• she/her

30+-year-old queer plural autistic therian transbian, married to @Princess-Flufflebutt.


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ReAd mY bOoK


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I don't dream very often, but there's one dream I still remember from a few years ago.

Someone was missing. Not someone I knew, but someone I felt I had to find, because I didn't want them to be lost and alone. I traveled to a giant castle to look for them there.

The castle was dark, vast, and empty. Its rooms were labyrinthine. I don't know how long I spent looking through the castle, but I know it was long enough that I wouldn't be able to find my way back out. I may very well have gone below the earth's surface at some point during my search.

Then, all of a sudden, I'm not sure how, but I had a vision that showed me where the lost person was located: They were safe back at home. Somehow, I had missed this fact. But they were peaceful and happy, and they were never in any danger.

And now I had gotten myself lost in the very castle I was trying to rescue them from, because I was trying to rescue them from it. And they had no idea who I was, and would never come looking for me. No one would. And it was too late for me to ever find them. I was stuck alone in this castle for the rest of my life.

Then I woke up, and I cried.


It's hard for me to imagine how a cis person would ever fully comprehend what it means to be trans, and in particular, to be trans and not realize it until late in life.

For such a long time, I knew there was some kind of disconnect between me and everyone else in my life. But I had no idea what it was, and no amount of talking through things with other people ever really seemed to bring me closer to an answer.

But still I sought out an answer, because human beings are social creatures. I needed to be close to someone, and I didn't feel close to anyone, and I couldn't figure out how to get there. So... I went into overdrive, trying to figure out what was wrong. I had to try to find answers to questions when I didn't even know what the questions were, just to not feel like an alien around people who are supposedly just like me.

When communicating with anyone, I always had to put in more effort to make a connection than the other person did.

And that's not how relationships are supposed to work.

Any relationship advisor will tell you this isn't how relationships are supposed to work. If you have to give more than the other person does, then that's an unbalanced relationship. It can lead to resentment on the part of the person who's giving more than they get. It can lead to frustration on the part of the person who gets more than they give, for not understanding why the other person acts like the relationship is such a struggle. There remains a gap in communication and experience between the two people. If nothing else, it's just not fair, to either of you.

It's not how relationships are supposed to work, and yet, it was the only kind of relationship available to me.

I didn't know what my problem was, but I knew I had a problem. And I was doing my best, basically all the time, doing loads of introspection and careful examination of everything I thought other people were thinking and feeling, trying to understand it all, trying to figure out whatever was this thing that was keeping me seperate from them.

Work I knew no one else was doing, or had to do, because things already made sense to them. Things I could never fairly ask anyone else to do, or know how to ask them to do it even if it was fair.

So, it's already bad enough when just one relationship is unbalanced like that, right?

What happens when it's what all your relationships have been like, for thirty years?

At this point, it goes beyond a mistake you're making in the present time, with a single person. Now, any relationship you can enter into, you are already entering into it with decades' worth of intense consideration and thought, decades of previous experience that is now hard-coded into your system, that the other person could never hope to match, not without living their entire life over again.

It doesn't matter how conscious you are of how much effort you're actively putting into the relationship now. You have already invested more of your past life into making this relationship work than the other person has, before you ever even knew who this person was.

And you can't change it without living your whole life over again, either.


I know what the issue was now. Well, one issue among many. But that one issue sure was a huge part of it. Whatever remains, it's coming to me a lot more easily now that I do understand that one thing.

A lot has been said about dysphoria and how it can impact a person's self-image, and even their ability to interact with other people. But I don't think I've seen anyone else comment on this specific aspect of it, this giant backend of overly-intense emotional social investment that makes all of your future relationships unbalanced like this.

Dysphoria, too, is instinctual on some level and can be hard to eliminate. But views and attitudes are easier to change than learned knowledge and experience. You can't unlearn things. You can't remove effort you already put into something.

So I don't think anyone's really going to understand, maybe even other trans people who have been through similar things. I don't think anyone's going to understand the weight we're always going to carry, and how much that weight makes everything worse; not just for ourselves, but for anyone we ever interact with.

Still, ever since I realized I'm part of the queer community, too, it's been easier for me to find relationships that feel more balanced to me. Since now I know I'm not the only one who's put too much effort into relationships. We all have. And we're also still struggling to figure out how not to put in so much effort.

I'm still stuck in the castle. I really do think it's too late for me to get back out. But I guess I finally stumbled into the other crews who got lost exploring it for their own reasons, and at least we can share stories about the different places we've been.

And to all the people safe back at home, I suppose we're just hypothetical, mythological dwellers of an abandoned landmark that's too ominous to approach.

Filled with people who are still trying to find them.


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