Over the weekend, I ended up seeing myself in the mirror, and due to the circumstances I actually saw myself, or rather, my body, which I usually manage to see-but-not-see.

And I saw a guy.  An ugly, repulsive guy.

I've been thinking about that ever since.  I don't know how I felt about my body when I was little, but already by the time I was 10 I hated seeing myself.

The best I've been able to come up with is that the person I see in the mirror isn't the person I experience inside myself.  That weekend, I'd been kind of enjoying being me; I was just relaxing, not doing much, taking naps whenever I felt like it, having nice one-on-one conversations, watching cute kids being cute, enjoying eating food I hadn't had to cook, all of that as Allison -- a happy, friendly, if somewhat awkward girl of unspecified age.

Then I took off my wig and got dressed for bed and, in the bathroom, I looked in the mirror.  The not-Allison-ness of it kind of kicked me in the gut.  I felt like I was Allison, but the mirror was telling me I wasn't, that I was just deluding myself.  Not Allison.  More like Caliban.  I wished I hadn't lost the ability to cry, because that's what I felt like.

Is this what dysphoria feels like?  At least, for some people?  When who you are -- or could be -- on the inside clashes so horribly with what you see in the mirror?

I'm reminded of the monster in Frankenstein.  In the book, at least, Frankenstein's monster (he is never given a name) looks so repulsive that his maker (Dr. Frankenstein) drives him away, even as he calls Frankenstein "father" and pleads for him to recognize and accept him.  Everywhere he turns, people see his repulsive appearance and hate him and attack him and drive him away.  The most poignant scene is when he is in a Swiss village where a blind old man is left each day as everyone else goes out to work in the fields.  The monster cares for the man, brings him food, and they develop a tender relationship, until the day the man's daughter comes home during the day and sees the monster and calls the other villagers to try to kill him and end up driving him away.  Even the old man rejects him, once he is told what his unseen friend looks like.  No one can see the gentle person inside for the horrible appearance of his body.

Quote from: Asche on January 05, 2017, 01:50:28 PM
Is this what dysphoria feels like?  At least, for some people?  When who you are -- or could be -- on the inside clashes so horribly with what you see in the mirror?

For me, yes. That's a very large part of it. And it seems to be the more sure of yourself you are - the more you feel like yourself in every other aspect - the worse it is. The more jarring it feels. Sometimes it feels to me like you're not actually looking in a mirror at all, but through a window, and instead of the reflection mimicking you, the figure through the glass is mocking you. It's dislocating, uncomfortable and wholly unpleasant. Makes me wish I were a vampire.

I'm really sorry that happened to you, sweetie. I know how it feels. And I would not wish it on my worst enemy. *extra big hug*

Oh, Allison, you are definitely not alone in this.

The mirror is my enemy.

In my old home, when I remodeled the master bath, the huge mirror over the double vanity went, and I put in Jack-n-Jill matching vanities and small oval mirrors over each one, angled so I wouldn't see myself as I moved between the dressing area and the shower.

My new little bachelorette pad has one drawback, a huge bathroom mirror I can't avoid.  I've ordered a plastic 'frosted glass' appliqué I can cover most of it with except for a small opening to use when (ugh) shaving or applying medication on my skin.

I DO have a full length mirror in the bedroom, quite narrow and placed so I only see myself in it when I deliberately stand in front of it.  I use that to check my presentation when dressed, and only ever see Michelle in it.

Every morning when I get out of bed, the first thing I do is put on a wig cap and my 'house hair', an older wig I use for around the house.  As I renew my hair, buying new wigs for use in public, the old one becomes the 'house hair.'   The last thing at night is to put the wig back on it's stand on my dresser at the foot of my bed.  Oh, the hair has to come off for certain things, putting on pullover tops, showers, the semiweekly buzz of the clippers over my remaining 'natural' hair, but that's it.

Just a couple of hours ago, I got dressed for my day (pullover top) and did my makeup with the hair off.  As soon as I put the hair on, there was a tremendous sense of relief, and when I looked in the mirror, makeup on and hair in place, I felt like I had been lost and had just found myself, with a palpable sense of relief.

I'm pretty sure this counts as dysphoria, a tremendous sense of unease, the very opposite of euphoria.

That person I see in the mirror, stripped, hair gone, no makeup, isn't ME.  It's the prison I had to live in, the Sad Old Man.  When I'm dressed, made up properly, hair in place, I see ME in the mirror.  I want so much to make that permanent, and never see the Sad Old Man again.

That's what really drives my transition.

I'm already pushing for FFS and a trach shave, even before GCS.  I'm hoping experimental treatments in cloning follicle cells works, because I don't have the needed donor hair.

I'm so tired of playing the starring role in Monster vs The Villagers.  I'd love it if people, on seeing me, really just saw She/Her/Hers.  (They don't.  I can have my presentation totally together, and friendly, accepting people who've just met me will misgender me.  I don't pass.)  It would be nice if moms at the park wouldn't look at me and pull their children away.  I'm not going to throw them down the well.  Really.

I'm not giving up.  I'M NOT.  I still have hope that someday everyone will just see HER.  I'll get there somehow.  I just have to beat the echo in the mirror.


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Hello Asche,

As Michelle has stated, you are not alone. Very many of us at Susan's can relate to your experience and cringe at the thought of it. Michelle has talked through several of her coping mechanisms that reduce the occurrence of seeing that other person; I hide from mirrors. For me, it is one of the primary drivers for me to push my transition, being drawn to the light at the end of the tunnel. It does hurt but if it helps at all, there are many here that feel the exact same pain. Good luck and reach out to us when it gets too much. - Anne 

Sounds like it.

I always hated mirrors.

Lately though I hate mirrors because what I see in it actually looks better than what I think others see when they look at me. I read a few things about how we get used to a reflection and then freak out when we see our photograph or something, according to the theory. Now photos of me... those I truly hate.

I'm spending the weekend with my wife at home of my adult daughter, her husband and my 20 month old grandson.  Also, as part of a family gathering is my aging mother in law as well as my adult son and his fiancee.  A great weekend of family, great wine and food, spirited debates about everything under the sun. Included were skeptical views expressed by my wife and her mother about the validity of "claims" of ->-bleeped-<- on the part of a number of people.  I found myself understandably arguing on the basis of the scientific support for the "phenomenon" with continued skeptical bordering on cynical reception of support and evidence offered.  Further confirmation of the low utility of my coming out to them. 

I have not come out to my wife, in large part because of this and the desire to avoid the predictable confrontation and inevitable end of my marriage--a long story I do not want to re-address in this post or responses to follow.  I found myself mostly hanging out during the day with the ladies and my grandson, but also some time with the guys. I ended up honchoing the dinner--a whole poached sockeye salmon with buerre blanc.  As I spent this time, I could not imagine spending it with them having come out as Steph because of the issue of rejection and disruption of my close family, whom I love dearly.  I could not imaging them accepting me sitting there in leggings, skinny jeans or a skirt playing with  my grandson.

Although I could imagine spending this time in the feminine role, I tried to imagine myself sitting on the floor with my wife,  daughter, etc. playing with my  grandson; a scene with daughter, mother, grandmother.  I felt a sense of fraud as all involved represented a lineage of women united by the common link of shared experience as natal women, mothers; 3 generations of mothers and daughters an now a grandson.  How could I deny my grandson the presence of a grandfather?  How  could I assert that I was the equivalent of another grandmother?

Dysphoria, briefly yes; severity, low.  Willingness to disrupt the precious loving family equilibrium, none.  In the end a good day overall.  This was a successful stress test, passed.  As I've written in other posts, I've found a balance internally with the help of therapy which has allowed my to control my dysphoria on a day to day basis.

I hope this is predictive of he future.  Only time will tell, the dysphoria beast has its own mind.

Steph

Yup. We all understand this. Or most of us.

Like I keep saying I'm only non-binary, partially transmale, yet before I started taking derris scanden herb to blend my genders, I couldn't look in a mirror, or at a photo. When I did, I was horrified, thought I was looking at a deformed monster.

One of the strange things that happened with the derris scandens is that suddenly I could look in mirrors, and either see an attractive woman or an attractive man, depending on which gender mode was stronger at the moment. But I always feel blended enough now to accept it. When I look in a full-length mirror, I see a slim, fit body that could be either gender.

This week, after taking a low dose of derris scandens, on the way home from work, the effect had worn off enough that I suddenly felt like a hybrid monster. I almost felt like "villagers" would come after me for being a freak. I immediately concentrated on my shopping list and distracted those thoughts.

I've never been particularly disgusted or angry about it...

More just that I don't recognise the person in the mirror or photos. Rationally, I know it's me - I'm either standing right there or remember the photo being taken - but I cannot connect it to me. From what I can tell, dysphoria is different for everyone. I 'nothing' my body right now, rather than 'hate' it. I can't care about my appearance because it doesn't even feel like 'mine'. It's like there's an imposter walking around with my mind.

I should note that when I see myself in the mirror, I know it's me.  I simply do not like the way I look without my hair, makeup, and clothing all in place.

When I see myself naked, all I see are the parts of me that are wrong, the parts that never should have been there, the damage done by decades of testosterone.  That sight does not make me happy.

When I am dressed, with makeup in place and hair on, I see what I should have been, the ravages of testosterone hidden away.  I know it is a facade, artifice to cover the damage, but dammit, that's what I should have looked like.   

I would love someday to see in the mirror what I should have been without any artifice.  Meanwhile, I cope.


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Mirrors.  Hate mirrors.  Despise mirrors.  Always have, may always will.  Mirrors always show the brain what your mind doesn't see, but what others do. (blech).

That is exactly how I felt\currently feel.  One day I may take some time to fasten a more femme version of me on the mirror (via a printout) in place where my head normally goes.  It may be a somewhat artificial version of myself, but it is far easier to tolerate seeing than someone who is not me.  Time to exit the DAW for a bit and fire-up Photoshop I think.

This happens to CIS women too.  My sister had a picture of herself in a bathing suit at age 24 on her wall.

She was 70 and weighed 300 lbs.  She still FELT like the girl in the picture, although she no longer resembled that girl at all.

There was a time, ending several years, that I hated mirrors. Like you said you see yourself, but you really don't. A necessary evil you need to resort to.

A lot changed after a year or so on E. Objectively, I am still that same old big bald flabby old guy. Yet, no matter what mode I am in I see a joy filled woman. Even naked.

I know I am totally depressed or dysphoric when I look in the mirror and see "The sad old man"

Looking in a mirror is not particularly troubling to me as usually I do not dwell on what I see.  It's usually for a specific purpose such as brushing teeth, or similar.  Oddly, if I am dressed, presenting as Steph, my brain embellishes the image in the mirror and I don't find it unpleasant at all.  If I look directly at my visible body parts, I don't find them particularly disturbing to see.

What is very disturbing to me is seeing myself in photographs, especially in guy mode.  I find seeing the image of me troubling and dysphoria producing, seeing what appears to be an awkward, familiar yet at the same time alien form.  Unlike the mirror, photos in Steph mode are shockingly disturbing to me, where as the mirror is not.  The camera is viscious, showing me an image that is the "old guy in a dress."    This disturbs me far more than the vision of gender incongruence while in guy mode.

My Mirror dysphoria is very much a lack of connection with the image that I see.  I understand logically that this is what I look like but I don't really feel the reflection is me.  I have studied the reflection may times trying to see the real me in there, but I can't.

For me, looking in the mirror is usually a depressing experience. I've never liked what I see and that disconnected feeling makes me feel hopeless and lost.  Very rarely do I ever see a reflection that makes me happy. I use them out of necessity but long for the day where I can be a little vain and really check myself out being happy with the person I see on the other side. 

My mirror dysphoria went away, almost entirely, after all my surgeries were done.  Especially facial surgery -- I really like looking in the mirror now. 

My only bane: I still cringe occasionally when it comes to department store mirrors -- the lighting is generally terrible in a dressing room, and there are too many clothes that I think would look cute but don't actually once I've tried them on. But it goes away once I find an outfit that works, whew!

For what it's worth, now that I'm going to work as Allison, I've been looking at myself in the mirror in the ladies' room (to make sure my wig hasn't slipped or anything), and I kind of like what I see.  I'll never be accused of being pretty, but it doesn't take all that much imagination to imagine that I'm a rather beefy lady of a Certain Age.  (Yesterday I kept thinking I reminded myself of Margaret Dumont., though I'm nowhere near as good-looking.)

So it's pretty definitely associated with looking male.

Quote from: Sophia Sage on January 09, 2017, 12:34:10 PM
My mirror dysphoria went away, almost entirely, after all my surgeries were done.  Especially facial surgery -- I really like looking in the mirror now. 

Yeah, I'm now convinced that I am going to have to undergo facial surgery.  If I'm careful with the makeup and hair, I don't have any mirror issues, I just see myself as I should be.  Raw me, though... Not comfortable with my own reflection.

It would be nice to see me as ME without 30 minutes of makeup drill. I'd love to just get up, get my hair set, dress, and run out for a quick grocery store trip or breakfast at the coffee shop without the makeup drill, and not worry about how eminently clockable raw me is.

I'm starting to agree with others that FFS is the real gender confirmation surgery, enabling our social integration and making us more comfortable with ourselves.


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Depends on how I feel at the time. For the most part, I was never one to really look at myself in the mirror, because of how I look. SOmetimes, I feel rather happy with how I look. But there are times, when I look in the mirror and just want to cry. My ex had a way of picking up on that and pushing it, to stop me from the transition. And what she said, still floats in my head.

I did a makeover when I was younger and saw nothing but male. SHe said she was a makeup artist, but her efforts were ->-bleeped-<-e if you aske me. But since I started the transition and things have rounded out, I had a makeoever and actually felt that I looked female.

I don't mind looking as much now, but I still see a man when I feel ->-bleeped-<-e.

TL:DR
I feel the same and tend to feel I look man... but I do everything to just get passed it.

After the king of Thailand died, all teachers were told to wear black and/or white for a year at work. I grabbed a week's worth of black or white blouses off a rack from a clothing vendor, beautiful crocheted outer shells over liners.

They are lacy and pretty, and for the first time in, I can't remember, I was dressed in femme, "pretty" clothes. Luckily, no dysphoria, no doubt thanks to the derris scandens herb.

But when I looked in the mirror, I could see past the pretty woman dressed in lacy clothes and see a young man.
I'm 64 years old, but my female face gives me a young man look.

I probably startled the Thai teachers at the school when I hiked to work from the main road, carrying a kayaking backpack (to withstand monsoon rains) over my lacy clothes, then took off after work to hike to the nearby beach to take photos.
I have to wear the clothes, so I ignore them.