Self Hatred

unnamedThis is me. This is a reflection of me in a dead monitor screen on the table next to me, while I sit on the stool at my stand up desk. (I do stand most of the time, but I’m sitting for lunch).

As some of you who read my blog know I’ve been…not really struggling with the idea of being transgender, but more…curious and mildly confused about it.  I’ve seen a lot of YouTube videos and read a lot of blogs from transgender men about how they feel, about their gender dysphoria, about a lot of things.

Today after talking with a transgender person I finally managed to grasp and understand what gender dysphoria feels like—not because I’ve felt it, well not exactly—but because I can relate to it.

As they describe the feelings to me, the way they felt when they looked in the mirror at the female body they were born with, I looked to the side and saw this in the blank screen. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to take a machete to my own backside. I wanted to dive out the 2-story window to the pavement below. I wanted to scream. I hate myself. I hate myself more than I have ever hated any one or any thing ever.

This is what their gender dysphoria is like. This hatred and disgust for their own body. I feel that, but unlike them my hatred isn’t because my body is female instead of male (at least not at the moment) but because of that picture above.  The fact that I have spent the past month or so completely devouring all the videos, blogs, articles and info I could find on transgender does make me wonder if there might be gender dysphoria buried underneath, but unable to be felt due to the sheer overwhelming conflagration that is my self hatred.

Since speaking with the therapist two weeks ago, when she told me that all the transgender people she’s worked with have struggled with their gender identity since puberty or before, I’ve been debating with myself whether I am transgender or not.  Today, looking at my reflection, feeling the disgust and hatred blaze up within me like a raging inferno, I came to the bitter conclusion that I simply can’t know. Not yet. Not until I fix this.

Not until I lose weight will I be able to find out if there is any transgender or gender dysphoria feelings within me. Not until I can overcome this obstacle and finally put out the blaze of self hatred for being overweight will I even be able to consider any other issues I have with my body and appearance.

I may lose weight and discover that I do have sexual attraction for people, that I’m not asexual, but that my self hatred and total lack of any self respect, self love, or self esteem just buried any attraction or desires beneath a mountain of burning refuse.  I may lose weight and discover that I am perfectly happy being a woman, and perfectly comfortable with my lady bits.  Or I may discover that even with a body which doesn’t disgust me with rolls of fat and an ass you could balance a coffee cup on that I am still unhappy, I am still uncomfortable in my own skin.

But I won’t, and I can’t, know that until I reach that weight loss goal. Until the things that make me hate myself for my weight go away. Things like not being able to buy clothes in most department and clothing stores because they don’t stock sizes above a 26. Things like constantly being choked to death by seat belts because fucking car manufacturers make them lock if they are pulled out too far, and too far just happens to be what is required to wrap around my massive girth. Things like constantly feeling the sides of chairs in the office, in movie theaters, in my grandparent’s house for dinner, digging into my thighs so painfully I want to cry. Like not being able to fit in the driver’s seat of most any car that isn’t an SUV because either the steering wheel cuts into my stomach or the sporty bucket seats cut into my ass.

Until those things go away, until I can look in the mirror at the overall shape of my body and not want to immediately go puke up all the food I’ve eaten that week, I won’t be able to come to an understanding about myself in any other regard. I won’t be able to fully understand if I’m transgender, if I’m asexual, if I’m shy and introverted even, until a point when my entire existence isn’t burning in a constant hellfire of self hatred.

Sadly, at (max) 2 pounds a week it will be 2 years or more before I reach that point.

I hope I can survive the journey.

Sometimes I’m not sure.


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