Body betrayal

I'm not happy with my body right now. If I could send it to the corner to think about what it did, I would. For once, this isn't about transitioning.

Yesterday was Hooked Up and I went with my usual group. This time, all of us were doing something, rather than just one of us. The event's usual crowd is always amazing and supportive, and they seem to be the only people I can properly engage with regularly and not freeze.

I was extremely nervous in the days leading up to it. On the day, I wasn't much better. It's a nice distraction watching others do their hook thing, so my own hooks weren't on my mind much once we arrived. Eventually it was my turn, and I was suddenly terrified again. I started panicking on the table before the hooks went in, but pushed it down and got through it. Once the hooks were in, I knew something was wrong. They didn't constantly sting this much last time, and it took me about 10 minutes before I was able to sit up, let alone walk.

I went to watch the group pull that I was meant to be part of, and tried to stop myself from crying over not being able to join in. I was in too much pain, too dizzy and I was shaking.

Eventually my friend finished with the group pull (which was amazing, she did so much. I'm as jealous as I am proud of her) I was feeling determined to do *something* with my hooks, so I asked if we could be tied together and pull off each other.

It was an amazing experience, even if it only lasted under a minute and resulted in me nearly passing out and then vomiting a lot. It was worth the stress and pain just for that short amount of time.

I'm disappointed in my body. I pushed myself as much as I could on the day, and I'm really proud of that. It just feels like it was a day that my body just wasn't willing to cooperate. It's very bittersweet.

Confidence

Being that I grew up with no faith in myself or my own abilities, I constantly surprise myself at what I can do. I regularly test my limits nowadays, and initiate things that may not work. Sometimes they don't work, sometimes things totally fall apart, and so do I for a while, and I lose hope. But then I accept what happened, try to push past the pain, and try it again in a different way.

For example, I still want to go to kink events even after my almost traumatising experience, and more than just wanting to go, I've proven to myself that they can be fun and rewarding.

Being that I grew up without this feeling, I've been almost overdosing on it. I've been pushing myself too hard, too far, without realising it. I don't know my own ability anymore, because I suddenly have a lot more of it, I can't get a read on it. But it's an amazing feeling. I could almost describe it as drunk on power.

But this is a good problem to have. This is a better position than I've ever been in. I get to learn my capacity, and understand how I tick again, and once I do that, and learn how to relearn my limits, I can push them further and harder, without risk of it blowing up in my face.

I've been re-analysing my own capacity to get a partner, and I've had multiple people initiate with me in varying capacities, so my confidence there is getting a bit higher, which is amazing.

Reopening wounds

I believe in the power of art.

A friend approached me because she wants to do a series of paintings revolving around gender, and asked me to model for them, and help her with ideas. She wants to show the really negative and dark parts of being transgender, and warned me a few times things will get very emotional, but she doesn't know to what level.

As I've said many times here, I'm involved in a trans youth group in my city, and I'm very forward with information and details. I help new transgirls, I tell them they can ask me anything, I'm an open book. I offer the same to transguys as a courtesy, but for obvious reasons they don't take me up on it for the most part. I'm not an activist, but I like exposing people to trans issues, and reminding the world we're also human, which is something I tend to forget along the way. Something about becoming a monster while fighting monsters.

I'm looking forward to the dark bits. I quite enjoy the negative aspects of a lot of things in some weird way, and so many times in my transition I've felt like I was staring down into a dark abyss, deciding whether to jump or sit and admire the view. It's not all like that, though. There are amazing times when you feel invincible, and like a god.

But this isn't about those times. This is about the abyss. The hopelessness. The loneliness. The self-loathing. The self-mutilation. The victim. The endless questions. I hope things get as raw as she says. I almost feel eager to intentionally open these old wounds that rarely effect me, and let the blood and the tears flow, and let the world see it.