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Warcraft Short Story – Stranded on a river of leaves

 

Other short stories starring Isratael

  • Warcraft Short Story – A letter of a pilgrim – Link
  • Warcraft Short Story – A brother’s Call to Arms – Link
  • Warcraft Short Story – Judgement Day – Link

 

 

Valley of Eternal Blossoms

In the heart of Pandaria, the Valley of Eternal Blossoms is the center of both Mogu and Pandaren culture.
Sealed for millennia, it has reopened its doors to outsiders. Ancient relics and myths of old are found in the ruins of former vaults and golden palace. Mogu Emperors ruled the land of Pandaria while living a luxurious life in the land that was once home of the Jinyu. After the Mogu were driven out, this vale was sealed by the August Celestials and protected by a few chosen Pandaren under the banner of the Golden Lotus.
The rivers that flow in Pandaria originate from its sacred pools. A golden land where the Titans themselves created and experimented with life on Azeroth, much like Un’Goro Crater in Kalimdor and Sholazar Basin in Northrend. Pure, crystal clear, these waters are able to heal and cleanse certain wounds that not even the Light is capable of. A power that has resulted on the demise of this once beautiful landscape by the hands of a tyrant warchief.
Once an eternal blossoming land, a land of sorrow. Yet there is hope, now that the land has been cleansed from the Sha. A vale being rebuilt and healed, blessed by the last emperor of Pandaria.

Isratael, a Draenei pilgrim, was informed of a possible contract. In Dawn’s Blossom, an innkeeper informed her of a human who required her services. Perhaps one that learned of her trading skills. One that was aware that it was her that was involved with the infusion of Arcane into the weapons and ammo that belonged to the warriors of a group known as the Fallen Leaf, which were used to confront a local dispute between the Pandaren and a fractured shadow of what was once a mighty Mogu army.

With the aid of a Jinyu, Isratael was brought to the Valley of Eternal Blossoms. A new bound was celebrated between herself and a group of traders and mercenaries. Yet the shadow cast by Argus made the encounter with the Silver Serpents ever more excruciating than it should.

 

 

Stranded on a river of leaves

 

A landscape that still held scars from a devastating event, the golden landscape yet to fully bloom. The eternal presence of a bigger treat than a mere race war between two kinds of rulers, such was the apathy in general ever embraced by a few that were hired to investigate an already crumbling force of animated stone brutes.
The Pandaren obviously fear their former Slave Masters. The tale of their soul bending shadow magic raising certain curiosity, perhaps providing some distraction from her inner turmoils. Yet one cannot forget the past, nor the dread of one’s single living family member championing a greater legion. Despise being shunned by a single Draenei platoon, it was not Isratael’s desire to suffer yet another personal loss in her life.

 

Amidst a group of mercenaries, she was asked to get involved once again on yet another skirmish against a group of Mogu. Given her verbal contract with the Silver Serpents, they and the Fallen Leaf ventured to the Guo-Lai Halls.
For the Draenei, this task was accepted without any form of grace or true motivation. Coins were never a source of happiness for her, for she still holds a generous amount after centuries of serving as an Evoker in the Genedar. On Draenor, she aided the Artificers as an assistant. Though not an engineer, her Arcane knowledge provided some necessary and quite rewarding experiences. It was with them that she had also perfected her enchantments. With them, she found warmth. A warmth that she dearly misses to this day.

 

Within the Halls, after crossing a series of lethal traps, Isratael marveled the embroidered golden walls on which dust has hardly taken away the magnificence of the architects behind their creation. But her enthusiasm, which had subsided her jaded stare, quickly turned into a louring gasp. Japed by fate once again, a lone demon freely stumbled upon the group while it was assaulting the source of the local Mogu’s desire to protect. Truly a test for Isratael’s patience, which she had failed.

Pointing her staff at the imp, ready to bring the creature back to whatever Imp Mother it crawled out of, she was not in the mood for mercy towards a foul stench without a known master. With no summoner in sight to keep the demon contained and chained to mortals’ desires, with Argus quite near Azeroth, during such a crisis of universal scale with a full threatening demonic invasion. The Draenei was not taking any risks. However, it was one of the Pandaren that averted the demise. The leader of the Fallen Leaf nonetheless! Perplexed by the way the warrior shown some mercy to the lone demon, Isratael had no choice but to recognize that the demon did belonged to someone within their group that wasn’t present. As such, it was of her peers’ interest if the demon was not to be slain.

Of course, hypocrisy is no stranger to even the most serene of races.

 

Once the group was to return to a local village, after a successful campaign, on their way to the outside ruins; a hymn echoed in the walls like a smoothing balm on one’s soul. It taunted the fiend with a melody that it could not endure. A prayer that healed, coming from a Mogu that stood tall in front of the exit. A challenge to one’s preconception that these warmongering brutes dwell with shadow magic, to bend spirits for their own twisted creations.

No, this Mogu chanted and invoked the Light into the Halls. Was it an enemy if it was recovering their wounds? A Human cursed to become a Worgen, provoked by the Scythe of Elune, asked the same question. But instead of clinging to his humanity, he allowed himself to be blinded by his loyalty to his own leader. Against the Draenei’s pled, the Worgen silenced the chanter. And thus the Light ceased to come from an unexpected source.

Surrounded by mercenaries who were wounded and broken, none questioned the action that the cursed human took. No one questioned their leader, who had shown mercy to a foul lonesome demon. Yet, without a thought, without much of a charade to understand the last Mogu that stood and did not fought back.. no compassion was given for the fallen defiant of its own kind. No other.. than the Draenei who stood behind, after scowling the humanoid mercenary worg that felt little remorse for what he had done. Still, with hope that the Mogu could still be saved, the Draenei placed her hand on the mortal wound to bring it back to life. Using the gift bestowed to her people by the Naaru, it was already too late. Even thought the Light reached the wound and closed it, the soul had already departed from the Mogu’s rough body.

 

Mercy for the foul demons, that have enslaved thousands of worlds across the Dark Beyond. Merciless for an insignificant race of brute conquerors that only reside on a single continent on a much wider planet. The priority of a mercenary, where the coin lies. Abstracting one’s consciousness, an individual’s morals are those of a soldier that follows the voice of a dictator. A dictator believes in their own set of morals and laws, the others are expected to follow without questioning. For a mercenary, questioning means to lose a meal or two. To provide less for themselves and maybe for their own family. Selfish in nature, they would bring an end to an innocent’s future if they were paid enough to do so.

A mercenary cannot be trusted. Leaves that float in the air, drifted by the unpredictable wind and falling on the streams of eternal golden bliss that never come to an end; the water cycle on which the river is the journey and the deep blue ocean is the finale that is easily forgotten. The question remains, is Isratael a Lotus in this metaphor?

 

 

The actions that took place within the Guo-Lai Halls were not easily dismissed. This was, after all, one of the first opportunities to cooperate with two distinct groups of traders and mercenaries. The hypocrisy was too much to handle, as much as the unwillingness of her peers to question these events. Reminded by the tales and sorrow that her most memorable acquaintance expressed to her in the Jade Forest, of those who enslaved her people, her actions were based on generosity at first. But after being formally shunned by Mesoora a few weeks beforehand, her goodwill was fading. The looming feeling of loneliness and detachment from those around her, perhaps fogged by the apparent need to accept any group that took interest in her.
Yet, when it was the opportunity for this new group of acquaintances, that she very much desired to be part of in hope that she would had a new lot to call family; to listen to her plead.. they did not listen.

A selfish myopic group. One that she, after a week of isolation within the inn of Mystfall Village, had come to the conclusion that they were not worthy.

 

Her pilgrimage continues.
However, not without leaving a note to the innkeeper of the Mystfall Village, resembling the same level of professionalism on which was used by the Silver Serpent to contact her. With it, she also trusted the innkeeper with two pairs of beautifully crafted cherry-tree wooden chopsticks, that held a familiar large perfectly cut yellow Topaz gem on one of the tips of each stick. Lastly, two black leather bracelets which contain a grey Hematite each.

 

Trusting that the note will be delivered to her former employers, together with the items, it reads:

 

There is a valley where dreamers sleep,

Where flowers bloom and willows weep,

Where loamy earth springs life anew,

And waters sparkle, clear and blue,

Where every hearth brings peaceful ease,

And beauty sings on every breeze.

 

Here the Sacred Pools spring pure

Here, seek any who desire cure

Holy, nature, powers divine,

Turn death to life, death to life.

 

Signed,

Isratael

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Warcraft Short Story – Judgement Day

 

Other short stories starring Isratael

  • Warcraft Short Story – A letter of a pilgrim – Link
  • Warcraft Short Story – A brother’s Call to Arms – Link

 

 

Azure’s Hope Garrison

Somewhere near Azure Watch, in the Azuremist Isles, a Garrison had been built in a former town made for the refugee’s of the Shattering.

The Human made stone walls, held with the lumber from the wildest and unexplored areas of the isles. A certain chemistry between the might of the Alliance and the kindness and protection of the Draenei. A strong bound between those who made the isles their home and the ancient alien race. These few humans, orphans and widows of the Eastern Kingdom, did not return to their homeland. Without a family, they have rooted themselves in their improvised town within the isles. And during the invasion of the Legion upon this world, this small garrison was built by humans to preserve themselves and aid the Draenei in these troublesome times.

The tales of a vessel, a Draenei ship, have been echoed across the isles. The Vindicaar, an instrument of retribution that will provide a path to the destruction of the Burning Legion within Argus itself. Now that Argus has been brought closer to Azeroth than ever, the Draenei and some members of the Alliance are preparing themselves for one last sacrifice for the greater good!

 

Soon, it shall be Azeroth, with their prophetic Army of the Light, who will invade the demonic home planet. For the Draenei, this is more than the destruction of these devils. Argus was, after all, their former home. Most of the Eredar became known as Man’ari, once they sold their own race to the Burning Legion. The Eredar, who did not fall for the whispers of the Dark Titan became known as the Draenei.

Isratael, a traveling Draenei Enchantress and Jewelcrafter, which her pilgrimage had brought her to Pandaria and the Jade Forest; saw Argus being brought closer to Azeroth.

Without knowing what that green fel riddled monstrosity in the skies was, for she was not born in Argus; she could only deduce that it was a planet or illusion created or conquered by the Legion. Fear came to her, knowing that war had just begun and that this current demonic wave was not going to be tamed, despise the number of fiends being contained mostly within the Broken Isles.

Even so, given that emotion controlled her voice and actions, she was the one that contacted her brother this time. With haste, her brother answered the call and brought her to a familiar town. This is where she lived briefly before she began her pilgrimage, aiding the Human refugees. With the assistance of a much more powerful and talented mage, Isratael crossed the portal and arrived to Azure’s Hope.

 

 

Judgement Day

 

Upon arrival, on the other side of the Portal, Isratael was able to travel between continents and opposite hemisphere in a mere step. Once surrounded by Jade and tall trees, within a Pandaren town known as Dawn Blossom; where most of the people were confused, weeping and questioning their sanity upon the discovery of a green flaming celestial body.. now she was within a Human made barracks. A wide room, perhaps too empty. On the wooden walls, shields and weapons adorned the war room.

 

She gazed around her, trying to understand where she was. Soon, she felt a gentle touch upon her shoulderpad. A familiar Draenei, much taller than her and perhaps just as tall as her own brother. Her skin light, a contrast to Isratael’s own dark purple skin. Her hair long, a talented Illusionist that radiated beauty and subtly. Her name was Mesoora, a Draenei that has lived for nearly twenty millennia. An example to many aspiring magicians. A motherly figure to the abandoned orphans, one that grew to love Isratael’s brother and has a soft spot for Isratael herself.

“Good evening, Isratael. It has been a while.” spoke Messora, kindly gesturing Isratael to turn and face her. Unsure if Isratael wanted to be hugged or kissed, she merely smiled in grace. The grand Illusionist appeared calm, despise the celestial body looming in the sky and bringing dread to Azeroth. Perhaps that is what an Illusionist is, someone that knows how to hide, to conceal and to be courteous. That stroke a nerve, Isratael was always skeptical of her brother’s new lover.

“Greetings.. Mesoora.” stared Isratael, her expression still reflecting her confusion and now an envious seed on her heart that bloomed a cynical eye. “Where’s Ytaaru. He.. spoke to me. He answered my call.”

 

Mesoora blinked, a sigh escaped through her turquoise lips. From within her silver embroidered long sleeve, she revealed the very same enchanted aquamarine crystal that Isratael had left behind a few years ago to her family. “I apologize for the deception..”

“Where is he, Mesoora? We haven’t talked since..”

“You never answered his call to arms.” bluntly interrupted Mesoora. She tilted her head upwards, exposing some self perceiving superiority over Isratael. Perhaps, from this Illusionist’s perspective, she was Isratael’s mother. She felt in a position that she could discipline her daughter. Unfortunately for Mesoora, Isratael did not felt such bound. Instead, Mesoora appeared pretentious at best. Snob at worst.

But such emotions were overshadowed by the fact that the Illusionist was right. Isratael never answered the call to arms, given to her when she was in Kharanos, Dun Morogh.

 

On the day that the Legion began their invasion upon Azeroth, Isratael declined her brother’s call to protect their own father in the Azuremyst Isle. A continent away, Isratael remained with the dwarves. To protect Jagda Hammerstone’s family. A gesture to a new friend, to a new bound that meant so much for Isratael. A figure she could learn from, a dwarf widow who adored her family. One that still lives.. unlike Isratael’s father which died two days after the call by the fangs of a felhound.

A funeral Isratael was prohibited to attend, a farewell that was never given to the Draenei that stood next to her when she had lost her own husband. Another crack on her vase, slowly turning into stone. Like venom, dulling the senses and paralyzing our emotions until there is nothing left but a husk of someone which was once kind and filled with life.

Isratael stood silent, blaming herself for choosing to protect the Dwarves rather than her own family. Her tired gaze lowering, not even a murmur came from her side.

 

To break this silence, Mesoora lowered herself to Isratael’s height. A kiss on her forehead, perhaps a sympathetic one. Her fingertips massaged Isratael’s cheek, expecting a tear to roll.  A tear that never arrived. The Illusionist felt intimidated by such, narrowing her vision “Why didn’t you came? Why do you believe that, now with Argus standing in front of Azeroth, to be the opportunity to repair a broken bridge?”

“A-Argus?!” Isratael shouted, surprised by such revelation. She took a few steps back, away from Mesoora’s grasp and embrace. Her hand resting upon her chest, shocked. “How?!”

“I.. don’t know. And it is none of your business! You have abandoned your kind, your family. You.. have grown cold.” Mesoora expressed, perhaps with more sadness carried in her tone than what she had expected. The fact that Isratael did not break into tears just a few moments ago still loomed her judgement. “You.. have no family here. I am all that Ytaaru has.”

Isratael was unable to contain her emotions any longer, feeling the pressure from the judge, from a Draenei that only met her three times in her entire life. “W-Who are you to judge me? You only have been with my brother for nearly two years. Your opinions are worthless compared to the millennia that I’ve spent with him! Where is Ytaaru?!”

 

In anger, the otherwise noble Illusionist throw the enchanted aquamarine crystal to the floor, crushing it to shards with her bare hoof. A sudden swift of mood that surprised even the doubting sister of the vindicator. “Begone! You have made us suffer long enough.. I’ll not allow you to wither the light within Ytaaru with your constant doubts and fears! I wanted to see some humility..”

Under Isratael’s hooves, unknown to her given the volatile nature of Mesoora, the Illusionist was preparing a telemancy spell. She continued to howl, to shame the younger mage “You do not belong in our army. Nothing but a wretched, preying on other people’s emotions and good intentions.. and when you no longer need them, you no longer care.”

 

The enchantress could not speak, for she did not knew what to say. Her eyes were widened, now the tears could be seen. Isratael understood that Mesoora was genuine in her words, vulnerable to the criticism of her own character. Deep down, Isratael doubted herself and began to consider Mesoora’s words. Perhaps.. the illusionist was right. Perhaps Isratael has always been the demon that haunted their family for quite some time. Responsible for the death of her own husband, her father. Maybe the death of her own mother.

Maybe Isratael needed to stay away from Ytaaru. But before Isratael could bring her thoughts to sound, Mesoora already had activated the spell that brought Isratael to the center of the Jade Forest.

“I’m..” Isratael paused, realizing quickly that she was no longer in front of Mesoora.

 

 

Though the Draenei tried to reach for her own aquamarine crystal, the rune bound to the gift to her family had disappeared.  She had lost contact with her family that day, abandoned in Pandaria like an orphan. A widow. An outcast. Broken.. yet the light remained in her.

A pilgrim, alone in a foreign land. Aimlessly, a daring sign in the skies to remind her what she had learned. Yet, the example of the elderly dwarf gave her comfort. Could it be that her place was among those from this world rather than her own kind? Did she still had a family?

 

For some reason, those questions slowly began to no longer matter.

Ytaaru will have the family that he deserves, with Mesoora.. or so Isratael started to believe while she tried to find Dawn’s Blossom once again. And from there, her pilgrimage continued, leading her to a vale that had lost its glory. A new tale being brewed among traders and mercenaries.

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[English and Portuguese] Transitioning – Second Withdrawal Update

 

(Para quem não sabe ler Inglês, a versão em Português encontra-se no final)

  • 1st Month/ 1º Mês – Link
  • 2nd Month/ 2º Mês – Link
  • 3rd Month/ 3º Mês – Link
  • 4th Month/ 4º Mês – Link
  • 5th Month/ 5º Mês – Link
  • Withdrawal Update – Link

 

ENGLISH

 

Good afternoon.

Yes, I used the same featured image from the last time I’ve made one of these updates. But I want to keep it short and direct to the point.

 

I’m aware that plenty of people have been trying to approach me and ask about how things are by messaging me in private and so on. I’ve not answered them, despise their best intentions and I do feel awful about it! But I hope this extremely brief blog post will even things out.

 

 

I did not know what was wrong with my liver until today. The Endocrinologist did not know what was wrong with it, despise exposing my Magnetic Resonance and recent complex blood exam. She wanted the opinion of an Gastroenterologist, since I cannot take any form of medicine with values such as those that I hold at the time I’m writing this.

I had an appointment with a Gastroenterologist on November, with the use of the public healthcare system. But, given that this Endocrinologist accepts the opinion of a Gastroenterologist outside of the public healthcare system, I had this appointment privately today with another doctor.

 

The Magnetic Resonance and Ultrasound were fine, except the single two centimeter stone on my gallbladder that isn’t obstructing anything. The extensive blood exam didn’t reveal any hepatitis or virus or bacteria. As such, according to this private (healthcare) Gastroenterologist, the values were provoked by this specific Testosterone blockers that I was taking (Cyproterone). It is indeed a very powerful steroid based blocker, and this was the result of it. Fortunately, there are other solutions.. which I’ll investigate with my Endocrinologist.

As for the values, they will lower with time. In three months to six months. There’s no medicine that lowers them.. except keeping an healthy diet and not taking any form of medicine in the meantime. There is no danger currently and, in fact, the values did lower by around a sixth after two months. They will continue to lower, without a doubt. There is no danger!

 

 

This is obviously good. I needed good news and some hope! But you may ask how I feel overall.

To keep it short, not well. Things have been going backwards.. I’ve been isolating once again. Though, to be fair, it makes sense and I would prefer to keep it that way until I start my treatment once again. It’s best to avoid contact with people in general than to be wounded by their ignorance.

 

If anything, this withdraw was a reminder. A reminder of how exactly and why did I, back when I was young and a teenager, decided to seclude myself from most of society. I wish I wasn’t reminded about it in the first place but, on the bright side, now it became more clear.

I am.. sensitive and people simply aren’t capable of understanding me fully. There is a clear hurdle that almost all people in my life fall for.. without them even realizing it. I am aware of this hurdle, I know when people fail to pass this basic and, quite honestly, simple hurdle. And this hurdle, this barrier.. is the one on which people actually treat me as a woman like any other. I am fully aware when people don’t do that, or are incapable of.. despise their claims of being “open minded” and “accepting.”

I don’t need “acceptance”. “Accepting” something means that there is something that is different and needs to be “permitted” or “tolerated”. As if I need anyone’s “approval”. I am sick, I have an illness. Though true that it makes me different than most women.. it does not mean that I am not a woman and, therefore, I should be treated as a man. And I absolutely know when someone does or does not do that. Because I know the difference. I can tell by the way people talk, approach or even talk about my issues or emotions.

When will some of you grasp the fact that I’m NOT a man trying to become or mimicking  a woman or a man turning into a woman? I am a woman trying to solve an hormonal issue. Sure, chromosomes and biology, you may shout or excuse. I’ll not lose my time explaining the nuance of my predicament.. I believe that it’s just not worth it after all these years. If you did not understood when I explained to you once, twice or even third time; then you will not understand it now. But you’ll have to take my word for it when I say that, once you overcome the hurdle.. my speech, my actions, my emotions.. become more clearer, easy to understand and deduct. You know why I can say that with certainty? Because I’ve already had a few people in my life that crossed this simple hurdle.. and they were able to understand me, to approach me, to make me laugh, cry and be emotionally invested in their life as well. This is why I know the difference (though, to be fair, I already knew the difference before actually experiencing it).

It’s already bad that I feel (and see) myself going backwards given my lack of treatment. Worst is still having to deal with people in general who are “accepting” and “open minded”. I don’t need to be “accepted”, as if this were a “lifestyle choice”. I need to be understood. Sickness isn’t “accepted”, it’s dealt with and understood. And right now, until I start my treatment once again, I need to excuse myself from society at large. It’s healthier that way, for my sanity. Going out and deal constantly with people who can’t cross the hurdle is far more damaging than seclusion.. in my own personal and entire life experience.

 

 

Anyway, that is all for now. Thank you for reading and I’ll see you on a next update! Have a nice vacation~

 

 

 

PORTUGUÊS

 

Boa tarde.

Sim, utilizei a mesma imagem que usei na última actualização. Fiz isso porque eu quero ser breve e directa ao assunto.

 

Tenho consciência que muitas pessoas tentaram se aproximar de mim e de perguntar acerca de como as coisas estão, através de mensagens pessoais. Não tenho respondido, apesar das boas intenções e eu sinto-me verdadeiramente mal por isso! Mas espero que este post de blog breve ajude-me a recompensar pelos meus pecados.

 

 

Eu não sabia o que estava de mal com o meu fígado até hoje. A Endócrinologista não soube o que estava de mal, apesar da Ressonância Magnética e exame mais complexo ao sangue. Ela queria a opinião de um Gastroenterologista, visto que não posso consumir qualquer estilo de medicamento devido aos valores que apresento actualmente.

Eu tenho uma consulta marcada para um Gastroenterologista em Novembro, no sistema público de saúde. Mas visto que esta Endócrinologista aceita a opinião de um Gastroenterologista fora do sistema público, eu consegui marcar uma consulta em privado para hoje com um outro médico numa clínica privada.

 

A Ressonância Magnética e Ecografia estavam bem, excepto a pedra de dois centímetros que se revelou na vesícula que não está a obstruir nada. O exame extensivo ao sangue não revelou nenhuma hepatite, virus ou bactéria. Como tal, de acordo com este médico, os valores foram provocados pelo bloqueador de Testosterona (Ciproterona) em específico. Sim, é um bloqueador esteróide forte, por isso é que provocou esta reacção. Felizmente, existem outras soluções.. pelo qual irei investigar com a minha Endócrinologista.

No que diz respeito aos valores, estes irão baixar com o tempo. Entre três a seis meses. Não existe medicamentos que abaixem estes valores.. excepto uma dieta equilibrada e sem ingerir qualquer tipo de medicação. Não existe perigo nenhum actualmente e, de facto, os valores conseguiram baixar um sexto após dois meses. Irão continuar a baixar, sem dúvida. Não existe perigo!

 

 

Isto é bom, obviamente. Eu precisava de boas noticias e de alguma esperança! Mas poderão perguntar como eu me sinto de forma geral.

De forma resumida, não muito bem. As coisas tem voltado para trás.. eu tenho me isolado de novo. Mas, para ser franca, até faz sentido e prefiro continuar assim até começar o tratamento de novo. É melhor evitar contacto com as pessoas de forma geral em vês de sentir magoada pela ignorância.

 

Se existe algo positivo, esta infelicidade foi um lembrete. Relembrei-me do como exactamente e do porquê de, quando era nova e como adolescente, me ter mantido isolada da sociedade. Eu gostava de não ter sido relembrada de tal mas, para o bem ou para o mal, agora faz sentido.

Eu sou.. sensível e as pessoas simplesmente não têm capacidade de me entender de forma plena. Existe uma barreira clara que quase todas as pessoas na minha vida caem.. sem se aperceberem. Eu tenho consciência dessa barreira, eu sei quando as pessoas falham nesta barreira básica e, na minha opinião, fácil e trivial. E esta barreira.. é aquela que faz com que as pessoas realmente me tratem como uma mulher como qualquer outra. Tenho plena consciência quando as pessoas falham, ou quando são incapazes de.. apesar de descreverem a si mesmas como pessoas de “mente aberta” ou “que aceitam/progressivas”.

Eu não preciso de ser “aceita”. “Aceitar” algo significa que existe algo de diferente e que precisa de ser “permitido” ou “tolerado”. Como se eu precisasse de ser “aprovada”. Eu estou doente, tenho uma doença. Apesar de isso fazer-me de mim uma mulher diferente das outras.. isso não significa que não seja uma e que, portanto, devo de ser tratada como um homem. Eu sei quando alguém o faz ou não. Eu sei muito bem a diferença. Pelas subtilezas no discurso da pessoa, reacção, aproximação ou até em certas conversas mais ao nível pessoal ou emocional.

Quando é que vocês irão entender de que eu NÃO sou um homem a tentar tornar-me ou imitar uma mulher? Eu sou uma mulher a tentar resolver um problema hormonal. Claro, cromossomas e biologia, alguns irão exclamar ou desculpar-se. Não irei perder tempo a explicar o nuance da minha situação.. acho que não vale a pena após estes anos todos. Se não entenderam à primeira ou segunda ou terceira; então não é agora que vão entender. Mas apenas terão que acreditar quando digo que, quando conseguem ultrapassar essa barreira da doença.. o meu discurso, minhas acções, minhas emoções.. se tornam mais claras, fáceis de entender e de deduzir. Sabem porque é que posso dizer isso com tanta certeza? Porque eu já tive algumas pessoas na minha vida que conseguiram ultrapassar essa barreira simples.. e foram capazes de me entender, de se aproximarem, de me fazer rir, chorar e de ficar emocionalmente investida na via delas. Por isso é que sei a diferença (apesar de, para ser sincera, já sabia bem dessa diferença muito antes de vivê-la).

Já é bastante mau quando eu sinto (e vejo) eu regredir-me devido à falta do tratamento. Pior é ainda ter que lidar com as pessoas de forma geral que me “aceitam” e são pessoas de “mente aberta”. Eu não preciso de ser “aceitada”, como se isto se trata-se de um “estilo de vida”. Eu preciso de ser entendida. Uma doença não é “aceitada”, é lidada e compreendida. E de momento, até recomeçar com o meu tratamento, eu preciso de me excluir da sociedade. É mais saudável desta forma, pela minha sanidade. Sair de casa e lidar constantemente com pessoas que não são capazes de ultrapassar esta barreira é muito mais prejudicial que o isolamento.. é o que diz a minha experiência de vida toda.

 

 

De qualquer forma, é tudo por hoje. Obrigada por terem lido este blog post e vejo-vos numa próxima actualização! Boas férias~

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Warcraft Short Story – A brother’s Call to Arms

 

Other short stories starring Isratael

  • Warcraft Short Story – A letter of a pilgrim – Link

 

 

Dun Morogh

The mountainous snowy peaks of Dun Morogh, known for the Khaz Mountains. The center of Dwarven and Gnomish culture and ingenuity. Ironforge and Gnomeregan are the capitals that have hosted thousands of explorers, thinkers and skilled crafters from the Alliance. Most inventions are brought to live in this region, built from the very same minerals that are dug deep from the quarries within the mountains.

Both the Bronzebeard Dwarves and Gnomes have been allies with one another for centuries. Now with the Dwarven clans united; the region is only threatened by the Troggs and Wendigo buried deep underground, the Frostmane Trolls that wish to control the elements and wild life with their voodoo and, lastly, Thermaplugg and his army of leper gnomes that currently reside in Gnomeregan.

With the recent invasion of the Burning Legion upon Azeroth, this region has been one of the most affected by the demonic crusade, excluding the Broken Isles. Though most has been dealt with, this story is a reminder of the events that have unraveled during the peak of this tainted avalanche of death.

Isratael, a traveling Draenei Enchantress and Jewelcrafter, who had been on her pilgrimage for more than two years at the time; was in the Dwarven town of Kharanos. The search for rare minerals and gems lead her to this town. Though her goal was to trade in Ironforge, she had heard of a fabled Dwarven miner and archaeologist that was visiting his homeland. His knowledge of this world was vast and, perhaps, he could provide her with some knowledge.

 

 

A brother’s Call to Arms

 

Galthorm Hammerstone, member of the Explorer’s League. A fine middle aged archaeologist from the town of Kharanos, from a humble miner family background. His curriculum vast, gaining some notoriety in his excavations in Uldaman and, more importantly, Ulduar! In recent years however, he has been digging for artifacts with his guild once again in the Badlands. Denied with the opportunity to venture into a savage unknown land on another parallel timeline given his age, his life became more stable and tame.

In these last few weeks, word has spread that his latest expedition was over and, once again, he returned to his hometown to share the tales and discoveries he had made about the ruins underneath the earth. With a ram packed with gifts and prospected minerals, he was ready to sell the leftovers of his excavation as well to those that desired. Isratael was one of them.

 

The archaeologist had made himself comfortable in his family’s house. With his vast number of cousins and uncles, he did not lacked company! However, at certain days, he was open for business in his family’s foundry. Given Galthorm’s fame, his family has been able to afford having their own modest forge and to craft their own metals out of the ore. In fact, one of Galthorm’s aunts was a Jewelcrafter, who worked alongside other Metalsmiths. Her name was Jagda Hammerstone. This was the dwarf that Isratael approached.

Jagda gladly accepted Isratael’s plead, entertainment by the thought that she would be spending time with someone that is from a race that is much more ancient than her own. In return Jagda only asked to be rewarded by the tales and knowledge that were unique to a Draenei. Of the worlds she had seen, visited. Her own techniques, as a jewelcrafter.

And so Isratael stayed, for nearly two weeks. Working alongside an elderly dwarf, creating rings and necklaces from precious and semi-precious stones. The two formed a bond rather quickly, sharing the grief of losing their spouse. In fact, Jagda’s spouse was an Earthen Ring Shaman, a Wildhammer Dwarf. Given her spouse’s connection with the Earthen Elements and her own Hammerstone lineage, she had decided to become a Jewelcrafter. In memory of her past relationship with a sturdy fool who had given his life to protect the World Pillar, in Deepholm.

 

 

In one of those cold evenings, after a day’s work, Jagda invited Isratael for a brief walk. The elderly widow still had strength in her legs, creating an healthy habit of walking around town during the night in order to not fall ill and inactive. Most of the populace was still awake, despise the cold. After all, it was still summer and the locals are used to much harsher temperatures that are brought in during winter.

Wearing a wolf’s fur-lined leather coat, Isratael accompanied the dwarf. They walked together to a more secluded area of the town, the outskirts. And in the outskirts, Isratael found herself in a small graveyard. This was not the first time Isratael was invited to visit this particular graveyard.

I had lost hope.” said the elderly Dwarf with her comforting Dwarven accent, gazing at the tombstone that paid homage to the death of her spouse. Though she looked older than the Draenei next to her, it was Isratael who had lived for a few millennia… compared to the nearly two hundred from the dwarf. “But I’ve survived, haven’t I? I never would have guessed that, at this age, I coul’ find an’ befriend a foreign like ye’.

We are survivors, Jagda..” muttered the Draenei with a shiver, the shadows and chill of the night reaching to her knees. Like a spirit, the cold trespassed the holy grounds of one’s undergarments. In Isratael’s mind, she wondered how the Dwarves managed to survive on these mountains for all these years. Her coat was within her grasp, wrapping her dark purple skin tightly.

.. Yet ya’fear the dead?” Jagda questioned, adjusting Isratael’s coat from behind. Unlike the Draenei; most Dwarves, including Jagda, were wearing their summer short sleeved clothing and leather.

I do not. But I do fear a broken heart. There is so much that one can take before their heart turns to stone!” whimpered Isratael, deciding to turn her gaze at the moist soil underneath her hooves. “A heart that has turned into stone cannot allow the Light to penetrate its core.

“My, aren’t ya’ a scholar? Isn’t ya’ kind gifted? What’s this talk abou’ losing ya’ faith?”

 

The gift of the Naaru, a gift to the Draenei from a race of angelic beings made of pure Light. A gift that allows the Draenei to never forget about their past as people, as uncorrupted Eredar exiles who did not fall for the diabolical temptations of the Burning Legion. The Draenei have every reason to be proud of their gift, to be part of the prophetic vision of an army that will stand against the fel corrupted, the Army of the Light.

Isratael, despise the memories that torment her, is aware of this. “You’re right.. Jagda. And what faith do you have?

I have faith that my family will live, that’ll learn from my mistakes. That they’ll take care of me the same way I do to them. That everyday I get up t’prepare our dinin’ table, with their favorite brew.. that they’ll learn what love truly means. So that they, too, can find someone that loves them jus’as much as me!” answered Jagda. Though there was uncertainty in her words, with certain hesitation.. she was able to bring her answer to a rather satisfying conclusion that brought a faint resemblance of a smile on her dry lips.

The words chosen by the elder brought a grin to Isratael’s face. Despise the shrouding mists of doubt clouding her thoughts, to the point of making her indevout; her love for her father still shined brightly. But so did the dread of losing yet another family member “You remind me of my father.. I aspire to be like you one day. Able to move on, bring hope to others.

Ya’ can never move on from such a burden, lass.. but ya’ can teach others how to survive and not’ta be swallowed with grief.

 

Grief.

As the evening turned into darkness and most of the Dwarves walked to their own houses, so did Isratael followed the Dwarven matriarch. This was not the first time Isratael heard these words. The speech and life lessons from the experienced. The voices from those who had suffered, they too have lost and continue to wither with the passage of time. Life is like an orchestra that has a climax, accompanied by the lyrics of a poet who is constantly improvising yet ends up repeating the same chorus over and over when in doubt. And we, the audience, desire to yield the baton and make the orchestra our own. Yet, like fools who never learn from history, we keep falling for the inevitable pits made by our own worst fears, like a self fulfilling prophecy. And thus the chorus repeats and the audience griefs.

Is it us who truly hold the baton? Or is it our nature that compromises our destiny?

 

 

It was during that night that Isratael had received a dire message from her brother, while she slept on the floor on top of a white furred bear rug and surrounded by a few small cushions. Her staff, enchanted and containing a complex set of elaborate arcanic runes that held a perfectly designed Aquamarine crystal, beamed with an aura that only she could recognize. Her family was trying to contact her.

Given that she was asleep, she took her time to take hold of the crystal from her staff. Activating the runes, a voice could be heard from within. It was her brother, Ytaaru.

 

Ytaaru is much older than her. Before her, Ytaaru had other siblings which, from Isratael’s perspective, were half-siblings from their mother’s side. Ytaaru was her only brother and her relationship with her half-siblings has always been scarce. Some of them had long died while others remained. As far as Isratael was concerned, she is aware that there’s at least two of them that decided to abandon the Light and choke themselves with the tainted blood of the Legion’s corruption.

He is a zealot, a fearful paladin. A vindicator, member of the Hand of Argus. His intimidating silhouette makes him a wall and a blazing protector of the Light. Truly a judge that delivers retribution to those who fail to prove their alignment with the vision of the Prophet. Goal driven, his faith is strong and he’ll stop at nothing to fulfill the prophecy that’ll save countless of worlds and realms from the twisted claws of fiends.

 

The voice from within the crystal spoke with authority:

Isratael, it’s Ytaaru, your brother. I’m sending this message to you, hoping that you’ll heed my call…

… the legion, they have invaded this world! They have already arrived to the isles. Remember your people, our people, the vision.

Do not abandon us, Isratael. Forget your pilgrimage and join us! In the light, we are one.. always remember that.

Protect our father. Do not fail the Prophet, do not fail me!

I can ask one of our mages to create a portal for you to come, since you cannot. Tell me where you are, I’ll make sure they’ll do so!

… I’m counting on you… sister!

 

Shocked by the news, Isratael gently placed the crystal on the rug with a trembling hand. Clenching one of the smaller pillows, tears prudently erupted on the room she was in by herself. Using the very same cheap pillow to weep, her worst fears came to reality. She wasn’t ready to face death, yet another war. Perhaps another great lost?

Many questions came to mind while she suffered. If the Burning Legion started to invade Azeroth once again, would this mean that the demons were to invade Dun Morogh? If so, should she stay and aid the Dwarves? What of her father? Why would the demons invade this world now? If she warned the Dwarves of Kharanos, would they believe and prepare themselves for the invasion? Would this town be spared? Was she to die in this town herself among the Dwarves? What of Exodar, her people?

 

Doubt shrouded her judgement and she could not think of an answer to her questions. Grasping her staff, placing the crystal on its rightful place, she walked outside the Hammerstone’s house without making a noise. The night sky was clear and there was yet to be a sign of a demonic invasion. Without a coat, she shivered yet she was blinded by her emotions. She needed some time to think, to consider. To ponder. Would her people, her family.. forgive her if she were to stay and protect the Hammerstone family? Would her family be dead once the invasion was over?

The snow on her hooves, on her knees, wet, ever melting for the lack of a storm for nearly a week. Her palms keeping her balance, the lack of energy. The lack of will and the most important question lingering in the air “Why me?

 

A Call to Arms, yet to be answered.

 

 

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Warcraft Short Story – A letter of a pilgrim

 

 

Azuremyst Isle

For centuries, the Azuremyst Isles remained mostly free from the influence of sapient settlers. The indigenous natives were left to their own devices and wars among themselves. Ruins of ancient civilizations, such as the Night Elves, can be seen on certain areas. Abandoned for millennia, for the fauna to grow and for the barbarians to pillage and defile these lands without any form of punishment.

The Night Elves abandoned these isles for thousands of years, in favor of the land closer to the continent of Kalimdor. Though very few families remained to live in solitude; Furbolgs, Murlocs and Owlbeasts were the only creatures that formed tribes that had a significant presence. That changed, when one of the most ancient sapient races arrived to Azeroth from the Great Dark Beyond. Crashing, their dimensional ship became their capital city. Exodar is the name of this ship, once part of a greater structure known as the Tempest Keep.

With the arrival of such powerful and intelligent race, the Draenei made the Azuremyst Isles their home. Joining the Alliance, they have used their knowledge of the Burning Legion to the advantage of their allies and for the safety and survival of the entire universe. Devoted followers of the Light, like shining almost immortal knights that have lived for thousands of years; their technology and unmatched knowledge of all things magical has left a message to all of those that stand in their way and the way of their Prophet: They are part of the Army of the Light.

The Draenei are survivors that have gained the favor of the Naaru, escaping the grasp of the demonic Burning Legion time and time again. Unlike the other Eredar, they have avoided the temptations and whispers from Sargeras and his minions.

 

This is the story of the Draenei, that now reside in the Azuremyst Isle. In an alien world, they have adjusted to their new environment. It hasn’t been the first time they had to travel to unknown lands. It has been more than six years since they came to Azeroth.

Isratael is one of the few Draenei that have made this far. An Arcanist mage, specialized Enchanter, who has recently taken interest in Jewelcrafting. A pilgrim, who has decided to finally broaden her horizon and learn more about this new planet and their inhabitants.

Before her pilgrimage, two years ago, she wrote a long letter addressed to her family. Placing it on her table, on one of the few settlements near Azure Watch that was specifically built to make home for the refugees of the Cataclysm. She had a cottage of her own, next to her brother’s.

Her father used to visit her once a week and she expected him to be the first one to read. This is the letter that she wrote…

 

 

A letter of a pilgrim

 

Father,

I am writing this letter to you and to our beloved ones. I am sure that you must be filled with hope now that I have finally decided to leave this cottage. However, there is no point in asking those around you about my whereabouts. I left early, before those feathered critters of this land could wake up a few of the humans that have made these islands as their new home as well. I’m sure that my dear brother Ytaaru will not even notice that I’ve left..

 

Thank you, father. For visiting me as much as you did! I am sure your heart still hasn’t recovered from the lost. Which is why you, more than anyone from our family, understand the pain of losing our “other half”. I.. didn’t want to face this new world, I didn’t want to embark on a new war. I’ve avoided it, missing the warmth of my husband’s embrace. His blood was warm and filled with hope! He made me feel loved, safe and ready to aid our armies. Without him, I felt as if the Light had abandoned me as well..

You have grown stronger since the day that we’ve lost mother in Gorgrond. I still cannot look at the Rangari without thinking of her! I am sure that you too; even more than I, since I have seen the way that you clench your fist subtly and briefly when you see one of them. But you always have been stubborn, I know since I am too. You decided to still serve them, to craft and repair their weapons and armor!

This, however, is the difference between you and I. You are not only stubborn, but you can look at a clefthoof in the eyes and face it head on, even if your tears are rolling from the pain within. I am not like that, and you know it too. I am stubborn, but I hide. Which is why Ytaaru has given up on me..

 

Ytaaru has always been special, hasn’t he? He probably never enjoyed the fact that you have spent more time with me than himself. He has been spoiled by his peers, a powerful vindicator. The Light is strong in him, his faith unbreakable. He has always been more stubborn than the both of us and he probably thinks that our tears are distracting him from his devotion. Maybe.. that is why sometimes I feel as if the Light as forsaken me. Maybe I look at him as if he’s a Naaru and I was the demon that carries the shards of the past.

He tried to aid me, I know of that. He gave me this human cottage, next to his, to force me away from Exodar and from the memories of the past. The opportunity to aid our new allies who have suffered too, who have also lost their loved ones from the claws of the one that they used to call The Destroyer. Though this dragon has been defeated, the scars are still burning in the flesh of these people.

I appreciate his attempt.. I have learned more about this world by speaking to these humans. But it did not healed me from the wound in my frail heart, Ytaaru knows that and, for that reason, has given up on me.

However, you have not. Once a week, you visit me all the way from Exodar. I have seen that they have rebuilt most of it..

 

I too need to be rebuilt anew. And you, father, have always been wise! While my brother wanted me to know I wasn’t the only one suffering the lost of a beloved and to have more faith in the Light, you wanted to grasp the shards of my past and shape my fragments into a beautiful enchanted crystal. I’m not that naive, I’ve noticed your intentions when you decided to offer me a Jeweler’s Kit. As if a hobby was going to distract me away from my thoughts.

No, father. What has given me hope was not the kit, or the refugees. It was your determination, your good intentions driven by the love you have for your children. Witnessing Exodar being rebuilt, it made me feel that it is time for me to live my life once again. That there is still time to learn, to dream and to meet new people!

 

I have decided to go on a pilgrimage. To take this Jeweler’s Kit, the one you offered me. To perfect this new skill. To form new memories, a new hope. I have heard that the races of this world are survivors as well, that they have suffered from too many wars! I want to meet them, regardless of the colors that they wear. I am sure that you understand.

Worry not, father, I have left you an enchanted aquamarine crystal bellow my pillow. Take it, it is connected to the staff that I have made together with you on your forge! Hold it firmly, press the edges gently with your thumb and pinky. A rune will be revealed and you’ll have to touch it quickly before it vanishes. Once you do, it will be bound to you. Use it whenever you feel the need to talk to me.

This is not a farewell. I will never abandon my family.. you are not alone! Whatever happens, know that you are loved, the same way that I know that you’ll always love your children.

 

Signed,

Isratael

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[English and Portuguese] HEY! Watchtower!

(I know this featured image is kinda of a mess but I really enjoyed creating it regardless!) 

(Para quem não sabe ler Inglês, a versão em Português encontra-se no final.)

 

ENGLISH

 

 

Hello everyone. Another African heat wave for this weekend, hope you are taking care of yourselves by staying fresh!

Speaking of heat, today’s topic is no other than our beloved cult, the Jehovah Witnesses! Let’s get started right away because my fingers are eager to release what’s going on in my mind and how naughty and cruel some Jehovah Witnesses have been. In short, it’s time to expose and express!

 

As some of my readers are well aware, I have been officially “disfellowshipped” for nearly a year and a half. If you are unaware of what that exactly means, I have wrote a few blog posts about it. This is not the blog post to define and reinforce expressions and aspects of my experience with this cult that I have already done so on other posts! If you somehow get confused and you don’t seem to understand what I’m going to write here.. it’s easy. Go read those other blog posts.

 

As people are also aware, despise being “disfellowshipped”, I am still allowed to live with my parents. The elders in my parents’ new congregation are aware of that and they don’t advise or pressure them to abandon me. In fact, quite the opposite! The reason is obvious. I lack the necessary income to live on my own and I’m doing my transition.. so I can’t be on my own and need to live with someone in the meantime. Plus, my parents love me too much to just.. abandon me.

Obviously, I am very grateful that they have moved to another congregation which, fortunately, have elders who are more kind and merciful. They did the right thing when they changed congregations after I was “disfellowshipped”, since the local congregation on which I and my family belonged.. is quite toxic (even for Jehovah Witnesses’ standards). That also includes most of the congregations that reunite in the same kingdom hall; who share the same petty, gossiper and judgmental mentality. In this new congregation, however, they now go to another kingdom hall entirely. And from what I’ve heard, the Jehovah Witnesses there are much nicer people. I’m quite glad and pleased to know that, I hope my parents are happier there (and from what I can tell, they are)!

 

However, there has been something that has been annoying me of late. Annoying me? Perhaps it’s best to say that I don’t remember being this annoyed over someone or some group since my teenage years and the usual school dramas! It could be because of my current “pseudo puberty”, I won’t exclude that explanation as to why there’s a certain need to expose and do something about this injustice.

 

To better explain what’s causing this anger within, it’s best to keep in mind as to what being “disfellowshipped” actually means and translates to my daily life. It means that Jehovah Witnesses can’t talk to me, that I lost every contact with them. All my friends, that are Jehovah Witnesses, are gone from my life; without a proper farewell.

Just that by itself, knowing that their reasoning for “disfellowshipping” me is quite pathetic and incredibly ignorant (I got “disfellowshipped” because I decided to transition.. basically), should be enough to make most people’s hearts turn sour and bitter. Fortunately, given that I still have my family, I got fairly used to the idea that most of those people no longer talk to me. Like I’ve said on another topic, the only people that I dearly miss from this cult.. are that one family I met in the United States. Besides that, I really don’t care that much. It’s their lost, not mine.

Some people might think this approach is quite cold and that I don’t really attach myself to every person in my life that easily. That some people are easily forgotten, that will never be missed.. even though they have been in my life for a long time. I honestly don’t attach myself to every person in my life, nor do I get bitter enough to the point of hating those who do me wrong. Hate is a strong word that I try to avoid and, even when I use it sometimes (as I did once on this blog not so long ago), it’s mostly me venting a frustration and a way to inform people that they have done (or are doing) something terrible and utterly despicable.

I don’t have time to hate people. I blandly ignore their existence (if I can) and move on with my life. So, in a way, the fact that Jehovah Witnesses are supposed to ignore my existence is, by itself, not wrong in my eyes. What is wrong is the excuse as to why they are doing so and demanding that every member of the cult to do so as well.

But, like I said, I got used to it. As long people don’t remind me of those that I really miss, I lead a “mostly normal” life and don’t think about these things at all! Why bother? I have more things to think about. My family, my (true) friends, my job, my transition, my hobbies, my future, etc..

 

 

But now I’m actually angry. I’m mad. And I’ll explain why.

It has come to my attention that these local Jehovah Witnesses, from the same kingdom hall where the local congregations reunite (as in, not my parents’ new congregation and kingdom hall), have been, bluntly put, talking shit about me and my family.

Alright, so let me get this straight:

  • You “disfellowship” me. 
  • You can’t talk to me, I can’t talk to you. Harsh but alright, if that makes you happy.. sure.
  • If I say anything “bad” or that goes against your believes, I’m an apostate. Okay.. sure.
  • But you are free to gossip and slander me and my family’s name across the globe.

Okay, now you are just pushing your luck and the boundaries of what I find acceptable or, at least, bearable!

Listen here, you cultists. I am fairly aware that you are, indeed, slandering me across the globe. I know that as a fact since people from (quite almost literally, no joke or exageration) on the other side of the world, have came to me out of nowhere, to talk to me and, among other things that we’ve talked about, they have said that they have heard things about me.. from YOU. Bad things, though they didn’t went to specifics as to what exactly or who said it.. except “the local Jehovah Witnesses“. Fortunately, these people were kind enough to warn me about it and they did say they didn’t enjoyed hearing my name being slandered like that.. which is why they’ve talked to me. How ironic, that these Jehovah Witnesses, from the other side of the globe, came to talk to me about how terrible you troublesome fools are!

I ask, is there a need to spread your poison, about me in specific, to another continent?! These people would never likely interact with me ever again anyway, given how unlikely that would be (they live on another continent, they are Jehovah Witnesses, I’m “disfellowshipped”. The odds were incredibly low). Why did they need to be tainted by your venom? Tell me, you cultists, is there a need to slander me this hard all the way to another continent with an entire opposite timezone?

 

You know why you are incredibly comfortable being this shitty? Because you believe to be justified, self righteous. That being this petty and scummy is fine when you do it, because “god is on your side”. And because you know the moment I decide to open my mouth publicly about your cult.. you are going to label me as an apostate and those slanders will become more believable to the gullible!

And you KNOW I can’t really do that at the moment, because if I do open my mouth, my family is going to be pressured by the elders to.. abandon me. Since I would be labeled as an “apostate”. And that would ruin my livelihood. You manipulative assholes!

 

By the way, what’s with this gossiping that I’ve heard about you telling each others that my family is now “less spiritual” or “spiritually weak” because they have me around the house?

Let me tell you something, my lovely local cultists. Even for Jehovah Witnesses standards, you were always terrible. Which is why, even when I was devoted to your cult, I never liked spending time with you. It’s not because I was different, or because I was spiritually weak or whatever silly thought you may have in your indoctrinated brain. It was because you (local cultists) were the most toxic pieces of flesh I have ever had the misfortune of dealing with! And I have dealt with a lot of trash in my life, including schizophrenic radical vegan feminist sociopaths!

Fortunately, my parents are mature and know better, thus ignore those slanders. They turn the other cheek. Because they are good Jehovah Witnesses. So yes, by the use of your own meaningless buzzwords and immaturity, my parents are and will always be “more spiritual” than you, local cultists. Take that as you will and get mad for all I care, because reality doesn’t care for your feelings. Also, fortunately, they are in a new congregation that appears to be “more spiritual” than yours. So what are you going to do? Spread your venom there? I would love to see you try, you cretins.

 

 

Hmm.. but you know what? You actually got me truly disturbed and upset!

No.. you crossed the line of what’s acceptable. And you crossed the line of what is tolerable. And you crossed the line of what is bearable!

You have become.. insufferable. And not many people get this.. far.

Like I’ve said earlier, I usually just ignore people’s existence when they hurt me long enough. That usually helps and makes those same people go away from my life eventually. Because they either give up or they understand that I don’t want them in my life and also step back.

But you, you are different. I thought that, when you “disfellowshipped” me, there would be silence. I no longer had to think about your existence, or to endure your negativity. To tolerate your tomfoolery. You were mostly gone and that made things easy for me to move on.

 

You just can’t get away from me, can you? You have to still influence my life one way or another, the people around me. And that’s why you’ll become relevant enough to the point that I’m thinking of biting back! Because I cannot stay idle for too long. It is incredibly difficult for people to actually get me this upset, disturbed and angry over something or someone! And.. what can I say? You reached it. You’ve done it. And I’m going to do something about it!

Do you actually believe writing these blog posts is the worst I can do? No, these blog posts provide entertainment, a way to vent my frustrations and to share my thoughts with the world. In short, this website is my public pillow. I have no shame in that, in sharing what I share. It’s incredibly liberating, in fact! It’s a diary, it’s fun to look back and read some of the things I wrote!

 

 

Oh no, dear cultists.. once I’m ready to do so, you’ll hear it from me. It may take a while.. but you’ll hear it and you are not going to like it.

I’ll wait a few months, wait for my life to become more stable. Plan ahead, cool down my anger and try to rationalize and form coherent thoughts and ideas. I don’t think this is the best time of my life to go around and expose your cult for what it truly is. But once everything is settled, I will do so.

And while you wait, make sure you clean your own house from the pedophiles you have hiding in your basement before you try to slander people whose only crime was existing and have the misfortune of having a disforia. It’s incredibly hypocritical and embarrassing..

 

 

 

PORTUGUÊS

 

Olá a todos. Outra onda de calor vinda de África para este fim de semana, espero que estejam a cuidar de vocês mesmos por se manterem frescos!

Por falar de coisas quentes, o tópico de hoje não será nada mais e nada menos que o nosso culto favorito, as Testemunhas de Jeová! Sem muitas mais introduções, iremos começar já por falar desse tópico visto que os meus dedos estão empolgados por descrever o que está a acontecer na minha mente e como algumas Testemunhas de Jeová tem sido mázinhas e cruéis. Por poucas palavras, está na altura de expor e expressar alguns problemas!

 

Como alguns dos meus followers estão bem conscientes, e fui oficialmente “desassociada” já faz quase um ano e meio. Se não souberem o que isso significa, Eu escrevi alguns blog posts que falam acerca disso. Este não é um blog post onde irei definir ou reforçar expressões e aspectos da minha experiência de vida com este culto pelo qual já o fiz noutros posts! Se ficarem confusos e não tiverem capacidade para entender o que irei descrever aqui.. é fácil. Apenas têm de ler os outros blog posts.

 

Como as pessoas também devem de saber, apesar da minha “desassociação”, eu ainda tenho permissão de viver na casa dos meus pais. Os anciãos da nova congregação dos meus pais estão bem conscientes disso e não aconselham ou pressionam eles para me abandonarem. Pelo contrário! A razão é óbvia. Eu não ganho o suficiente para viver por minha conta de forma independente e estou num processo de transição.. portanto não posso mesmo estar por minha conta e dependo de outros para viver a minha vida por enquanto. Ainda mais, os meus pais amam-me muito e nunca me iriam.. abandonar-me sem mais nem menos.

Obviamente, estou muito grata de que eles mudaram de congregação que, felizmente, tem anciãos que são muito mais amorosos e sensatos. Eles fizerem bem quando decidiram mudar de congregação logo após a minha “desassociação”, visto que a congregação local onde eu e a minha família pertencíamos.. é bastante tóxica (mesmo dentro dos padrões e expectativas das Testemunhas de Jeová). Isso também incluí muitas das congregações que se reúnem no mesmo salão do reino; que partilham o mesmo comportamento mesquinho, fofoquice e julgamenteiros. Nesta nova congregação, por outro lado, eles estão num novo salão de reino. E pelo o que eu ouvi, as Testemunhas de Jeová lá são muito mais simpáticas. Estou feliz e grata por saber disso, e espero que os meus pais sejam muito felizes lá (e pelo o que posso presenciar, eu sei que estão)!

 

No entanto, existe algo que me tem deixado indignada ultimamente. Indignada? Se calhar é melhor expressar de que eu não me lembro de alguma vez estar assim tão chateada com alguém ou grupo desde a minha adolescência e a vida escolar! Pode ser devido à minha “puberdade forçada”, não vou excluir essa hipótese de ser a razão desta vontade de expor e de querer fazer algo perante esta injustiça.

 

Para explicar melhor o que está a causar esta fúria, é melhor ter em mente o que significa estar “desassociada” e como isso se traduz na minha vida diária. Significa que as Testemunhas de Jeová não podem falar comigo, que perdi todo o contacto com elas. Todas as minhas amizades, que são Testemunhas de Jeová, já não fazem parte da minha vida; sem tempo nem mesmo para despedir deles.

Só isso por si, sabendo que o raciocínio por detrás da minha “desassociação” é bastante patético e ignorante (eu fui “desassociada” devido à minha transição.. basicamente), seria o suficiente para fazer os corações de algumas pessoas ficar amargo e desgostoso. Felizmente, visto ainda ter a minha família por perto, eu fiquei habituada a essa realidade. Como disse noutro tópico, as únicas pessoas que eu sinto mesmo falta que pertencem a este culto.. é aquela família que conheci nos Estados Unidos. Para além disso, eu não estou assim tão transtornada. Eles é que ficaram a perder, não eu.

Algumas pessoas poderão pensar que esta forma de estar na vida é bastante fria e que eu não me apego às pessoas com tanta facilidade. De que algumas pessoas são fáceis de esquecer, que nunca sentirei falta delas.. mesmo apesar de estarem na minha vida durante muito tempo. Eu sinceramente não me apego a todas as pessoas na minha vida, nem fico com rancor suficiente ao ponto de as odiar quando fazem algo de mal. O ódio é algo forte que eu tento sempre evitar e, mesmo quando uso essa palavra por vezes (como o fiz num post não muito longínquo), é mais uma forma de transbordar a minha frustração e uma forma de informar as pessoas de que elas fizeram (ou continuam a fazer) algo muito terrível ou completamente horrendo.

Eu não tenho tempo nem paciência para odiar de verdade alguma pessoa. Eu apenas ignoro a existência delas (quanto possível) e sigo em frente com a minha vida. Por isso, de certa forma, o facto das Testemunhas de Jeová terem que ignorar a minha existência não é, por si mesmo, mau no meu ponto de vista. O que é mau é a razão de estarem a fazer isso e esperarem que toda a gente do culto faço exactamente o mesmo.

Mas, como disse, eu habituei-me a essa realidade. Desde que as pessoas não me façam relembrar daquilo que sinto mesmo falta, eu consigo ter uma vida “dentro da normalidade” e nem penso muito nessas coisas! Porque razão iria eu? Tenho mais coisas que pensar e preocupar. Na minha família, nas minhas (verdadeiras) amizades, o meu trabalho, os meus passatempos, o meu futuro, etc..

 

 

Mas agora estou mesmo zangada. Estou furiosa. E irei explicar porquê.

Chegou à minha atenção de que estas Testemunhas de Jeová locais, do mesmo salão do reino onde a congregação local se reúne (por outras palavras, não na nova congregação e salão do reino onde os meus pais agora pertencem), estão, de forma directa e rude, a dizer merda acerca de mim e da minha família.

Portanto, a ver se eu percebi bem:

  • Vocês “desassociaram-me”. 
  • Vocês não podem falar comigo, eu não posso falar com vocês. Doloroso mas tudo bem, se vos faz sentir felizes.. continuem.
  • Se eu abrir a boca e falar “mal” ou dizer algo que vai contra as vossas crenças, sou apóstata. Okay.. interessante.
  • Mas vocês estão livres de criar fofoquices e de caluniar a mim e ao nome da minha família pelos cantos do mundo.

Okay, agora sim estão a abusar com a vossa sorte e os limites daquilo que eu acho aceitável ou pelo menos, suportável!

Oiçam-me bem, seus cultistas. Eu tenho consciência plena que vocês, sem dúvida, estão a caluniar-me nos cantinhos do mundo. Eu sei disso como facto absoluto porque houve pessoas que (quase literalmente de forma plena, sem exageros) vivem no outro lado do mundo, que falaram comigo do nada e, das várias coisas que falámos, eles expressaram que ouviram coisas com respeito a mim.. de VOCÊS. Coisas ruins, apesar de não me terem dito o quê e quem em específico.. excepto “as Testemunhas de Jeová na localidade”. Felizmente, estas pessoas foram simpáticas o suficiente para me avisar com respeito a isso e disseram que não gostaram nada das calúnias que foram ditas contra mim.. sendo uma das razões pelo qual falaram comigo. Que irónico, que estas Testemunhas de Jeová, do outro lado do mundo, vieram falar comigo acerca do quão horríveis e problemáticos vocês, como tolos, são!

Eu pergunto, existe mesmo necessidade de espalharem o vosso veneno, acerca de mim em específico, a um outro continente?! Estas pessoas nunca iriam interagir comigo de qualquer forma, seria muito improvável isso acontecer (eles vivem num outro continente, são Testemunhas de Jeová, estou “desassociada”. A probabilidade era minúscula). Porque razão eles precisavam ficar envenenados com o vosso veneno? Digam-me, seus cultistas de meia-leca, existe alguma necessidade de caluniar-me desta forma tão agressiva para o outro lado do mundo com um horário quase oposto ao nosso?

 

Sabem porque razão vocês sentem-se tão confortáveis apesar de serem tão repugnantes? Porque vocês acreditam que o vosso comportamento é justificável, seus hipócritas. Que serem tão mesquinhos e reles faz sentido quando são vocês a sê-lo, porque “deus está no vosso lado”. E porque sabem que, no momento que eu decidir abrir a minha boca e informar o público com respeito ao vosso culto.. vocês vão me acusar de ser apóstata e as vossas calúnias vão ser mais fáceis de serem engolidas pelos incrédulos!

E vocês SABEM que eu não posso fazer isso neste momento, porque se eu abrir a minha boca, a minha família vai ser pressionada pelos anciãos para.. me abandonarem. Porque seria acusada de “apóstata”. E isso iria arruinar a minha vida. Seus manipuladores de merda!

 

Já agora, o que é isto de estarem a dizer entre vocês de que a minha família agora é “menos espiritual” ou “fraca espiritualmente” só porque estou na casa deles?

Deixem que eu vos diga uma coisa, meus queridos cultistas locais. Mesmo dentro dos padrões de moral das Testemunhas de Jeová, vocês foram sempre terríveis. Essa é a razão porque, mesmo quando acreditava e estava zelosa no culto, eu nunca gostei de estar com vocês. Não porque era diferente, ou porque era espiritualmente fraca ou seja lá qual a razão estúpida que vocês poderão estar a pensar dentro da vossa mente doutrinada. Era porque vocês (cultistas locais) foram os pedaços de carne mais tóxicos que alguma vez tive a infelicidade de conviver! E eu já lidei com muito lixo humano na minha vida, incluindo vegans feministas radicais esquizofrênicos sóciopatas!

Felizmente, os meus pais são maturos e melhores pessoas, logo são capazes de ignorar essas calúnias. Eles viram a face a esses comportamentos. Porque são boas Testemunhas de Jeová. Portanto sim, utilizando as mesmas palavras imaturas e insignificantes que vocês mesmos usam, os meus pais são e continuarão a ser sempre “mais espirituais” que vocês, cultistas locais. Podem encarar essas palavras da forma como quiserem e ficarem zangados comigo, não me interessa. A realidade não se interessa pelos vossos sentimentos. E, felizmente, os meus pais estão numa nova congregação que aparenta ser “mais espiritual” que a vossa. O que vão fazer perante isso? Tentar espalhar o vosso veneno para lá? Gostaria de ver vocês a tentarem, seus cretinos.

 

 

Hmm.. mas sabem que mais? Vocês verdadeiramente me chatearam agora!

Não.. vocês ultrapassaram a linha do que é aceitável. Do que é tolerável. Do que é suportável!

Vocês se tornaram.. insuportáveis. E muitas pessoas não conseguem chegar a esse.. ponto.

Como disse antes, eu normalmente apenas ignoro a existência das pessoas que me maltratam durante algum tempo. Isso costuma ajudar e faz com que essas mesmas pessoas depois sigam em frente e continuem com as suas vidas longe da minha. Porque eles desistem ou compreendem que eu não as quero na minha vida e por isso também acabam por se manterem longe.

Mas vocês, vocês são diferentes. Eu pensei que, quando fosse “desassociada”, existiria silêncio. Nunca mais teria que pensar em vocês, de suportar a vossa negatividade. De tolerar as vossas criancices. Vocês estiveram bem longe e isso fez com que as coisas fossem mais fáceis para mim seguir em frente.

 

Vocês não conseguem seguir em frente sem mim, pois não? Vocês ainda conseguem influenciar a minha vida de uma maneira ou de outra, as pessoas à minha volta. E é por isso que vocês estão a se tornar relevantes o suficiente para fazerem-me pensar que vos tenho de pagar algo de volta! Porque não posso ignorar estas questões por muito tempo. É incrivelmente difícil as pessoas fazerem-me sentir tão zangada, transtornada e chateada contra uma pessoa ou algo! Mas.. o que mais posso dizer? Vocês chegaram a esse ponto. Vocês causaram isto. E eu vou fazer algo com respeito a isso!

Vocês acreditam mesmo que escrever estes posts de blog é o pior que posso fazer? Não, estes blog posts providenciam entretenimento, uma forma de fluir as frustrações que sinto e de partilhar algumas ideas com o mundo. Em poucas palavras, este site é a minha almofada pública. Eu não tenho vergonha disso, de partilhar o que partilho. É incrivelmente libertador! É um diário, é divertido olhar para trás e ler algumas coisas que escrevi antes!

 

 

Oh não, meus queridos cultistas.. assim que estiver pronta para tal, vocês vão ouvir de mim. Poderá demorar algum tempo.. mas vocês irão ouvir-me e não irão gostar do que irei dizer.

Irei esperar alguns meses, esperar que a minha vida se torne mais estável. Planear bem, ficar mais calma e tentar racionalizar e formar ideas e pensamentos mais coerentes. Eu não acho que esta seja a melhor altura da minha vida para expor ao mundo acerca do que o vosso culto realmente é. Mas assim que a minha vida ficar estável, eu irei fazer isso.

E enquanto esperam, por favor tenham a certeza de que limparam bem a vossa casa de todos os pedófilos que têm escondido dentro das vossas caves antes de tentarem caluniar as pessoas pelo qual o único crime que cometeram foi de meramente existirem e de terem uma disforia. É incrivelmente hipócrita e embaraçoso..

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Jehovah Witnesses – Just another Cult

(This is one hell of a flawed featured image. I just really want to write and not lose too much time)

 

Good afternoon, dear readers!

This blog post has the goal to explain and to bring awareness to the people that lack knowledge about this religion and has to why it is a Christian Cult. I will try to leave aside my personal grudges and biases into this post and write what I know about this very specific cult, based on my experience and from what I’ve heard of other people.

 

But before I get to write this post, recognizing that some people that read my posts are unable to understand English and that I apologize for not translating every post that I make on my website, I would like to talk openly to a few people about the last post I’ve made about my Transition.

When I wrote that post, I was aware that there are a few people that read those posts. The same way that I’m aware that some won’t, despise the fact that I know some of them are going to ask about my transition once I face them.. even though they are on my social media circles and could easily read those specific posts. After all, that’s why I share them on my Personal Facebook.. so that I don’t have to talk to everyone about everything. And that is perfectly fine, people are busy with their lives and may lack time to read such giant walls of text on the go!

However, with that specific post, I have noticed just how large and influential those posts can be to some people. After I wrote that post and shared it, there were a good number of people that talked to me in private by the use of Facebook’s Messenger. They’ve exposed their feelings to me about what I wrote and all I can say that the response has been all positive and touching!

I do feel kinda guilty however for not giving the necessary attention to every single person that approached me during this week. I work during the week and, when I’m not working, I do spend some time to maintain my appearance (I know.. I’m vain and I spend a lot of time on that but it is something that I like and need to do!). Which allows me to have 1-3 hours per day to do what I want during workdays. And usually, during those days, in general, I’m already somehow tired and, though I do still answer people and am aware of the things being said, I may not give the necessary attention and care that I know I should provide to the people that have approached me in private, worried and exposing their own problems to express their empathy. I am sorry. I am far more free and approachable on weekends though!

The people that I knew would approach me, did. The people that I didn’t expect to approach me.. didn’t (though clearly, there was an impact even to the silent ones since I’m very aware there are a few silent ones that do read my posts either way. Their subtle change of behaviors is enough to prove it). However, there were a few people that did surprised me and approached me.. including someone that I haven’t talked to for more or less 7 years. I’m very glad that this person did, though I do admit that it was very out of the blue and completely off my wildest predictions!

And yes, there were also a few of “those” that I predicted that would ignore that post and.. well, try to “support” me in their own way shortly afterwards. That was genuinely funny, but I’ve held my pride and ignored their attempt. I feel it’s time to take a stance against those type of people. I don’t need your crumbled pieces of bread, go away with dignity please? We all know your “aid” is temporary and you are going to wound me sooner or later. And right now, I can’t allow myself to be exposed to such recklessness from those who feel the need to do their “charity”. Take your “charity” to the puppies and kittens out there without a home or to those that suffered from the fire at Pedrogão Grande. You can go ahead and wave your virtue signaling there, for your cheap and instant gratification dose of “I’m helping”. Because on those cases, though you are doing so for your own egos, at least it helps someone regardless!

All in all, I do really appreciate those that did approached me in private to talk to me about what I’ve posted and shown genuine concern, exposing their own experiences as a way to show empathy. To also that one person that talked to me after all those years! To the family members that I haven’t also talked to in years. To the few local neighbors (they too read) that tried to arrange a place where we could talk and have some coffee. This is the kind of aid that I love, given by everyday people that, too, have suffered in their own way and, though the experiences aren’t similar, the feelings can be understood.. if even not relatable (because who said that you need to have the same exact experience to feel the same emotions?)! Because this is what makes me feel that I’m not that unique and special, that cannot be understood. It makes me feel.. human, like everyone else and not some special unicorn that can only empathize with other special unicorns.

It’s.. funny. How some people celebrate and make sure that everyone knows that they are different from everyone else.. and I’m here, writing in the walls, saying “why did I had to be so different and unique, why couldn’t I just had a simpler life”.

Thank you! 🙂

After that initial sidetrack, I would like to expose the reason as to why I’m writing this blog post in specific. Some people have somehow questioned me about this cult that I was born in and was part of my childhood and even early 20’s. Clearly there is some misconceptions about this cult, given that it is easily seen as just another religion. Since that most of the cult’s behavior remains hidden to those who are not part of it.

And it makes sense. The people that belong to that cult do give the overall impression that they are impeccable people. Overall nice, the model citizen that does no wrong. Saints among the crowd. No one is a saint and this cult is not just yet another Christian religion whose only quirk is that they bother you on the streets or knock on your doors to talk about the one true savior. And that their major controversy is blood transfusions.

No. This blog post is to give awareness as to why this religion is, in fact, a very well successful and large world wide CULT.

 

 

First of, let us define the word “Cult”. What is, exactly, a cult?

Many people would define a cult as a small group of religious people that isn’t large or popular enough to be considered a religion. Others hold the belief that a cult is one of those problematic religions that commit mass suicide or hold strange rituals in some abandoned distant area. Others still insist that a cult is a group of people that, stereo typically, wear the same robes, mumble the same words and lose their own self of identity.. like a hive mind that gave up on their previous lives to worship an unorthodox deity or the antagonist of the perceived Maker of the universe (bonus points if they have a creepy stare and hold candles while mumbling broken Latin).

There are other people who have a broader definition for the word “Cult”. That cult can be used in sports, politics or just about anything on which can gather enough people to form a very restrictive echochamber that demonizes the opposition and isn’t open for debate. In short, a more dangerous form of Tribalism.

For me, a Cult is (as I’ve read and find to be more precise and rational than most other definitions I’ve heard) a group of people that met the following criteria:

  • A clear and established hierarchy within the group that disregards outside influences and societal norms and rules that go against the group’s ideology;
  • Complete and total obedience to the very same hierarchy;
  • Communication and forming contacts outside of the social group is frown upon (if not punished);
  • Different opinions and ideas within the group are frown upon (if not punished);
  • Specific ranks within the hierarchy have the power to influence and supervise their members’ personal life; including their friends, families and sexual activities (and are the ones that can judge);
  • Make their members believe that everyone outside of the group is morally reprehensible and should never be fully trusted with anything;
  • Inflict paranoia and “purity tests” within their own group over everyone, including their own;
  • Ask for their members to give everything they have for the group and, if they do not comply, emotionally manipulate them to feel tremendous guilt over their lack of complete devotion;
  • Demonize every member that decides to separate themselves from the group (if not punished);
  • Teach their members to constantly monitorize and punish themselves over their own actions, words and thoughts to better fit the mindset of the group without the need of other members to do so;
  • The need to recruit more members to the group and indoctrinate their own children (while they are still young and easy to mold to the group’s best interest);
  • Inform everyone that their group is the only one that holds the truth and the only path to true happiness;
  • Everything that contradicts the group’s views is inherently wrong and evil. Researching literature or to consider information from the outside is extremely discouraged and frown upon (if not punished);
  • (Optional but also a sign) The group has a strange obsession over money and material possession;

All in all, a cult is a totalitarian delusional paranoid closed hive mind group that completely antagonizes everyone and everything outside of it. Yes, it sounds awfully crude but it can be applied not only to religion, but even politics, sports, fandom, nationality, etc.

With the criteria exposed, I’ll now present my case as to why the Jehovah Witnesses are, indeed, a successful yet extremely harmful cult.

 

 

A clear and established hierarchy within the group that disregards outside influences and societal norms and rules that go against the group’s ideology

The Jehovah Witnesses have made it clear time and time again that they are, in fact, a theocracy. As such, given that they are Christians, God (which they call Jehovah since that’s the name they have established to be the easiest yet accurate translation of YHWH) is the absolute ruler of their religion. They use their own translated version of the bible as their guide.

However, the most powerful men in this Christian cult, who are the ones that receive direct order and guidance from Jehovah, is no other than the Governing Body. As of currently, if I’m not mistaken, it is composed of seven men. These men lead the Watchtower (Watchtower Bible and Tract Society); and these lead and make all the necessary adjustments to their own cult’s ideology.

Bellow the Governing Body, you have other ranks. One rank always above the other. However, if you are an average Jehovah Witness, you’ll, at best, only have to deal with those within a congregation (a specific location where a specific group of people regularly meet in a Kingdom Hall for their meetings). From there, you have the Elders and, right bellow, the Ministerial Servants. Right bellow, you have those who are Baptized. Even bellow, those that Preach. You become a Student once you decide to study the bible with a Jehovah Witness.

When you study the bible with a Jehovah Witness, the hierarchy becomes clearer. You learn that there are those you have to respect, to listen. Because they are, though imperfect humans, chosen by God and automatically know better than you. And their knowledge, which they claim to come from God itself given that they use their own interpretation of the bible, must be obeyed.. even if it goes against the law or societal norms (Acts 5:27-32).

Clearly, the Jehovah Witnesses must respect and fully obey their hierarchy, above any form of government or status quo. However, when there is no contradiction between Watchtower’s teachings, they are told to obey Cesar (Mark 12:13-17). But once there is a contradiction, they are told to obey God at all costs.. even if that means losing their own lives (or, in other words, Watchtower’s interpretation of what is right or wrong which they say to be based on the bible).

 

Complete and total obedience to the very same hierarchy

Given that the Jehovah Witnesses believe that Watchtower (the Governing Body) are the only representatives and direct link between God’s will and humanity. Given that they are told to obey at all costs, even against any form of government or group. It is to no surprise that Watchtower does indeed expect complete and total obedience from their Witnesses.

To make things worse, if a Witness does not do so, they are punished for their actions or words. The worst penalty that Watchtower can give to a Witness is what they call “Disfellowshipping”, which means that those who have been disfellowshipped need to be shunned by every other Witness (including friends and, most of the time, even family). Witnesses must not talk to a disfellowshipped, engage with them, befriend them. Unless for business related encounters. Given that Watchtower tries to supervise most interactions that their Witnesses do and the constant paranoia among their members, shunning is immediate and almost every Witness will, without a doubt, shun the dissociate at every moment (Romans 16: 17, 18 and 1 Corinthians 5:11-13).

This form of excommunication is defended by Watchtower as an act of kindness, to keep the cult “clean from impurity” and, as an act of love, it is a punishment that the dissociate must meditate and, Watchtower hopes, will bring them back to their cult. And, thus, they are able to keep their members’ complete obedience.. even if some of their members do so with the fear that, if they do not, they too will be disfellowshipped and destroyed in Armageddon (by God’s hand).

 

Communication and forming contacts outside of the social group is frown upon (if not punished)

From the cult’s perspective, the whole world is wicked.. except for those that follow God’s word (1 John 5:19 and 1 John 2:15, 16). It is wicked, given that they believe that it is ruled by Satan (2 Corinthians 4:4). By their logic to not associate themselves with “bad associations” (1 Corinthians 15:33), it becomes clear that creating contact with those who are “worldly people” (as in, non-Jehovah Witnesses) is frowned upon.

The more obvious it becomes to the rest of the Witnesses that a member of the cult spends a large amount of time with “worldly people”, the risk of the Elders to act upon it rises and the more they will try to inflict guilt to this specific member. If they believe the member is no longer as “pure” as they were, they may be punished; by the removal of privileges and, in some cases, even disfellowshipping their cult member. All that it takes to keep control over their Witness.

To add more to the subconscious of a Witness, they may be told that it is pointless to pursue a deeper relationship with “worldly people” given that they will be destroyed in Armageddon (Psalm 92:7) either way. That it is better to invest more time in the activities and other members of the cult.

 

Different opinions and ideas within the group are frown upon (if not punished)

The hierarchy within the cult makes it clear that the only acceptable truth (knowledge) is which originates from the top. In short, only Watchtower (Governing Body) is allowed to interpret the bible and come to the conclusions or make changes to the Jehovah Witnesses’ doctrines (ideology).

Given the nature of the cult, to shun those who deviate from the cult’s teachings; it is no wonder that any opinion and idea held by one or more individuals, that is slightly different, is quite frown upon. If this opinion and idea is wildly spread, the individual(s) are labeled as Apostates (2 Peter 2: 1-3), irrational men and women that deserve to be killed in Armageddon (Jude 8-11). Obviously, these cult members are going to be disfellowshipped.

 

Specific ranks within the hierarchy have the power to influence and supervise their members’ personal life; including their friends, families and sexual activities (and are the ones that can judge)

The controlling and protective nature of this cult is evident once an individual starts to take a more active role within the local congregation. Within the congregation, the Elders and Ministerial Servants are those who serve as Watchtower’s loyal judges and helpers. Or, as they call it, shepherds (1 Peter 5:1-3).

Specifically, it is the Elders that decide and supervise all the actions of the members of their local congregation. Including their interactions with others, words, friends, family, personal life, sexual activities.. anything that is revealed to the Elders. This is done so in order to keep the cult “clean from wrongdoers” and to inflict guilt or to punish their sheep into obedience.

Within the culture of the cult, other non-elder Witnesses (which includes family members) have the duty to warn the Elders if they learn that someone is misbehaving (Leviticus 5:1 and 1 John 5:16, 17). As such, the cult is effective at keeping control over their followers and to act immediately once an individual deviates from the ideology.

 

Make their members believe that everyone outside of the group is morally reprehensible and should never be fully trusted with anything

As said earlier, the whole world is lying in the power of the wicked one (1 John 5:19). Satan controls it (2 Corinthians 4:4). “Bad associations” are to be avoided (1 Corinthians 15:33). These will be destroyed (Psalm 92:7). The world hates the Jehovah Witnesses (John 15:18, 19).

Thus, with such interpretations of the bible, the paranoia is settled and their members are told to be “apart from the world” (John 17:14). “Worldly people” are never to be fully trusted, since Witnesses are told that the “world is wicked” and hates them deep down.

 

Inflict paranoia and “purity tests” within their own group over everyone, including their own

To top it all, Jehovah Witnesses are told that there are wolves among their own (Matthew 7:15-20). And, as such, they even judge their own heavily. Fearful that, not only the world hates them.. but also there are those among them that also hate them just as much. Nothing needs to be said more.

 

Ask for their members to give everything they have for the group and, if they do not comply, emotionally manipulate them to feel tremendous guilt over their lack of complete devotion

Within the cult, their members are told to always place “God’s Kingdom” in first place, above all (Matthew 6:33). Among several aspects of one’s life; a career/job becomes secondary for, otherwise, it may get in a member’s way to reach the ultimate goal (Mark 10:17-23).

Through out a member’s life as a Witness, they are given examples of those who have given their all for “God’s Kingdom” (Watchtower), including real life cases of those who were unfortunate but still managed to attend every meeting and invested entire days of their life preaching. Biblical characters are also reminded now and then (Philippians 2:19-22).

Jehovah Witnesses are told to not compare themselves to others (Romans 14:10-12), this, by itself, does not relief the paranoia and the culture that is built around “purity” and suspicion among each others (1 John 5:16, 17). Thus both of these doctrines contradict each other, as one tells to look for the “wolves” among them and be a witness to one’s actions and words (to judge others, in short) and the other tells to not be harsh on their judgement towards their own. There is a rather thin and not a very clear line to what is deemed as being naive or too judgmental.

Given the constant pressure by the peers, a member of the cult is left with a feeling that they are not doing enough. Not perfect enough. That they haven’t sacrificed enough and aren’t, truly, placing “God’s Kingdom” first in their lives.

 

Demonize every member that decides to separate themselves from the group (if not punished)

As mentioned several times, shunning is the ultimate punishment that a Jehovah Witness can suffer. The only thing that is worst than a “disfellowshipped”, is being labeled as an apostate. An apostate, according to the cult, is someone that does not speak lightly of Watchtower’s teachings and doctrines (2 Peter 2: 1-3). These will surely be destroyed in Armageddon (Jude 8-11).

“Disfellowshipped” members and apostates are, without a doubt, demonized by the cult (Romans 16: 17, 18 and 1 Corinthians 5:11-13).

 

Teach their members to constantly monitorize and punish themselves over their own actions, words and thoughts to better fit the mindset of the group without the need of other members to do so

Witnesses are told to avoid listening and pay attention to their hearts’ desires (Proverbs 28:26) and that they, themselves, cannot rationalize and think for themselves without the constant aid and counseling from Watchtower (Jeremiah 10:23). To always renew their mind (Romans 12:2) whenever it starts doubting or deviating from the Watchtower’s teachings. To always renew their personality (Ephesians 4:22-24), based on the doctrines and teachings of the cult.

Pairing up with the constant shame that a cult member feels when they act on their supposed imperfection (Romans 6:21) and that, doing all of this will make God happy (Proverbs 27:11). The fear of being punished and shunned, losing all the social contacts within the cult (friends and family members), losing every contact because they are told not to waste time with “worldly people”.. Jehovah Witnesses are more than tormented within their own minds to always give their all and to be as perfect as possible.

It is no wonder that Jehovah Witnesses are, more than average, likely to have depression and suffer from a mental illness.

 

The need to recruit more members to the group and indoctrinate their own children (while they are still young and easy to mold to the group’s best interest)

Jehovah Witnesses are very well known to preach (Matthew 24:14 and Matthew 28:19, 20). Publishers are the ones that can officially do so.. and those do not need to be baptized to do so. If a Jehovah Witness does not preach, they are “Bloodguilt”; an expression that means that, if a Jehovah Witness does not inform or aid someone that is perceived as “wicked”, the “wicked” continues to “sin” and the Witness that did nothing is also seen as guilty in the eyes of God (Ezekiel 33:7-9).

To add more to the constant paranoia and mental pressure, Jehovah Witnesses feel the need to preach as much as they can. This includes their own children, when they are quite young (Deuteronomy 6:5-7). Watchtower doesn’t shy away from aiding Witness parents to indoctrinate their young ones (as proven here). Including mimicking popular forms of art style and storytelling to attract the attention of their children (as proven here as well). Teenagers are also part of the demographic that Watchtower takes great interest in (as proven here).

 

Inform everyone that their group is the only one that holds the truth and the only path to true happiness

Besides what has already been said, that every “worldly person” is wicked, the paranoia against every non-Witness and even among themselves, the cult members are told that being a Witness is the only path that leads to happiness (Isaiah 30:20, 21 and Psalm 37:9-11).

Matthew 7:13, 14 is one of the few biblical texts that give the hope and motivation needed for cult members to keep going on the path that Watchtower as deemed to be the only true answer to life and everlasting happiness. Watchtower, on their website, claim to be the only true religion (as seen here). And they make sure that everyone outside of the cult knows about it (Matthew 24:14 and Matthew 28:19, 20).

 

Everything that contradicts the group’s views is inherently wrong and evil. Researching literature or to consider information from the outside is extremely discouraged and frown upon (if not punished)

This is perhaps one of the major issues with Watchtower and the Jehovah Witnesses as a cult.

Jehovah Witnesses provide the information needed for their Students to learn more about the doctrines and teachings. However, the Jehovah Witnesses expect their Students to take steps and to prove themselves that they are serious about their studies. They are open, to answer every question asked by the Student. But they will ask of them to attend the meetings. And in the meetings, they are expected to be surprised and to be overwhelmed by the perceived love shared among Jehovah Witnesses (on a superficial level).

From there, the Student may be asked to consider becoming a Publisher. The Student becomes a Publisher and continues to study the teachings of the cult, while reinforcing their new believes onto their neighbors, family and friends.

It is impossible for someone to truly know and have knowledge of every teaching and doctrine that the cult has and expects everyone to comply. But the danger lies when the Publisher decides, without any perceived pressure by their peers, to Baptize. Baptism is a very important decision, for it is a lifetime contract with the cult on which they dedicate their entire lives for Watchtower. There is no way to avoid this verbal contract once it has been done and this is where the perception of the cult, to the recently Baptized, changes with time as they continue to learn more about the cult they are now required to follow until the end of time.. no matter what. Only people who have been Baptized can be officially “Disfellowshipped”. If a Publisher decides to leave the cult before baptism, in peace, they will not be shunned.

Given that it was the Publisher that decided to Baptize, everything that they do, say or think.. it is on them. Which then, from that point forward, guilt is the most defining tool used by the cult to maintain control. Because it was the Publisher that decided to Baptize, it will forever be their own fault (no matter what) if they fail to remain submissive to Watchtower.

Again, besides everything that as already been said about the cult’s belief and perception of the world (non-witnesses), there is a fear to consider or hear opposing information. Given that the cult members are treated as sheep, who are easily manipulated by a mere cough or doubt, it is no wonder that they avoid talking and engaging in debates with those who have knowledge of the cult’s doctrines and teachings beforehand. Though Witnesses are expected to preach strangers, they do so given that most people lack the nuance to what the cult actually believes and demands from their members. Those who oppose the Watchtower’s teachings, that know the details of their cult, their teachings and doctrines.. are immediately labeled as Apostates (2 Peter 2: 1-3).

It is no wonder that Watchtower, among other things, strongly discourages teenagers to pursue higher education (as proven here). To avoid listening or watching videos, articles or even blog posts just as this one. Because, in Watchtower’s eyes, I and other people are deceitful.

 

(Optional but also a sign) The group has a strange obsession over money and material possession

For a Jehovah Witness, “God’s Kingdom” is always in first place (Matthew 6:33). Pursuing a career or material possessions is quite frown upon given that they interprete those desires as not placing “God’s Kingdom” above all (Mark 10:17-23).

Though donations aren’t a requirement for their members at all, Watchtower still urges their members to give their all for “God’s Kingdom” (1 Timothy 6:17-19). Those who have gathered a fairly sized wealth are pressured by biblical text (just as Luke 21:1-4) and real people within the cult that have contributed their belongings and even entire heritages to Watchtower. Plus, Watchtower doesn’t hold back in expanding their members’ options on how to donate their possessions (as proven here and here).

Plus, oddly, they do sometimes feel the need for their members to know how much money have they spent on certain events or expenses. Further complicating the cult members’ need to always give their best no matter what which, when hearing certain values, will begin to feel the need to donate generously on their own accord.

Even more oddly is how they are told to shun those who are “Disfellowshipped” and still, when it comes to business, Jehovah Witnesses are then allowed to talk to those former members of the cult. Hmm..

 

 

IN CONCLUSION

Given that the Jehovah Witnesses provide more than enough evidence that they are, truly, a Cult; it would be unfair to compare it to the many other religious institutions who do not apply such drastic measures to keep their followers on their side and fully obedient.

 

The Jehovah Witnesses use guilt and fear, luring new members into the cult by providing them information little by little. However, the truth about the “truth” only becomes clearer further ahead when the cult member has already been Baptized and it is too late for them to leave the Cult peacefully.

Thus the Baptized Jehovah Witness is either forced to lie to themselves, to doubt themselves over their own thoughts, to be devoid of any critical thought that contradicts the teachings and doctrines from Watchtower.. or face grave punishment in the form of shunning.

The fact that they set themselves apart from the “world”, from forming meaningful contacts with others outside of the cult, to only befriend and spend time with those who believe the same; leaves the Jehovah Witnesses without any form of social life the moment they are officially “Disfellowshipped”. For some of those former cult members, it becomes an emotional blackmail that results on some of them to try their best and rejoin their former cult in tears.. because the cult holds their friends and, most of the time, even family members.

The psychological effects and traumas the cult has on their members can be.. witnessed (hee~).. even after they leave the cult. Skepticism, avoidance, perfectionism and doctrines that have been ingrained on the mind of those who were exposed quite young (such as hearing the news about a possible war, natural disasters, political swifts and so on; which may trigger the doubt that maybe Armageddon is real, despise no longer believing in it).. are just a few examples.

 

So yes, the Jehovah Witnesses are, indeed, just another CULT.

 

 

Thank you for reading this blog post, it was a bit exhausting but I’m glad that I wrote this!

After some thought; I feel that, between the many experiences I’ve already had in my life. Though I could be more active and talk about my transition more often, or about politics.. I feel that those issues have already enough coverage and attention from other better and more popular sources.

I have tried to reach several types of communities, to engage with people on the web about the topics that concern me. From all of those topics that concern me.. I feel that I should be more focused on this cult above all other topics.

 

The “Ex-JW community” (pretty much any former Jehovah Witnesses), in general, has been more open and willing to engage with the things I write and share about the cult. Including youtubers who have made a name by criticizing this cult’s activity, doctrines and teachings. Though this community is small; it is incredibly fractured into people who still believe in a god, those who don’t, those who are more thoughtful, those who are more vindictive, etc..

I’m not the type of person to talk about facts, to do a deep research into the cult’s past and activities, to debunk into detail every single word. I have my own experience with the cult and I feel that what I can offer the most to those who have suffered by Watchtower’s influence.. is to be a listener and provide the emotional support to those who are still trying to understand this (true and only) reality.

I will try to reach this community and see how things go from there~

Pages:

[English and Portuguese] Transitioning – Withdrawal Update

 

(Para quem não sabe ler Inglês, a versão em Português encontra-se no final)

  • 1st Month/ 1º Mês – Link
  • 2nd Month/ 2º Mês – Link
  • 3rd Month/ 3º Mês – Link
  • 4th Month/ 4º Mês – Link
  • 5th Month/ 5º Mês – Link

 

ENGLISH

 

 

Hey.. and yes, you read it right. I’ve been forced to withdraw from my HRT. Temporary it seems. I don’t know anymore..

 

As I’ve mentioned on the earlier update, I had to stop my treatment for six weeks. Because there were values that were high, on the previous blood exam. Values related to the liver, that my doctor thought were a secondary effect from the Cyproterone that I was taking. During those six weeks, I was told to repeat the same blood test and to do an ultrasound on every area around the liver (including the liver itself).

 

The ultrasound came out and the results revealed a liver that appeared fine. However, it did revealed a 2cm stone on my gallbladder. My doctor assured me that the stone won’t be an issue, it’s not even really important to consider doing anything about it since it’s insignificant and it’s not causing any issues. To be honest, I don’t even care about the stone for now.. there are more important and dangerous things to take into account than a mere stone.

“Oh but a stone on the gallbladder is really bad! You should take care of–” Yeah yeah, whatever. I’m not concerned about it and neither is my doctor for now. Besides, it’s genetic, my mother had one exactly the same size. She doesn’t have a gallbladder nowadays, surgically removed (obviously).

 

The blood test that I repeated, however, revealed exactly the same values as the other one. Even though I’ve no longer have been taking my T-blockers for six weeks. Which means there’s something more sinister going on and the doctor has no idea what it is..

As such, this doctor (Endocrinologist) told me to arrange an appointment with a gastroenterologist. A magnetic resonance and another more extensive blood test will be needed as well. All is being arranged at the moment and my Endocrinologist tried to write my case as an emergency, in order to get the hospital moving faster and scheduling things without too much delay.

Not because I’m in danger at the moment (or so it appears since everything is the same after six weeks.. as far as blood values go), nor because I feel any sort of pain or effects from those values. In fact, my values aren’t high enough to suggest a form of toxicity or an hepatite. They assured that those values needed to be much higher and evolving, with side effects, for that to be the case. I feel no pain around the liver (just.. rib cage now and then and I’m sure it’s not about the liver, but because I’m without my T-blockers and I’m stressed), no nausea, no lack of appetite, my digestive system is working fine as far as I’m aware, no physical weakness, no yellowness anywhere.

However, it has become important for me to not consume any sort of medication in the time being unless strictly necessary for my life/health. Since doing so could compromise the liver at this point. To keep an healthy diet as if I were sick. To not go around drinking tea from herbs that “pseudo-intellectual new age medicine fans” assure me it’s going to help “100% garante” because they heard it from a morning TV show or because their neighbor (or themselves) took and it “totally worked”. This is not the time to play “guinea pig” with my health..

 

Anyway, yes. All of this, in short, means that there is something going on with my liver that isn’t related to the HRT, I have an irrelevant stone on my gallbladder that nobody cares for now (because it’s genetic anyway) and.. I can’t continue my HRT until this is solved (whatever it is).

Great…!

 

 

.. Now this is the time I get highly melancholic, start to whine and complain about life being unfair.. and start to make passive aggressive and witty swipes towards people in my life in general. Because nobody is perfect and this is how I’m able to keep my sanity and self preserve my ego, by pointing out how certain people are just.. scummy sometimes.

I’m aware this mentality isn’t exactly helpful to those who are trying to be nice.. but I don’t need people who need to try in order to be nice. I need nice people, not people that need to make an effort to be nice. Which is why I may seem ungrateful at times towards even those who are “just trying to help”, biting the hands of those that feed me. Because my life isn’t lacking on people who are trying. My life lacks people who actually genuinely want, those who truly are, that don’t make efforts but simply.. it is in their nature and true desire to be with me in this messed up emotional roller coaster filled with twists and turns that nobody asked for but still, it is what life as given.

If you are not the type of person that appreciates the type of posts that expose the things mentioned earlier.. then I advice you to leave this blog post now, because it’s going to be a ramble like no other.

 

 

Does anyone know how it feels to live with a constant disforia through out your life, unable to relate to most people and live a life where people just don’t seem to be able to relate to you either? To know early on that you’ll never have children of your own? That you’ll never be able to get pregnant and be a mother? That the desire is there but it will never be fulfilled?

Does anyone know how it feels to be born in a religious cult, being told that the world is a horrible place with horrible people, being fed lies about the existence of a god that loves you but is highly judgmental and punishes anyone who steps out of the line? Being told that all the problems will magically disappear after an apocalyptic prophecy comes to life and god creates a paradise? That you’ll get to live forever, eternal happiness without pain and tears? Having to deal with the religious zealots, judging every step and breath? The constant need to better oneself, always renewing your personality because you are a dirty sinner? Being perfect or closest to perfect?

Does anyone know how it feels to be bullied in school? Because of your own religion, because you are different than everyone else? Being mocked everyday by boys and girls and even physically attacked by the hands of testosterone filled brain dead morons? Not only within school but also outside of it, graffiti on the walls that mock you and your family that have never been cleansed from the walls of your own neighborhood even to this today when you’re 27 years old?

Does anyone know how it feels to be in a religious cult, which was told to be the purest sanctuary from all the evil in this world and still even within those walls.. being mocked by those of your own generation? Being cast aside by them because you stood in the way of their own petty almost-political schemes to reach the invisible throne, to raise within the ranks of their own theocracy? Being a child of a father that held certain prestige with the religious, the spotlight on your own face and family, to dance the music being played and being used as an emotional tool to make themselves feel as if they were good and charismatic for the privileged? Pat on the head like a dog when the owner is near, kicked off the streets like a mongrel when no longer useful?

Does anyone know how it feels to be a woman, being treated as a man, taught to be one and having your every word.. emotion and action being automatically taken as if what a man said, felt or did? Being told that you are too complex and complicated to be understood by anyone and to give up on trying to find someone to relate to? To create all these barriers and loops, filters and walls around your own psyche because you hated the effects that puberty gave to your mind and you knew very well that those aspects weren’t really what you were deep down? Hating your own body and what it became of it? Being thrown sand in the eyes and told that you look great when you know very darn well that you could had looked much better and beautiful? Having people wanting to take pictures with you and you having to regret every moment you spent with them in the first place?

Does anyone know how it feels that, pathetically, the only salvation for your loneliness, discomfort and frustration is.. spending time with strangers on the internet? To feel that only strangers on the internet, who ironically are in general more social inept than your average person, are the only ones that can actually provide you a slight resemblance of a social life because pretty much everyone around you in reality are insensitive and uncaring self centered and pretentious fools?

Does anyone know how it feels to finally come to terms with your disforia, finally deciding to open your mouth and tell those around you about it? Does anyone know how it feels to be treated unfairly by the religious because of it? To be told to keep it quiet and pretend that there’s nothing wrong? That all you needed to do was to keep smiling and keep renewing your personality to make the pain go away until god waved his hand to solve all the problems in the world? To finally gain the courage to do your own research, be informed and to walk your path? That the only way to solve your issue is to be ostracized by (truly) literally everyone in the cult you grew up in? To lose all your “friends” and contacts from that cult and be forced to live in a world that you were told is evil and lacks morals by.. yourself?

Does anyone knows how it feels that, in order to get the treatment that will make your life better, you need to be examined by two entire different teams of doctors, public healthcare, and that it’s going to take ages to get access to those treatments? The need to find a job, despise your disforia, having to deal with people who will never understand you for most of the day? That, through words and actions, will make you feel that you are different at any given opportunity? The confliction in your mind when you are not sure if people support you or they are using you to virtue signal or to patronize for their own ego because that’s exactly what people did to you in your formal cult, given that their words of encouragement contradict their own actions and behaviors towards you? As if the same hand that gives you crumbled bread is also the same hand that slaps you when you are least expecting?

… and then, finally… you see the gate being unlocked, the very same gate you were waiting for. To be opened, allowing you to walk in…

Does anyone know the feeling to finally watching the body that you hated.. turning out to be what you wanted since the very beginning? The freedom that it gives? The empowerment, the confidence rising to an all time high? Noticing your mind changing, finally having the true freedom of breaking those walls, twists and turns and to be yourself because the effects of Testosterone are gone from your psyche?

Ahh, the freedom of just saying what goes on your mind and heart.. it felt soo good. Witnessing the body changing little by little but pleasantly. Having people that knew you since the very beginning awing at your appearance and personality, finally getting to know you for who you are. The thrill that it gave when finally.. it wasn’t you that was getting jealous of others.. but the other way around. Of people easily identifying you in public, treating and addressing you correctly.. instinctively! The weight being lifted from your shoulders, from all those years.. nothing but sunshine and rainbows.

… but then.. everything is taken away from you once again. Just when you were having fun and planning for the future.

Does anyone know how it feels to work hard for something, to suffer so much after so long.. you get to taste the freedom and the reward, you know it exists, you knew you were right, all felt well and so true.. just for all to be taken away that easily?

… All because of your GODDAMN liver?! 

 

The liver?! REALLY? Is this how it ends? After everything that I’ve suffered to get where I am, after being able to enter the other side of the gate, when I was enjoying life for the very first time.. the liver, out of everything, is the thing that gets in the way now?

The liver, out of anything, is the thing that may take my happiness away. That will take away my physical appearance, that I was yearning for, and was only going to get better. That’ll revert my mood and psychological changes to an earlier point in time.

I.. just can’t believe it. All I can do is look and remember what I had back in May as I try to crawl back to where I was while I’m being dragged on the mud, back to the gate! Because my liver is sick for some yet unknown reason and it isn’t even because of the treatment!

And yes! I am aware that is all most likely temporary. But that’s not the point, is it? The point is that I already had a taste of what freedom felt and it felt good! I already know how it feels like, people already knew how it looked like. This is a twisted yet cruel joke!

It is as if teasing someone that is hungry and thirsty in the middle of the desert with brunch; you give them a slice of plain bread as a taste of what is yet to come and then, suddenly, you take it all away and tell them that they need to starve a while longer because the eggs used to make the omelettes were rotten! Yes, it is that frustrating.. and the only “words of wisdom” that you get from those around you is “there will be better days, stay positive”, like an pre-recorded announcement on a train station that informs you that the train is half an hour late and that they apologize for the inconvenience… Given my track record, the omelettes will be thrown to the garbage, new ones will be made but, for some reason, they are out of eggs and need to wait for more eggs to be sold in some shady supermarket, the supermarket is still waiting for the provider to deliver them because oh dear oh my the chickens died in some tragic accident and now they need to wait for the new generation of chicks to grow and lay more eggs! And all you can say is that you don’t even care about the omelettes or the eggs or the supermarket or the provider.. you just want something to eat and drink..

 

 

Beauty is pain, isn’t it? I know I’ve mentioned that in the previous update but truly, people who have suffered so much are the ones that end up with such a beautiful soul and personality. But suffer too much and your heart will grow cold and distant. There’s a thin line between beauty and the hole that one calls insanity. People have limits to what they can endure in life without giving up on it entirely. I can say that, at this point as I write this, I’m balancing myself on a rope. For now, it is worth living because hope hasn’t been completely lost. I know that because I had a good opportunity to experience life just the way I’ve imagined. Though more needed to happen, it was still quite good, sooooo so fantastic and wonderful..

.. I need to hold onto that memory.

Because I can’t really trust anyone to give me the hope and emotional support that I need right now. Not even my psychologist I believe. Ever since I’ve told these news to some of the people on my life, all they did was spout cookie cutter one liner basic support. “Live one day at a time”, “Look at the bright side”, “What are you talking about, you still look great”, “Oh, it doesn’t really matter. You were always Sapphire, Sapphire was within you all along” (no shit)… … ugh. I’m aware people are trying to help, trying to be nice. But at this point, I don’t need people trying to be nice and helpful by using cliche phrases taken from within fortune cookies. I need actual help and support. I’m.. tired of the sand being thrown to my eyes, of people trying to trick me into believing that there’s nothing to worry about or that I should just try and ignore everything until everything’s back to normal.

 

Tell me, does anyone know the feeling when you are crying and you have people trying to encourage you.. and you close your eyes, despise the fact that you have people physically next to you or in your front.. you feel as if everyone is a mile away and you are all alone despise the voices being close to you? That is how I feel when I reach a state of despair rather than the familiar frustration. That it doesn’t matter if you have people that say that they love you and want the best of you, their heart and mind is still far, absent and/or distant. This is, for me, the feeling of loneliness. That you have no one that truly.. loves the real you. That even though people will claim that they love you, it is simply untrue since what they love is not who you are but what they believe to be you. That they do not look for your interest but they project their ideas and what believe to be the right thing for you rather than what you truly desire.

I do not need a sandstorm to cover what I can clearly see on a mirror, what I can feel on my mind. The effects of what I was already trying to get rid of.

No… What I need is a hug from someone that is bigger than me, strong yet with a warm heart. To make me feel that I’m not alone when I close my eyes and my whimpers turn into sobs. The physical contact that is missing soo much, that people avoided doing so during my life. A mere kind gesture on the shoulder or arm, from a friendly face. The heat of blood from another human, the odor. The touch that is missing and has made me apathetic, that turned my gentle heart to stone. The voice that comes from another heart and not the mind, that speaks honesty and tells me that “life is hard, you and I have suffered so much. We don’t know what is yet to come but we will survive, together.”

… But what I ask is too much, isn’t it? I’ve heard it from some people in the last few years. That even these mere gestures are too much to ask. That it is hard for me to find those type of people, because I’m that complicated and different from the rest of the world. Fuck all of you that have said such a thing to me, from the bottom of my heart.. I’m not even trying to be spiteful, I truly feel hatred right now for the people who have said that to me in the past. Because those people say such horrible things when they are near me, to “try and be nice”; turn their backs, forget that I exist and then go around posting on social media with their friends, carrying plastic smiles and drinks in hands; making it seem they have fulfilling lives surrounded with their friends.

I’m just a toy, aren’t I? A toy created for others to show their “kindness” and then abandoned and cast aside. A freak that nobody could possibly understand, undeserving of basic human interaction and warmth. I’m.. tired of being everyone’s prized dog that you just prepare a fancy little bow on the head when you walk outside for me to do my business and for your cute facebook pictures, then once the picture is taken, it is time to return home while the owners walk outside and to do what “humans do when they don’t have their dogs around”. Spending most of the day worrying and wondering when the owners will get home.. if ever. Only with a bowl filled with ration and another with water. And once the owners arrive home, frustrated from their lives, I become glad that I’m not alone anymore.. only to be kicked aside because the owners are no longer interested in taking pictures of you for their social medias. And when I bark, I get ignored. And when I bite, I get told that I’m ungrateful and hateful because the owners AT LEAST gave me ration and water.

 

Some of you people have no heart, it is clear to me. Social parasites and fleas, I truly feel sorry that you were taught with poor manners and truly privileged to the point you have no idea what pain feels like and feel the need to chuckle or laugh when I say that I want to hide myself in a cave because of these more recent events. I’m not joking, someone actually chuckled every time I have said that in these last few weeks and I’m left wondering if the person is just completely devoid of empathy or just isn’t aware of how painful this is. Long live the bourgeoisie, that weep for puppies and kittens on social medias but is completely devoid of kindness for those right next to them!

Yes, because nothing needs to be said more when you hear people say that they “support” me and they still think it is completely appropriate to say that they are on their period and how I’ll never get to experience that. OH my, can you feel me scream internally by the fact that one of my “supporters” is being helpful when they remind me I’ll never have children of my own? And how about that time that one of my “supporters” thought it would be funny to make a crude joke about my family jewels? Can you feel the love in the air? Because, after so long, I can either conclude that some of my “supporters” are either sociopaths or just incredibly petty.

 

… And yes, I’m aware that some of those “supporters” are going to read this eventually. I don’t care at this point, I haven’t revealed their identities anyway to “the public” so they can lower their pitchforks and ignore everything, as usual. Nor do I intend to, unless they decide to make a fool out of themselves in “public” over it. It’s okay, you can ignore it at will and wait for me to upload a photo of me on Facebook because then, finally, you’ll be able to put a “like” and show your “support”!

 

 

Hmhm.. either way, it is time to think about what to do in the meantime, while I slowly die inside as I wait to find out what is wrong with my liver.

 

There isn’t much I can do except to wait. Things will slowly revert in the next few months, since these things take some time. They are already slowly reverting, no need to throw sand and tell me that I still look great. Bitch, I had much better days and I have the potential to look even better once I (hopefully) resume my HRT.

What I can do, however, is avoid my body from altering too much now that it is at the full mercy of the Testosterone once again. As far as my hips and waist go.. I always had, even prior to transitioning, some form of curve (even though I’m already not on a perfect 0.75 ratio… I miss that so much..). I’ll have to deal with a more rectangular yet lean body shape.

To maintain my lean figure, I’ll have to eat less and not allow my muscles and fat to develop and redistribute. If I don’t eat a lot, hopefully, my muscles won’t be able to develop much at all. As far as fat goes, as long as I eat “enough”, the body won’t be able to deliver that fat on unwanted areas. I also need to drink plenty of water to get rid of the unwanted garbage in my system, which should be easy because it’s summer so, there won’t be a lack of need to drink.

The rib cage and back are going to be my main issue because, as I became highly aware with HRT and now from this ongoing withdraw, it is amazingly… err.. versatile, depending on the hormones in my system. This is going to be the main factor that will allow me to “pass” or not in society. This is not an easy feat, to prevent it from swelling too much or at a much lower rate. My only self admitting pseudo and dumb misinformed solution for this particular predicament is, besides the diet, to keep my bras tight as possible. I know I know… sounds silly but I really do not know what else I can do and this seems to be more based on wishful faith thinking. At least it will make me feel better than I’m trying and my bras aren’t being ripped apart anyway thus far. Please don’t convince me that this won’t work, let me believe that it does somehow!

On the positive side of things, I don’t really need to worry about my face or arms/hands. My hands and face were always feminine prior to HRT. That won’t change even with Testosterone. If it didn’t influenced that much during puberty, it sure as hell won’t now.. r-right? Right.. It may change my facial expressions by a little.. but, as I said, I always had a somehow pretty feminine face anyway. The face will never be an issue when it comes to “passing”. And my hands never caused me any form of dysphoria, they are one of my most “prized possessions”. My secret? Wearing tight watches around my wrists during childhood, plenty of video games and avoid heavy lifting as much as you can! What? It worked, didn’t it? I hope that same logic can apply to my rib cage and bras..

 

Besides those and depending on how much things will change.. I -will- give everyone a warning though, to those that have read thus far. The moment that I feel that I no longer “pass” in society given the physical changes… it will be the day that I will stop stepping my foot outside my house unless to deal with the things that need to be done in order to get my HRT back on the right direction.

This is non-negotiable. I’m aware that I have a job and the money is quite needed.. but I simply cannot, for the sake of my sanity, walk outside and.. hmm. I can’t. I’m sorry but I can’t! It’s not healthy. No. Just.. no. The least I want is to walk outside again and have people address me as a man again. If anyone thinks that unavoidably has to happen in the meantime because I need a job.. then rest assured that I know I need a job.. I need money. But I also need to live, I need my sanity and I don’t want to put my mental health into jeopardy just because I need money. And once I find out that I’ve reached a state on which people will look at me and think I’m a crossdresser.. then it is time to hide from the public eye.

Please stop telling me how to feel and how to act. I’m serious when I say that I would had to abandon my job if I had to in order to preserve. Don’t pretend now, after years of telling me that I’m hard and impossible to be understood, that you now got the right answers for me. I got this far not because I listened to every suggestion thrown at me, but because I know myself too well for my own sake and know what is best for me.

Anyway, if that time comes, I’m sure I can work it out with my co-workers and find a way to work at home in the meantime (a stranger online suggested me this recently. It’s a great idea!). The internet exists, my home PC is better than the one at work so, in a way, maybe work will go even faster here than in the office! I’m aware that I can’t do everything here as I would in the office but, at least, it would be better than to produce nothing and earn nothing..

 

 

As such, I’ll conclude this loooong blog post by informing everyone that I’ll keep everyone updated over at Twitter and my (public) Facebook Page. Yes, I’m aware that I post a lot of things on my twitter and public facebook page that not many people like or enjoy. Too bad.. because I’m seriously not a fan of Facebook by itself and I avoid talking a lot on my personal Facebook.  Any major news will require new blog posts and, as such, I believe that it will be only relevant to create one of these major updates once I learn what is wrong with my liver.

 

And before I say goodbye, I’ll share one last selfie (that I took on last Friday).. until I get my hormones back and I look presentable again. Thank you for reading and if you think I’ve been unfair in some way or another.. then I hope you at least understand why I am saying the things that I am instead of getting selfish and act on self defense of your own ego and self interest. Yeah.. I know that I’m an hypocrite. So are you, so it’s fine~

 

 

 

PORTUGUÊS

 

Olá… e sim, vocês leram bem. Fui forçada a retirar-me do Tratamento Hormonal. Por algum tempo, pelo que parece. Já nem sei bem ao certo..

 

Como mencionei na actualização anterior, eu tive que parar com o meu tratamento por seis semanas. Porque existiram valores que estavam altos, na colheita de sangue anterior. Valores relacionados com o fígado, que a minha médica pensou ser um efeito secundário da Ciproterona que estava a consumir. Durante essas seis semanas, foi-me dito para repetir as mesmas análises ao sangue e para fazer uma ecografia em toda a área à volta do fígado (incluindo o fígado em si).

 

A ecografia foi feita e revelou que o fígado tinha bom aspecto em geral. No entanto, revelou uma pedra de 2cm na vesícula. A minha médica assegurou-me que a pedra não iria ser problema, que não era algo muito importante para ser levado em conta visto ser algo insignificante e que não está a causar problema nenhum. Para ser sincera, eu também nem estou preocupada com a pedra de momento.. existem coisas mais importantes e perigosas que precisam de mais atenção que uma mera pedra.

“Oh mas uma pedra na vesícula é muito mau! Devias de tomar conta di–” Sim sim, não importa. Não estou preocupada com isso, nem a minha médica de momento. Aliás, é genético, a minha mãe teve uma exactamente do mesmo tamanho. Ela nem tem vesícula hoje em dia, removido cirurgicamente (óbvio).

 

A análise ao sangue que repeti, por outro lado, revelou exactamente os mesmos valores que outrora. Mesmo apesar de ter deixado de consumir os meus bloqueadores de Testosterona já por seis semanas. O que significa que existe algo mais sinistro a acontecer e que a médica não sabe o que poderá ser..

Como tal, esta médica (Endócrinologista) pediu-me para marcar uma consulta com um Gastroenterologista. Uma ressonância magnética e uma outra colheita ao sangue mais extensiva também irão ser necessários. Tudo está a ser planeado de momento e a minha Endócrinologista tentou deixar uma nota de como o meu caso deve ser tratado como uma emergência, para fazer com que o hospital se mexa mais rapidamente e marque estes exames e consultas sem muita perda de tempo.

Não porque esteja em perigo de momento (ou pelo menos é o que parece visto que tudo se manteve após seis semanas.. no diz respeito aos valores no sangue), nem porque sinta algum sintoma de dor ou efeitos associados a esses valores. Na verdade, os valores não estão altos os suficientes para sugerir alguma toxicidade ou hepatite. Eles asseguraram que esses valores necessitavam de ser mais altos e em evolução, com efeitos secundários, para isso ser o caso. Não sinto dores perto do fígado (apenas.. na caixa toráxica de vez em quanto e tenho a certeza que não é devido ao fígado, mas porque estou sem os bloqueadores de Testosterona e estou stressada), sem náuseas , sem falta de apetite, o meu sistema digestivo está a funcionar bem por aquilo que posso presenciar, nenhuma fraqueza física, nada está amarelado.

No entanto, tornou-se importante para mim não consumir nenhum tipo de medicamento por enquanto a não ser que seja de extrema importância para a minha saúde/vida. Porque fazê-lo poderá agravar algo no fígado neste momento. Para manter uma dieta saudável como se estivesse doente. Para não beber chás de ervas exóticas que as pessoas “pseudo-intelectuais que são fans das medicinas alternativas” que prometem que vai ajudar “garantidamente 100%” porque ouviram falar dessas folhinhas mágicas num programa de televisão de manhã ou porque o vizinho do prédio ao lado experimentou e “funcionou automaticamente”. Esta não é a altura de brincar com a minha saúde e fazer de “cobaia”..

 

De qualquer forma, sim. Tudo isto, em poucas palavras, significa que existe algo a acontecer no meu fígado que nada está relacionado com o Tratamento Hormonal, que tenho uma pedra na vesícula que ninguém quer saber por agora (porque é genético de qualquer forma) e.. não posso continuar com o meu Tratamento Hormonal até que tudo esteja resolvido (seja o que for).

Fantástico…!

 

 

.. Agora está na altura de eu ficar extremamente melancólica, começar a choramingar e a queixar da minha vida ser injusta.. e de começar a ser passivamente agressiva e com humor audacioso contra algumas pessoas da minha vida em geral. Porque ninguém é perfeito e isto é a minha forma de manter a minha sanidade e de preservar o meu ego, por apontar o óbvio de que algumas pessoas são mesmo.. reles por vezes.

Tenho consciência de que esta mentalidade não ajuda muito a obter a aprovação das pessoas que estão a tentar ser simpáticas.. mas eu não preciso daqueles que precisam de tentar para ser simpáticos. Eu preciso de pessoas simpáticas, não de pessoas que precisam de fazer um esforço para parecerem simpáticas. Por isso é que posso parecer ingrata por vezes mesmo contra as pessoas que estão “a tentar ajudar-me”, mordendo as mãos daqueles que me alimentam. Porque o que não falta na minha vida são pessoas que tentam. O que a minha vida tem falta é de pessoas que querem ajudar-me genuinamente, aqueles que são verdadeiramente, que não fazem esforço mas que apenas.. faz parte do seu ser e autêntico desejo de quererem estar comigo nesta montanha russa emocional horrorosa cheia de reviravoltas e curvas que ninguém pediu mas mesmo assim, é o que a vida me deu.

Se não és do estilo de pessoa que aprecia este estilo de posts que expõe as coisas mencionadas antes.. então aconselho-o a fechar esta janela agora, porque vai ser uma divagação como nunca outrora.

 

Alguém sabe o que é viver uma vida de constante disforia ao longo da vida inteira, sem ter direito a relacionar-se com as outras pessoas e viver uma vida onde as pessoas também não sabem relacionar-se contigo? Saber desde cedo que tu nunca irás ter filhos? Que nunca ficarás grávida e nunca serás mãe? Que o instinto e desejo está lá mas nunca irá ser realizado?

Alguém sabe o que é nascer dentro de um culto religioso, ser dita que o mundo é um lugar horrível com pessoas horríveis, ser alimentada com mentiras acerca da existência de um deus que nos ama mas que julga brutalmente e repreende qualquer pessoa que não caminhe exactamente na única linha de pensamento correcto? Ser dita que todos os problemas irão magicamente desaparecer depois do comprimento de uma profecia apocalíptica e da criação de um paraíso? Que poderás viver para sempre, felicidade eterna sem dor nem lágrimas? Ter que lidar com os religiosos zelosos, que julgam todo o passo e fôlego? A necessidade constante de aperfeiçoar-nos, sempre a renovar a nossa personalidade porque és uma pecadora? Tentar ser perfeita o máximo possível?

Alguém sabe o que é ser vitima de bullying na escola? Devido à tua própria religião, porque és diferente de todas as outras pessoas? Ser gozada todos os dias por rapazes e raparigas e até mesmo ser fisicamente atacada por idiotas cegos de testosterona? Não apenas na escola mas como também fora dela, graffiti nas paredes que fazem pouco de ti e da tua família que nunca foram retiradas do teu próprio bairro até ao dia de hoje mesmo quando tens 27 anos de idade?

Alguém sabe o que é estar num culto religioso, que te fez crer que era o santuário mais puro de todo o mal neste mundo e mesmo dentro daquelas paredes.. ser tratada mal por aqueles da tua própria geração? Ser posta de lado por eles porque tu “estavas na frente” e travavas os planos políticos internos e patéticos para eles chegarem ao trono invisível, para eles subirem o seu cargo e privilégio dentro de uma teocracia corrupta? Ser criança de um pai que tem algum prestígio com os religiosos, o foco na tua própria cara e na tua família, dançando a música que tocava e ser usada como uma arma emocional para os outros sentirem que eles eram bons e carismáticos e terem aprovação dos privilegiados? Festinhas da cabeça como uma cadela quando os donos estão por perto, posta de lado e ignorada como uma aberração quando já não era necessário a simpatia?

Alguém sabe o que é ser uma mulher, ser tratada como um homem, ensinada a ser tal e todas as tuas palavras.. emoções e acções serem automaticamente explicadas e raciocinadas do ponto de vista do que um homem disse, sentiu ou fez? Ser dita que és complexa e complicada demais para ser entendida seja lá por quem for e para desistir de encontrar alguém que o possa? O criar todas as barreiras e armadilhas, filtros e paredes à volta do teu ser porque odiavas os efeitos que a puberdade estava a criar na tua mente, sabendo bem que esses aspectos nunca te pertenceram e não eram o que tu verdadeiramente eras no fundo? Odiar o teu próprio corpo e o que este se tornou? Ser jogada areia nos olhos e dita que tu tinhas boa aparência quando tu sabias muito bem que poderias ter um aspecto muito melhor e bela? Ter pessoas a quererem tirar fotos contigo e fazendo tu ficares arrependida de todos os momentos que estiveste com essas pessoas?

Alguém sabe o que é sentir que, pateticamente, a tua única salvação para a tua solidão, desconforto e frustração é.. gastar tempo com pessoas estranhas na internet? O sentir que apenas os estranhos na internet, que ironicamente até são mais ineptos socialmente de forma geral em comparação com outras pessoas, são aqueles que podem providenciar com algo semelhante a uma vida social porque praticamente toda a gente à tua volta na vida real são insensíveis e despreocupadas e apenas pensam no seu próprio umbigo como idiotas pretensiosos que são no fundo?

Alguém sabe o que é finalmente aceitar a tua disforia, finalmente decidir abrir a boca para falar acerca disso com aqueles que são mais próximos? Alguém sabe o que é ser tratada de forma injusta pelos religiosos por causa disso? Ser dita que devias manter-te calada e fingir que estava tudo bem? Que tudo o que tinhas de fazer era sorrir e continuar a renovar a tua personalidade para fazer a dor ir embora até o dia que deus decida usar a sua varinha mágica para resolver todos os problemas do mundo? Finalmente ganhando a coragem para fazeres a tua própria pesquisa, seres informada e criares o teu próprio caminho? Que a única maneira de resolver os teus problemas é ser posta de parte por (verdade) todas as pessoas do culto onde cresceste? Perdendo todas as tuas “amizades” e contactos dentro do culto e ser forçada a viver no mundo onde disseram ser mau e com falta de morais.. sozinha?

Alguém sabe o que é sentir que, para obteres direito ao tratamento que vai fazer a tua vida melhor, precisas de ser examina por duas equipas totalmente diferentes, sistema de saúde público, e que vai demorar anos até teres acesso a esses mesmos tratamentos? O procurar um trabalho, apesar da tua disforia, ter que lidar com pessoas que nunca te irão compreender durante quase um dia inteiro? Que, através de palavras ou acções, vão querer fazer-te sentir diferente sempre que poderem? O conflito na tua mente quando não tens a certeza se as pessoas querem o teu bem ou se elas estão a usar-te para demonstrar que são boas pessoas ou para serem condescendentes para alimentar os seus próprios egos porque isso é exactamente o que fizerem no culto que pertencias, visto que as palavras de encorajamento contradizem as suas acções e comportamentos para contigo? Como que a mão que te fornece migalhas de pão é a mesma mão que te dá estalada quando tu não estás preparada?

… e depois, finalmente… tu vês a fechadura do portão a ser aberta, o mesmo portão que esperaste durante muito tempo. Agora aberto, para poderes entrar…

Alguém sabe o que é ver o corpo que odiavas.. a transformar naquilo que sempre quiseste desde o inicio? A liberdade que isso providência? O fortalecimento, a confiança a subir para algo como nunca antes sentido? Notar as alterações na tua mente, finalmente ter a verdadeira liberdade de destruir aquelas paredes, vidros e labirintos para seres tu mesma porque os efeitos da Testosterona estão longe do teu ser?

Ahh, a liberdade de simplesmente dizer aquilo que vai na alma.. sabe tão bem. Presenciar as alterações no corpo pouco a pouco mas de forma agradável. Ter as pessoas que sempre te conheceram desde o princípio ficarem impressionadas com a tua aparência e personalidade, finalmente terem a oportunidade de te conhecer por aquilo que verdadeiramente és. A emoção que senti quando finalmente.. já não és tu a teres inveja das outras.. mas elas terem inveja de ti. As pessoas facilmente te identificarem no público, tratando e falando contigo de forma correcta.. instintiva! O peso a ser levantado dos ombros, durante todos aqueles anos.. apenas raios de sol e arco-íris.

… mas depois.. tudo é retirada de ti de novo. Mesmo quando já estavas a divertir-te e a planear o teu futuro.

Alguém sabe o que é trabalhar arduamente para algo, depois de sofrer ao longo de tanto tempo.. o teres provado a liberdade e a recompensa, saberes que existe, saberes que tinhas razão, tudo bem e verdade.. apenas para tudo ser roubado de ti tão facilmente?

… Tudo por causa do RAIO do fígado?! 

 

O Fígado?! A SÉRIO? É assim que tudo acaba? Depois de tudo o que já tinha sofrido para chegar a esta etapa da minha vida, depois de entrar para o outro lado do portão, quando eu estava a aproveitar a vida pela primeira vez.. o fígado, de tudo, é aquilo que vai manter-se no meu caminho agora?

O fígado, de tudo, é a coisa que pode retirar a minha felicidade. Que vai retirar a minha aparência física, o que eu sempre quiz, e que iria continuar a melhorar. Que vai reverter o meu humor e mudanças psicológicas para um passado não muito longe.

Eu.. nem consigo acreditar. Tudo o que posso fazer é olhar e relembrar o que tive no passado em Maio enquanto tento rastejar com unhas e dentes para onde estava enquanto sou arrastada pela lama, de volta para o portão! Porque o meu fígado está doente por um motivo ainda desconhecido que nem é devido ao tratamento em si!

E sim! Tenho consciência que é bem provável que seja algo temporário. Mas isso não é o problema, não é verdade? O problema é que já sei o que é sentir essa liberdade tão maravilhosa! Eu sei o que é senti-la, as pessoas já sabiam o que era presenciar essa liberdade. Isto é uma piada cruel e macabra!

Isto é como ser provocada, quando se tem fome e sede no meio de um deserto, por um lanche; é te dada uma fatia de pão simples para provares o que vem adiante e depois, do nada, é retirado tudo e dizem-te que tens de passar fome só mais um bocadinho porque os ovos que foram usados para fazer a omelete estavam estragados! Sim, é muito frustrante.. e as únicas “palavras sábias” que tu recebes das pessoas à tua volta é “vai haver dias melhores, mantém-te positiva”, como se fosse uma gravação feita para anunciar que o comboio vai chegar meia hora mais tarde e que pedem desculpa pela inconveniência… Considerando a minha sorte até agora, as omeletes vão ser deitadas para o lixo, novas irão ser preparadas mas, por alguma razão, estão sem ovos e vão precisar de esperar que um supermercado obscuro ainda os venda, o supermercado ainda está à espera do fornecedor que venha trazer os ovos porque oh meu deus as galinhas morreram num acidente trágico e agora temos que esperar que uma geração inteira de pintainhos cresça e deita ovos! Depois ainda a carrinha com os ovos fica sem gasolina a meio do caminho porque esqueceram-se de o fazer, os ovos chegam ainda mais tarde que o previsto do atraso anterior, o chefe esquece do dinheiro em casa para comprar os ovos e volta atrás para buscar a carteira e agora sim.. toma a tua omelete e já vais com sorte! E tudo o que dizes é que tu nem queres saber das omeletes nem dos ovos ou do supermercado ou do fornecedor.. tu apenas queres algo para comer e beber..

 

 

A beleza é criada com muita dor, não é? Eu sei que fiz menção disso na actualização anterior mas é verdade, as pessoas que sofreram muito são aquelas que têm uma alma e personalidade tão bela e atraente. Mas se sofreres demasiado, o teu coração ficará frio e distante. Existe uma linha muito estreita entre a beleza e a cova que chamamos de insanidade. As pessoas tem limites no que podem suportar na pele ao longo da vida sem desistir dela por completo. Eu posso dizer que, neste momento enquanto escrevo, eu estou a balançar-me numa corda. Por enquanto, vale a pena viver porque a esperança ainda não desapareceu por completo. Eu sei disto porque eu já tive a oportunidade de viver a vida tal como imaginei. Apesar de muito mais ainda ser necessário, ainda foi muito bom, apenas fantástico e maravilhoso..

.. Eu preciso de manter essa memória por perto. 

 

Porque não posso confiar em ninguém para dar a esperança e apoio emocional que preciso neste momento. Nem mesmo a minha psicóloga neste momento. Desde que informei destas noticias para algumas pessoas da minha vida, tudo o que elas fizeram foi expressar aquelas únicas frases filosofias e baratas. Do “Vive um dia de cada vez”, “Vê pelo lado positivo”, “O que estás a falar, ainda tens bom aspecto”, “Oh, não importa. Sempre serás a Safira, a Safira estava dentro de ti este tempo todo” (não me digas)… … ugh. Eu tenho consciência que as pessoas estão a tentar ajudar-me, a tentarem ser simpáticas. Mas neste momento, eu não preciso de pessoas a tentarem ser simpáticas e ajudada com apenas frases cliché que foram retiradas de uma história para crianças. Eu preciso de ajuda e suporte verdadeiro. Estou.. cansada de tanta areia que tentam atirar para os meus olhos, das pessoas tentarem fazer acreditar-me que não tenho nada que me preocupar e que eu simplesmente devia tentar ignorar tudo até que tudo volte ao normal.

 

Digam-me, alguém se relembra daquele sentimento quando se chora e existe pessoas a tentarem encorajar-te.. e tu fechas os teus olhos, apesar do facto das pessoas estarem fisicamente ao teu lado ou à tua frente.. sentires como se toda a gente estivesse a milhas de distância e tu estás completamente só apesar das vozes estarem perto de ti? Isso é o que sinto quando chego a um estado de desespero em vez de apenas aquele sentimento de frustração bastante familiar. Que não importa se tens pessoas que te dizem amar e que querem o teu melhor, o coração e mente delas ainda estão tão longe, ausente e/ou distante. Isto é, para mim, o sentimento de solidão. Quando não tens ninguém que verdadeiramente.. ama o verdadeiro eu. Que apesar das pessoas dizerem que te amam, tu sabes bem que é mentira porque aquilo que amam não és tu de verdade mas apenas aquilo que acreditam seres tu. Que não querem saber dos teus interesses mas apenas projectam as suas ideas e aquilo que acreditam ser o melhor para ti em vez daquilo que verdadeiramente desejas.

Eu não preciso de uma tempestade de areia para cobrir aquilo que vejo claramente num espelho, que sinto na minha mente. Os efeitos que pelos quais já estava a livrar-me.

Não… o que preciso é de um abraço de alguém que seja maior que eu, forte mas com um coração quente. Para fazer sentir-me que não estou só quando fecho os meus olhos e os meus soluços se tornam gemidos. O contacto físico que está a faltar tanto, que as pessoas sempre o evitaram durante a minha vida. Um gesto simples e carinhoso no ombro ou braço, de uma cara amigável. O calor humano, o odor. O sentido do tacto que faz falta e que me fez sentir apática, que fez do meu coração frágil ser pedra. A voz que vem de um outro coração e não da mente, quando me diz com ternura e honestidade que “a vida é difícil sim, tu e eu já sofremos demasiado. Não sabemos o que o futuro nos reserva mas nós iremos sobreviver, juntos.”

… Mas o que peço é demasiado, não é? Eu já ouvi isso de algumas pessoas ao longo dos anos. Que esses pequenos gestos são demasiadamente caros. Que é difícil para mim encontrar esse estilo de pessoas, porque eu sou muito complicada e diferente do resto do mundo. Vão para a merda, todos vocês que me disseram coisas desse género, do fundo do meu coração.. eu nem estou a tentar ser vingativa e maldosa, eu sinto mesmo ódio neste preciso momento por todas essas pessoas que me disseram isso no passado. Porque essas pessoas dizem essas coisas horríveis quando estão perto de mim, para “tentarem ser simpáticas”; viram as costas, esquecem que eu existo e depois vão para as redes sociais para mostrarem as fotos com as amigas, com sorrisos amarelos e copos nas mãos; dando a entender que tem uma vida perfeita e rodeada das amizades que cultivaram durante anos.

Eu sou um brinquedo, não sou? Uma boneca criada especialmente para os outros demonstrarem a sua “bondade” e depois abandonada e posta de lado. Uma aberração que ninguém pode compreender, que não merece o mero contacto trivial e banal de um outro ser humano. Estou.. cansada de ser a cadela de luxo de todo o mundo pelo qual apenas tens que preparar um pequeno lacinho para a franja quando vais me levar a passear para eu fazer as minhas necessidades e para tirares uma foto fofa para o facebook e, depois da foto ser tirada, está na hora de voltar para casa enquanto que os donos vão dar uma volta lá fora e fazem aquilo que os “humanos fazem quando não tem os cães por perto”. Passando a maior parte do dia a preocupar-me e a questionar se os donos alguma vez irão voltar a casa. Apenas com uma tigela para a ração e outra para a água. E quando os donos chegam a casa, frustrados com a vida deles, eu fico grata que não estou sozinha finalmente.. eu levo com um chuto porque os donos já não estão interessados em tirar fotos comigo para as suas redes sociais. E quando ladro, sou ignorada. Quando mordo, é me dito que sou ingrata e má porque os donos AO MENOS deram-me ração e água.

 

Alguns de vocês não tem coração, isso é óbvio para mim. Parasitas sociais e carraças, eu tenho imensa pena que vocês foram educados tão mal e são tão privilegiados ao ponto de não fazerem a menor idea o que é sofrer seriamente e sentem a necessidade de rir ou de gozar quando eu digo que quero esconder-me numa caverna devido aos eventos recentes. Eu não estou a brincar, ouve alguém que se riu em todos os momentos quando eu utilizei expressões do género nestas últimas semanas e eu fico a pensar se esta pessoa é apenas incapaz de sentir empatia pelo próximo ou apenas não é capaz de discernir a dor que sinto. Longa vida à burguesia,  que choram por cãozinhos e gatinhos nas redes sociais mas é completamente alheia ao sofrimento dos outros mesmo à frente do nariz!

Sim, porque nada mais precisa ser dito quando tu ouves algumas pessoas a dizer que “suportam-te” e ainda acham que é completamente apropriado dizer que estão no seu período e que eu nunca irei saber o que isso é. CREDO, conseguem ouvir o grito dentro da minha mente quando eu ouvi uma das pessoas que me “suporta” a ser tão atenciosa e bondosa quando me relembra que nunca irei ter filhos do meu sangue? E então aquele dia em que uma dessas outras queridas “aliadas” pensou que teria imensa piada fazer uma piada de mau gosto com respeito às “jóias da minha família”? Conseguem sentir o amor a pairar no ar? Porque, depois de tanto carinho, eu apenas consigo concluir que, ou duas uma, algumas destas pessoas que me “suportam” ou são sociopatas ou são incrivelmente mesquinhas.

 

… E sim, tenho plena consciência que algumas dessas pessoas que me “suportam” vão ler este post eventualmente. Eu nem quero saber, não revelei a identidade dessas pessoas para “o público” portanto não vale a pena estarem com forcas e apenas basta ignorarem, como costume. Nem penso revelar, a não ser que decidam fazer figuras tristes para “o público” porque disse aquilo que sinto com base em acontecimentos reais. Deixa estar, podem ignorar à vontade e esperar que faça upload de uma foto minha no facebook que aí sim vão fazer “like” na mesma para demonstrar o vosso “suporte”.

 

 

Hmhm.. de qualquer forma, está na altura de pensar o que fazer no entretanto, enquanto eu vou morrendo aos poucos por dentro durante este tempo de espera para descobrir o que o meu fígado tem de errado.

 

Não existe muito que possa fazer excepto esperar. As coisas irão se reverter aos poucos nos próximos meses, visto que irá demorar algum tempo. Estas coisas já estão a reverter-se lentamente, não é preciso atirarem com areia para os olhos e dizerem-me que ainda estou linda de morrer. Por favor, já tive melhores dias e eu tenho potencial de ainda ser mais bela que antes assim que eu (espero) possa resumir o meu Tratamento Hormonal.

O que posso fazer, no entanto, é evitar que o meu corpo se altere demasiado visto que está à mercê da Testosterona de novo. No que diz respeito às minhas ancas e cintura.. eu sempre tive, mesmo antes da transição, alguma curva (apesar de eu já não ter aquela proporção perfeita de 0,75… vou sentir tanta falta disso..). Eu irei ter que conviver com a idea de ter uma figura mais rectangular mas mesmo assim magra.

Para manter um físico elegante, terei que comer menos e não permitir que os meus músculos e gordura se desenvolvam e se redistribuem. Se não comer muito, espero que os meus músculos não irão se desenvolver muito. No que diz respeito a gorduras, desde que coma o “suficiente”, o corpo não vai poder distribuir gordura suficiente para os lugares indesejáveis. Também irei precisar de beber bastante água para livrar-me do lixo indesejável no corpo, o que será bastante fácil visto ser verão portanto, não haverá falta de sede.

A caixa toráxica e costas é que irão ser o maior problema porque, como tomei consciência com o meu Tratamento Hormonal e agora com o facto que foi retirado os bloqueadores de Testosterona, é uma área fantasticamente… err.. versátil/flexível, dependendo das hormonas que estiverem em circulação. Isto vai ser o factor determinante que irá permitir-me “passar” ou não na sociedade. Isto não é algo fácil, de prevenir que a caixa toráxica se inche demasiado ou da forma mais lenta possível. Com base no meu conhecimento totalmente pseudo e idiota de alguém mal formada no que diz respeito a este problema muito específico, eu penso que, para além da minha dieta, manter o sutiã mais apertado quando possível irá ajudar. Eu sei eu sei.. é estúpido mas eu não sei mais o que poderei fazer e esta idea é mais baseada numa esperança muito cega e parva. Ao menos irei sentir-me melhor em saber que estou a tentar e os sutiãs ainda não se romperam até agora de qualquer forma. Por favor não me convençam de que isto não vai funcionar, deixem eu acreditar que isto vai ter algum impacto!

Num lado mais positivo, eu não preciso de preocupar-me muito com a minha cara ou braços/mãos. As minhas mãos e cara sempre tiveram um aspecto bastante feminino antes do Tratamento Hormonal. Isso não irá mudar agora mesmo com a Testosterona. Nunca foram factores muito influenciados com a Testosterona mesmo durante a puberdade, é óbvio que nada irá acontecer agora.. c-certo? Certo.. poderá alterar um pouco as minhas expressões faciais.. mas, como disse, eu sempre tive uma cara bastante feminina de qualquer forma. A cara nunca irá ser problema no que diz respeito a “passar”. E as minhas mãos nunca me causaram disforia, elas são as minhas “relíquias”. O meu segredo? Usar relógios apertados nos pulsos durante a minha infância, muitos jogos e evitar pesos fortes o máximo possível! O quê? Resultou, não foi? Eu espero que a mesma lógica se aplique no que diz respeito à caixa toráxica e sutiãs..

 

Apesar dessas coisas e dependendo do quanto as coisas irão se alterar.. eu -irei- dar um aviso importante a toda a gente, para aqueles que leram até agora. Quando chegar o momento em que eu sinta que já não “passo” na sociedade devido a estas mudanças físicas… vai ser o dia que irei deixar de sair de casa a não ser para lidar e resolver qualquer questão que seja necessária para voltar a recomeçar o Tratamento Hormonal.

Isto não é negociável. Eu tenho plena consciência que tenho um trabalho e que o dinheiro é bastante necessário.. mas eu não posso simplesmente, para o bem da minha sanidade mental, meter o pé fora e.. hmm. Não. Desculpem-me mas não posso! Não é saudável. Não. Nem.. pensar. O que menos quero que aconteça é voltar a sair de casa e ter as pessoas a voltarem a tratar-me como um homem. Se alguém pensa que simplesmente terei que suportar isso só porque preciso do trabalho.. então podem ficar descansados porque eu sei muito bem que preciso de um trabalho.. de dinheiro. Mas eu também preciso de viver, de manter a minha sanidade e eu não quero colocar a minha saúde mental em risco só porque preciso de dinheiro. E quando eu descobrir que cheguei a uma altura em que as pessoas olham para mim e pensam que sou crossdresser.. então é altura de esconder-me do público.

Por favor parem de dizer-me como devo de sentir e como devo de agir. Eu estou a ser bastante séria quando eu digo que eu iria abandonar o meu trabalho se fosse necessário para preservar o que tenho. Não façam de conta agora, depois de tantos anos a dizerem que sou difícil e impossível de ser compreendida, que agora é que tem as respostas certas para os meus problemas. Eu cheguei longe não porque ouvi todas as sugestões que me foram dadas, mas porque eu conheço-me a mim mesma até bem demais e sei o que é melhor para mim.

De qualquer forma, quando essa altura chegar, eu acredito que poderei negociar algo com as minhas superiores e arranjar maneira de trabalhar em casa no entretanto (isto foi o conselho que um estranho na internet me deu recentemente. É uma idea excelente!). A internet existe, o meu PC em casa é melhor que aquele que tenho no trabalho portanto, até de certa forma, o trabalho até poderá decorrer mais rapidamente aqui que no escritório! Tenho consciência que não consigo fazer tudo aqui da mesma forma que poderia fazer no escritório mas, ao menos, é melhor do que produzir nada e ganhar nada..

 

 

E assim, eu termino este post loooongo por informar todos que estarei disponível e irei actualizar-vos através do Twitter e da minha Página de Facebook (publica). Sim, tenho consciência que eu faço muitos posts no meu twitter e na minha página de facebook que muita gente não gosta muito. Temos pena… porque não sou fan do Facebook por si mesmo e eu tento evitar falar muito no meu Facebook pessoal. Qualquer notícia importante irá ser transmitida através do meu blog e, como tal, eu acredito que só irá ser relevante criar uma destas actualizações assim que souber o que o meu fígado tem de errado.

 

E antes de dizer adeus, eu irei partilhar uma última selfie (que fotografei na última Sexta Feira).. até que volte a ter as minhas hormonas e até ficar apresentável de novo. Obrigada por lerem e se acham que fui injusta de uma maneira ou outra.. então eu espero que ao menos entendam o porquê de eu falar da maneira que falo em vez de agirem como egoístas com vontade de preservar os vossos egos e interesses pessoais. Sim.. eu sei que sou hipócrita. Vocês também, deixa estar~

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Dreams

(Still experimenting but I kinda like this featured image! It is almost accurate to my vision)

 

Good afternoon everyone!

Today I’ve decided to write this blog post, one about dreams. I know right? Talking about something non-political for once, it’s like a breath of fresh air!

 

Why talk about dreams? What is there to talk about? I don’t know.. it’s just an interesting topic to me and one that I would like to share a few thoughts that I believe some people might find useful or relatable. I’ll also be sharing an old returning dream of mine back when I was an (actual) teenager, and how I reacted to it at the time and what it taught me.

 

 

First of, what are dreams? It is always wise to first describe the word that we’ll be using for an entire post.

 

A dream can be several things to several people. Emotions, images, stories, fiction, solving problems, memories, desires.. the list goes on. These happen when you rest, during one’s beauty sleep. Life taught me that men and women dream differently (though that’s not really important for this post). While there are people that believe there’s a spiritual meaning behind them, that need to be interpreted; there are others that believe that these should be ignored for they are mostly made of nonsense and scraps that are being tidied in the right compartments of the psyche.

Personally, I believe they are all of those.. except the spiritual aspect. I do not believe they come from gods or spirits.. but from our own subconscious. I know, it’s obvious. It has to come from our own mind and, therefore, it has to be based on things that we must known or have seen or thought. Either consciously or subconsciously.

This is the part that I find most interesting and a few may disagree. I don’t believe most dreams hold any special meaning. However, I do believe some do hold a special meaning. The more intense a dream is and the more we are able to remember it everyday, then it is worth investigating! Even more, if it starts to repeat. If a dream makes you worried, or the emotions that you felt on the dream are carried to reality even if for just a few seconds, I believe it is time for an introspection.

However, I also do believe that only the person who dreams it can know what it means. In short, I don’t believe one should ask someone else to interpret one’s dream. The dream came from your mind, from your own thoughts. Only you hold the key to understand what those emotions, images and fiction means. A color may symbolize something that only you know, therefore there’s no way to generalize a color’s meaning in a dream. One must understand oneself to better realize what your dreams could mean to you!

 

I believe that dreams, when they repeat and are intense, can be used to better understand oneself. Our own fears, our own emotions that we may not even be aware! Or even issues in our own mind. But it’s also wise to never fully embrace and act upon one’s dreams. Because, at the end of the day, most dreams may not hold any special meaning. You can never be too sure and dreams are not evidence of anything wrong or positive about your life and mental health. It is a way for your brain to organize itself; based on the things you saw, know or feel. And most of them can be made of incoherent gibberish.

.. But, if we are confident that a dream may hold a special meaning, then I believe we should try to understand it to better understand ourselves. Not with google, or with the aid of others.. but based on our own interpretation of it. We are able to figure it out by ourselves since it came from us. We know what a certain object means, what a certain color means, what a gesture or emotion means. Because our mind is not a separate identity from ourselves. We are the mind and the subconscious holds the thoughts that we refuse to think about on our daily lives.

 

Our brains allows us to breathe without thinking, in the same way that our subconscious deals with certain emotions and thoughts that we don’t want to think about but still have to be part of our being in order to keep our sanity intact.

This is my personal opinion, of what is a dream and if they hold some value. The short answer is: Only you know if a dream is important or not and if you should use it to better understand yourself. And only you can know the meaning behind the dream. Following a literal dream is as foolish as following one’s heart, since sometimes the heart isn’t in the right place. Sometimes, however, one must understand and solve the issues that plague our subconscious. Those warnings may sometimes materialize in the form of dreams. Dreams are a mere symptom that need other real symptoms to be considered legit aspects that need attention. A dream alone without other actual real symptoms is nothing to be worried.

 

With that view on dreams that I hold, it is obvious that I, myself, had a few interesting experiences related to this topic through out my life. Though most of them are personal and private, there is one that I would love to share to whoever has been reading thus far.

 

 

This specific dream that I’ll be talking about did haunt me ever since the beginning of my own puberty. It lasted for nearly ten years. Though not everyday or even every week, it repeated often enough to be remembered even after not dreaming it for around seven years. In fact, this dream became so intense and frightening that it was one of the many things that lead me to “come out of the closet”, as they say! And it never came back since I did so, which means that the dream was associated with my condition and not being honest with myself and others.

The featured image that I used for this blog post is mostly accurate to part of that dream.. down to the colors that I remember.

First, I’ll expose the dream. Then I’ll share the interpretation of it that took me years to fully understand. Then I’ll explain what I did after realizing what it meant.

 

The dream starts in fog, white and slowly revealing the soft beige colors that would be maintained through out most of the dream. It quickly reveals a feminine figure. That figure looked closely like myself. The fog covered my vision of what was bellow my shoulders and all I could see was what was above the shoulders.

A quick note: As most dreams that I have, I very rarely dream of myself in my own eyes but in third person. Though I can act, feel and talk.. my dreams never reveal my own vision but the vision from somewhere else.. like a camera from a movie focusing on the protagonist. Though clearly I am the protagonist and I’m in full control of my own figure, emotions and thoughts.

Despise not being able to see what was underneath the fog, I knew that I was naked. I could not feel what was underneath the fog, but I could use my own hands. My own feminine figure had most of her face covered, exposing only the jaw, nose and mouth. What covered her face was not fog.. but a messy tangled web of confusion.. hair. I wanted to know if that feminine figure was really me and, conveniently, there is a cheval mirror standing in front of me. Given that I am the feminine figure in this dream, I approach it calmly, in a single step.

The mirror reveals what I already had seen. Fog bellow the shoulders and the mess that covered most of the face. This is the moment that I can see myself in first person. My curiosity lead me to use my hands and remove the hair in front of my eyes. I wanted to know if that feminine figure was really me. But dreams are bizarre and, as I try to remove the hair in front of my eyes.. it reveals that there is more hair underneath.

Confused, I keep trying. I start using both my hands and I begin to realize that I’m unable to remove the hair from my face. Underneath hair, there was more hair. I clench my teeth, the frustration starts to build in and my hand movements start to hasten as I try to force my way in hope that I have a glimpse on what’s underneath the hair.

As the frustration grows and I start to yell out the pain, the shades of beige start to get darker. Despise being unable to see my own eyes, I still was able see my hands and the reflection in front of the mirror clearly. But I was unable to see what was underneath the hair.

The colors, as they would grow darker and darker, bring an end to the dream and bring me to reality.. since I would always wake up after that dream still clinging to the frustration and haziness it brought and wondering if that figure was really me.

 

Of course, we could always ask someone for what they think this dream means. Or a specialist, or a spiritual leader. But, as I’ve mentioned earlier, dreams are born from our subconscious, from our own thoughts and feelings. Only we, ourselves, are able to figure out our own dreams. With this dream, I will give an example of what I mean by that.

In order, I’ll explain the meaning behind my dream.

 

The dream starts white. For me, it represents purity and innocence. And it also represents enlightenment. In whiteness, the several shades of beige are born and they form the dream itself. Beige is a soft color and, for me, it represents sensitivity. Since it is also a color quite close to my own skin tone, it is a familiar color. Familiar, truth, sensitive and delicate are the four words that come to mind when beige is presented to me. It also is a color that catches my attention, as something that needs special consideration. It is a warning sign that what is going to happen is very important, emotional and requires thought, delicate actions and soft spoken words.

When these colors are presented to me in such a fashion, it means that what is about to happen is of extreme importance and is life changing. So there is a sense of mystery and high expectations on what is going to happen. The fog underlines this mystery or truths that have yet to be revealed.

The feminine figure is easily identifiable as me. It shares the same mouth and nose. But the jaw line, neck thickness and shoulders seemed off. What could be described as a feminine interpretation of myself (which, nowadays, when I think about it, my brain actually figured out somehow how I would somehow look like without testosterone in the present. That is impressive.. though strange). This added more to the mystery though, clearly, given that I was starting puberty, it was the embodiment of what I wanted for myself.

The fog covers everything bellow the shoulders. Since I know that this feminine figure of myself was naked, it represents vulnerability and delicateness. And also things to reveal, hidden. There is also certain curiosity to how I look like underneath all that fog, though clearly never the focus. This represents sexuality. Since I’m unable to verify the existence of breasts and genitalia, it means that my sexual desires were unknown and yet to be revealed. Yet, again, it never seems to be the focus of this dream since I am more curious to learn about the identity of that figure has really being me or not.

The hairy mess that covered most of my face and eyes represents my negligence. It is there and messy because I’ve allowed it to be that way. It got to the point that it covered my eyes, my identity. This means that I willingly decided to ignore and conceal my identity from myself and others. A web of messy lies and dishonesty that went too far.

I was watching myself in third person, as if looking through an invisible camera that focused on the protagonist. This is the rule in most of my dreams, the default. It means that everything thus far was the norm, the status quo. There was a mirror however, nearby. And as I walk towards the mirror that represents the ability to self reflect, to indulge in introspection; the vision changes to the first person. That means that I still hold the power to find out about my own identity through some introspection.

The fact that I can still use my eyes and see clearly, despise the mirror showing that there is plenty of hair in front of them only underlines that the mess that covers the vision and judgement is nothing more than an illusion. The lies aren’t real, though I can clearly make sense of those lies by doing some introspection. It is recognizing that there is something wrong in one’s identity and that there is still hope since I had not become completely blinded by the very same lies that I’ve created to justify the facade that I used to live when I was young.

I knew that feminine figure was me but, somehow, I wanted to make sure it was really me. This means that I still didn’t had access to my true self, to my personality. That I didn’t fully knew who I was or wasn’t sure that what I thought to be me was really me. The lies that kept my true self hidden meant that I was curious.. yet afraid to be right.

My hands could be used to remove the hair in front of my eyes. It means that, deep down, I really wanted to take steps and find out if that figure was my true self. But there was more hair underneath the hair.. and that caused frustration. It means, after all, the web of lies and illusions were unable to be removed on my own. And that, on my own, even if I tried to remove the lies and understand myself more and more through the illusions that I’ve created, there would always be more lies and illusions underneath. This can only mean that, though there is a necessity to dispel to find oneself, I would still always be fearful and create more illusions and lies to keep my true identity concealed. It means that I was being an hypocrite and working against my own interests with the dishonesty I was continuously creating.

The feelings that it brought, of frustration and helplessness, is the embodiment of high Neuroticism. The dream becomes dark, teeth grinding. The darkness means the end, a conclusion. It also means to conceal, to forget. To interrupt, in this situation. It means something is interrupting my progress, to find my true self. And as I always woke up right afterwards.. it means that reality, my own daily life. That is what was stopping me from finding myself. Life itself didn’t allowed me to be who I am. The frustration is carried through reality and I’m left wondering who that figure really was.

The ironic part is not that the dream forced me to wake up. Deep down, I wanted to wake up because I couldn’t handle the frustration that the dream always brought to the surface.

 

As I grew older, the figure, too, aged at the same rate as myself in reality. And so the frustration and weariness grew alongside it. Because I was starting to become too self conscious and aware of this dream’s existence. Together with the disforia in it by itself. Though it wasn’t a dream that made me realize of my condition, it was still one of the many warning symptoms of keeping myself hidden from the public eye and keep the facade for so long until adulthood.

The dream only ceased to reappear when I decided to “come out of the closet”. Which only shows that the dream represented my denial, of who I am in my essence. It represented the emotions and the facade I had built to keep myself hidden for so long from my conscious reality and from those that I used to deal with daily. My subconscious was filled with the thoughts and emotions that I didn’t want to think or feel. And my subconscious brought that dream over and over because it was loaded with such negative feedback.

Once I’ve opened my mouth and did my own research.. my subconscious was free and became healthier with time. It no longer needed to process those specific emotions and thoughts, finally having time for other issues that also need attention.

 

 

This is why I believe that some dreams can be useful. But it is up to us to figure out if a dream is a warning sign of our own subconscious.. or just another foolish segment of nothing but gibberish nonsense.

Thank you for reading and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this blog post! Sweet dreams~

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“Diversity” is our Strength

(“Good” featured image)

 

Good afternoon boys and girls!

Today we’re getting political and quite critical. Or, as some people would call it, politically incorrect. Fortunately, those words lost all their meaning so, therefore, I feel no guilt in sharing my thoughts on a rather heated topic! “Diversity”.

 

“Diversity is our Strength”, we have heard several times. During our childhood, most of us saw an image that, in concept, is alike the one I’ve drawn as a a featured image! The world, surrounded by people of all cultures and ethnicity. Holding hands, expressing our humanity, our unity and hope for world peace.

I, myself, am used to such images and concepts. These were everywhere when I was young, specially when I was in first grade and all the way to the fourth grade. Though, personally, I see no wrong with such concept and image; I rather prefer the image of a more developed fetus within a mother’s womb surrounded by the stars of the galaxy to represent the human condition. In fact, that’s what I had drawn back in third grade when they asked all the children in my school to draw something that represented our humanity. That got me a bronze medal for my creativity back then… but enough about silly ol’me!

 

But what is “Diversity”? We see it today, people demanding a more diverse environment. Shouting, weeping, becoming emotionally unstable when current politics don’t align with their own view of the world. Spouting labels such as “racist” and “bigoted”, because a politician dared to suggest that maybe there should be more control over a country’s borders. The talk about globalization, millions of people who are pro-immigration and would be shocked if someone else isn’t keen on having fully open borders. In the name of inclusion, justice.

This is when opinions vary. But it is clear that, for some, diversity means having people of all cultures and backgrounds come together and live in peace. To be honest, that does sound great on a very superficial level. Who wouldn’t want world peace?

But.. there’s an issue with such mindset. And the issue lies within the word “Diversity” itself. Again we ask, what is “diversity?”

 

As mentioned earlier, people have grown to get used to and aspire for imagery and the symbolic meaning behind the drawing I’ve made for the featured image of today’s post. But there is something I haven’t done on that picture that I’ve drawn: They lack skin color. I’ve done so on purpose though, for some, the meaning behind diversity is having people with different skin colors. For others it is having people of several religious faiths holding hands. And there are others that see diversity in having people of “all genders” (we’ve been through this but, for the sake of keeping on topic, here’s my view on Non-Binary, for those interested), with all types of body shapes and fashion styles.

So, again, I ask. What is “Diversity”? Though everyone seems to have an answer to that nowadays, I will give my outright opinion and say that I disagree with most people’s view on what that word even means and criticize those who believe that “Diversity” means having a cereal bowl filled with colorful pieces of mere grain and sugar.

 

What exactly is “Diverse” in having people of all skin colors in the same room? Besides the superficial and outlook visual appearance being, admittedly, diverse, is it really.. “Diverse”? To assume that people with different skin colors than our own are.. different, with unrelated life experiences than our own that could never be understood by anyone of a different ethnicity; isn’t it a gross exaggeration and a way to stereotype people based on the color of their skin? To assume that someone with a different skin color could never relate to someone that doesn’t share their own skin color.. isn’t this bigotry in itself? To categorize people based on their appearance and to conclude that, in order to have a rich and diverse environment, you would need different skin colors in the same room; isn’t this racism?

Of course, some would say that this isn’t racism and being colorblind is racism. Again, we can conclude that words have lost all their meaning and that their meanings have changed depending on someone’s ideology. But, for some, having a room with people with black skin, brown skin, white skin and with Asian ethnicity equally represented is, by itself, the true answer to a fulfilling rich and diverse culture.. and that gives strength.

I strongly disagree, since I’m colorblind and I don’t believe a color gives you unique abilities, intelligence or personality. We live in the real world, not in a fictitious Rainbow Brite/Power Ranger parallel universe.

 

How exactly does having all religions gathered in the same room gives society strength? Besides some of them wanting to kill each others because they believe they should be the only true religion in this world; how exactly can you have all religions in the same room and expect one to be shielded from criticism while the others are worthy of scrutiny? How is it fair and non-hypocritical that one seeks diversity in religion yet the very same religions that are protected as “minorities” seek to criminalize those who think differently than they do? In short, how is defending individuals that seek to eliminate the very same “Diversity” you seek.. “Diverse”?

Of course, some would say that criticizing a religion is fine as long it is not a very specific one of their liking. But if you criticize one or two religions who are deemed as “minority” is, in fact, bigotry against the people that follow that religion.

I strongly disagree, since we are talking about ideology. Every ideology deserves criticism and every ideology is different from one another. Some ideas deserve more attention and more scrutiny, because of the things they do in the name of what they follow. To believe that certain religions should be shielded from such is incredibly patronizing and against an equal society. In short, it’s unfair and illogical, it does not bring the “Diversity” you seek.. but more hatred.

 

How exactly is a room filled the same amount of men and women.. equal? Besides mathematics being on point with that sort of mentality, how is one’s genitals and gender identity synonymous of a diverse and a contribution to a diverse environment? How is it fair to say what a man and a woman can do and shouldn’t go? How is that not stereotyping people while claiming that society is the one that manufactured gender itself (despise biology pointing otherwise)? One should be consistent with their views if one wishes to redefine the very core of humanity.

Of course, some would say that I’m sexist and transphobic for not caring for one’s genitals or gender identity. Unfortunately for them, I’m a woman. A transsexual woman. So that would mean that I hate myself, that I’ve internalized some type of bigotry. I’m sorry, I’m not that easily manipulated by schizophrenic sociopaths drunken by their own ideology. I’m a cult survivor, I got my vaccine against those. Though I guess you could blame me for being bigoted against Non-Binary, since I am still waiting for the evidence that such exists (how can you be bigoted against something that doesn’t exist?).

However, again, I strongly disagree. Gender stereotypes are the worst and I’ve felt the pressure of some individuals trying to impose me either male or female tropes down my throat, since I pass as a biological female in society and I was born biologically male. Not everyone is a stereotypical female or male. Tomboys and feminine men exist after all and that shows than men and women are capable of relating with each others in many ways. Being a man or a woman (or an attack helicopter) doesn’t make you unique and diverse. It makes you superficial and dull, that lacks personality. If anything, statistical equality and collectivism is oppressive towards individuals with potential and incredibly patronizing for the “minorities” in the room that are told that they can’t achieve greatness because the room is bigoted towards them.

 

 

Once again we ask, what is “Diversity”? Close your eyes and imagine the following: (wait, don’t actually close your eyes.. else you won’t be able to read!)

You are in a room. In this room, there is a White Atheist Man, a Black Muslim Woman, a Latino Christian Transsexual Male and an Eastern Asian Buddhist Non-Binary Woman. They are happy with the “Diversity” in their room, equally represented by the tokenism present by mere four individuals.

Ignoring the strong possibility of the Atheist criticizing the Muslim for pointing that her faith would never allow the Non-Binary Woman to be in that room with them.. Or the Christian pointing out the flaws of Islam and the Atheist calling the Christian an hypocrite while the Buddhist claims that both the Christian and the Atheist are Islamophobic.. Or the Black Woman and Non-Binary Woman criticizing the White Man for being there (while the Transsexual Man strangely remains silent since he doesn’t want to get involved in this argument)..

Yes, ignoring that all of those things could happen, they somehow manage to stay sane and alive in the same room; in peace.

 

But peace breaks the moment a chair breaks. The four look at each other, wondering who will fix it.

The Black Muslim Woman shrugs lightly and says that she won’t do it, because asking her to do so would be considered racist, because of slavery.

The Latino Christian Transsexual Male looks at the Eastern Asian Buddhist Non-Binary Woman, as if questioning if she’s the one that’s going to fix the chair and break the gender roles imposed by society that women are incapable of such tasks. But she shrugs, because she isn’t a carpenter.

Both men look at each other. It seems it is up to either one. The Eastern Asian Buddhist Non-Binary Woman comes in defense of the Latino Christian Transsexual Male and informs everyone that the Transsexual is, in fact, oppressed and to stop oppressing him with such tasks and gender roles. The Transsexual Male strangely, again, remains quiet.. since he’s lazy and thanks his god (in secrecy) that someone just got him away from such a dull task.

 

The White Atheist Man seems to be the center of attention. He is a White “Cisgendered” Male. An Atheist, opressor of the religious present in that room. This is an opportunity for him to prove that he’s not bigoted, that he doesn’t want to enslave the Black Woman. That he doesn’t discriminate against the Non-Binary and Transsexual. That he respects all faiths.

He walks towards the chair, to try his luck. Unfortunately, he doesn’t do a good job and the chair remains even more broken. The White Atheist Man apologizes and asks if he can invite his friend to come over and fix the chair for free. The four are unable (or unwilling) to fix the chair.. there needs to be one more person on that room.

The Eastern Asian Buddhist Non-Binary Woman asks the White Atheist Man what race, religion and gender is his friend. He says that it is another White Atheist Man. The other three disagree and ask if he has someone that is a Woman or Non-Binary at least. Or at least someone that isn’t White. The White Atheist Man shakes his head, he’s not an individual with many friends after all.

 

Where is the “Diversity”? Who will fix that chair, despise the four being, superficially, different from each others?

It seems they are not that “Diverse” after all. Despise their skin color, gender and religion.. none of them is prolific enough to fix a chair. And since they cannot allow another White Atheist Man to walk inside the room in order to keep the balance.. the chair remains broken, ugly and useless.

 

 

Is this the Diversity you seek? Let’s imagine something different.

Imagine the same room, the same broken chair. But, in this room, there is a Scientist, an Athlete, a Carpenter and an Artist. They talk among themselves and it is obvious that the Carpenter is going to be the one fixing this chair. Carpenter does so, with the aid of the strong Athlete. The Artist remains close, giving advises on how to make the chair look more appeasing to the eye. The Scientist remains afar, perhaps planning on what to do with that chair once it is fixed.

The Carpenter fixed the chair, the Athlete was the helper. Not only did they fix that chair, but they made it prettier thanks to the suggestions given by the Artist. The Scientist, on the other hand, thought it would be a good idea to use that chair themselves in order to sit on their desk and write an hypothesis about one of their new theories.

.. It seems these individuals worked better together. Their skills and traits were diverse and, not only did they work together, but they also made more than just fixing a chair.

 

This is Diversity that gives strength. If we had four Carpenters, the chair would be fixed and nothing more. If we had four Athletes or four Artists or four Scientists, the chair wouldn’t be fixed. But these four, together? The chair was fixed and even more!

And you may ask yourself if it is possible that these four individuals also could had different skin colors.. or gender.. or religion.. from each others. Oh, it is! Completely! But, as you can see, those aspects did not matter at the end. What you are after.. is not Diversity. But a false sense of… “Diversity”.

 

 

 

Thank you for reading this blog post. I’ve enjoyed writing this one!

I’ll see you next time, dear reader~

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The blur of Reality & Online

(Basic featured image is basic)

 

Good afternoon!

It has been a while since I’ve wrote on this blog. I know I know..

Either way, here we are. Another post, one that will sound more like a short incoherent ramble about the future of my online pseudonym!

First, I would like to quote a former post I’ve made on this blog.

“I should know better by now, as someone of my own age, to not behave this carelessly online on my public accounts. I should had kept myself to drawing and sharing stories. Again, that was the original idea when I created the pseudonym “SapphyDe90”. To focus on art, to be genuine yet kind. I guess the “art” and “kindness” got lost somewhere, leaving only the brutal honesty to the public. Unfiltered.. for most part. Lax. Perhaps naive, which is something that goes against what I am in reality.. though it is true that I can act quite childish. Personally, I don’t mind being childish on some aspects, as long I’m mature where it actually matters.”

“More and more I’ve thought to myself what to do with this pseudonym. I’ve been less motivated to draw as time passes by. Yet I’ve been felling the pressure to express my creativity somehow. It pains me that, at the age of 26 (nearly 27), I’m here thinking about what I want to do when “I grow up”. In this case, what type of artist I want to be. Again. I thought I had that set on stone, I was doing well with my art style. My stories and universes were, in my humble biased opinion, well developed and it’s a shame I never shared not even a single one to a wider audience, in a more complete sense! But, alas, people know that I’m changing. It’s a long process, that I’m quite enjoying the results that have been surprising me. But this is not the post to talk about my transition..”

Ignoring the rambling about art, given that it is something that will take some time and patience from my part to do so.. (my daily life does not allow me to fully dedicate myself to do some soul searching and find myself again as an artist) it is clear that, ever since I’ve started my transition, my online presence has changed drastically. And, to be honest, so has my real presence in the real world.. obviously.

 

Some of you are aware of my blue haired cartoon character, an alter ego which goal was to serve as an online persona and a way to humanize my own personality that was locked away in my subconscious. The idea of a blue (actually cyan) haired girl sporting a mix of magenta, yellow and black came in 2013.

 

First appearance – August 2013

First came the face, has I still lacked a art style of my own.

The blue hair came with the idea that, as basic and obvious as it may seem, my name is associated with a gemstone that is typically related with the color blue (even though this gem exists in other colors). However, I gave it a lighter shade, a pure cyan because, at the time, I was finishing a Graphic Design course and I thought it would be funny if I went ahead and used Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Black! For me, it represents the ability to adapt to most social circumstances and events while, at the same time, not losing focus of my individuality. As Sapphire.

The rose tinted glasses, though normally associated with blinded nostalgia, it represents several things for me. First, it simbolizes a one sided vision of the world. Stubbornness, in short. An individual with strong convictions and morals. The rose tinted color represents tradition, since it is connected with nostalgia. Though I am nostalgic about a few things, it means that I hold a more old fashioned view of how things should be. It’s classic. Though, if one looks closer, the eyes behind the glasses are blue. Again, it represents an independent view. In short, I don’t like to impose my own values onto others and I enjoy my right to be an old fashioned individual… the same way that I feel others should be free to follow their own values.. as long they don’t impose those onto me.

 

Another August 2013 drawing

The hairpin, though I rarely included those on my drawings, it represents my geek side. It doesn’t serve any purpose for the hairstyle, nor does it mold it drastically but it means that I’m fine with that aspect of mine.

The wardrobe itself, the clothing.. there was never a special meaning behind it. It was style, ways to represent the other colors mentioned earlier. And often have I changed the clothing, depending on the season.

With Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Black, I could give my alter ego any color I wanted. Which is why, at times (Halloween, for example), my alter ego would be drawn with other shades, other colors.

 

Halloween 2015

The shape of the eyes and the eye-shadow are also peculiar, different from all the characters I have drawn thus far. For one, my alter ego lacks eyebrows. At first, this was a mistake that I’ve realized much later. But I came to like it this way! For me, it symbolizes a faint hint of pride in one self. Though extremely self conscious and a perfectionist, I am still able to maintain a certain level of confidence in my views.

Instead of having eyebrows, the eyeliner extends far above and reaching the brow bone. It is a way to fix a mistake, the lack of eyebrows. Again, it underlines my flaw (or virtue, depending of one’s perspective) of being a perfectionist that tries to correct everything wrong in herself. Certain vanity.

The shape of the eyes and thick eyeliner represents a superficial judgement. It’s bold, a judgmental stare. It means that, despise everything said earlier, I still judge others heavily on their actions, words or lack of those. Though I do not impose my judgement, I still judge others inwardly. This is obviously a gross exaggeration of that aspect of mine.

 

Halloween 2016

Of course, all of this work around a cartoon character, an alter ego, served a purpose in the past. This purpose however, no longer applies.

Things have changed quite a lot since I’ve started my transition. Being online, having an cartoon avatar like this allowed me to keep in mind who I am, to maintain my personality alive and burning in the digital world while, in reality.. I would still had to wait for that to happen. A gross exaggeration of my virtues and flaws was brought to life thanks to a short tempered blue haired hippy looking cartoon character.

The character was never something I aspired to be given that she was, in essence, me. I used to love this character, even though I do admit that her appearance wasn’t friendly for the wider audience to relate to!

 

Given the changes in my life, it is time to say goodbye to this alter ego. Because, with my transition, I no longer need a mask to hide behind.

 

 

And so we move to the future. Given my transition and the fact that my personality is no longer hidden in riddles and chains, it is no mystery to others who I am.

Though I am difficult to be understood.. according to some of the people in my life, complicated. I feel that the line that separates reality and the online presence I used to keep it hidden more from those I deal with in reality, that line is starting to blur. People are becoming aware of the type of person that I am, the things that I like and my own thoughts. I no longer keep it hidden, though I tend to filter those more in reality out of kindness and overall passivity.

Truth is, there’s no point in hiding what I am in reality from the digital (online) realm.. the same way there’s no point in hiding what I am in the digital (online) realm from the people in the real world. Which is why I’ve created an Instagram account and even uploaded a photo of me as a profile picture across all sorts of social medias!

 

I am what I am. I am SapphyDe90, Sapphy, Sapphire, Safira. I have no real shame in what I do, believe and say. I am free~

And yes, I’ve lost a few “friends” on the way. Either because I, myself, walked away from such toxic relationships or they, themselves, walked away from me. Though it is a shame that some of those, who claimed to support me, faded away the moment I exposed my true colors. Nothing of value was lost, it’s all I have to say.. but I would be lying if I said I didn’t hold some resentment over a few of those people. I mean, here I am sharing my happiness and freedom.. and they just walk away after saying that they would support me. If anything, you should feel happy that I’m happy and I’m sharing you the happiness that you wished for me to have!

Perhaps there are a few people that believe that I’m bragging about my own achievements, or that go as far to say that I’ve become a narcissist behind my back. Shows how much you people grasp this situation I’m in and how low your faith is in me. Do me a favor and get lost if that’s your opinion.

Again, it’s no secret that I’m in some sort of pseudo adolescence. Except, you know, this is the right adolescence that I should of had back when I was an actual teenager. You know how teenagers are, experimenting and discovering their developing bodies and emotions. It’s healthy.. and that is what’s been going on in my life in these last few months. The fact that this vanity and self-absorption of mine, in recent months, has turned away a few people or has made them feel insecure and self-conscious about their own appearance and feelings is, at best, amusing! At worst, pathetic and sad. Because how low do you have to be to feel those things over someone with a disorder? Petty, ignorant.. there are no words to describe people who were lucky in life and still, somehow, manage to envy those who, just now, are able to live a normal life. You had your whole life filled with happiness, the teenage youthful bodies that you could relate. At the age of 27, here comes silly me finally having the body and mind that I deserve, much later in life compared to everyone else and still.. people feel the need to moan about it. No seriously.. get lost, don’t ever talk to me, just go away and don’t look back, unfriend me on your social medias, do whatever you want but can you just disappear from my life?

On the other hand, I’ve gained other friendships.. that feel truer. So no, I’m not the one losing here. I lose more keeping the reluctant in my life and/or friends’ list because, when I browse my friends’ list or social media feeds, their faces and names are there and it forces me to remind of their existence.. and that’s what creates resentment. Someday, I might be the one doing the cleanup if they don’t do it themselves with dignity. When my paciente starts to run dry and surpasses my natural submissive and passive outlook, of course!

 

 

So, what does the future hold for my online pseudonym, SapphyDe90? Simple, it holds everything that I am, what I want to do, what I want to say. It is no longer about just art, about my thoughts, about games, about politics, about anything in specific.

Thank you for reading this blog post and I hope you have a nice weekend!

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[English and Portuguese] Transitioning – Fifth Month Update

 

(Para quem não sabe ler Inglês, a versão em Português encontra-se no final)

  • 1st Month/ 1º Mês – Link
  • 2nd Month/ 2º Mês – Link
  • 3rd Month/ 3º Mês – Link
  • 4th Month/ 4º Mês – Link

 

ENGLISH

 

Hello. It’s time for another update. This one is quite important, as a few are aware of the appointment that I’ve been pointing out for a while. The 11th May.

This post.. is going to be quite different. I will not create any category. There’s no need for such this time..

 

I took my 147th Anti-Androgen on the 10th of May, Wednesday.

Wait, you may say. Wasn’t it supposed to be more 30 Anti-Androgen since last time, making it 150th on the 13th of May? There’s three missing, what happened? Unfortunately, I do have some bad news.

I’m writing this on the 11th May, on the evening. Though I’m sure that I’ll only publish this much.. much later. I’ll be out during the weekend (13th-14th), meeting new people, hopefully making new friends. I know I have been ranting about LGBT communities and other modern political aspects, being politically incorrect in my own way, preachy and bitchy about it. I’m temporary in a state of adolescence (emotionally speaking), people should already be aware of that! But, this weekend (13th-14th), I’ll be with people who, like me, suffer from the same specific issue. I’ve never been with them but.. I do feel they are different from the other groups I’ve tried and didn’t enjoy that much. I can’t generalize people, I know better than that.

 

 

Anyway, enough stalling and more direct to the point.

I’ve had the appointment. But, like I’ve hinted, there were bad news. The blood test results… weren’t good. The liver, in this case. The values have changed drastically, which has lead to the decision of.. having to stop taking any medication for the next six weeks. To find out if it’s my liver reacting badly to this medication in specific or, if there are bigger issues that need to be solved. There are Anti-Androgens that are far more friendlier to the liver. However, the liver needs to be fine in order to introduce Estrogen into my body.

In the meantime, during the next six weeks starting on the 11th of May, I won’t be taking anything. Which means that, during these weeks, there are.. aspects that will slowly degenerate back to before my transition. Of course, six weeks isn’t enough to bring me back to a state on which I was on December (Dear lord!). However, there will be a few things that will..  subtly be reverted. Hopefully, it won’t even be noticed. I hope.. Still, it won’t be anything that I won’t recover again.

 

Sadly, this does play quite a lot on my worst fears. Because thus far, life has given me obstacles to heal myself from this condition.

Life has given me a religion, that indoctrinated me, that made life difficult to fully understand and accept. But that obstacle didn’t stop me, as much grief as it caused for myself and others.

Life as given me the nationality, of a country that is economically broken, sharing the coin of the rich but having no pockets to keep it for too long and making the average citizen pay for it with their hard work and low salary. Fortunately, life as given me a good family and some form of income, despise the time it steals from my life. But it’s a painful obstacle that hasn’t stopped me thus far.

There are worst lives out there, I’m sure. However.. there would be nothing more devastating to me than, after the obstacles that I have crossed, that have stolen time, money and tears from me; the people that I had to abandon and those who have abandoned me, the roller coaster of emotions I have rode to get where I am.. Having the taste of freedom, of slowly healing myself from my dysphoria.. only to have life take it away from me because of an health issue.. that would be one of the cruelest things mother nature could do to me and.. I doubt I could live with that idea. I’m sorry..

Such thought, that it could happen, it makes me feel fragile. I’m not exaggerating when I say that, when I’m having such thoughts and what if’s, I do feel a knot on my throat.. the anxiety too much to handle and the pain can only go away with the tears that, fortunately, have become easier to roll. It would be sad if I lost that gift, among others.

 

I.. don’t want to go back. This was the best decision I’ve made in my entire life. I’ve been happier and, as said earlier, free. Free to be who I am. With evolving body tributes that were always rightfully mine since I could remember. In a way, though not completely faithful and perfect to what I envisioned when I was younger, I currently feel more beautiful than ever. No longer do I envy other women. Confident. Though I guess, at the moment, paranoia has settled given the news and the fact that it has been more than a week since I’ve stopped my medication..

 

 

Ignoring the bad news, this last month was great for me. As I’ve mentioned on the previous update, I still had to dress up as a woman everyday. Well, I’m doing so now for more than three weeks… and I feel great! Yes, people do gaze at me but I’ve learned that, when random people address me, they all treat me with “Miss/Girl”. Which is quite an achievement, considering that I’m tall and 27 years old.. still being treated as a young girl and not as “Ma’am/Lady”. In short, when people look at me, they do so because I’m tall.. among a few good features that I possess. I know this because there have been a few.. envious gazes towards me from other women. I know, I was in their position once. But now, it feels good to be on this side and to notice these things because it does make me believe that I don’t only “pass” but I’m “passing with flying colors”!

And yes, I’ve been experiencing some of that fabled “female social privilege”.. as also “annoyances”. But it’s fine, I’m just glad that I’m experiencing both the good and the bad. As in, people have been extremely nice towards me (mostly men) and there as also been some.. catcalling? Should I call it that? I still have no idea if a few men staring at me and smiling, as if asking me to smile back.. is catcalling. I have.. no idea. And I think one man, at one time, was trying to sing to me while we were on a train? I don’t know.. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he was extremely happy and looking at me while talking/singing from afar.

 

But I think the biggest random-encounter-with-strangers highlight this month was when I took the subway, it was quite filled with people and I had to stay next to a couple that were doing their PDA quite fervorously. The woman was the one that noticed me and she immediately stopped with her PDA just to stare at me, turning her body to fully face mine. I looked at her, to understand what was going on. She smirked, as if she was dismissing me in some way, then got back to her PDA with her boyfriend, whispering him in the ear. For a second, I thought something was wrong with my appearance.. which is a normal thing to still be a bit paranoid about now and then when someone starts staring at you for too long or starts acting strangely specifically towards you. But, during her PDA, she kept staring at me when she could and her boyfriend tried to look at me.. but she pulled his gaze away from me. And then I understood what was going on, and I shrugged inwardly, rolling my eyes subtly. She was insecure about her relationship with her boyfriend… HA!

I can’t lie. I do feel that I’m becoming extremely vain and I can’t help but flaunt my appearance. Yes, it’s shallow, I realize that. But I’m sure that this attitude of mine as of late is quite understandable, considering all the factors. I didn’t had the right teenage life where I could feel proud of my youthful body and appearance. Finally, at this age, I get to have the body and appearance that I deserve.. you can bet that I’m going to vaunt about it until I’m over this second puberty!

 

… Do you see why, dear reader, why I’m so afraid to lose all after having a taste of freedom from a crippling dysphoria? I can’t go back, I would rather live a short but a life on which I’m free than a hundred years of bitterness towards life and a dysphoria to deal with. I never understood the need for doctors to impose an healthy life (physically speaking) if, the consequence of doing so, is having a long and terrible life.

It begs the question. Would you rather live for only five more years on which you can achieve happiness and all the things you want… or would you rather live in a lonely cell, in jail for the rest of your life as long you are healthy? I know the answer, it’s a rather easy one. I do not care if I don’t get to live long, as long I can die happy. That is my current view, after experiencing the things I have in the last few months. I didn’t always think that way, mind you!

 

 

In short, I will never give up. This is yet another temporary setback in my life because; if there is karma, god, the devil or whatever, they decided my life was too easy and I needed yet another barrier because why not? If reincarnation is a thing, I must had been a terrible person in an earlier life. Or an extremely bored spirit that wanted the most bizarre new life they could think of.. for the “shits n’ giggles”.

Anyway.. I’m probably being a drama queen and my liver will be fine and it’s all a side effect from this specific Anti-Androgen. This specific medication, after all, has been banned in the United States. Why Europe still uses it is beyond me.. given that it can have a negative impact on some people. Not denying the good results, obviously.. but seriously, there are safer alternatives, why would any doctor find it appropriate to use the one that can cause 9%-20% chance of Hepatotoxicity (depending on the dose and the amount of time used)? Meh..

 

If there’s a message I want to pass to anyone that suffers from Gender Dysphoria is the following, based on my experience thus far:

No one said that it was going to be easy. No one said that all you needed to do to get rid of the cancer was to go to the doctor and take the medicine. Life is cruel and, for most people, it will impose on you events, people and other factors that will try to stop you from your path that leads to your happiness. As cheesy as it sounds, it is your willpower alone that will get you far. You need to be intelligent, patient and kind. Lose your temper and hope.. and you’ll never achieve the happiness you seek.

You need to be serious, don’t be a spoiled first world country brat that believes the world owns them anything. The world owns you nothing, you need to play by the rules. When life gives you lemons.. make lemonade, another cheesy saying but quite true in this case!

Be sensible, care for the emotions of even those that oppose you at first. Again, don’t expect anyone to understand you. Even those that, one day, say that they support you.. they will curse your very existence behind your back. Seek those that love you, that care for you and treat you like a normal human being, that want to include you in society with other people.. and not like a mystical unicorn that needs to be in a zoo with their own kind and only petted and fed once in a while (with the faint promise that they can take a picture with you and trick society, themselves and their friends that they are a very charitable humble soul.. to elevate their own egocentric and empty personality with a pretentious social status). Say no to segregation, to collectivism.. be an individual that is more than a mere cancer victim who didn’t had a childhood.

You are special and unique. Not because you have cancer, but because you are larger than life. Your personality is beautiful and people will naturally be drawn to you. Like all the others that have suffered in life, for whatever reason, you too.. can come on top graciously, with a smile on your face. Above the petty squabble from the masses who, for some reason, their biggest fears seem so small compared to the bigger issues that we (and others who suffer from much worse conditions than ours) have faced in life. They are shallow, pathetic, common, parasites.. we are not. Some will envy that, be prepared.

And, at the end, when you can finally say that you have beaten cancer.. be proud of yourself. Not because you had cancer or still has.. but because you are healing yourself from it, with your own strength and the aid of those that genuinely loved you enough and remained at your side during the whole process. They, too, are people that stand above the rabble and deserve all the love and care that you can offer. Don’t ever lose sight of them, not many of those exist in life.

Take care of yourself, be patient and kind to those around you, heal yourself with the aid of actual professionals.. be happy and a source of inspiration for those that look at you.

Beauty is pain. And those who have never suffered it, avoid it or cause unnecessary pain onto others.. are ugly.

 

 

As such, I end this post by saying that, until I know what’s happening with my liver and what the doctor has in mind, I won’t be creating more updates and I’ll not be counting these next 6-5 weeks as part of my transition. Until then, there will be other posts.. obviously!

Related to what I wrote on the other update, about sharing pictures.. if you read thus far, then I’m happy to announce that I have an Instagram account on which I just started to upload photos an’stuff! I won’t be posting a lot of pictures, since that’s not the type of gal that I am. But, if you look hard enough on this website, you’ll find a link to my Instagram! Yes, I’m filtering away the slackers and those that don’t read the things I post.. it has never been about the quantity, but about the quality of those that do read this insignificant grain of sand on the web. And no, I won’t be breaking the 4th wall anytime soon, this is the only paragraph that I’m doing so.. which is why I kept it last and on this specific post!

 

Thank you for reading this post and I apologize if I’m overreacting, if I’m being paranoid and/or dramatic.. but being neurotic is a defect that comes to the surface now and then.. specially when something unpredictable happens.

Oh.. and I’ve reached the 70-71 KG’s. It’s hard to believe that there was once a time I used to weight 113 KG’s haha..

 

 

 

PORTUGUÊS

 

Boa tarde. Está na altura de mais uma actualização. Esta actualização é bastante importante, devido à consulta que tenho feito alusão já por algum tempo. No dia 11 de Maio.

Este post.. vai ser um pouco diferente. Não irei criar categorias. Não vai ser necessário desta vez..

 

Eu consumi o meu 147º Anti-Androgeno no dia 10 de Maio, Quarta-feira.

Espera, poderão dizer. Não era suposto ter consumido mais 30 Anti-Androgenos desde a última vez, chegando aos 150 no dia 13 de Maio? Faltam três, o que aconteceu? Infelizmente, tenho más noticiais.

Estou a escrever isto no dia 11 de Maio, numa noite. Apesar de ter a certeza que apenas irei publicar este post muito… muito mais tarde. Estarei fora no fim de semana (dia 13 e 14), para conhecer novas pessoas, com a esperança de criar novas amizades. Eu sei que tenho falado muito acerca das comunidades LGBT e outros aspectos políticos da nossa actualidade, sendo politicamente incorrecta dentro da minha normalidade, exaustivamente e mázinha ao fazer tal. Afinal de contas, estou num estado de adolescência temporariamente (emocionalmente), as pessoas já deviam ter consciência disso! Mas, este fim de semana (dia 13 e 14), estarei com pessoas que, como eu, sofrem da mesma condição que eu em específico. Nunca estive com eles mas.. eu acho que eles são diferentes dos outros grupos que tentei e que não gostei muito. Não posso generalizar as pessoas, eu bem sei disso.

 

 

De qualquer forma, chega de postergar e finalmente ser directa ao assunto.

Eu tive a consulta. Mas, como aludi anteriormente, as noticiais foram más. As análises ao sangue.. não estavam boas. O fígado, neste caso. Os valores mudaram drasticamente, o que fez com que a decisão mais informada da médica fosse.. parar de tomar qualquer estilo de medicação durante as próximas seis semanas. Para saber se os valores alteraram-se devido à medicação em si ou se existem problemas mais graves que precisam de ser resolvidos. Existem Anti-Androgenos que são muito mais amigáveis para o fígado. No entanto, o fígado precisa de estar saudável antes de ser introduzido Estrogénio no meu corpo.

Portanto, durante as próximas seis semanas a começar no dia 11 de Maio, eu não irei consumir nenhuma medicação. O que significa que, durante essas semanas, vai existir.. aspectos que vão se degenerar lentamente para um tempo antes da transição. Claro, seis semanas não é suficiente para trazer-me de volta para aquilo que era em Dezembro (Credo!). Mesmo assim, vai existir alguns aspectos que vão.. subtilmente se reverter. Esperançosamente, pode ser que nem se note. Eu espero.. Felizmente, não é nada que não possa ser recuperado de novo.

 

Infelizmente, esta noticia brinca um pouco com os meus piores medos. Porque até agora, a vida tem-me fornecido obstáculos pelo qual se mantiveram à frente do meu objectivo de curar-me desta condição.

A vida me concedeu uma religião, que doutrinou-me, que fez com que a minha vida fosse difícil de entender e de aceitar. Mas esse obstáculo não foi suficiente para impedir-me, apesar do sofrimento que causei a mim mesma e a outros.

A vida me concedeu uma nacionalidade, de um país que está economicamente falido, partilhando a moeda dos que são ricos mas sem um bolso suficientemente largo para manter essa riqueza por muito tempo e fazendo com que os cidadãos da classe média e baixa paguem com o seu trabalho árduo e salário baixo. Felizmente, a vida me concedeu uma boa família e um salário, apesar do tempo que isso rouba da minha vida. Mas é um obstáculo doloroso que ainda não me impediu.

Existem piores vidas, tenho a certeza. Apesar disso.. não poderia existir algo mais devastador para mim do que, depois destes obstáculos que já atravessei; o tempo, dinheiro e lágrimas que esses me roubaram da minha vida; as pessoas que tive de abandonar e aquelas que me abandonaram, a montanha russa de emoções que eu tenho viajado para chegar a este ponto.. saborear a liberdade, da cura para a minha disforia.. apenas para a vida me retirar tudo devido a um problema de saúde.. isso seria uma das maiores crueldades que a natureza poderia fazer a mim e… duvido que conseguiria viver com essa idea. Desculpem..

Tais pensamentos, do que poderá acontecer, faz-me sentir fragilizada. Não estou a exagerar quando digo que, quando tenho esses pensamentos e os “e se’s”, eu sinto um nó no esófago.. a ansiedade demasiada e que apenas se vai embora com as lágrimas que advém logo após que, felizmente, tem se tornado fáceis de se obter. Seria triste perder essa dádiva, entre outras.

 

Eu.. não quero voltar atrás. Esta foi a melhor decisão que tomei na minha vida. Tenho sentido feliz e, como disse antes, livre. Livre de ser quem eu sou. Desenvolvendo atributos físicos que sempre me pertenceram desde que eu me lembro. Até de certa forma, apesar de não ser completamente fiel e perfeita em comparação com a minha visão que tinha quanto era nova, eu sinto actualmente mais bonita do que alguma fez fui outrora. Nunca mais invejei outras mulheres. Confiante. Mas acredito que, de momento, a paranoia está presente em mim devido às noticias e pelo facto de que já passou mais de uma semana desde que deixei de tomar a medicação..

 

 

Ignorando as más noticiais, este último mês tem sido muito bom para mim. Como disse na actualização mensal anterior, eu ainda tinha que vestir-me todos os dias com roupa adequada. Bem.. já estou a fazê-lo por mais de três semanas… e tenho sentido muito bem! Sim, as pessoas olham para mim mas eu descobri que, quando as pessoas da rua tentam se comunicar comigo, todas elas me tratam por “Menina/Jovem”. O que é uma grande conquista, considerando que sou alta e tenho 27 anos de idade.. ainda sendo trata como uma jovem rapariga e não como uma “Senhora/Dona”. Por poucas palavras, as pessoas quando olham para mim, o fazem porque sou alta.. e tenho alguns bons atributos físicos. Eu sei isso porque tem existo alguns.. olhares invejosos de outras mulheres. Eu sei, já tive na posição delas no passado. Mas agora, sabe bem estar neste lado e notar que isto agora acontece porque faz-me acreditar que eu não apenas “passo”, mas “passo e muito bem obrigada”!

E sim, tenho tido algumas experiências daquilo que se chama de “privilégio social de mulher”.. como também “inconveniências”. Mas tudo bem, apenas estou grata de que estou a ter esta experiência para o bem e para o mal. Como por exemplo, as pessoas tem sido mais simpáticas para comigo (mais os homens) e também tem existido alguns casos de.. “catcalling” (para falta de melhor expressão em português)? Será que devo de tratar esses casos por tal? Ainda não tenho bem a certeza se o olhar de alguns dos homens para comigo e a sorrirem, como se estivessem a pedir que sorrisse de volta.. é catcalling. Eu.. não sei. E eu acho que houve um homem, numa altura, que estava a tentar cantar para mim enquanto estávamos num comboio? Eu não sei.. eu não consegui perceber nada daquilo que ele estava a dizer, mas parecia estar bastante feliz e a olhar para mim enquanto falava e cantava com alguma distância de mim.

 

Mas eu acho que o melhor encontro-com-estranhos-em-locais-públicos neste mês foi quando decidi entrar num metro, estando tal cheio de pessoas e eu tive que ficar ao lado de um casal a demonstrar o seu afecto em público muito fervorosamente. A mulher foi aquele que tomou nota de mim e ela imediatamente parou com o seu teatro com o namorado apenas para olhar para mim, o corpo dela frente com o meu. Eu olhei para ela, para perceber do que estava a acontecer. Ela sorriu, com certo desprezo por alguma razão, e depois voltou para o seu romance com o namorado, falando-lhe ao ouvido. Por um momento, pensei que algo estava de errado com a minha aparência.. o que é algo ainda normal de acontecer visto que existe ainda alguma ansiedade de vez em quando quando alguém olha para mim por muito tempo ou começa a agir de forma estranha para comigo. Mas, durante a encenação pública, ela continuava a olhar para mim quando podia e, quando o namorado dela tentava olhar para mim, ela puxava a atenção dele para ela mesma imediatamente para não olhar para mim. E depois percebi o que estava a acontecer, e eu ignorei um pouco o que estava a acontecer, revirando os olhos subtilmente. Ela sentia-se insegura com respeito à relação entre ela e o namorado… HA!

Não posso mentir. Eu sinto que tenho me tornado bastante vaidosa e eu não consigo conter aquela necessidade de expor a minha aparência. Sim, é superficial, tenho consciência disso. Mas eu sei que esta minha atitude de recente é compreensível, considerando todos os factores. Eu não tive a mesma vida de adolescente que as outras mulheres em que poderia sentir algum orgulho pela minha aparência e corpo jovem. Finalmente, com esta idade, eu tenho o corpo e aparência que mereço.. podem ter bem a certeza que eu vou vangloriar-me até que esta segunda puberdade acabe!

 

… Será que agora percebem, caros leitores, do porquê eu ter receio de perder tudo depois de ter adquirido direito à amostra da liberdade para a disforia que me incapacitou? Eu não posso voltar atrás, eu prefiro viver uma vida curta mas uma vida pelo qual sou livre do que cem anos de amargura pela vida e pela disforia que tenho. Eu não percebo esta necessidade dos médicos imporem uma vida saudável (fisicamente falando) se, a consequência de tal, é ter uma vida longe mas terrível e infeliz.

Isso levanta uma questão pertinente. Preferiam viver por apenas mais cinco anos pelo qual consegues alcançar a felicidade e tudo aquilo que sempre quiseram… ou preferiam viver uma vida longa numa prisão, entre quatro paredes para o resto da vossa vida desde que estejam saudáveis? Eu sei a resposta, é muito fácil de responder. Eu não quero saber se acabo por viver menos tempo, desde que morra feliz e sem rancor. Esta é a minha posição actual, depois da minha experiência de vida que tenho tido nestes últimos meses. Eu não costumava pensar dessa forma, mas agora penso!

 

 

Por poucas palavras, eu nunca irei desistir. Isto é mais uma barreira temporária na minha vida porque; se existe karma, o diabo ou sei lá mais o quê, eles decidiram que a minha vida era fácil demais e de que eu precisa ainda mais de uma barreira porque não? Se a reencarnação é algo real, então eu devo ter sido uma pessoa horrível numa vida anterior. Ou um espírito qualquer que estava aborrecido desejou uma vida nova muito bizarra.. só porque “não tinha mais nada que fazer”.

De qualquer forma.. eu provavelmente estou a ser dramática e o meu fígado ficará bem e tudo não será mais do que um efeito secundário deste Anti-Androgeno em específico. Esta medicação em específico, afinal de contas, foi banida nos Estados Unidos. O porquê da Europa ainda utilizar esta medicação é estranho.. visto que pode ter um efeito negativo para algumas pessoas. Não estou a negar os resultados excelentes, obviamente.. mas existem melhores alternativas. Porque é que um médico iria achar apropriado usar um medicamento que pode causar entre 9 %-20% de chance de Hepatotoxicidade (dependendo da dose e do tempo que se tem consumido)? Meh..

 

Se existe alguma mensagem que desejo transmitir para alguém que sofra de Disforia de Género é a seguinte, baseado na minha experiência pessoal até agora:

Ninguém disse que iria ser fácil. Ninguém disse que tudo o que precisavas para livrares do cancro era de ir ao médico e tomar a medicação. A vida é cruel e, para muitas pessoas, irá impor-te eventos, pessoas e outros factores que irão tentar travar-te no caminho para a tua felicidade. Por muito cliché que seja, é a tua força de vontade apenas que te vai ajudar a chegar longe. Necessitas de ser inteligente, paciente e uma pessoa bondosa. Perde o temperamento e esperança.. e nunca chegarás à felicidade que procuras.

Precisas de ser uma pessoa séria, não sejas uma criança do primeiro mundo mimada que acredita que o mundo lhes deve algo. O mundo não te deve nada, tens que obedecer às regras. Quando a vida te fornece limões.. faz limonada, um outro cliché mas que é bastante verdade neste caso!

Sê sensível, preocupa-te com as emoções até mesmo daqueles que vão opor-se a ti. De novo, não esperes que alguém te compreenda. Até mesmo aqueles que, um dia, dizem que te aceitam e querem ajudar.. eles vão-te amaldiçoar-te quando estiverem longe dos teus ouvidos e outros sentidos. Procura aqueles que te amam, que se preocupam contigo e que te tratam como um ser humano normal, que querem incluir-te na sociedade com o resto do mundo.. e que não te tratam como um unicórnio místico que precisa de habitar um zoo juntamente com o resto da manada e que apenas têm direito a festinhas no pelo e comida de vez em quando (com a promessa oca de que eles poderão tirar uma fotografia contigo para enganarem a sociedade, elas mesmas e os seus amigos com a ideia de serem almas humildes e caridosas.. para elevarem o seu próprio ego e falta de personalidade com um estatuto social pretensioso). Diz não à segregação, ao colectivismo.. sê uma pessoa individual que é mais do que apenas uma mera vitima de cancer que não teve direito a uma infância.

Tu és especial e uma pessoa única. Não porque tens cancro, mas porque és impressionante. A tua personalidade é bonita e as pessoas vão sentir atraídas por ti. Como todas as outras pessoas que sofreram nas suas vidas, independentemente da razão, tu também.. podes ser alguém que vai superar as dificuldades no topo, com um sorriso na cara. Acima das disputas insignificantes do povo em geral que, por alguma razão, os maiores medos dessas pessoas são tão mesquinhos em comparação com os maiores problemas que nós (e todas as outras pessoas que também sofrem ainda piores coisas na vida) já enfrentamos na nossa vida. Eles são superficiais, patéticos, básicos, parasitas.. nós não. E muitas pessoas vão sentir inveja devido a isso, prepara-te.

E, no fim, quando tu finalmente conquistares o cancro que te aflige.. sente orgulho de ti mesmo/a. Não porque tiveste cancro ou ainda tens.. mas porque tu estás a curar-te de tal, com as tuas próprias forças e com a ajuda daqueles que te amaram genuinamente e o suficiente para ficarem ao teu lado durante todo o processo, a tua viagem pela vida. Eles, também, são pessoas que estão acima da escumalha e que merecem todo o amor e carinho que possas lhes oferecer. Não percas de vista essas pessoas, não existem muitas dessas ao longo da vida.

Cuida bem de ti, sê paciente e uma pessoa bondosa para todos os que te rodeiam, cura-te com a ajuda dos verdadeiros profissionais.. sê feliz e uma fonte de inspiração para aqueles que olham para ti.

Para ser-se uma pessoa bonita, tem que se sofrer. E todos os que nunca sofreram dor séria, ou evitam ou causam dor desnecessária a outros.. são criaturas feias.

 

 

E assim, eu termino este post por dizer que, até eu saber o que está a acontecer com o meu fígado e o que o médico tem em mente, eu não vou criar mais actualizações e não irei contar estes próximos 6-5 semanas como parte da minha transição. Até lá, haverá outros posts.. claro!

Relacionado com o que escrevi na actualização anterior, acerca da partilha de fotos.. se conseguiram ler até aqui, então fico feliz de informar de que eu já tenho uma conta de Instagram pelo qual irei começar a fazer upload de fotos e coizinhas! Não vou fazer upload de muitas fotos, visto que não sou desse estilo de rapariga. Mas, se procurarem bem neste site, irão conseguir encontrar o link para o meu Instagram! Sim, estou a filtrar os preguiçosos e aqueles que não prestam atenção ao que escrevo e faço.. nunca foi do meu desejo ter números, apenas pessoas de qualidade que lêem este grão de areia no meio da internet. E não, não vou quebrar a 4ª parede assim tão cedo, este é apenas o único parágrafo que estou a fazer isso.. e a razão de ter mantido esta notícia para último neste post muito específico!

 

Obrigada por lerem este post e peço desculpa se estou a ser dramática e/ou  paranóica.. mas ser neurótica é um defeito que vem à superfície deves em quanto.. especialmente quando algo imprevisível acontece.

Ah.. e cheguei aos 70-71 KG’s. É difícil de acreditar que ouve uma altura da minha vida que pesei 113 KG’s haha..

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