Acceptance. It was my yearly theme. The thing I knew I had to work on this year. There are problems in my life, things I can’t change, they prevent me living a life I wish I had. I am alive and I have happiness in this life but with this happiness is always frustration at my inability to make things better. So this year I resolved to leave that frustration behind. There are still problems that I have to deal with as and when they come up, little things I need to work on but that’s fine. It’s the things I can’t change that hurt the most.
So much of growing up as a cis boy is to do with the myth of the heroic knight slaying monsters. Goodies defeating baddies. There is something ironic about a nation of boys with daddy issues growing up watching stories about heroes with Daddy issues. At university I wrote that TV raised me and my lecturers could not fathom what it meant. My parents weren’t neglectful about the physical stuff, not generally, but everything I learned that made me I learned from TV.
This is why I think it has been so hard for me to realize the extent of the complexity of the world. I grew up on narratives about heroes and villains. About monsters and victims. I grew up a victim of bullying and abuse therefore I could not be culpable of bad acts and did not have to examine myself because I had to be in the right as others had hurt me. That’s why I had that anti-feminist phase at university. The feminists hurt my feelings therefore I was the victim and they were the bullies, therefore all feminism was bad. The possibility that good people could do bad or stupid things, that bad people could have elements of decency or even that individuals could be complex and not so easily defined or predicted wasn’t within me.
Oh I thought it was. I thought I understood. I knew to be careful about not being violent myself in school. I said pointedly that I judge actions, not people, back before the shattered facebook group disintegrated. I thought I was so smart. When that group disintegrated I was scarred because how it broke apart left me irrevocably confronted with the fact that people are not so easily predictable. I felt hurt and betrayed by people who acted out against me for reasons they clearly thought were just and how things spiralled from then outside my control leaving me with no place to go. Someone had to be the bad guy and over the last few years I have oscillated back and forth because if I’m the bad guy then surely I should be dead. That is what happens to bad guys in fiction. Or they were oversensitive and cruel traitors in which case they were the bad guy so fuck what they think.
I was so convinced I was the victim after school and then I got bullied in college and university, nazis stalked me online and my own father gave me nightmares. I defined myself as the man who is moral in the face of abuse. I could not be wrong. I could not have acted immorally. I still don’t think that - knowing what I did then - that I acted immorally. Yet I demonstrably made the wrong decisions as enough people left me that they were presumably negatively affected and considered my actions immoral. They don’t write stories about the heroes offending people because of their ignorance online. I had no frame work for how to deal with this.
In a way this situation is typical of the problems I faced. A complex mess where I was hurt but I had no idea of how to proceed. My very apologising led my nazi stalkers to target the victim of my terrible writing. What little action I could do made things worse. I am still apologising to the air years later because of the negative consequences my writing caused. There is something bitterly, horrifically, ironic about how an incident where people accused me of being transphobic has led me to literally be anxious and afraid of trans and non-binary people. The person I wrote a 50k fanfic to I now avoid for fear of the memories and regret.
The reason I actually wrote a magic potion to make the body fit how you perceived yourself was because around the time I wrote that fanfic I had been diagnosed with Kallman’s Syndrome and had just been beginning treatment. I am a cis man with tits who needs regular painful testosterone injections. I have been misgendered and I know how deeply that cuts. I also have what the medical community has helpfully termed a micropenis. It’s like they named it for maximum stigma. I would gladly drink a potion made from shit, piss, vomit and jizz if it meant my body looked like it’s supposed to and worked like it’s supposed to.
I actually looked into penis enlargement and with current technology and medical experience you basically have to choose: Do you want a functional dick that feels everything or do you want a pretty, normal sized dick? So I’m sticking with what nature gave me.
I am not trans or non-binary (probably) but I have been misgendered and I do experience what I think is dysphoria. My experience is different. I wasn’t assigned the wrong gender at birth. I was assigned the right gender, my pituitary gland just didn’t work right so my body got confused and decided to present me with a feminine physique. The testosterone injections have massively helped course correct things but they can’t fix everything and I am still left with the mental scars.
Then there is the economic issue. So many of us are trained to think of disability in big simple obvious ways. Can you get up the stairs or can’t you? Can you walk? Can you physically do stuff? The thing I have realized is that my autism and low energy from Growth Hormone Deficiency (Another problem due to a bust pituitary gland.) have left me intellectually able to do some stuff but not psychologically able to do other stuff. It seems counter intuitive. I went to college and university. I clearly can do intellectual work to some degree. The problem is that college and university want to accommodate you ability to get the work done. Jobs aren’t. I just cannot compete in the current work environment because I can’t do phone calls, I can’t stick to schedules and I suck at bureaucracy and social skills. These are things I cannot do due to my disabilities. I am thus stuck on Universal Credit, unable to claim disability pay, unable to get a job.
If you have read any of these paragraphs and are thinking to yourself “Yes but what if...” then understand that such questions have been plaguing me for years. This is my life now. It may be fragile and it may be temporary but this is it and I think as the year draws to a close that I am accepting it at last and finding peace.
So much of growing up as a cis boy is to do with the myth of the heroic knight slaying monsters. Goodies defeating baddies. There is something ironic about a nation of boys with daddy issues growing up watching stories about heroes with Daddy issues. At university I wrote that TV raised me and my lecturers could not fathom what it meant. My parents weren’t neglectful about the physical stuff, not generally, but everything I learned that made me I learned from TV.
This is why I think it has been so hard for me to realize the extent of the complexity of the world. I grew up on narratives about heroes and villains. About monsters and victims. I grew up a victim of bullying and abuse therefore I could not be culpable of bad acts and did not have to examine myself because I had to be in the right as others had hurt me. That’s why I had that anti-feminist phase at university. The feminists hurt my feelings therefore I was the victim and they were the bullies, therefore all feminism was bad. The possibility that good people could do bad or stupid things, that bad people could have elements of decency or even that individuals could be complex and not so easily defined or predicted wasn’t within me.
Oh I thought it was. I thought I understood. I knew to be careful about not being violent myself in school. I said pointedly that I judge actions, not people, back before the shattered facebook group disintegrated. I thought I was so smart. When that group disintegrated I was scarred because how it broke apart left me irrevocably confronted with the fact that people are not so easily predictable. I felt hurt and betrayed by people who acted out against me for reasons they clearly thought were just and how things spiralled from then outside my control leaving me with no place to go. Someone had to be the bad guy and over the last few years I have oscillated back and forth because if I’m the bad guy then surely I should be dead. That is what happens to bad guys in fiction. Or they were oversensitive and cruel traitors in which case they were the bad guy so fuck what they think.
I was so convinced I was the victim after school and then I got bullied in college and university, nazis stalked me online and my own father gave me nightmares. I defined myself as the man who is moral in the face of abuse. I could not be wrong. I could not have acted immorally. I still don’t think that - knowing what I did then - that I acted immorally. Yet I demonstrably made the wrong decisions as enough people left me that they were presumably negatively affected and considered my actions immoral. They don’t write stories about the heroes offending people because of their ignorance online. I had no frame work for how to deal with this.
In a way this situation is typical of the problems I faced. A complex mess where I was hurt but I had no idea of how to proceed. My very apologising led my nazi stalkers to target the victim of my terrible writing. What little action I could do made things worse. I am still apologising to the air years later because of the negative consequences my writing caused. There is something bitterly, horrifically, ironic about how an incident where people accused me of being transphobic has led me to literally be anxious and afraid of trans and non-binary people. The person I wrote a 50k fanfic to I now avoid for fear of the memories and regret.
The reason I actually wrote a magic potion to make the body fit how you perceived yourself was because around the time I wrote that fanfic I had been diagnosed with Kallman’s Syndrome and had just been beginning treatment. I am a cis man with tits who needs regular painful testosterone injections. I have been misgendered and I know how deeply that cuts. I also have what the medical community has helpfully termed a micropenis. It’s like they named it for maximum stigma. I would gladly drink a potion made from shit, piss, vomit and jizz if it meant my body looked like it’s supposed to and worked like it’s supposed to.
I actually looked into penis enlargement and with current technology and medical experience you basically have to choose: Do you want a functional dick that feels everything or do you want a pretty, normal sized dick? So I’m sticking with what nature gave me.
I am not trans or non-binary (probably) but I have been misgendered and I do experience what I think is dysphoria. My experience is different. I wasn’t assigned the wrong gender at birth. I was assigned the right gender, my pituitary gland just didn’t work right so my body got confused and decided to present me with a feminine physique. The testosterone injections have massively helped course correct things but they can’t fix everything and I am still left with the mental scars.
Then there is the economic issue. So many of us are trained to think of disability in big simple obvious ways. Can you get up the stairs or can’t you? Can you walk? Can you physically do stuff? The thing I have realized is that my autism and low energy from Growth Hormone Deficiency (Another problem due to a bust pituitary gland.) have left me intellectually able to do some stuff but not psychologically able to do other stuff. It seems counter intuitive. I went to college and university. I clearly can do intellectual work to some degree. The problem is that college and university want to accommodate you ability to get the work done. Jobs aren’t. I just cannot compete in the current work environment because I can’t do phone calls, I can’t stick to schedules and I suck at bureaucracy and social skills. These are things I cannot do due to my disabilities. I am thus stuck on Universal Credit, unable to claim disability pay, unable to get a job.
If you have read any of these paragraphs and are thinking to yourself “Yes but what if...” then understand that such questions have been plaguing me for years. This is my life now. It may be fragile and it may be temporary but this is it and I think as the year draws to a close that I am accepting it at last and finding peace.
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