I need to talk about something less happy for a moment. Because recovery isn't all happiness and sunshine and everything is right in trans world.
I sort of had a breakdown this afternoon.
It wasn't because of my surgery recovery, which is still just mostly boring.
It's because I met my neighbor.
TRIGGER WARNING. BIG TRIGGER WARNING. LOTS OF BAD PAST MEMORIES AND SELF-HATRED AHEAD...
She's a trans girl from Australia who also just had surgery with Dr. Chett just a couple of weeks ago. She was getting bored from the monotony of recovery, "I ran out of series to watch" she said, so she asked the nurse if there were any other Chett patients around that she could talk to, and, well, it turns out we're on the same floor. So she visited me this afternoon, and we talked for a while.
Beautiful trans women make me dysphoric. They make me feel inadequate. When I feel like they're so beautiful that it's not even fair, specifically when those things involve a thick full head of hair, a feminine face, other body parts that are objectively "normal" compared to cis women, and the super-smooth completely-clear creamy skin texture that cis girls have but I don't have, it's hard for me. They make me feel fundamentally broken. They make me look at myself, and look at how I still feel like I barely "pass" as a woman while they're so very clearly ideally feminine, it gets hard for me.
She didn't just have SRS. She also had facial feminization surgery and breast augmentation at the same time, in a 10+-hour marathon surgery that she said didn't get over until almost 4 a.m. She saved up for these surgeries in only a few months, she's only been on hormones and socially transitioned since December, and once she gets back home she'll be moving and likely going stealth. She showed me her pre-transition photos and she basically looked so androgynous and feminine that she always got to play around with gender and got to socially experiment for a long time, have fun with queer culture and the LGBT community before settling on transition at age 22/23 and getting the ball rolling on almost everything immediately. And she sat feminine, and her mannerisms were perfectly maidenly and feminine.
It was hard for me to not hate myself. I never got that freedom. As soon as puberty hit me, I felt like Pinocchio turning into a donkey. I looked so masculine, so big, so unfixably male, that I never had ANY hope of ever expressing femininity or androgyny and getting that kind of freedom with it. I knew I was trans and cried myself to sleep every night wishing I was a girl from age 13 onward, but I felt like there was nothing I could ever do about it. If I transitioned, I thought for so long, I'd never be rid of my big neck or my wide shoulders, my skin would never be that delicate soft skin that I was so jealous of girls having, the feminine clothes that I wished I could wear would never look right on me, I'd never be anything but a freak. Every time I tried to express any femininity I was teased and called "gay" and mocked by my peers. I repressed myself for 14 years due to those fears, feeling like I was being denied my very existence. And once I finally learned that transition really was possible, and got on hormones and started transitioning, it took me a year and a half of hormones, and being fired from two jobs, to transition socially. I didn't pass at first. I was teased, scoffed at, stared at, thought I was never going to get another job as long as I lived, and cried myself to sleep about how I was still never going to look like a woman, and asked "why would anyone want to hire a freak like me when they have all these normal people?" And then when I finally did get a job, it took me 2 years to finally save up the money just to have SRS.
So, well, it was really hard for me to be sitting next to a girl who always got to experiment with gender, socially transitioned and passed almost right away, and was able to get SRS, FFS, and a BA only 9 months after doing so.
And me being curious about the recovery from FFS and BA because maybe those things are in my future, she showed me what her immediately-post-op forehead scar looked like, and what the implants looked like, and, well, it was hard. It's always hard for me, someone who still feels in so many ways that my body is inadequate, that it's mostly feminine, at least enough to be passable, but it's not REALLY a female body, "real" female bodies all have softer skin than me, and fully-grown boobs, and completely-female faces... seeing fully-developed breasts and a completely-female-looking face was hard. Really hard. She even showed me what she called her "parlor trick," being able to lactate.
I started getting down on myself.
There's just so many ways that I hold myself back in terms of clothing and self-expression because I'm so scared that I'm not "female enough," that if I did things like wear a skirt or try to even have feminine interests, people would just laugh at me. That haunting "man in a dress" label follows me, whispering in my ear, wherever I go, and it's inescapable. I just wanted to be done like her so bad. I want to look in the mirror and see a completely-cisnormative face so bad, one that I never have to worry whether it looks androgynous or guyish or not. And I want to have normal-looking breasts so bad... it just spiraled, and I started having a breakdown. (She reassured me that I look feminine, just like everyone does, but no amount of reassurance stops me once I start dwelling on all of the ways that I feel "lesser" than other women.)
I locked myself in the bathroom, and started crying. It took me a couple of minutes.
And then the feeling slowly passed, but things like this never completely go away. It's the dysphoria bug. It haunts me. It always makes me feel unworthy and "lesser" and makes me afraid that every single person is laughing at me.
And then the stupidest thing happened. I was jealous of her ability to lactate. A lot of trans women report that hormones makes it happen, because Spiro sends their levels of prolactin up. I never did. Seeing her do it, in the midst of my breakdown, made me desperate to try. When I started doing the motion, I expected it to not work, I expected it to be something that would let me prove that I had a reason to hate myself because I was lesser, less functional, less of a woman, but then it actually worked. I'll be damned.
I took a shower, and I'm mostly back to feeling okay now. I just wish transition had been easier for me. And I wish I could actually feel completely done, and finally feel like a normal woman, someone who looks in the mirror and my body looks normal, not "do I pass or not?"
Anyway, spiel over. Dysphoria still happens.