Today's post isn't pretty. It isn't poetic. It's just honest. Raw.
A little broken.
I woke up this morning and felt empty.
Like someone had quietly snuck into my body overnight and stolen something soft, something sacred.
I looked into the mirror and she was gone.
The woman I've fought to bring forward, to embody, to become, was nowhere in sight.
Instead, I saw him again.
That stranger.
The one with the shadowed jawline, the thick brows, the dark, unwanted hairs peppered across his cheeks.
The one who feels like a cruel joke now, a ghost of survival that won't stop haunting me.
He looked back at me this morning, and my heart dropped.
I didn't feel euphoria.
I felt its opposite, something cold and sharp.
And I found myself whispering:
What happened to the euphoria? Where did it go?
There was a time not long ago when the hormones felt like magic. When I'd wake up and feel her rising in my bones. My skin softened. My mood lifted. My body shifted just enough to make me believe, really believe, that this was working.
But now... it feels like something's changing again.
Not in my body, but in my spirit.
Did the euphoria wear off?
Did it hit some invisible limit and decide I'd had enough?
What if that joyful spark I was holding onto is gone for good?
I don't want to believe that. But today, I do.
Today, the dysphoria stings.
Not like a papercut.
Not like a dull ache.
It stings like poison. Like a wasp nest cracked open inside my
chest.It's venomous and loud and impossible to ignore.
My body felt sweaty and wrong, even though the air conditioner was humming at 68°F.
It should have been cool in my room. Instead, I felt like I was suffocating in my own skin.
Every fabric felt foreign. Every breath felt like it belonged to someone else.
Even my hair, medium coarse, curly, tangled, felt like a cage instead of a crown.
I didn't have it in me to get femme today.
No makeup. No pretty clothes. No styling.
I just didn't have the fight.
And at first, it felt like failure.
But maybe, just maybe, it's not.
Maybe it's just me doing what I can to survive the kind of day that hits like a wave and drags you under before you can even name it.
Some days, I feel like a goddess.
Today, I feel like a ghost of her.
But even ghosts are real. And even in this blurry, sting-filled moment,
I'm still Lilis.
If you've felt this kind of dysphoria the kind that bites hard, the kind that makes you question everything you're not alone.
We are still here. Still women. Still striving.
Even when I don't feel beautiful.
Even when the sting tries to rewrite my truth.
Even when euphoria feels like a memory I am scared I'll never touch again.
I am still here.
And I am not giving up.
Blah 🤮,
~ Lilis 🤢
