While writing in another thread, I suddenly remembered something my therapist and I talked about a few weeks ago--they way I used to sort of disconnect my mind from my body. I was wondering if anyone did that pre-transition but not so much anymore--or, if you're pre-transition or non-transition, do you do it now?
Here's an example of what I'm talking about. I couldn't cope with having a female body, so for years I cultivated a lack of awareness about it. So, even though I was on the Pill and knew exactly when my period should start and when I should begin having symptoms, the early signs (backache, headache, cramps, nausea, and especially a sudden increase in depression) caught me by surprise almost every time.
The side effect was that I was not in touch with my body in normal ways, either. So I would have a vicious headache but not become fully aware of it for hours. I would just ignore it, becoming less and less functional, until I couldn't work anymore. Only then would I take a couple of Ibu. Or in the winter, my feet would get colder and colder; I only noticed when they started to ache. I even switched off hunger and thirst.
Right now, I'm having to learn how to be aware of my body. It's weird. Steep learning curve.
Anyone else?
Quote from: Arch on June 06, 2010, 02:36:21 PM
Here's an example of what I'm talking about. I couldn't cope with having a female body, so for years I cultivated a lack of awareness about it. So, even though I was on the Pill and knew exactly when my period should start and when I should begin having symptoms, the early signs (backache, headache, cramps, nausea, and especially a sudden increase in depression) caught me by surprise almost every time.
Well, its nice to know other people do that too.
I *know* i pms horribly, but won't reconize the instability and suicidalness as being related until i start bleeding and go "oh yeah, that thing. *grumble bitch eat chocolate*
I used to feel so silly...I would take the last pill in the packet and think nothing of it. Then I would drag myself around for a couple of days, wondering why I was so depressed, not having a clue. Then my back would start to hurt and my innards would start to feel awful, and I would think, "Oh, yeah. THAT. How could I forget??!!"
The trans brain is a weird and wonderful thing.
Disassociation is how I dealt with sex. The only way I could, I used for other things too in getting through life and by 18 couldn't feel anything. I had third degree burns and didn't feel it until way later and the good part, labor was a breeze. The bad part is much as Arch described and also other injuries not being found until I saw them. The idiosyncratic part is that periods were painful and would have me doubled up on the floor hardly able to move.
I definitely have had that feeling of mind-body disconnect for a very long time. I felt like my body wasn't really my own, since it didn't match up with what was "supposed" to be there. So I didn't take care of it. Sleeping too little, pain and stiffness every day, getting sick--I felt like I deserved it. And I could work on these things through exercising, stretching, taking better care of myself overall. But it all felt futile and I still felt disconnected; the only time I didn't was when I was horseback riding and therefore part of a two-organism machine.
I've thought about it a lot, and I'm going to try to work on it as I try to ease my dysphoria in general by changing the way I present. Denial hasn't got me anywhere.
I used to do that. I'm less disconnected now. Since I'm more aware of my body, the things about it that bother me are that much more painful. I can see why one would disassociate with one's body in this situation.
Quote from: LordKAT on June 06, 2010, 04:08:49 PMDisassociation is how I dealt with sex.
I do NOT like to admit this, but I often did the same thing. Not always, and not always to the extent that I did it with other physical phenomena. But I did it, and I did it pretty consistently.
I shut off a lot of my sex drive. I don't think I had a high sex drive to begin with, but I got to the point where I only had sex with myself or had gay sex in my head and was all too happy to go months without having sex with my partner. Then I would feel guilty because I knew he wanted it. I would start telling myself that I owed it to him. After many false starts, I would finally approach him, and it would happen. I usually enjoyed many aspects of it once I got started; but I guess before I could do it, I had to get over the hump (no pun intended) of wishing I could have the right kind of sex in the right kind of body. And I had to find ways of justifying my reluctance, my distance.
I sometimes feel as if my relationship was all built on lies, especially during the period after I went back into the closet and started feeling the worst dysphoric symptoms--as might be expected, the more I repressed and denied, the more miserable I was. But I wasn't consciously lying; I was just deceiving myself. I honestly didn't know what was happening to me. I found plausible explanations and believed them.
None of this helps my ex, of course. I'm sure he feels angry and betrayed. But I can't help him with that. He's on his own now, just as I am.
No not really I mean I tried to ignore what my body was doing ie not looking in mirrors for days avoiding social situations so I didn't have to make myself presentable but it was extremely forceful with it's transmogrification.
You only have to look at your skin even if your avoiding the mirror to see new hairs sprouting over yourself everyday new ones in more humiliating places all the time. touch your head to notice how slimy your hair had become experience pain on your face touch it and find it's yet another pus filled boil with an ingrown hair in it's core. feel your neck itch as the stubble becomes sharp and rubs painfully.
I did distance myself in as much as I separated my identity from it at times from it I've got an extremely high pain threshold from my self abusive behaviours
Although it hurt and always hurt I took emotional solace in experiencing pain that I inflicted myself or not taking care of injuries. In my mind my body was my tormentor, pain was it trying to say "Stop it!" Extreme pain was my body begging me to stop the freedom came in the act of defiance of ignoring it and hurting it anyway.