So I was supposed to meet my gender therapist next week, but they cancelled my meeting on me and delayed it to the 13th of August.

Problem is I'm down to 24 E pills and I'm supposed to take 3 a day. If I cut down to one pill a day I can feasibly make it to the checkup while still on E (with 2 pills to spare).

My concern is if I cut down my intake by a 1/3 of my usual dosage, will I experience any dysphoria inducing symptoms or reversal of effects of E due to lesser intakes ? BC rn the doc said I have the hormonal levels of a Cis woman so I'm afraid I'll lose that if I reduce the dose.

I’m not alright. My self-esteem and self-worth are in the toilet, I’m slowly growing resentful of other people for not being as miserable as me, and being stuck in the closet is driving me insane. I’m overall pretty hopeless for my future and don’t see myself getting better. But I must do a pretty good job at hiding all that because no one in my life seems to notice. My family never brings up anything like that and my only friend, who’s one of the few people I’ve come out to and have hinted to that I’m not doing great (I didn’t want to randomly dump/vent a bunch of stuff to them when we’d see each other) hasn’t even said hi in months. I feel I’ve pretty noticeably dropped off in messaging, partially due to isolating because of the things I mentioned up top, but also to give them a hint that I’m really not doing great. Hoping maybe they’d notice a negative change in my behaviour and decide to step in out of concern which like, feels like what you should do in a friendship. But nope. It’s been months now and… nothing. This along with some other things is honestly making me question if I should even remain friends at this point. But then at that point I’d be alone because I can’t make friends with anyone new. It’s a lose/lose situation.

All of this is making me think about the fact that I can’t remember the last time, if it’s even happened at all, that someone really asked me if I was doing okay. Not in a like, exchanging pleasantries way, but genuinely asking because they cared. I know it’s like, yeah I could always try and reach out myself or whatever, but that’s kinda hard to do when my brain is screaming at me to isolate, and when I’m ALWAYS the one to have to initiate, it’s exhausting and demoralizing and like, does anyone actually care? If I wait for them for once, will they actually step up, and evidently no one will.

Idk it’s just like, I already hate myself and feel incredibly alone and could also probably vent about like, at least five different things that are only making my bad feelings worse. I guess it’s just be nice to know that someone cared enough to actually see how I’m doing and make an effort to be there for me in some way so I knew I wasn’t alone in all this. But I apparently I am. I’m not worth the effort I guess, and honestly I’m inclined to believe it. I probably deserve it and shouldn’t get my hopes up for anything better.

Hey all you lovely people it’s me Eggwantingtocrack. Your favorite cosmic joke of a person, chronically ill, depressed, touch starved, abused trans girl. I’m sorry for any grammar or spelling errors. :3

Another week has passed, rather lonely, as this week saw a major increase in my pain. Forced to deal with the verbal, emotional, and physical abuse that comes with being at home. I’m sad to report that every situation has gotten worse as this week has really tested my resolve. I recede into my own mind to escape the force of reality. Thinking of it as extremely nostalgia biased memories of the past, hoping that they can give me the solace I need to keep going another day.

I’ve been in so much pain this week. I spent nearly half an hour lying on the bed of rocks next to a train track as the pain overwhelmed me while I was working. Days like these, I cursed the gods for my suffering. For my absolute physical ability to control or even to dampen the pain. Something like this must be from the cosmos or a curse to propagate my own suffering. Many nights by lying and rolling back and forth from pain, I push for anything to stop the pain. In the cruelest part of this joke, I do not know the punchline too is that not even medication and painkillers may ease the pain. As only the most addictive of substances would even slightly reduce my pain.

The worst part is I didn’t have to be this way. I’ve been told that when I was just in the womb, my parents had the option to screen for genetic illnesses so they could decide if they wanted to keep the child or stop its needless suffering. They never did that test. I think about it a lot. Even if they were 100% sure they wanted to keep me, they could’ve still identified early the many illnesses they suffer from today. They could’ve prevented years worth of self-doubt over why I wasn’t as good as my brother and the others my age. They had the money, but like most things in my life, they’d rather not waste the money on it.

I haven't had any progress on escaping, as I need to tiptoe around the situation to not raise suspicion. I’m hoping next week I can covertly work on obtaining my medical files, as the request link is tied to my parents. Things seem so slow, especially with how I’ve been in so much pain. 

It’s been over two weeks since I’ve seen any of my friends face-to-face. It’s been five months since the last time I was conceptually touched. I wish I took out these things, but years of abuse have made me not take it for granted. I love my friends more than anything in the world. They are all they have to rely on. They are all people that I can truly say really care about me. The thing about friends is they have lives of their own. And that’s where family is supposed to fill in, and well, my family didn't. That has left me in a weird state of limbo, as the time in which my family is supposed to occupy this instead is empty; they take me in a depressive stupor. I'm really lonely, and I need some love. I feel pathetic, as this just makes me feel. I don’t deserve any of that love. I have a hard time believing I deserve to live, let alone to be loved. Years of self doubt, manipulation, and degradation have left me a pathetic husk of a human. All I wanted was to be loved and cared for; as a child, I couldn’t have gotten even one of them. I hope something after I die that made me a singular atom of my body finds its place apart from something that receives the need love and care that it deserves.

I am 6 foot 1 inch twink covered in scars with the self-esteem of Eeyore the donkey and self-worth that is immeasurably low. I wish for every moment for these four things: to be loved, to escape, to be a girl, and not be in pain. I’ve never dated, nor have I ever had a partner. I have been the victim of two attempted rapes. I don’t know if I can ever be loved. I wish with all my heart that I could. That's who I am, a dreamer that wishes for freedom and love. 

I want to rip at my skin sometimes, and the dysphoria of my scar covered body overwhelms me. I wish for love, but yet I can't love myself. I can't love my body. I see it as a gross misrepresentation of who I am, not a reflection. My reflection is a reminder I can't bear to behold. I find the suffering rather difficult to sustain. HRT seems so far away as I'm trapped in this accursed reality. I wish nothing more than to just be me. 
If you have any advice it would be greatly appreciated. This is genuinely the most stressful moment of my life and any tip or suggestions would go a long way. Thank you all for all that you do.

Thank you for commenting. It means the world to me. I love you all and hope you have a wonderful day. Please love each other because I may not be here someday. :3

Love Egg (The dying crippled trans girl)

today was pretty much uneventful as I'm really tired from going to an event that involved cycling. It's strange how when I am dressed up and fem my brain stopped bothering me about the questioning aside from the occasional I'm just a feminine boy thought. I guess I'm fluid (for now) as there is this weird layer between me and connecting to femininity. Clothing and the how I act is one way but I feel like I'm missing something idk. In retrospect it's strange that would I need to repress myself if I were a feminine boy since dressing up to look like a girl is not really a requirement.

Due to personal reasons I'm gonna be pretty much alone for the rest of July so I thought might as well go spend time with like minded people, if not to mingle then to at least not be alone.

Problem is my usual go to is so far away that by closing time getting back home is hell.

So if anyone's got a good place to share in the 92 (preferably in Nanterre) please let me know.

I’ll never actually be a girl. No matter if I transition or not, even if I am trans. The thought that I could do anything as a woman is kind of a scary thought and it also makes me not wanna be trans. Like I feel like I’m just invading women’s spaces. Like even if I fully transition I’m so stuck as a guy that I don’t know if I could use the women’s restroom. I’d feel so weird shopping for girls clothes because I’m stuck with a guy brain. I’ll never be a girl no matter what I do. Why the fuck was I cursed to be a guy? The worst part is I catch myself sometimes thinking that being a guy wouldn’t be so bad so that has to invalidate everything about me. Like I’m not actually trans or a girl. I’m just a weird fucking guy.

I’m 20 and I haven’t started my transition yet, partially because I don’t even know what I am. I do feel like I want to be a woman, I really want to be treated as a woman, look like a woman and perform femininity, I’ve felt gender euphoria when doing typically “girly” things, but I also feel completely detached and dissociated from almost every experience/opinion I see online from other trans people.

1- Most trans people I’ve seen say they’ve known they were trans (even if not knowing the terminology) as soon as maybe 3 years old, most often between 6 and 12. I’ve only started questioning myself at 16 (I knew what a trans person was before that). Before that I sort of knew something was wrong, because I never really got along that well with other boys, felt much more comfortable around girls and doing things associated with girls, and liked seeing them perform femininity more than I liked seeing any boy perform masculinity. It was a weird curiosity that I didn’t understand why it happened. Only at 16 is that I realized that it might be because I’m trans, because I want to perform that femininity as well. But then, why did I realize that so late? Why not as a kid like many other trans people?

2- I’ve also seen the phrase “you shouldn’t transition to get acceptance from other people, you should transition so you become happy with yourself” (and variations). My problem is that I’m desperate for validation, ever since I was a child. I feel like I’m completely worthless if people around me don’t like me. This is a problem I’ve been discussing in therapy, but it still affects me. It got into my head and now I feel like I’m not a real trans person because I feel like I will only accept myself as a woman if the people around me do too. If people around me keep treating me as man even after transitioning, I’ll feel like a man. If people don’t say I’m pretty, I’ll never feel pretty. I can’t be “happy with myself” if I don’t get the acceptance from others. The question is: do I feel this because I’m not actually trans, or is this an issue not related to me being trans, but just bleeds into it like it does with everything else? It happens with everything in my life, not just things related to me being trans, that’s why I’m doubtful.

All this culminates into worsening my depression and mood in general. I don’t feel like a real person. I feel like a sick experiment made by a higher being to see me suffer. I just wish I was sure I was either cis or trans. But no, I’m stuck being afraid of transitioning (because of some of the irreversible effects), while also feeling miserable because I want to be perceived as a woman by people around me.

at this point I'm

| || || |_

${name} ❌

John Doe ✅

Candice 🔥

asfdsfdgsdsgdshgdfshfdfddhf really tired gonna shutdown in boymode just to push myself to the limits. Still haven't triggered a panic attack from today's overload.

Hey all you lovely people, it’s me Eggwantingtocrack. Your favorite cosmic joke of a person, a chronically ill, depressed, touch-starved, abused trans girl. I’m sorry for any grammar or spelling errors. Sorry it’s going to be very long. Probably my longest ever. TLDR included:3 

As I long for the past, I realize that the past I remember is but an illusion made by rose-tinted glasses. The real good times were very few and far between, and what I thought were good memories take on whole new deeply disturbing meanings. I cry at anything that reminds me of my childhood, as I know I’ll never get it back. Years of my life ruined and destroyed. As all the other years were filled with social isolation and doctor's appointments. But yet I still yearn for it back. Before I realized I was being molested. Before I knew of my body's degradation. Before I had everything taken away.

Physical Pain:
Writing these posts will be a big challenge, as it’s very hard to truly encompass my feelings and experiences in words. There’s so much I want to say, but I don't have the literary know-how to express it. It’s hardest to describe the pain I go through because it’s me equating other things to express the physical form that I’m going through. As we all don’t share the same experiences, it’s impossible to truly explain fully the pain I feel. Yet every week I try to put words to the experiences I have. Giving you all a window into my life, or rather, my sad excuse for one.

"Grief" and "despair" are words. I seldom use, but I feel they are the perfect words to describe my current physical state. I am a 6 ft 1 in twink whose body is literally tearing apart. My ligaments and connective tissue are so weak I’m not able to maintain any form of muscle. Because of this weakness of ligaments, my back is perpetually in pain. Every waking second I feel a ripping and tearing pain throughout my body. To get back to the point. I find myself going through the stages of grief every few weeks. Grieving the decline of my physical health and ability. Feeling a pit of despair as I face the harsh realities of my current predicament. The crushing feeling that, despite all the hard work, I’ll do. I’ll never be equivalent to my peers.

I always tried to hide my disabilities, as I knew that if people knew about it, they could take advantage of it. My brother was one of those people. Being the lucky son of a bitch, he has got all the good genetics in my family and took full advantage of them. He knew that he had superior strength and physical ability. He used that fact as the BASIS for me being the equivalent to a human punching bag for him. Countless amounts of times he would attack me with brutal force. I tried to defend myself, but 99 times out of 100 I got overpowered. He would usually use his superior size to overwhelm and corner me. Nearly every time these fights would happen after he felt that he had properly attacked me. I would go crying in my bruised and bloody state to my parents, but my crying never really worked. Their punishments for him were nonexistent, and many times the fact that I fought back was used as a reason for the both of us to be punished. The majority of times my parents (my mother) would believe my brother that I was making it all up. You think that the bruises would be more than enough evidence, but alas, it was not. 

Over the years, my brother's attacks evolved. This mainly was caused by the inconceivably stupid idea to enroll both my brother and me into martial arts classes. Now think about that for a second with the context that my brother has anger issues and took them out on me. My parent had me and “A FUCKING CHILD WITH ANGER ISSUES LEARNS MARTIAL ARTS!" My brother went from bludgeoning to precise kicks and punches. I did also get the training but was never as good as he was, like everything in life. Then after a while it evolved to what it is now: a focus on choking me and using his weight to pin me. (That's how they managed to pin me down and violate me.) On multiple occasions I nearly fully passed out from lack of air due to his actions.

Mental Pain:
Going from physical to psychological pain, I’d like to clarify, as some of you asked about the surgeries I was forced into. There were 4 surgeries. 3 were on my forehead, which has resulted in a circle-indent-shaped scar. I try to hide them the best I can by always wearing a hat. It looks worse because I also have severe acne scarring as well. The scars lower my self-esteem to the negatives. The 4th surgery was another pain-management surgery that didn’t work, just not on my head. The second, third, & fourth surgeries were done despite my protest and rejection. They did force me to do these surgeries by driving me there and forcing me to sign or just forging my name. 

For all your information, this is the same place I nearly had the operation on my back that would have possibly paralyzed me. I’ve mentioned in a previous post that my parents forged my name and lied to the doctor. They had planned to have an operation done on my back that I repeatedly refused due to the high likelihood of failure and major complications. I only figured it out the day before the pre-operation checkup a few weeks before the surgery. I had to threaten to expose their forging and lying for them to stop. 

Depression sucks. I take antidepressants, but it’s too small a dose. Every time I tried to get a larger dose, my parents blew it out of proportion and took me to my psychiatrist. This psychiatrist would agree with anything they said and told me that I could pray my problems away. So I have to be under-medicated for clinical depression. :3 Yay, just what I need even less help with my depression.

Despair is a horrible state that I find myself in time and time again. My problems, big and small, only worsen as life continues. I have to face all my problems while feeling helpless to broader issues in modern life. I have to suffer so much pain while rich pedophiles are only getting richer and never facing consequences. My problems seem insignificant in the face of depravity. Yet I still despair over my suffering. The never-ending mental, physical, and verbal abuse is a backdrop to my rather bleak belief in the future. 

Escaping: 
I’m really sorry I can’t give you all a good update in regard to escaping. Nothing really has changed. My mom is still incredibly creepy and gross to me. No luck finding any information about my 529 account. I’ve just had to put my head down for the time being and work. Dealing with my mom's bipolar-esque mood shifts to the best of my abilities. (Note: My mom is undiagnosed but heavily implied to have severe OCD.)

I’m pretty hard on myself when it comes to everything. It probably comes from how I was never good enough for my parents and therefore myself. Since I was young, they had very high expectations of me, as they were very successful in their own fields. They had expectations for sports and academics that, if not met, would usually result in disappointment and backhanded encouragement. In contrast, my brother would be praised for his excellence and encouraged consistently. After a while I inadvertently mentally reinforced that anything I did was never good enough. Granted, my own actions and accomplishments really reinforced it, like my very average SAT score and GPA. 

I've never been good at anything. And anytime I would find something that I was potentially good at, I would be discouraged or ridiculed for my interest. All this has led me to have a very, very low sense of self-worth and self-esteem. “I always could be better.” “Why try if I’m just going to fail?" “A failure that is never good enough.” 

Not being loved for such a long time sucks. Knowing that all the affection you remember as a child was either manipulation or was just fake. I just want to feel loved. I need to cry in somebody’s arms and feel safe. I want to be somebody’s good girl. I want to make up for all the times I was never loved. I wish to live out my lesbian dreams before I die. Because I just don’t want to die alone. Before my life ends I want to experience true love & compassion. 

I want to be a girl so bad. I know people both say that they have one just because I say so, but my stupid brain has an impossible time trying to accept that. Every day I regret ever coming out to my parents because it made things so much worse. All my parents have done with it is just act incredibly creepy towards me and threaten to out me to my brother and members of my small town. I never get to act how I want, so I always feel fake. Being stuck with them has just made the dysphoria so much worse. I hate my body. It just makes me want to tear off my skin. I feel so trapped by my situation, stuck in the home with a family that doesn’t love me, in the body that I hate, as somebody that I am not. I want to be accepted as who I am. I want to be pretty. I want to be loved. 

Being touch starved for me is weird. I desperately need a hug and to be loved. But I also am scared of people touching and hurting me. Maybe it’s from years of physical attacks by my brother. Or maybe it’s trauma from being molested. Most likely it’s both. I really need a hug or just physical contact to feel grounded and not alone. It’s been literal months since I have been touched consensually.

(TLDR) 
My body is in constant excruciating pain with no feasible end. I reflect on my younger brother's physical/sexual attacks. I continue to struggle to mentally deal with my fucked up childhood. My depression is worsening due to the current state of the world combined with my situation. I’m really mentally and physically broken right now, as no progress regarding leaving my parents has been made. Dysphoria is mentally kicking my ass. Life just keeps getting worse.

If you have any advice, it would be greatly appreciated. This is genuinely the most stressful moment of my life, and any tip or suggestions would go a long way. Thank you all for all that you do.

Thank you for commenting. It means the world to me. I love you all and hope you have a wonderful day. Please love each other because I may not be here someday. :3

Love Egg (The dying crippled trans girl)

I mean there is a tag for it, so maybe it is pretty common but anyway:
I, as soon as I came across the concept of trans people, was sure I was trans. I mean I always new that if it was possible I would have wanted to transition. For some reason I thought that was literally impossible, and that crossdressing/femboying was the only option. But than I found out about HRT and my whole world changed. Now, the reason I made this post is because I’m concerned about *why* I new I was trans. A lot of people always have this denial and doubt until they actually try and feel better or are stuck with the doubt for a very long time. Im 17 btw, and I was sure since like, 10~12, and found out about trans people at 16. The reason I was and am sure i was and am trans is that every time I get gender envy, it’s not just a pang, it makes me want to kill myself in that very instant, it is insufferable. And it happens a lot, everyday. Now, the promise of estrogen when I’ll turn 18 (my parents won’t let me have it so I’ll wait until I can legally decide on my own), is what has kept me alive all this time (I did almost jump of my balcony once at like 11 or 12, but was stopped by one of my parents walking in, and then I never tried it again). Is this a common trans experience, or is this an extreme case of gender envy? Maybe it is but not as such a young age, having suicidal thoughts and attempting suicide as a middle schooler? Please let me know :3

P.S.: I’ve written a piece of poetry on this matter and I’ve posted it on this very sub a few days ago, so it is something I have been thinking about a lot recently.