I’ll hold my breath and try not to think too much about it.Īs a genderqueer individual, naturally I wanted to pick and choose Until I can pee the way I want to again, looking down at what I wish I couldn’t detach So in these weeks of hell and loss of control,Īs I find myself outside of my body, watching in horror, in a triggered panicīegging for this to be over soon, I wait. I don’t want this reminder that I have one. It’s not that I don’t want a vagina, it’s that Now it’s dragging out the inevitable so long that I forget who I am. Gives me relief from the pain I feel now only four times a year.īut these times that used to be three or four days So for now, I take a pill every day that delays me by three months. Or I can take a chance on changing myself into something that I may regret. I’m bad at being a risk-taker, but there’s a risk involved, no matter what I do. Sure, I could get a surgery that will cause them to end forever,īut knives and needles scare me more than my dissociationĪnd nothing scares me more than the thought of something going wrong. Sure, I could get an implant that stops my periods. Why can’t I stop my body from turning on me? I wish every day that I could go back to the very beginningĪnd come out just a little bit different. I don’t like any sensation of feeling inside my body. I don’t want to know my body well enough to put one in. I don’t like the feeling of them going in. These days, menstrual cups are out of the question, I don’t like my body well enough to remove one. I don’t like the feeling of them being pulled out. These days, tampons are out of the question, My vagina becomes this black hole of dysphoria and dissociationĬausing me to shut down my brain until my pants come back up and the sight is gone. I don’t know where I am, but I am no longer present. Smallest, most insignificant speck of blood, I am dissolved. The second my pants come down and I spy even the tiniest, I turn into a disembodied spirit- my body left behind- on autopilot to do it’s duty. When I step into the bathroom, I turn into an astronaut- a space cadet. On a normal day, I can mentally detach from my vagina,īut these days, I can’t detach myself enough.Īll of the attention that I have to pay to myself is muscle memory by now.ġ5 years of handling myself in these states comes in handy because It takes too much care and attention to handle a period. I can’t bring myself to use an STP while I bleed When I’m bleeding, my dick is rendered useless Weeks like this one, instead of detaching from a body part, I detach from my head That I have to acknowledge and feel and see all that I don’t want to see,Īll that I don’t want to feel, all that I don’t want to acknowledge. When I have to constantly be reminded that it’s there These are the days when I can’t detach from my vagina Most days, I can choose what I want to see when I go to the bathroom,īut some days like today, I can’t make my own decisions. I change my identity like I change what’s in my pants- freely.īut some days, it doesn’t work that way. I am genderQUEER and so are my parts- no matter what they might be today. How I choose to pee doesn’t put me in a binary category. I don’t follow any of your transphobic rhetoric about what parts I should or shouldn’t have. My dislike of my vagina is not a jab at women (because not all women have vaginas) My dick is not an attempt to be a man (because not all men have dicks) “So why don’t you just have a surgery to change what you have to the other binary?” Sure, it’s not “real” and it’s not “connected to me,” but does that make it any less mine? No.ĭon’t want it anymore? I detach from it physically. More of who I am- more of who I want to be. I’ve finally found an attachment that makes me feel like That I will never be comfortable in my own skin again.ĭon’t want it anymore? I detach from it mentally. Had suddenly turned into a mockery- a reminder Something that used to cause pleasure and wonder, It started off slowly- a gentle discomfort that grew into an abrasive disdain. I guess it depends on how I felt when I woke up today.ĭid I wake up and feel that my body isn’t betraying me?ĭid I wake up with an aching in the pit of my stomach that something isn’t quite right?īut oddly enough, both are detachable, though not in the same way.
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