Hey Rinsford!
I'm really glad you wrote today. I want to start by saying this clearly: noticing when the urges show up, and talking about them instead of acting on them, matters. Even when it feels like nothing is "working," that awareness is doing real protective work.
You've been very clear about something important — the urges aren't random. They show up when dysphoria becomes overwhelming, when being in your body feels like too much. That doesn't mean you want to be hurt. It means your brain is trying to find relief from something it experiences as intolerable. That distinction matters, and it's not a failure on your part.
It also helps to remember something fundamental: you are who you know yourself to be. Your sense of yourself is real and correct, even when your external image doesn't yet match it. Dysphoria can try to convince you that your body is telling the truth and your mind is lying — but it's the other way around. Your feelings are real, but they are not always telling you the truth about who you are or what your future looks like. Bodies can change. Truth doesn't.
A lot of coping isn't about making the feeling disappear. It's about moving through the surge safely until it eases. Think of it as riding a wave rather than trying to stop the ocean.
One thing that can really help during dysphoria spikes is doing something you genuinely like that fully occupies your mind. When your attention is intensely focused on one thing, it becomes much harder for dysphoric thoughts and intrusive urges to push their way in. That kind of focus gives your brain somewhere else to go — not because the feelings weren't real, but because your mind finally gets a break.
Escapism, when used intentionally and in balance, can be healthy. Gaming is a great example. In games, you get to move through the world as the man you are — making choices, taking up space, being seen correctly — without your body being the focus at all. Games offer focus, agency, and immersion. The same can be true for writing, drawing, building something, watching a familiar show, or sinking into music. Even when those things are more like vents than polished creations, they still give your mind somewhere safe to put the thoughts instead of letting them circle endlessly.
I want to share something with you that's about where this leads, not just what it feels like right now. Because one of the most effective ways to cope with dysphoric urges is to shift your focus forward — toward the future you're building and the life that's taking shape ahead of you.
Years ago, a grandparent in my community came to me after their grandchild — a young trans man — came out. They were confused and scared, and they didn't understand what they were being asked to accept. We talked. I shared what research shows about family support and outcomes. I told them my own story. And I helped them understand something important: their grandson hadn't changed suddenly — he had known who he was for a long time. The only new part was the family finding out.
That grandparent chose to keep learning, and she convinced his mother to do the same. They chose to stay engaged. They chose love.
Today, that young man is doing extraordinarily well. He's in college, earning honors, presenting research at conferences, and receiving grants for work that helps protect other LGBTQ+ people. He has a partner. His family is openly proud of him — not just accepting, but genuinely celebrating him. His grandmother and his mother now talk about his life with joy.
I'm not sharing that because your path has to look the same. I'm sharing it because it shows something important: early chapters do not predict the ending. Confusion can turn into understanding. Fear can turn into pride. What feels unstable at the beginning can become the foundation for a meaningful future.
And with that in mind, I want to share something else — words from a trans woman who lived long enough to look back.
From Miharu Barbie, a trans woman who once stood exactly where you are now:
QuoteI feel overwhelmed with gratitude for life today. When I was much younger than I am today, I never expected to live this long. Indeed, prior to transition 19 years ago I believed at that time that I had already lived too long and seen too much and I was prepared to snuff out this life by my own hand.
I am so grateful that I made the choice to stick around and transition. I have seen and experienced so much amazing stuff over the years! I know now that those darkest days of my younger years were little more than speed bumps on the road to this happy, fulfilled life that I'm living today. It would have been such a bummer to miss all this adventure!
I am grateful to all the people who open up and share their fears and sorrows, their joys and triumphs on this forum. You all enrich my life with your openness.
I am especially grateful to Susan and her army of moderators for creating this safe space and for keeping it safe all day every day. You all rule!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Love!
Miharu
Miharu is not an exception. She is a person who stayed long enough to see despair become a memory, not a destination. I read this post many times before my own transition for the same reasons that I want you to read it now: I want you to focus more on where you're going than where you are at this moment. I held onto it when I needed proof that surviving the worst parts could lead to something real and worth living.
And this isn't just about gender. What Miharu describes — believing you wouldn't live long, feeling like the pain was the end of the road, and later discovering it was something you passed through — happens to people facing many kinds of overwhelming pain. Dysphoria is part of your story, but the core truth here is human.
Your sense of your own sex is something real: So focus on the life that becomes possible when you get through the now.
When everything feels overwhelming, one of the most grounding questions you can ask is a forward-looking one:
What does my future self need me to do right now so they can exist?
Often, the answer is simply: get through this moment safely.
None of this is about fixing everything at once. These are tools — ways to protect the version of you that hasn't arrived yet. And because these urges are tied to dysphoria, they're exactly the kind of thing your CAMS team is meant to help with. If you talked about the dysphoria but haven't told them about the cutting urges, it's important to bring that up — especially if things spike between appointments. You won't get in trouble. You will get the support you need at the time you need it.
It makes sense that the hope of gender-affirming care is helping you hold on. That hope is real. Just remember you don't have to rely on that alone. You deserve support now, while you're getting there.
You also asked about TYEP — the Trans Youth Emergency Project. Here's what I know:
TYEP is a program run by the Campaign for Southern Equality. It was created to help families of trans youth in states where gender-affirming care has been restricted or banned. They offer information about navigating state laws, help connecting families to out-of-state providers, and in some cases travel grants to offset costs.
It's a resource that exists for families — meaning a parent or guardian would be the one to reach out if they wanted to learn more. Their website is:
https://southernequality.org/tyep/ 🔗I'm mentioning it because you asked, not because I'm suggesting any particular path. If your CAMS team and your parents agree it makes sense, it's something you could consider together. Your CAMS therapist could even provide a letter recommending access to a gender-affirming therapist, which can help when navigating these systems.
It's also worth knowing that seeing a gender-affirming therapist doesn't have to mean giving up your CAMS support — you can do both. CAMS addresses the crisis piece and keeps you safe, while a gender-affirming therapist can work with you specifically on the dysphoria. They serve different purposes, and having both in your corner is allowed.
As a youth, the decisions about your accessing care aren't yours to make alone — and that's not a limitation, it's a protection. You have people in your corner: your therapist, your psychiatrist, and your parents. Let them help carry this. Your job right now is to keep showing up, keep being honest with your team, and keep taking care of yourself while the adults work on opening doors.
I'm really glad you're here, Rinsford. Keep writing. Keep finding places — in games, in music, in creativity — where you get to exist as yourself.
We're reading, and we're walking this road with you.
With love and support,
— Susan 💜
PS: You are free to accept or reject anything I provide to you, you can also let me know if you want me to stop offering these types of replies. Just send me a private message.
