Thank you Erika
Most days, it's easy enough for me to forget about how out of place I felt the first time I became aware of my genitals. As I get older, it gets easier to brush past the feelings that kick up when I see the little curls of hair down my stomach, the dick that seems to have stolen a parking spot reserved for something else. Easy enough to abstract gender as a conversation I've had a hundred times, and to not dwell in the lived experience of...well..
I cried tonight. I watched porn, and I cried. It was beautiful, and it brought me crashing into the barely buried tried-to-be-forgotten truth I've had since that day when I was 12, staring in the mirror. Nothing changes. Surgery and therapy are still more money than I can justify. There's some good gender fucking work to be done with the social stealth that comes from wearing this man-suit. It feels good to remember the power of living the truth though, to let that be painful and impossible and mine.
Thank you. Please don't stop what you're on about. You're handing out golden keys with clear vision and it's working.