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  1. Kham


    The last few days I have felt like my brain is attacking me. My body feels distant, it's like I'm floating when I walk. Been indulging in sh, which is not good, but it really brings me back and puts my feet on the ground. It also brings a welcome sense of calm. I should eat more. I know it's a warning sign when I forget to eat or just can't be bothered to make it happen. Especially because when I'm me, I love food 😉 I'm not sure what else to add, but felt I should use something as a sounding board. I don't really feel real right now, and haven't for the past day or so. I don't know what to do to feel better, but I'm not sure it scares me so much as I know I should be scared. Rather, I mostly feel numb and tired. But yesterday I spent plenty of time crying, so I know something is still there. Yesterday, I was pretty scared I was going crazy.
  2. Kham


    So I'm going to leave the last post up, I guess. It was actually the third one I wrote, but I deleted the previous two out of fear and anxiety. I've only ever had one good therapist, and in fact she was amazing. I told her some things that happened to me, but it was always highly sanitized. And she was great because she knew I was holding plenty back, but she let me go at my own pace and never tried to force me to discuss things I didn't want to. And whenever I got overwhelmed, she let me change the subject so I didn't walk out "a mess," as she said. I never cried in front of her, though there were numerous times I thought I might. So I held onto my man card, lol. But she seemed to believe in the cliche that it's our secrets that make us sick. I don't know if that's true, but I do know they can be very heavy. For me, the csa is a main one I still hold - even when friends have disclosed their own experiences, I have never taken those opportunities to reciprocate my own. I have, however, been more forthcoming with people in my life about the physical abuse, I guess because it's a more masculine thing to suffer. The csa, because it was done my a male, threatens all sorts of aspects of my sexuality and gender identity - aspects with which I already struggle. So I fear that letting this out of the bag would make everything else obvious as well. I only told my therapist that "something" more than physical abuse happened - though without offering any details - in my very last session, almost as a parting gift. I certainly never told her about the dysphoria.
  3. It sounds like you have been through so much. You seem strong for having made it through what you have, and I admire that you continue to be there for your children. You have the ability to tell the stories you want about your brother now - since he's not here you're the keeper of his memory. Sending you warm thoughts.
  4. Kham

    Something else

    I've been using this site for a week or so now. It has felt really liberating. There's something great about saying things I hold onto that are true, but that I don't think anyone in my life should hear. Like the csa or physical abuse, it's something I want to express, to feel heard or validated I guess, but that I don't want to burden the people I love with. So, in that spirit, I'll use this platform to express something else that I've harbored forever. I have had gender dysphoria for as long as I can remember, since I was 4. Sometimes it has been really severe, and sometimes less. I have never liked being a man, it doesn't fit, it's a mistake and I would give anything if I could roll the dice again and start over in the right body. As a child I fantasized about magic or new scientific procedures that, like a trick, could change me into a girl. On those occasions I've considered suicide, I've often dreamed about what it might be like if I could just end this round and restart again, but the way I was supposed to. I feel weird when people say my name. It makes me very uncomfortable when other men call me a "dude" or "man." There's always a delay where I make the connection between their words and the fact that they are talking about me. Then there's the disappointment. I feel constantly disconnected from the person I see on my personal documents, applications for jobs, forms I fill out, my signature, everything that uses that name and face. My body is like a costume I can't take off. One would think you would get used to it, but I haven't. It's like the effects of the abuse, that you might think at some point would become so normal you just get acclimated - but you never do. It's like a constant surprise. Like I have the emotional memory of a fish. So there it is. I think I did an ok job articulating it. If someone is reading this, this the first time I have ever put this to words. I have never told anyone - not therapists, not girlfriends, not my family, not my friends. And as it stands, I feel like I'm far enough in that all I have to do is convince myself to keep going a little longer. It's just a few more decades. My dad died at 60: I can do three decades if I live as long as he did. Most of the men in my family don't make it much further anyway. Plus, the alternative hardly seems like a way out - from what I gather, it's just more hardship - except in that case, I would force everyone else to hurt alongside me. No one asked me to be this way, and I feel that it might be unjust to put anyone else through it.
  5. Kham


    Hi, new to the site.
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