Femmotional @Gaynebula@girlcock.club

I don't fucking want to be cute anymore. I don't want that.

My whole body aches and screams out, my head is a bed of needles.

I need hrt, so I can escape this fucking chemistry and find some answers. I can't see through the fog.

All the while I'm having to navigate how everyone perceives, interacts with, *uses* me, being asked by my world to do the impossible and simultaneously switch off the traumatic hypervigilance, while keeping rationally vigilant.

These never usually wrap up, let alone this quickly 😂

I wish I didn't have such a depressing takeaway but I'm glad it didn't take 900 years of digging at every nuance and facet to find that out. I barely had the energy for this, let alone some mind blowing sprawling revelations about xyz.

So... there we are. That's why.

Complex trauma has broken and/or deprived a part of my brain responsible for feelings of homeness, belonging, grounding and related 'down to earth' feelings.

This dissociative trance is a coping mechanism for my brain freaking out about 'home' not feeling like home. What's supposed to be personal being impersonal has caused something like a phantom mental limb- I'm desperately flailing that part of my mind and wondering why nothing responds.

I've never really been able to connect with an area. I was either too young or it was too nightmarish in some way.

Yorkshire has shown hints of that but never really fully been that for me, even as I sing its praises.

There's a certain fundamental warmth and grounding you're supposed to get from 'home' and that I used to get. I've not had it in easily over 6 years and I'm worried I'll never feel it again.

As I'm searching through the images, I feel a strange yearning for the places on screen. Places I've never seen, full of people I've never met, whose names I likely won't even remember in an hour or two. I feel homesick for places I've never been, and it likely ties back to how I've never really been able to call anywhere home+how that's influenced trauma.

I can end up semi-trancelike doing this for hours, and the snap back to reality is abrupt.

I find myself doing this weird thing when I'm dissociating where...

I look up the world's capitals on Google maps, drifting aimlessly between them all, thinking... I could've been born there. Or there. Or there.

But no. I was born here and ended up back here.

And for some reason, the fact that there's no answer as to 'why' is really messing up my brain.

I value this article deeply. Reading it properly for the first time has framed an aspect of my complex trauma correctly in a way I wasn't capable of doing on my own. Please, especially if you're an isolated and persecuted trans girl, every second of this is excruciating but vital reading.

https://thenewinquiry.com/hot-allostatic-load/

Potentially the cutest selfie I've ever taken

My mum has blackmailed her way back into my life and I want to tear my hair out. This hurts so fucking much. I genuinely thought this was over when I cut her out a couple of months ago...

20 years, and apparently there's still more. I just want it to be over...

I can still be cute with a beard goddamit 😭

Don't let it go. Not even the 'innocuous' stuff; The catgirls and fetishisation of (normative) youth. The replication of oppressive structures. Lack of boundaries between adults and young people. People with power and influence saying+doing egregious things, expecting to get away with it.

BE. THE. INCONVENIENCE.

Our communities- our world- wrought this. As members of that community, of that world, we can end it. No fucking more. Thank you.

I know rationally, of course, I was being used. I had no agency; I was a teenager being exploited. But my emotions still proclaim my guilt...

This is what we are drowning in. Guilt, agony, anguish, raw pain, loneliness, despair; which leads to spiralling self destruction cycles, complex mental illness, relationship patterns like the ones mentioned in #1... we romanticize the ravagement of an entire human being. It bears indefinite repetition.

He turned up in person, by the way. At this point, leadership wasn't as fucked up as it would become (another story for another time) so he was promptly banned, removed and threatened with police contact should he ever return.

His face haunts me. He never did anything, he never succeeded, and yet it's *his*. Because defeat, guilt and despair scream out from those eyes and ravage my soul.

I did this. I nearly wrought this man upon them...

One man friended every single one of my friends on Facebook during high school. Tried to infiltrate my school, tried to infiltrate my local queer org, via me. I was the focal point for an attempted grooming spree and I'm haunted by the fact I have no idea if he succeeded. On the day it happened, so many people asked me who this man was.

The monsters we let roam consequence free want to drown us and our communities. This is world-destroying.

Kids are dying, and those of us who survive have a hell of a hard time having any kind of a life. Hell, even just baseline survival is hard; I speak now through an empty stomach thanks to self starvation relapse. I have no clue what my lifespan looks like and I live every day assuming tomorrow will be the last. The scale of the trauma is burnt into me deeper and more thoroughly than the sensation of touch itself.

This will never leave me.

People suck up to and promote abusers as a means to gain some of their power, social standing, resources, to emulate and learn from them, to fuck them and so much else. Knowing, seeing, believing and understanding. Doing it anyway.

Stop treating this like it's a side issue, something that either doesn't matter or it's too gauche to ever bring it up. Confront this shit, always. Never, *ever* use your damage as an excuse; kids are dying.