cw: top surgery, dysphoria, animal death
The most miraculous thing happened the other day.
I called the surgeon to schedule my surgery, praying that I could have it before I leave for Canada in five weeks. This window of time is the last chance I could possibly have the surgery and feel alright, pretty well recovered. I expected them to say they book out a month at least, scheduling a major surgery so soon is impossible, right? Actually, the soonest booking they could do was something like May 5th, which still gave two weeks time to recover, BUT….
I got EXTREMELY lucky. Apparently there was a cancellation and I got booked for NEXT MONDAY. When I heard the nurse say that, I got this spike of fear like, oh christ am I really ready for a surgery that soon? But I still said ‘I’ll take it’ without a trace of hesitation. It’s apparently more normal to book surgery something like 2 weeks in advance, but no, six fucking days. It’s already been two. I really feel scared because it feels like I’m being sucked into this so fast. I’ve already filled out all the paperwork. Researching what recovery is going to be like is scary, but when I think about my chest, I feel so much resolve crashing in me. I have this strong voice in my head saying, I will do whatever it takes.
I haven’t been sleeping well these past three days. I thought maybe once the surgery was scheduled I’d be able to sleep better at night, but it’s just gotten worse. It’s very fragmented, I’m going to bed hours before I normally would because I’m tired, but I can’t fall asleep, or I wake up a few hours after. I’ve been trying so hard not to shut away my emotions and let myself be scared. My therapist told me visualizing myself going through the process, the surgery, the slow healing, the results, is actually very healthy, so I’m trying my best to do that.
And I do it often. I think about the fact that this is the last bra I will ever have to buy. I know I got this blog recently, but for people reading this who don’t know me in real life: I have a size JJ cup breasts. I cannot bind and pass at all. I am overweight, yes, but a large part of that is because my breasts prevent me from exercising because of the amount of back pain I experience. In fact, I’ve been trying to get a breast reduction before I knew I was trans, a total of three years trying to deal with this bullshit. Even before I knew, I complained about how I “would just rather not have breasts at all. If I could have it my way, I would have them completely removed.” That was before I knew I was trans. Soon after puberty I have suffered constant back pain and limitations to what I can do physically. I cannot go without my bra for long because my back starts cramping and I suffer awful back spasms every once in a while. My bras cost anywhere from 80 – 120 USD and the only way to get them is by ordering online. Men would stare at my breasts, too, and it was humiliating to be so sexualized in any fitted clothing, resorting to baggy clothing was my only option.
On top of that, I have never felt comfortable in my skin. I have repressed the amount of dysphoria I feel from my breasts for so many years, never realizing why I felt so disgusting all the time, so exposed. Not having breasts feels unbelievably right to me and when I stare into the mirror at my naked self, I constantly picture what I’d look like. I didn’t think that getting top surgery was possible so soon, I thought I had to suffer longer, to prove that I was actually trans (I’ve only been out for a year and identified as trans for 2), just, something. Surgery seemed so far off, so imaginary to me, that I feel like I’m crash coursing into it right now! It feels like I’m dreaming. It doesn’t help that my parents are so stressed out from their work and from the current living situations (too many people in the house) that they aren’t really… happy for me at all. They’re just worried and irritated with my enthusiasm. I can’t blame them, but I’m thankful for my friends who have showered me in congratulations and good luck.
I’m wracked with nervousness. My cat is being euthanized tomorrow as well, which gives me so much goddamn emotional pain that I’ve been opting to ignore for now. I know tomorrow, Friday the 21st, is going to be one of the worst days of my life, and I am going to cry my guts out. I don’t have a lot of hesitation about that either, I think I am making the right decision about her. Ava’s emotional suffering will end and I will never worry about whether or not she is happy. I will let my emotions come to me and feel them to the best of my ability. I hope she knows how much I love her. It being so close to the surgery is not ideal, but, I’ll manage somehow.
My therapist said, “it will hurt like the dickens, but you’ll live on,” and I believe her. I believe I can carry myself through this hard fucking time. I have to, if I’m going to go anywhere in my life, I need to. “You are one of the bravest people I know, for doing this, and for transitioning, being who you are. You are so brave.”
“I am so proud of you for doing this,” Connie keeps telling me. What I would give to see them these next few days. I would give both breasts, actually.
I am praying that this goes smoothly. I don’t care what fucking deity or life force is out there, please let this go okay. I need this to go okay in order to live my life happily. I’ll keep this blog updated, no matter what happens.
I still have to talk to my parents about watering my vegetables… they’ve gotten so big. It’s like they’re reminding me that all things have a right to grow.