Dysphoria

I don’t like heights. And I don’t like my body sometimes. There is a general rule of thumb that I’ve discovered the hard way, and that is ‘don’t look down’. I live by this sometimes. When you’re hearts throbbing in your ears and your chest, when you feel you face flush and you armpits and palms suddenly become slick with cold sweat and your very quickly shaking, you’re stomachs churning, you get a fight or flight feeling deep within your core and your brain but you can’t move; you can’t run and you can’t escape because your legs won’t work and you don’t want to fall. That’s what it’s like when you’re on a high ledge, trying not to look down. And that’s what it’s like when your body doesn’t fit your mind. It’s hard to explain, and it’s hard to shake off.

People assume its madness to think your head can be different to your body, most people see gender as something which cannot be moved; it cannot be altered or debated and pondered upon. This is what I imagine it feels like to be transgender; to have you head not match you physically, but my situation, while entirely the same is also entirely different. See, I began as physically female for the most part. I matured early, and once puberty set in I began to notice how incredibly different my body was, or at least, was and is still becoming. It runs deeper than ‘disliking’ your body, like, assuming that you are ugly, not being able to face the mirror etc...This is an entirely different experience altogether.

 I don’t hate mirrors or photographs. On the contrary, I am entirely the opposite of that most of the time. I find mirrors and photographs fascinating. It’s rare, you see, that I am able to see myself entirely. I see certain traits of myself. This is a hard concept for most people to grasp, so I beg you to open your mind right now. All I can do is try to explain this, but when I look in the mirror I see things that are a part of me and things that aren’t, or at least, things that are missing or things that should be there depending on my mood. I can’t control this; when I feel male or female.

All I know is that some days I notice the curve of my hips and chest, the fullness of my lips, the long length of my eyelashes, the softness of my skin and blush in my cheeks. I notice how thick my hair is and how easily I smile, how I swivel my hips when I walk. Other times, though, I notice how broad my shoulders are, how large my hands and feet are. I see how angular my face is and how thin my lips can appear, how square my hairline is and how thick my eyebrows can be, how deep my voice is, and how masculine I walk. It depends on how I’m feeling and what I’m wearing. Other times though, I can look at myself and see a blend of characteristics: I think that my eyes and frame are big and beautiful, but my face shape and walk is typically male for example. I’m fine with that too; I just dress somewhat androgynously on those days. I never really mind if people call me he or she as I don’t know what I am myself, and don’t want to restrict myself to one or the other, so I’m perfectly comfortable with whatever label I am given.