Dysphoria’s A Bitch

I think I’ve stated this earlier in my blog, but I rarely get dysphoria. I just have a deep intuition that I shouldn’t have been born female and that I cannot picture myself living out the duration of my years being perceived as one. However, on those off days where I do experience dysphoria, it’s usually bottom dysphoria. Whenever I am hit with a wave of dysphoria, it’s usually prolonged and due to my own arousal (many times I can surpass it, but at times, like today, it’s nagging at me).

Whenever I watch porn for a duration of time (I tend to view porn a few times a week for entertainment and will sometimes will use it for its intended purpose), I find myself becoming dysphoric and developing penis envry for the males in the porn. I don’t watch professional videos, but more homemade, solo stuff, which makes it even worse on me at times. I will watch the male pleasure himself (or have intercourse with his partner) and find a deep anger and longing form inside me. I desire to have a functional manhood between my legs; not a phallus from surgery, but one that I should’ve been born with. I find myself growing sad at the reality that I will not, in this life, have a functional penis like that of a cisgender male. I know I will be able to have a phallus that looks like I was born with one, but I will never be able to have an erection on my own or ejaculate like that of a cisgender male and my orgasm (if I retain the ability to do so after surgery) will never be quite like that of my cisgender male companions.

It’s times like this that I find myself wondering what’s the point of transitioning when I know I will never be a “real man”. I know it could be worse, and that I could’ve been born in a time where transitioning was much more dangerous and options for gender affirming surgery was limited. Still, a part of me is sad at what I cannot have. At times like this where I wish I could wake up one morning with the genitals of a male (no matter how small they may be). I’d be more than happy to deal with my chest, with the binding and irritating of pulling a binder on and off. Chests can be fixed much easier than the genital region. I’m tired, which isn’t helping my dysphoria at all.

I’m happy that my dysphoria is scarce and doesn’t occur often, but when it does, I feel hopeless, like none of my efforts will be worth anything. I feel as though I’m missing a part of me, a part that would make me happy and more confident. I suppose it’s time I learn to cope with my dysphoria, especially since I know it will probably become more frequent and intense when I begin HRT eventually.

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