I also write... but with no feedback it feels like I were whispering into the wind.
The friend who sent me this URL told me you plan to delete your posts. I've also many times considered leaving the discourse, because after I completed treatment the transosphere became just a distracting swamp that has no bearing on my life. But I haven't... and I hope that even if you do, you may let your words remain.
When still desperate and lost my search for information only terrified me. I found saw a circus of desperation that made me feel the end result would be worse than trying to remain an eccentric, member of my birth sex. The conversation revolved around what it meant to be trans, whether one "passed," how "transwomen" were "Real Women" and how society should be more accepting.
The words of two individuals in that swamp, however, sounded completely different. Instead of the tribulations of trying to live as "trans" they simply discussed their lives, work and husbands. To me their words were felt like a sunbeam shining through a dusty window, or a fresh breeze in a dank cavern... and I could not understand why they mostly bought hate from everyone else.
When one contacted me I was electrified. She led me to her old blog, and that of others like her who had stopped writing, and I devoured them. I realized others with the same need as mine had felt like I did, and that crossing over was possible. One did not need to join the circus and become "trans forever."
I cried through many nights as she listened. The knowledge that I was not alone was a relief.
While the authors had stopped writing, their words remained. To me they were like footprints that led to freedom.
What has kept me online is a very occasional message from the very few who tell me they've followed mine and are on their their way to normalcy. I feel your words also to be a bastion of sanity. I hope you may spare them, but even if you don't I thank you for writing them.
I see no comments. That makes me sad.
I also write... but with no feedback it feels like I were whispering into the wind.
The friend who sent me this URL told me you plan to delete your posts. I've also many times considered leaving the discourse, because after I completed treatment the transosphere became just a distracting swamp that has no bearing on my life. But I haven't... and I hope that even if you do, you may let your words remain.
When still desperate and lost my search for information only terrified me. I found saw a circus of desperation that made me feel the end result would be worse than trying to remain an eccentric, member of my birth sex. The conversation revolved around what it meant to be trans, whether one "passed," how "transwomen" were "Real Women" and how society should be more accepting.
The words of two individuals in that swamp, however, sounded completely different. Instead of the tribulations of trying to live as "trans" they simply discussed their lives, work and husbands. To me their words were felt like a sunbeam shining through a dusty window, or a fresh breeze in a dank cavern... and I could not understand why they mostly bought hate from everyone else.
When one contacted me I was electrified. She led me to her old blog, and that of others like her who had stopped writing, and I devoured them. I realized others with the same need as mine had felt like I did, and that crossing over was possible. One did not need to join the circus and become "trans forever."
I cried through many nights as she listened. The knowledge that I was not alone was a relief.
While the authors had stopped writing, their words remained. To me they were like footprints that led to freedom.
What has kept me online is a very occasional message from the very few who tell me they've followed mine and are on their their way to normalcy. I feel your words also to be a bastion of sanity. I hope you may spare them, but even if you don't I thank you for writing them.
And I understand the loneliness.