I got hormones after a 10-minute assessment. I got a top surgery letter after a few hours of therapy. I take responsibility for my choices, but I was unwell when I made them. I'll always wish that my healthcare providers had helped me instead of enabling my self harm
Feels really wretched to look back at all the credentialed professionals who could have bothered to look into your issues, seen the red flags, and just didn't care enough to do it. But that's life. People aren't always looking out for your best interests
Went back and talked to my hormone provider about it. She just didn't really feel like it was her job.
Asked her if she followed WPATH standards of care.
Enthusiastic nod.
"Why didn't you have me do WPATH's mental health assessments?"
"Well, they're more like guidelines"
Look. We're maximizing for ease of access, not for screening people for mental health issues. That is the US model. And I know a lot of people want that. But the stakes are just so incredibly high. The current model puts all the responsibility on the patient. Is that fair?
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I’ve been in the detrans world for a while. It’s bloomed and grown, unfortunately, as more people are hurt by trans medicine and seek new understand of themselves. I’ve seen the good and bad, a patchwork of human suffering and resilience. 1/?
I’ve had relationships that are way too intense. A stranger is suddenly on the phone with me, feral with regret and grief over her mastectomy. She begs me for some words that will make it better. I can’t. I only tell her it gets easier to bear. 2/?
She is not satisfied, but it’s something. Eventually we can’t talk anymore. There’s nothing we can offer each other but sad mirrors of each other’s worst regret. 3/?
when i first detransitioned, i was sure i had ruined my life. it was a scary, bleak feeling that i thought would never end. so i bought yarn for this blanket and told myself "finish this blanket first, then see how you feel"
when the blanket was done, i did feel a little better. not totally - i was still a mess. the identity crisis, medical fiasco, and subsequent total disintegration of my worldview was far from resolved - but i could see a little light. the blanket reminded me things can change.
some mistakes can't be undone. but i had to keep going. obsession and regret turned inward was a never-ending pit. i took great comfort in tactile, physical things. bake the rosemary bread. take the walk. knit the 76th boring square of the stupid giant blanket.