay bale.
The same as it is my fault that I failed my drivers test, when when my dad decided that he would not pay for drivers training. Expecting me to pass the drivers test without any experience driving on the road.
It was interesting that I could clean barn two days in a row so that I was not cleaning barn on Christmas, but never at any other time would it be allowed. So on New Years day, I was out there cleaning barn, alone. Should I assume my dad was watching the New Years Parade on tv while I was cleaning barn.
It was his word that his fingers were smashed while putting the drive belt onto the thrashing machine, and now he could not do any work. When he found out about the person getting their fingers in the clothes wringer, blamed me for it. That caused nightmares for me. The nightmare was that I was cranking the clothes wringer while fingers were going... This was practically every night. I was about ready to go apologize to my cousin for smashing his fingers. Wondering if it really happened. Finally the realization that my carpel tunnel was due to the fact that it was my fingers that went through the wringer. There was no physical evidence that my fingers went into the wringer, so it could be denied that it ever happened.
It was interesting that my dad's dad lost his fingers in an accident. My dad's fingers were smashed, but any claim by me is a mockery.
My mother made the comment that she did not know who got their fingers smashed, but it definitely was not me. To admit that it was me, would be to admit that I was helping my grandmother wash clothes.
For my mother to deny that my fingers were smashed, she can deny that I was helping my grandmother.
deny that I swept the floors or washed the dishes.
Even though there are photos, she can deny that she put dresses on me, she can deny that I had a big doll, and deny that I had a doll house. Basically deny that there was anything feminine about me when I was a child.
Michelle