Thailand is now just a wistful memory and I am now back home, or should I say, at home in a friend's home (thanks!). Spending time overseas is, with the right mindset, a pleasant break from reality. New sights, new people, new cultures and new experiences keep me occupied and even the difficulties in communicating can be an interesting challenge rather than an arduous problem. Assuming I saved and brought enough money, then money is, for a short sweet time, not a precious resource that needs to be closely monitored and agonised over where it would be best spent. Maybe it's the wonderful staff and service, but paying the hotel bill doesn't feel the same as paying the mortgage or paying rent. For that short time there is no need to worry about the daily grind, looking for or managing a job or career. But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end and the thump back to reality is somewhat jarring.
Sitting here, after enduring yet another dilation session, I wonder if it's time to take stock of where I'm at and post my initial thoughts concerning my recent surgery. Perhaps the best time to think is not after these two aforementioned distressing events, but I've learnt that there is no time like the present and if I were to postpone writing my thoughts, I would never write them. If that sounds ominous, it's only because it is. Bluntly, I'm hoping things get better than the way they are now.
That's not to say that I regret having my surgery and am depressed about it, it's just that it's really been a rather large anti climax. Maybe I had unrealistic expectations or maybe I was just desperate to share in some of the overwhelming joy that I felt from reading and hearing other girl's stories. Feelings of rebirth, tears of joy seeing themselves for the first time in the mirror, a whole life changing experience. I'm used to walling up my emotions as a defence mechanism for survival and I wonder if I've totally lost touch with some of them because I felt none of that. To be honest, I don't feel like it is a defining moment that marks my move into womanhood; that moment is still the day I decided to that I would be me and walked down the street presenting as female for the first time in my life. My operation really just felt ho hum and in some ways, even more ominously, as though I've traded one set of problems for another.
Walking through the crowd in my dress, the wind billowing half of it like a sail with the other half pulling tightly against my skin, a round bump showed my not yet flat tummy. That was the only bump I had to worry about now and that felt good. In fact, having all my clothes now fit downstairs as they were designed is an uplifting experience. I'm still iffy about the fit upstairs but I'm trying to wait until everything has healed before becoming too worried about that. Unfortunately, the coldness of winter prevents any real display of beachwear but perhaps that's a blessing in disguise since I will be fully healed come bikini season and I'm looking forward to it. How I will feel after being able to use the women's change rooms and showers at the pool or gym is still a mystery as I'm in no shape to partake in any exercise right now and that includes sex-ercise...
Healing has taken a lot longer than I expected and the level of pain downstairs much higher. I was always an odd one out, but I didn't expect that to apply after surgery too. Unlike everyone else I know, the pain and discomfort upstairs was present but not a huge drama while the pain downstairs is definitely greater and is the only reason for my consumption of pain killers. My continuing ambivalence towards dilation isn't helping. I had read about and tried to prepare myself for the fact that dilation would be uncomfortable but I guess I didn't truly understand it until I experienced it. Whilst I was prepared for the physical discomfort, I was not prepared for how emotionally draining it would be. Tonight, it was all too much and, once again, it made me cry. Forcing this object inside me, clenching my teeth in discomfort whilst simultaneously trying to relax to reduce the pain, I almost felt like I was raping myself. It was a disturbing thought and hopefully rape is something I will never have to experience.
I think it will be a long time before I let anyone near my downstairs renovations. My body is wincing just thinking about it. Apart from the previously mentioned pains, it still feels mixed up. It sounds so obvious, but it feels exactly as though my penis has been chopped up with different parts sewn in different places. I'm not sure why I would have expected differently, but for some reason I thought that everything would have felt more natural instead of mixed up. Sensitivity is definitely present, but again, it's the sensitivity of the pain and discomfort of something that has been rearranged rather than any sexual pleasure.
This is why I'm definitely hoping that things will get better. I'm sure that there will be well meaning souls who would like to reassure me that things will but, strangely, I'd like to ask that you not tell me that. If my hopes are built up again for another anti-climax, I'm really not sure how I would cope.
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