The next 50 years

Mind blown. Cancer is giving me the sex change I always wanted but which the world would refuse to give. Even today the level of BS you have to go through would stop me. Asking me to pass for male without changing the physical sex markers is just ridiculous.  I'm very female.  It's like that person I know in town who flips between male and female depending on if he's dealing with his income or his social life.  He's got such heavily masculinized features he can only come out looking like a man in woman's dress.  Even if he took hormones he'd still be too big, too coarse, and too heavy featured to pass.  So he's both.  He has an alter ego, the night when he can really be himself and if he's around nice, sweet people who get him, they'll go along with it and treat him like a gorgeous girl. the only time he gets any dysphoria then, is when he checks his makeup in the mirror.  so then he can truly just be the person he feels to be, express his most prou...

So I have always been a transgender.  I knew it as a child but back then the language and ideas and information simply didn't exist. The dialog hadn't started.  I can say if I'd been allowed to transition at puberty or even at onset of adulthood my life would have been a damn sight better.  I longed for it often enough but there was no way and I'd never heard of such a thing. When I heard of men changing to women, I was jealous of them. Sure, a man could transition, but a woman couldn't.  She was a she forever.  Whether it suited her nature or not. She was going to be corrected, scolded, criticized and directed, sidelined and ridiculed for not quite meeting the mark. She would find herself forced into roles that did not suit her and denied those that did.  That was how the world was and there was no way to change it.  This was my life.  Did it bother me?  Well hell yeah!  Immensely.  To the point of multiple attempts at suicide. ...

The lassitude.  Oh My God.  My brain feels stoned before it is and when I smoke the hash it hardly affects me it seems, I'm already so loaded from the nerve damage this last two rounds of chemo did. My fingers now tingle unpleasantly at room temperature but I can't warm up the room because of the hot flashes. Damn I've gained 25 lbs now since the surgery and today just skipped breakfast and I'm going really light on the snacks.  Fruit, a boiled egg, that sort of thing. So not fasting but eating very little.  The challenge of preparing food adds to that.  Cold food out of the fridge is painful to work with and it's often not feasible to wear gloves. The gloves aren't sanitary (winter gloves, not latex, to insulate my fingers) and the food often gets the gloves wet anyway and frankly, if they were sanitary enough for food, they don't stay that way long.  My energy, though.  I've been laying on the couch, had a long morning nap, and I'm using sleep pi...

I think he gets me yelling at him too easily.  I know I'm triggered.  I know too he's got his ways of prepping me for that trigger before he launches it.  He knows what will trigger me too.  He gets me yelling because it gives him a charge. I hate it.  I'm usually a pretty calm person actually but not when he gets going. The bird can scream like a maniac for an hour and I can hold my wits but that man just mentions one of the trigger subjects, then refuses to stop when asked, making excuses for why it's so important to force me to know this information. It sets me off.  I'd love to not be set off but he knows when to drop these nuggets too.  Like when I'm doing something that requires concentration or is not going well.  It's not really fair to test my temper that way, is it?  So I've decided to punish him every time he does it with my silence for the evening.  He starts, I'll jam on headphones and that's it for the evening, he doesn't ...