the Death and Rebirth of Transitioning

I had name change court Tuesday, the 15th.  I have officially changed my name.  My mum was going to drive me to the Social Security office so I can change it with them, but it’s been cold and we are lazy.  And also very sensitive to the cold.  We are planning on going Tuesday, as well as going to the DMV after and the library.

As I’m getting further and further into my transition as an AFAB non-binary person, or FtX, if you will, I’m feeling less out of sync with the world.  I don’t know how to describe it beyond feeling like I was a puzzle piece that was being hammered into the wrong spot; and now I’m being smoothed out and sliding easily into who and what I’m supposed to be.  Another way of putting it, as I’ve said to Sweet Pea in one of our talks, is that I’ve been wanting to feel less like I’m wearing someone else’s people suit.  I still don’t feel 100% there, but I’m still way more comfortable now that my name reflects me, rather than who my parents wish I was.

To be honest and fair, I understand that my mum is mourning the loss of the daughter she thought she had, the daughter she always dreamed of having.  It irritates me a bit, because the only thing that’s really changed is that I’m more me, that I’m more open and honest about who I am at the core of my being.  It also irritates me because she says she wants to be supportive, and yes, her going to court with me was very supportive, but she doesn’t put forth any real effort.  She constantly misgenders me and she twists reality to what she wants it to be, claiming she doesn’t understand even after I’ve explained for the umpteenth time.  Mind you, this is also the same woman who said I’m to blame for my endometriosis and infertility.  (I blame Mormonism on that, since it heavily teaches that anything wrong with you or your life is punishment for something you did).

I’ll admit, I’m torn with her right now.  I’m deeply appreciative of what she’s doing.  At the same time, she is still gaslighting me on several things, such as saying I never exhibited signs as a child (I did), that I never take time to be patient and explain (I do), and that I don’t treat her with understanding and patience (I try).  She’ll sit there and say all sorts of deeply hurtful things, and when I call her out gently on it, she’ll play victim.

It’s exhausting.  I’ve even compromised a lot on this.  I’ve told her she never has to call me by my new name, mostly because I don’t want to tell my family I’m trans.  I’ve stopped calling her out on misgendering me, mostly because I feel like it’s wasted energy on my part.  I’ve already decided that I’m going low contact when I move out.

I understand she’s mourning.  She’s sad because she always wanted a daughter, and, instead, she got whatever the fuck I am.  I was always a rambunctious person, daring and outgoing and always wanting to go on new adventures, despite being terrified half the time.  Quite honestly, my transition end-game is a subtle difference to what the start was.  There’s no huge visual or behavioural change.  It’s mostly putting labels on me that actually fit, and letting the world know who I truly am.

So yeah, it’s a bit irritating because she is refusing to even try.  But I’m still grateful that she hasn’t disowned me like my father did.  Although, he disowned me for being gay, not trans.  He doesn’t know that I’m trans.  Since I highly doubt that I’ll ever speak to him again, I doubt he’ll ever know.

To level with you, my dear reader, I’m in mourning, too.  I still mourn for the parents I wish I had.  I mourn for the person they wish I was.  I mourn for my old self, even as I kill her for this rebirth of myself.  I mourn for the woman I thought I was going to be, for the girl I thought I was.  I’m having my hysterectomy soon and I mourn for the mother I’ll never be and the children I’ll never bear.

My transition has killed, whether it be an abstract ideal of who I ‘should’ be or the actual conceptions of who I was and who I am.  There has been death in this creation of a new life.  And there has been relief from suffering and an renewed optimism for my future.

As cliche as it may be to say, I view my transition as a phoenix.  I’m sure there will be several cycles of death and rebirth as I continue my journey, as I continue discovering new things about my person.  As each preconceived notion dies, new realizations will rise, bringing deeper peace and understanding.

I’m not sure I’d say I’m proud of who I am, or that I’m happy or that I like myself.  I will say that I’m becoming more compassionate and willing to accept me as I am.  I just wish my parents did, too.

As always, thank you for your time,

The Sarcastic Autist


Gender Stuff and Surgery Stuff

Just finished watching the Incredibles 1 +2.  Great movies.  There seems to be a huge fan cannon for Voyd (the one girl who can do the portals) being trans.  I just read this amazing comic  about it.  It made me tear up.

Sometimes, I will sit and think about my gender stuff and try to at least make myself feel one way or the other.  It doesn’t work like that.  I’m more in the middle.  I’ve been thinking more about surgery and, while I still don’t want top surgery, I’ve been looking into options for bottom surgery.  Very rarely will they let you get phalloplasty or metoidioplasty without also sewing up your hole, basically.  And I don’t want that.

I want to order another packer (stp) next month, for my birthday.  This month, I have court in a few weeks for the name change thing and also I have my pre-op exam coming up next Thursday.

On the endometriosis/hysterectomy issue, I have decided to go ahead and just get the uterus and cervix removed and keep the ovaries.  I’ve been in a lot of pain.  earlier this week, I ended up taking  one of the leftover pain pills from my surgery because I was in so much pain, I couldn’t handle it.

I ended up not being able to sleep the other night and stayed awake for over 30 hours.  Man, was I tired.  I’ve been dealing with nightmares about living with my aunt and uncle again.  Also about my dad.

Honestly, I’ve really been struggling with the trans-nonbinary and gay shit lately.  I do a lot around the holidays.  When I was out shopping with Sweet Pea the other week, a lady saw us holding hands and gave us a dirty look.  Sweet Pea didn’t notice, thank goodness, but I did and it’s been bothering me.  I get a lot of ‘microaggressions’ relating to being trans or gay or disabled and I can’t believe I never noticed before.  I also get a lot of flack from random nurses about my decision to get gutted like a fish and have my useless sack of pain and bleeding removed from my abdomen.

I don’t know.  I just wanted to give you guys a bit of an update as to what’s been going on, since I haven’t been posting again.  I want to post at least once a week, hopefully getting back up to once a day.

Oh, my mantra this year is “thrice think, single speak”.  It means I have to ask myself if what I’m about to say is unnecessarily cruel, if it is relevant to the conversation, and if it is true.  Sometimes things you say are cruel, but you have to say them.  I sometimes am a dick about it.  I have an issue with not always saying relevant stuff, so I want to work on that, too.  And the true bit is not so much meaning that I have issues with honesty, it’s more of trying to make sure I’m not saying judgements about things and making sure I fact check before I say them.

That’s all for now.  Thanks for reading.

-The Sarcastic Autist


I have been in an immense amount of pain as of late. I’ve decided to go ahead and get the hysterectomy, but keep my ovary because I enjoy not being in menapause yet. I have court for the name change coming soon, too.

I feel poorly so I’m gonna go back to my book. Wanted you all to know I’m not dead.

Happy new year

Little update

My computer is being a pain in the ass so I can’t do the update I was planning on. Doing this from mobile.

I skipped group today because I’ve been in a piss poor mood and didnt want to subject anyone there to it. And I’m still upset with Charon.

I hung out with Taha and went to the store and the store was really busy and I fucking hated it.

I had a cute cat battle with my friend on Facebook messenger, taking videos of our cats to share. It was fun. Her cat won, I think.

I have to get up in a few hours to do a lot of things tomorrow. I have another surgery consult with my regular gyno and then next Thursday I have another consult with a different one for a second opinion. Sweet Pea said she’d drive me because I have an 11 am appointment with Cybele and my consult is 3:40 pm in the cities so I’ll be stuck there all day. We are planning on going to a few shops and pretending we don’t have high anxiety.

I am going to bed now. Good Night.


I called and cancelled going to group tomorrow because I’m in such a piss poor mood and I don’t feel like dealing with them.  I’m mad at Charon for a stupid reason.  My mum and I have been arguing a lot the past few days because I have zero chill for her bullshit right now.

And I really just don’t feel like dealing with therapy shit.  I was supposed to hang out with Luffy today, but I cancelled because I didn’t want to subject him to my bad mood.  I don’t want to subject anyone to my bad mood, really.  I’ve been short tempered and ornery all day, even after taking a nap.  I just don’t feel like anyone is listening to me right now and I don’t want to deal with anyone.

I’m gonna go play some WoW and get rid of some of this anger and frustration.

-The Sarcastic Autist


Just a quick update since I should be sleeping because I have to be up at fuck o’clock in the morning.

I uh, I made myself throw up after dinner. I made stroganoff, which I’ve been craving forever, and I made myself throw up. I’ve been severely restricting and now this. I don’t know. I know I’m gonna have to tell Charon and I don’t want to do that either. I don’t feel shame yet. I feel like I’m hiding my feelings a bit.

Just… I was on a good streak there. I figured so long as I wasn’t purging, I was good. That my eating disorder wasn’t too out of control. Maybe if it’s only the one time, but still… I don’t know how all the DBT skills fell apart when I got that anxiety from being too full. I don’t know where I fucked up, besides just not caring and not wanting to be fat.

Because I don’t feel fat when I do shit like this. I feel smaller. Which is insane. I’m not healthy and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I need to get some sleep.

– the sarcastic autist


Okay, so, I spent the night at Sweet Pea’s house on Saturday and today is Monday, so I really just been busy.  This won’t be as long as the other post I just made and I’ll be elaborating more tomorrow since I’m still tired.

We DTRed tonight at my request.  I’m okay with poly relationships only if it’s stated upfront because I can get jealous and possessive otherwise.  Also, it’s cheating if all parties aren’t privy to that.  Sweet Pea and I would both prefer going a more serious monogamous thing right now, rather than a casual fling.  She’s my girlfriend and I’m her partner.  I feel like we’re detectives.

More on us later.

My Eating Disorder shit is kinda getting bad.  Legit, it scares me a bit.  Like, my body is nothing like how I picture it in my head and it’s fucking with me.

Okay, I gotta brush my teeth and bed because I’m tired.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Useless Nonbinary Lesbian

Hey everyone, I’m not dead.  I’ve just had a helluva week.  I haven’t posted in a week.  So, let’s break this down.  Heads up, I talk about sex stuff later in my post and my post is super long.  And by sex stuff, I don’t go into sordid details, but I do talk about sex stuff.  Nonbinary Lesbian sex stuff.  Sooo…. You been warned.

Last Saturday was the Trans Support Group that I’ve been going to.  There was finally another transmasculine person there, a trans man, but he left pretty soon after it was over and he was also a teenager so I couldn’t ask him all the questions I would have liked.  Because that would be inappropriate.  We went to a chinese place after, where I promptly ate nothing because I saw nuts and I’m paranoid about not dying.  I had fun, though.

I ended up getting a call from one of the women there after I got home.  I’m going to call her Sweet Pea.  Because she’s sweet.  And I’m running out of nicknames for people on here.  So, Sweet Pea called me and we talked for over 4 hours on the phone, instead of texting.  I normally text because talking on the phone gives me anxiety.  I still had anxiety, but I also knew that she preferred talking over texting, so I allowed it.

Before we get too much further into this tale, I want to inform you all what a Useless Lesbian is.  A Useless Lesbian is a lesbian,( a girl who likes girls, wlw, you actually have to be a gay woman or nonbinary to be a Useless Lesbian, and yes, I do feel the need to clarify that because I’ve been dealing with a lot of asshats who call themselves lesbians when they are not, because they are straight men or women doing some lowkey gay erasure), anyway, a Useless Lesbian is a lesbian who can’t take a hint that another girl likes them.  I am a Useless Lesbian.  I can explain away just about anything unless it is plainly told to my face.  And even then, I try to tell myself that they like me as a friend or they’re just being nice.

Back to the Main Story.

I am a Useless Lesbian.  Sweet Pea asked me if it was true that tongue rings enhance kissing and I figured she was just curious since it was a new piercing of mine.  We stayed up late for a few nights in a row talking on the phone about random stuff.  I invited her over for Thanksgiving because she didn’t have anyone to spend it with since her family sucks.  She invited me to hang out Wednesday.  She called me super cute in a text and put a heart emoji after it.  We talked about sex stuff and gender stuff and sexuality stuff.

And I explained all of this away as stuff my friends and I do all the time and I didn’t want to potentially ruin Thanksgiving because I have this value that it’s friends first, everything else second.  That means I would rather be a friend than lose a person because I have a crush.  It also means that I will always be a friend to people, regardless of who they are to me, be they therapist, barista, doctor, random passerby. I will treat them as I would a friend, with varying degrees of boundaries, IE, I won’t text Charon when I’m pooping just to talk about random stuff, but I’ll text Kuma-chan and send her random emojis.  I’m genuinely concerned for the well-being of others, so I’ll ask and actually care about how my providers are doing.  I’m just not going to call them up and be all “hey, you want to grab a beer”.  So I guess, I’m friendly, rather than a friend.  Same thing, though, if you get down to it.  I felt the need to clarify so no one thought that anything weird was going on.

Anyway, so Sweet Pea was dropping all these hints and just the general flow of conversation made me feel like maybe there was more to it that just friends, but I didn’t know because I can literally justify actively getting married at the altar as a ‘just friends’ thing.  I was lamenting it and asking other people their advice and input.  I had no idea what to wear on Wednesday because if it was a friend-date, I would have dressed more casual, but for a date-date, I was wanting to dress a bit more fancy.  I ended up going with a button up that was mostly buttoned and a nice pair of jeans, rather than jeans and a hoodie or a button up, khakis and a bow-tie.

Fast-Forward to Wednesday Night.  I had been up since 2 am.  We went to the game store I play DnD at to play Magic the Gathering.  She beat me.  Then we went to Applebee’s where I ate her french fries because I can’t really eat out at places.

After we paid (and I paid the tip), we’re getting ready to go and one of the waitresses gives me a number and goes “so-and-so wanted you to have this”.  If my skin tone allowed me to blush, I would have blushed.  I was sitting there thinking “but, I already have Sweet Pea’s number, I don’t want this.  I don’t know the protocol for this.  Oh my gods, what do I do.”  Sweet Pea was quiet and I ended up just rambling for a minute because that had never happened to me.  So, we left and went out to her car.

And Sweet Pea said “you know why I said that was awkward” and I said “because who just randomly gives out phone numbers?”  Then she confessed that she liked me and stuff.  She was jealous that someone else was hitting on me and I find that endearing.  She was worried I was going to call the person, apparently, and set up a date.  I don’t think we can ever go to that Applebee’s again because I ended up tossing the number and I have no idea the polite rejection for that situation, but thanks random lady, you got me set up with a pretty woman.

We held hands and talked for a few more hours and then I gave her an awkward kiss when she dropped me off.

Then Yesterday was Thanksgiving.  Oh man, was that fun.  I had to clean to make it presentable for her.  I showed her how I do my testosterone injection because she has to do an estrogen injection and I helped her with her injection.  She passed out because she bled a bit and she can’t handle blood.  It freaked us both out.

I made us a small lunch while she recovered in my bed and I forced her to follow hypoglycemia protocol.  A glass of juice for quick raise, a fruit for a bit of prolonged raise, some cheese as a protein for a sustained raised blood sugar.  Ideally, I would have had nuts or jerky or something for her, but we don’t have nuts or jerky.  If you substitute the cheese for a bite of soy nut butter, that’s what I do if my blood sugar drops and I am about to pass out or have already passed out once.

I made us dinner.  I made her a cornish hen, which made me almost cry when I was making it.  I made mashed potatoes that came out too salty, homemade stuffing, vegan gravy, and rolls.  It wasn’t the best spread, but neither of us are eating much and I realized yesterday in talking to her that I normally eat less than 1,000 calories a day right now.  More on that later.

We ended up watching a few different movies together last night and she did stay the night.  My mum doesn’t know she’s gay.  We kissed and cuddled and I don’t mind her touching my breasts but I freaked a bit when she tried to touch my crotch through my pants, so that’s probably something I should work on.  I like that I can be open to her about my gender stuff and my masturbation habits and sex stuff and just everything because she’s not a judgemental person.  I like that about her.

So, we did have sex and we did make out a lot.  Well, I gave her oral.  I like giving oral.  I kept my pants on because, like I said, I shut down any attempts to touch my downstairs bits.  Honestly, I don’t know what sort of reservations I have about that besides just the normal body image issues I have.  It’s something I may have to bring up in therapy.

This post is nearly 1,500 words already, so I’ll try to keep the rest quick.  I’m going over to her place tomorrow night.  I’m looking forward to spending more time with her because I don’t mind the physical contact with her.  She smells nice.

For non Sweet Pea related stuff, I saw Charon on Monday, we talked about Sweet Pea and how I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.  As I was leaving, I mentioned that my eating disorder was acting up again and I was just letting all my providers know as a heads up.  She probably wants to work on that.  I do not.  Although, Sweet Pea and I wear the same size and she seems smaller than me (although I’m thrown off when we cuddle and I’m not engulfing her in my fat and it fucks with me and messes with my perception and how much space I take in the world).

I saw the physical therapist person on Tuesday to get my orthotic insoles.  I could barely tolerate sitting with them, let alone stand or walk.  When I did stand, I could only stand on one leg and I couldn’t bring myself to put the other one down because it felt wrong.  It felt like it stopped halfway up the balls of my feet and it felt wrong and made me want to cry.  Everyone was hyping me up for these things and saying how great they were and how much they would help and I can’t even stand them.  They set me off.  It was a very disappointing experience.  It’s made even worse because I used my new shoes to try them in and even though we switched the insoles back, I haven’t been able to wear those shoes again because they feel contaminated and wrong.  I’ve tossed out shit for far less reasonable reasons.

On a brighter note, I finally absolutely decided on a name that I’m not telling you guys because of privacy reasons.  I already mostly filled out the paperwork.  I’m unsure if I need 2 people who have known me for 2 years or more to go with me when I file.

I’m going to bed soon.  Thank you for reading.  Have a wonderful night or whatever time of day it is where you are.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Is This Dysphoria?

Okay, so I’ve been in a lot of pain again today, but I figured I might as well come on and give a real report since I don’t think I’ve done that in a few days and I know I have a couple of comments to reply to.

Pain sucks.  I just want to say that straight off the bat.  I try not to judge anyone for their pain experiences because it’s a very subjective thing.  That said, I’m having a lot of issues with a few of my friends right now.  Not because they’ve done anything wrong, they’re wonderful people, it’s just that… they can say things thoughtless things sometimes.  One of them, a few weeks ago, was complaining to me about menstrual cramps.  For real, I think cramps suck, no matter what kind of cramp.  I have been diagnosed with whatever the fancy doctor term for ‘super bad, debilitating cramps and heavy bleeding because the gods hate this person’ is.  I’ve had really bad charlie horses.  I get migraines.  I prefer migraines over this pain.

Anyway, this friend was venting about cramps and bleeding, because it fucking sucks, even if it’s just ‘normal’ menses shit.  But then she says that she sometimes wishes she was infertile so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.  Again, I love this friend, she is very near and dear to me, but that was just one of the most ignorant things she has ever said.  Infertile/sterile/barren people can still get periods, first of all.  Second of all, she probably just forgot, but even if I was a straight, cisgender woman, the likelihood of me being able to have my own biological offspring is next to impossible.  Yeah, the thought of a baby growing inside freaks me out like it’s from some Lovecraftian Eldritch Horror dimension, but I still kind of think it was a thoughtless thing to say.  It hurt my feelings.

To explain why it bothers me, I should say it’s probably an issue about choice.  On one hand, it’s my choice to not have children.  I love kids, but no freaky parasite thingy for me, thank you.  On the other hand, my body decided on its own to not have kids, without my conscious decision.  So, even if I wanted to have kids, I would have to jump through so many hoops and even then, it would be very unlikely.  I don’t have a choice in the matter.  It’s also probably a control issue, but that’s neither here nor there right now.  (probably is, since my eating disorder is just barely this side of not completely out of control, but I’m choosing to ignore that).

I get why my friend would say something like that.  I understand.  I’m still upset, especially since I have all this other shit going on now, even though she said that before I saw my gyno and the hysterectomy was looming imminent on the horizon, like a giant nuclear mushroom.

My other friend, whom I also love dearly, said something that just pissed me off.  I was in a chat with her and this other friend of ours and we were all complaining about cramps and pain and I mentioned mine is because endometriosis and PCOS, probably, and she sent a screenshot of an acupressure/acupuncture thing.  Which, cool, she’s just trying to be helpful, I really hope that was for our other friend mostly.  The friend who sent it said it was also for endo and I just logged off because I was about to go on a tirade of how I’ve tried just about everything and if this was a thing that actually worked, I’m pretty sure one of the many doctors I’ve fucking seen already would have mentioned it.

I’m not saying that acupressure/acupuncture don’t work.  I do a few acupressure things to help with headaches, sinus congestion, stuff like that.  It can work, legit, it’s just, this is something I’ve been dealing with for years.  I’m already dealing with a lot of shit trying to get it treated.  I wanted to vent to my friends, not get peddled a ‘fix’.  It felt invalidating.  Instead of just listening, she went “here’s a thing you should try”.  I just wanted “I’m sorry you’re going through this right now.  I’m here for you”.

I know it sounds like I’m complaining and I kinda feel like I’m just being a bitch, and I probably am.  I also have had just a really rough day gender wise.

Let me tell you about that now.

So, I woke up with my cat meowing in my face, because she loves me so much.  (I don’t actually know why she was meowing in my face, just that she was.  I’m pretending it’s because she loves me.)  Got dressed.  Immediately felt fat.

And that’s when I knew it was going to be one of those days, even though I tried to ignore that feeling.

I managed to get through my language studies alright.  Now, something I think you should know is that I tend to wear a bra when I’m just around the house.  Wearing a binder for extended periods of time can mess up your ribs and breathing and shit, so I try to take breaks, especially since I tend to wear my binders for excessively long periods of time.  Like, often 12+ hours excessive.

After I finished studying, I started reading Rethinking Normal, a memoir about a transwoman.  Reading it got me thinking about the Orphan Black episode I saw last night.  In Orphan Black, the premise is basically clones.  One of the clones is a transman.  So you have this one actress playing all these clones, including this trans clone, and as I was watching it, I got a sudden panic that that was how people saw me, some chick playing at being a guy.  Reading Rethinking Normal set off that panic again, that people saw me play-acting, especially since I’m non-binary.

It also gave me huge issues with my boobs again and the panic wouldn’t subside until I put on a binder.  I feel better having changed, but now I feel worse.  I kind of relate to Katie Rain Hill, who the memoir is about, at the same time, I have been having a lot of thoughts about transitioning in general, more-so now that the very real possibility of having to get a hysterectomy is out there.

Getting a hysterectomy means getting a surgery.  I don’t know if I want to go ahead and remove my one remaining ovary yet.  If I don’t, that means I have to get another surgery down the road.  If I do, that means hormones, whether that be T-Juice or estrogen stuff.  If I had to choose, I would rather be stuck fully taking a lot of testosterone compared to ever having to go back on estrogen/birth control stuff.  To me, the mental aspects just aren’t worth it.  Besides, I kinda consider my T-Juice to be my anti-depressant now.  It doesn’t make me suicidal or depressed or moody like the birth control did.

A hysterectomy, with or without an oophorectomy, also means I could gain weight.  There’s medications out there that are guaranteed to help me that I refuse to take because of the weight gain.  If I was even 10 pounds less than what I am now, I would be more open, but no.  I don’t want to gain weight.  I refuse.  Which is pretty fucked up if you think about it, because I’m basically saying I would rather be in utter agony than risk gaining weight.

I’ve had thoughts of cutting, drugs, purging, going out and doing excessive exercise even though I know it would cause me a lot of pain…. Honestly, all that just to get my mind off feeling the way I do.  To get myself out of my head for 5 minutes and stop feeling like an imposter and like an ugly fatass with no prospects because I can’t have kids and can barely function, if you call what I do functioning.

I need to take a shower but I’m putting it off because I’m not looking forward to having to wash myself.  I hate my disgusting, fat, ugly body with the boobs and vagina and I honestly just want a penis sometimes.  Although, I would probably hate that too.

-The Sarcastic Autist