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  1. Hi so I identify as FTM but for awhile I thought I may have been confused because I didn't have dysphoria but I realize now that I definitely have gender euphoria and am almost certain I have social dysphoria and at this point I'm just looking to find out more information to put words to the strange feelings I've had my entire life. Have any of you guys experienced social dysphoria? What was it like for you guys? For me it was things growing up. Okay take me in a dress. I hated picking it out, I never liked the process, I never enjoyed it, and always felt strange. But I put it on and I could almost enjoy it. I looked beautiful, I looked the way I knew I "should." I felt good but it was like I was playing a part . I felt like I was drifting through the night.. Almost detached like I was watching myself be something I couldn't recognize or something? It was like, yeah I had fun...acting. It was a good time tho! Kind of thing. I'm referring to an 8th grade dance, when I felt like this. I don't know... I just whenever someone calls me he or my preferred name a Trevor I feel awoken. I know no one is qualified to tell me for sure but would this be social dysphoria in a way? What is your guys ' definition? I just need some feedback n explanation to this feeling because it's been there (the "acting" thing) since puberty... Thank you for your time and for reading this. Anything will help! -Trevor
  2. As i lean back waiting on my sisters to finish their ten hour salon session listening to the chirps of crickets and feeling anxious about what i thought to be a dead roach not being on the floor where i last saw it right now, i can only think one thing. What a weird -censored- day. Today started actually okay. I woke up early and felt fresh, i mean i didnt get up straight away but baby steps y'know. I eventually had my typical fatherly instinct of having a deep fear burned within me as i realized my pet beetle might be drowning its it's centimeter dish of water or worse, stuck on it's back! She wasnt, she was fine but i felt good to know i managed to keep this weird little girl alive for so long. After staring at her teraniam for a moment i decided to clean up the mess which was desperately trying to bind inappropriately at twelve am where i, and i do not advise you to try, : had bruising and extreme hardships breathing after thirty seconds, used a pair of short shorts to wrap around my chest. You see my hypothesis was that jeans are kinda stretchy so i supposed i'd breathe fine and kind of have a cute binder. After sobbing in my bed ands talking to myself while gasping for a good hour it became apparent that no, jeans are not good binder material. Back to today though we went to the store, i felt okay ish leaving out. I was wearing a hoodie but my hair and my voice were kinda -censored- up my vibes but whats a guy to do about that. I shopped around joking about and having fun with my siblings before returning home and realizing. "-expletive- the neighborhood block party is today!" Im not the best at parties. Not good at socializing or starting topics or seeming interesting but having been isolates in my ten by eleven room for three years with the occasional hang out with my parents i decides to play social roulette because odds were it was better than that room. Besides, i had a game plan this time! I lassoed up my pet beetle and plopped it on my shoulder figuring "hell yea this'll be a conversation starter". And she was, she met many children and adults that day and i happily explained what she was and ate and her terraniam. It was a fun experience as i attempted to become a more patient human trying to stop this beetle from falling and taking deep breaths as i let young children interupt my doodle time and sketch and wrinkle my note book pages. However while squating there watching my doodles get destroyed and breaking only a small sweat i felt like a cool older teen brother. A brother you'd look back at fondly but not too fondly. Not along the lines of "gosh he was great, i love him!" More along the lines of "He was a -censored- idiot but at least he wasnt a dickhead." . This made me smile as i realized how wonderfully average and lame of a dad i was gonna be at some point. Delightful! As i was thinking this by chance the father of the two children scribbling in my book came to great me with an open hand thanking me for putting up with them. I greated him back and he asked about my art and boy oh boy how confused i was. He doesnt seem like a bad guy but its a work for fame kinda feel to it. Like he wants some art but doesnt want to pay but then again he isnt asking for anything new just a piece of art to throw up on his wall at an air bmb. After completely destroying the conversation making it as awkward as a middle age dad trapped in the body of a 14 year old girl body could be i excused myself thanking him and promising to get into contact with him at some point. I made it home and great. Post fun depression. I tried talking it off with my brother but that only went so far as i began to try watching videos to distract myself which ultimately led to me in the bathroom looking myself down with hatred. What a dumb voice i have , i dont look masculine and what a -censored- moron i was at that party. It was a moment where the real me felt far too out of reach. Yea right sure you'll leave and study herpetology in germany and be a father or you'll just end up some washed up piece of -crap-. I smashed my chest trying to bulk up and look better almost breaking down and thinking about choking myself again until the pain went away when i did something stupidly simple. I stuffed my bed head into my cap and only let a small tuff out and all of a sudden something clicked. It was like looking future me in the face. I strutted around a bit a smile creeping up my face as the very slight shadow of a mustache on my face allowed me to sort of see what future me would look like. I could picture myself hanging with a bunch of pals at my dorm in germany probably drinking one beer in the corner anxiously as they got -crap- faced and i wondered how much water and asprin is needed to cure a hangover but while id be a loser i was the real me. I could see myself sitting shirtless with a backwards cap and boxer briefs listening as they hooted and hollared and i was happy to be there. I coukd imagine showing off black throat monitors and burmese pythons to many curious passer by's with a smile and i could even imagine dancing and having jam sessions with my son. It's the little moments like those that really keep me pushing. The possibility of these dreams one day being a reality make sometimes dark thoughts dissapear and make life just the teeniest bit more worth living. Sure it'll be a long road and meine deutch ist nicht toll or meine deutch ist toll nicht or nicht toll is- you get the point alright and getting testosterone and dealing with bigotry and spite and college and all that wonderful -crap- will be hard but if that means having the job and family i want and finally being me, then thats worth it. For now ill just ignore those chest demons and pack my boxer briefs because i know at some point i wont need to do any of this anymore and at some point i'll allways be happy to look in the mirror.
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