Swept up in the dissociation vortex

Today, Novice and I had a... Fight? Misunderstanding? Falling out? I don't even know what to call these things. They happen sometimes. I say or do something that makes her really uncomfortable, and then she dissociates. Sometimes she's partially gone for a few minutes, sometimes she'll be completely gone for a full day or more. (I've even made up a system to classify how "gone" she is*. That's how frequent these things are.)

While completely gone, she is able to take care of her own basic needs and do something "mindless" like play a computer game or scroll on Reddit, and that's about it. She can't help it, and I feel absolutely terrible for doing that to her. It's never on purpose, but my intent doesn't really matter when the effect is so devastating. 

The falling out today was particularly unexpected and felt more volatile than usual. She quit in the middle of a board game we were playing, packed it all up in a huff, and then was "gone". I had to leave her apartment a couple of hours later, and tried talking to her several times before that, but she wasn't present enough to really answer me. I don't understand what caused this, I don't understand why she reacted so strongly or firmly, and I don't understand what I did. But I know I did something, because she doesn't fall out like this when I'm not around. 

I try not to let that guilt eat me up, because I know that me feeling bad will only make her feel worse. I don't want to make her feel even worse, I've made her feel bad enough already. On the other hand, I feel incredibly rejected and convinced she hates me. My mind tells me that she doesn't want me anymore, that I'm bad for her, that she can't possibly love me now. I need desperately for her to tell me that she loves me, that we as a couple are ok even when she's not. 

I ask her if she loves me, if she wants me to leave, and all she can do is shrug. Which to me feels even worse; The adult I love most in this world can't even confirm that she wants me to stay when I ask! I'll tell her, a shrug isn't consent. I can't stay with her, or hug her, or whatever it is we're doing at the time, if she doesn't actively consent to it. And of course that is true. "Unconscious people don't want tea." However, it's also incredibly unfair of me. Because she isn't actually unconscious, and that's not actually how consent in a relationship works. 

Because she DID consent. She did consent to me being there, or sitting with me, or whatever it was we're doing. That consent is still on-going, even when she dissociates. An established couple can and do have on-going consent to interact and exist in the same space. The potential consequences of treating that consent as on-going, and then possibly being wrong, are miniscule (at least in the short run). As opposed to for example her dissociating completely during a kink scene, in which case I'd have to stop or potentially be guilty of assault. Just like if she'd fallen unconscious. Consent to do rope, or spanking, or sex, is NOT of the on-going kind, because the consequences of potentially overstepping are massive. 

And she IS able to take care of her own basic needs. If I do something she really doesn't like, like accidentally squishing her boob or tickling her, she will stop me. Regardless of how far gone she is. She isn't actually unconscious, even when she's close to catatonic. She certainly won't make a big decision, like dumping me, on a whim while she's not even fully present. It's hard for me to trust that fact, because a part of me keeps expecting to be abandoned at any moment... But I'm pretty sure it's true; Novice thinks things through before making a decision, and when she's dissociating she almost isn't able to make decisions at all. 

I ask her to confirm that she wants me with her, but what I'm really asking her to do is to make a decision which will make me feel less insecure. And when she isn't able to do that, it makes me more insecure. I treat it as if she actually made a conscious choice to reject me, when she absolutely didn't. She can't help dissociating. She can't help being nonverbal. She can't help me, because she isn't present. 

She hasn't rejected me, personally, she's rejected everything. The world, her feelings, everything. I'm just being swept up in the vortex. She can't help it. She can't be blamed for any of this. It isn't a choice. And I need to fucking get a grip, and be accountable for my own emotions and reactions. Not look to her to try and fix them. 

  

*The system for how "gone" Novice is, goes from 1-10 and I've tentatively defined the levels like this:

1. Perfectly fine, but will tap out if she gets close to overwhelmed. Meta-aware.
2. Touch-and-go whether she's present or not, will fall in and out seemingly at random. Usually short duration. Is mostly verbal, can have some short meta-discussions about her mood. Can usually verbalize that she loves me, but is more comfortable being tactile than verbal.
3. Uses mostly monosyllabic words or our tactile language. Can be contact seeking or need space, seemingly at random. Can "fall out" for somewhat longer duration, but surfaces again in less than an hour. 
4. Doesn't speak much. No facial expressions. Needs more space. 
5. Is able to respond to "I love you" using our own tactile signals (3-5 short taps with a single finger indicates "I love you (too)"). Shrugs to answer most other things.
6. Shrugs to almost everything, nonverbal for longer stretches of time. Will not answer that she loves me in any way. Is able to participate in a conversation of sorts, as long as it's a completely "safe" topic and has short duration.
7. Can move around if she must, for example go sit at her desk to play Heartstone or watch Youtube. No facial expressions, no words. Will participate in a conversation of sorts, as long as it's mostly tactile or through shrugs and grunts.
8. Can scroll on her phone. Glassy stare. Doesn't move much. Typically lying down. Shallow breathing. No words.
9. No movement or facial expressions, glassy stare or closed eyes, no sounds other than the occasional monosyllabic grunt. No phone. Will still pull away if she doesn't want something.
10. Completely catatonic. No movement, facial expressions or sounds. 

Is it a "gaydar", or do they just make me horny?

 I keep hacking away at the stubborn tree root that is my sexual orientation. Just the other day, I wrote:

"I feel like there's an invisible wall between us. My eyes will look, my body sometimes turns on, but consciously I don't feel much at all. I'm not letting myself feel those feelings at all. "

Today, I had another epiphany in this direction. I saw a performer in a song competition, a woman singing a country/pop song. I'd never seen her before, but got an immediate sense that she was gay. My "gaydar" has previously been pretty accurate, and a quick google search confirmed that I was right this time too. But what am I really sensing?

Is this "sense" that a woman might be gay, really my unconscious ATTRACTION to her? Am I externalizing that feeling of attraction, because I'm unable to deal with that feeling inside of me? 

To attack this from a different direction: I recently saw a "thirst trap" on social media.. A shirtless, bearded guy. Traditionally right up my alley, but now I'm not so sure anymore. Similarly, I recently chatted with a bearded geek on a dating app, looking at maybe hooking up with him, and I... Don't know if I want to. 

The guy from the thirst trap is undeniably attractive... But (like I wrote back in my egg crack in October 2021) do I want to fuck them or BE them? 

And I... Have no idea. None at all. To be clear: I'm not even sure I really like men anymore. Or if I ever did? This makes me question everything. Every man I've ever fallen in love with, every man I've ever been sexually interested in.. Has it all been.. Something else? Not attraction, but an escape from a more dangerous truth? A way to hide from myself, because men didn't feel dangerous to me? 

To be clear: I don't doubt that I've deeply loved several men, including T and Saint. I'm obviously able to fall in love with them. The love was true, and still is. But do I thirst for men? Really? Because if I liked women.. And the idea of lesbians gave my gender dysphoria.. Then I had to be trans. That was the dangerous truth.

A part of me, that part who's listened to way too much anti-trans rhetoric, is questioning if I'm even trans. The terfs claim, after all, that transmasculine people really are just confused, repressed lesbians. As if anyone would think being trans is easier than being gay, in our day and age... And I am trans. I don't truly doubt that, this is just some old gremlins mumbling in the corners.

Writing this fairly short post has taken me over an hour. There's obviously something here, something I'm afraid to touch. It's similar to when I wrote about decommissioned robots back in august 2022. I could follow the trail of my own panic, to unveil things I'd previously hid from myself. I don't think I'll get any further right now, but this topic of my sexual orientation is obviously something I'll keep returning to. 

I'm curious to see where this journey of self-discovery will take me. 

Defeating Beholders

It feels like Novice and I are in a better place now, compared to a few months ago. I think back at some of our fights / misunderstandings / hurts... They feel smaller now, often less severe, and usually of shorter durations. Not to say that we don't accidentally hurt each other. It still happens much more often than I'd like. And not to say that I don't struggle with my own demons still, because I do.. But we know each other better now. Trust each other better. And know ourselves too. 

We had a couple of really, really tough weeks in the start of October. That's the last big one, and the one we'd had with the longest duration. We called that conflict The Beholder, because it sort of took on a life of its own. And we had to conquer it together, to get anywhere. Looking back, it was a perfect storm leading up to it, it just had to implode; 

I was two weeks post op after top surgery when it began, on October 1st. Still limited in mobility, still sore and tired, I'd just started trying to sleep in a regular bed, but it wasn't going very well. Novice still hadn't looked at or touched my naked chest, which made me feel sad and unloved. 

On her side, she'd been coped up with me for two weeks straight, almost no alone-time at all. Somewhat triggered by my healing wounds, but also hating herself because her triggers hurt me. She also wasn't out as a transwoman to her family yet, which was laying heavy on her mind.. Then she had a weekend of a ton of socializing and learning, which exhausted her.

I'd been stuck on her couch most of the time, I was under-stimulated and over-stimulated all at once. She loaned out her projector (that we use for playing Playstation and watching movies) for the weekend, but once she got it back she didn't put it back up. She was too exhausted (logically). And she wouldn't let me put it back up either. 

For almost two weeks. 

And all of a sudden, her appartement didn't feel safe anymore. She'd taken away the main thing I had to occupy myself with, wasn't able to fix it herself and refused to let me fix it for us. And because it was her appartement and her projector (and her Playstation and her... everything), I was powerless. I just could not wrap my mind around why she would do such a thing, and was incredibly hurt by it. 

I kept trying to give her space, but wasn't able to do so for long periods of time because I was really dysregulated myself. So I kept pushing her to flee, and we never got anywhere. Even after she actually put the projector back up, I was still dysregulated. I didn't dare to start using it again. If the things I use and like, can be taken away at any moment, can I really trust my surroundings at all? Can I ever relax?

After well over two weeks, I finally managed to get a grip, to let it go, to conclude that this is just how it is. What cannot be changed, must be endured. So I started using the projector again, playing Playstation again. It felt scary as fuck, but I did it.  It took 17 days of us both being, in varying degrees, dysregulated and miserable and hurt, before getting to that point.

That act of letting go, managed to help her out of her loop as well. She realized that she hadn't been able to let me put the projector back up, because she has a mental "hang-up" on her audio and video stuff being set up "just right". She needs to do it herself. This realization, in turn, made her actions more understandable and therefore bearable to me. She wasn't purposefully being unkind, it wasn't an attempt to drive me away because she didn't care about me.

Because that's the root of most of it: We're both fundamentally insecure, angst-ridden lumps of self-doubt. We struggle to believe that the other person really loves us. We expect to be abandoned. We can't wrap our minds around someone as much as liking us. When I hurt her, I hate myself for doing so, and she reacts in pretty much the same way. So emotions become scary, because if either of us displays hurt, the other person will hate themself for causing that hurt, making the first person hate themself for causing the second person to hate themself. We both take on absolutely all the blame, in every situation.

There isn't a quick fix to this. We will just have to learn over time, that the other person DOES love us. That their actions and words are NOT intended to hurt. That emotions ARE ok, and that someone else's self-hate and angst ISN'T your fault. And I feel like we're making progress. 

Novice has been struggling with insomnia these past couple of months, and is trying to get a handle on it now because it was getting out of control. That means she's much more tired that usual, and therefore more fragile too. On my side, I'm overwhelmed and somewhat burned out from everything happening last year. So I'm not my most  high-functioning self either...  And it's ok. We occasionally hurt each other or misunderstand each other, but we have more tools now than we did three months ago or a year ago. We grow, we learn. We love. 

And I think we'll be ok. 

Internalized transphobia made me afraid of lesbians

 Why do I have such issues accepting that I find women sexually attractive? 

I'm starting to wonder if it might be internalized transphobia... Because remember, I didn't realize I was trans until I was 35. I'd subconsciously kept that knowledge hidden from myself, ever since I was a child. Knowing that I was trans, was dangerous, my unconscious self had decided that it wasn't safe for me to know.

So anything that could make me doubt my own gender, was subconsciously kept from me. At the same time, anything that would entrench me deeper into the "woman" category could subconsciously trigger dysphoria and cause me pain. So I was super fascinated by lesbians, because of how they broke the gender stereotypes... But at the same time, they felt very "other" to me. I remember going to a women-focused kink event hosted by my good friend B, and feeling completely lost. Because even though I knew, even then, that I could theoretically be attracted to women, they all just felt... Terrifying. Strange. "Other". I had nothing in common with them, like a fish trying to fly. 

As it turns out, that gut feeling was right. Because I wasn't a woman. That part makes so much more sense now. I was, and still am, attracted to women, but hanging out with lesbians must have triggered my dysphoria something fierce. Because I wasn't like them, and deep down I must have known that.

I'm not a man, but I'm definitely "man-adjacent". So my attraction to women is more in a... Straight way? On the other hand, there's very little in typically male sexual norms that I want to embrace. I'm too queer for that, and too much of a feminist. 

This all doesn't really make sense to me. When I look at attractive women in real life, people I don't already have a sexual relationship with, I feel like there's an invisible wall between us. My eyes will look, my body sometimes turns on, but consciously I don't feel much at all. I'm not letting myself feel those feelings at all. There is not even a sense of pushing them away, they weren't permitted to exist in the first place. 

That smells very much of internalized -phobia to me.. Something shameful, hateful, something I SHOULD. NOT. BE. And I don't think it's internalized homophobia, because that doesn't feel dangerous to me. The idea of just being gay, frankly, feels appealing. Like a relief. So that's not it. 

I think it's internalized transphobia. Because girls like boys. And lesbian girls like girls. And if I like girls, but really aggressivly don't feel like a lesbian, then I can't be a girl. And not being a girl... Now that's scary and dangerous. There's some old robots here, doing their thing. I need to find them all, and turn them off. They aren't needed anymore. 

I'm trans. 

I'm really, really not a girl.

And whilst that might feel scary, or dangerous, it doesn't stop being true. 

I'm not a girl. Girls just turn me on. And that's ok. I'm trans, I'm queer, and that's all ok. 

Now, how do I make myself less scared?

What sort of sexual creature am I?

I wrote the other day about how I could have gotten sex, if I'd wanted it. I even registered for a couple of dating apps again. I just.. Don't go through with actually scheduling a hook-up. Why?

It's not just the effort and forced socialization and autistic masking, though that is a significant part of the picture. These last few months have made me pretty burnt out, and I'm seriously down-scaling my social life, to try to regain some spoons. 

No, I think the main issue is that I don't really know who I am anymore, as a sexual creature. I have vulva, a clit, and I enjoy being penetrated... I crave a more passive, receiving role than I've had in most sexual encounters. I want to be touched, want to be desired, want to be fucked... But I really, really don't want to be seen as a woman. And I'm scared, because being seen as a woman hurts.

On the other hand, I don't want to take on just a typical masculine role either. Because that's all I've ever done, looong before I realized I was trans. I've been the hunter, the seducer, the taker, the dominant... 

And I enjoy those things, I really do, especially playing with a strap-on is really affirming... But I don't want ONLY that. And except for with Arthur, I've pretty much done ONLY that. Why? Because I don't have to be vulnerable, when I'm the dom. I don't have to feel my feelings, I can just focus on the other person's needs. So for me, being in a top/dom role is uncomplicated. 

It's masking, in a way, because I can set my self aside and just be what the other person needs me to be. And up until recently, masking felt very easy. Because I hadn't opened that Pandora's box, I hadn't started trying to take those masks off. It's very easy not to feel your feelings, when you're pushing them away all the time. It becomes automatic, you don't even notice that you're doing it.

I want to feel my feelings now. I want to breathe, and experience, and enjoy myself while both giving and receiving. I want to be touched, to be desired. Not as a femdom kink-dispenser, not as a woman, not as a man. I want to be touched and desired just for... Me. Whoever the fuck that is.

I think, I hope, the solution to this is just more queer sex. Queer sex in queer spaces, where gender and gender norms can be set aside for a bit. Where I can just focus on sex, without preconceived notions about who's the knife and who's the fork. 

So I've signed up for a sex party.

The party is female-focused, but is inclusive to everyone who aren't a cis man pretty much. I don't know if it'll be filled with mostly cis gendered lesbians, or if it will feel gender queer enough that I'll actually feel comfortable... If they see me as a man, they might not even welcome me.. But if they see me as a woman, I'll just get dysphoric and really uncomfortable. I also don't even know if I'll handle a sexparty focused on women. I realized intellectually that I was into women over two years ago, but it still feels emotionally... Scary. 

However, there aren't a lot of sex positive, queer events in this city, so... I figured it's worth a shot. 

I was the golden child

When I grew up, I was the golden child. My parents firstborn, I knew how to read before starting in 1st grade. I played my way through school, learned new material on my first read through, and I was excellent at memorizing. My vocabulary was much bigger than my peers, I was responsible and trustworthy even as a young child. 

My grades, once we started getting grades, were by far the best in my class, and my teachers loved me. They trusted me. liked me, above my peers. I asked intelligent questions and actually listened when they tried to tell us something. My father promised me 50 NOK for every top grade on tests and report cards, which he soon came to regret. I got significant income from that deal during the three years of junior high. 

At 15, I moved abroad for high school. My mother told me straight out that she wouldn't let my younger sister do anything similar, but I was so sensible she knew she could trust that I'd do well on my own. Which I did. In a foreign language, I didn't get top grades anymore, but I was still top 5 in my class (the other 4 were native speakers). In my family, I was also the one to always step up. If "someone" had to go take care of something, I was always that "someone". From fetching wood for the fireplace, to helping my dad with the computer, I was always "someone". 

When I met T, I remember struggling with him being more knowledgeable than me. He was just as intelligent, maybe even more, but in addition he had the advantage of being 7 years my senior and having other "intellectuals" as friends and family. There was no way for me to "catch up" with that. I told him, I'd always had my mind. My intellectual capacity, my knowledge, my "school smarts", were one of the pillars of my identity. And it wasn't good enough to just be "good", I didn't feel accomplished, fulfilled, unless I was among the best. Unless I was perfect, or at least as perfect as possible. 

I've kept struggling with this ever since, and reading up on "Golden Child Syndrome" a lot seems to fit. This isn't a medical diagnosis at all, but it's a collection of personality traits. A quick Google search gives the following: 

"A “golden child” is one who is considered “special” by their family and chosen as a proxy for a parent’s own achievements and magnificence. Unfortunately, the child must live up to perhaps unattainable levels of accomplishment and perfection. Being the golden child does not necessarily represent a positive familial position"

(...)

"Below are eight signs of a golden child:

1. A need to achieve: Golden children recognize that their place in the family is deeply entwined to their ability to meet the expectations that their parent places on them. The golden child may never even think to explore their own ambitions, as they are trained to focus on what their parent expects of them.
2. People-pleasing behaviors: Because the golden child recognizes that their specialness is tied to their ability to be what their parent wants them to be, they grow up focusing on making others happy.
3. Filling an adult role too early: Golden children are often parentified, meaning that they are required to step into a pseudo-adult role by their narcissistic parent. Because golden children are perceived as more perfect or special, they are given greater status than their siblings hold. This is not healthy for a child’s development.
4. Fear of failure: Golden children are treated more favorably than their siblings, but if they fail to meet their parent’s standards, the punishment may be out of proportion to their misstep. This ingrains in them a pervasive fear of letting themselves or others down.
5. Overwhelming guilt: Typically, if there is a golden child, there is also a child identified as the family scapegoat. Everything that goes well becomes associated with the golden child’s goodness, while everything that goes wrong is blamed on the scapegoat. The golden child recognizes the inequity of this, and feelings of guilt for the treatment of their siblings may be carried into adulthood.
6. Conflicting loyalties: Driven by the need to please their parent, the golden child may be asked to take a role in disciplining their siblings. This generates inner conflict, as the golden child recognizes that they hold the same family status as their siblings.
7. Self-criticism: The golden child may feel that they are never “good enough.” If they were habitually compared to the scapegoat, they may fear a fall from grace and being dropped into the role of family scapegoat.
8. Episodes of “need-panic”: This occurs when the golden child’s own needs suddenly bubble up and they are unable to keep them from spilling over or exploding."

Looking through that list, it really resonates. There's just SO much here, there's probably content for many blog posts.. The only ones that don't really fit are the descriptions for number 5 and 6. I can't remember ever having such a role with my siblings, nor was any of them always the scapegoat.... As far as I can recall, at least. Might be more stuff buried here.

This post is already long enough. I need to continue this at some later point. Might be a part 2 coming later.

Sexless, and happy

Novice worries that she's "trapped" me in "yet another sexless relationship". And yes, it's true that we don't have sex these days. That might change soon, or it might not, depending on her dysphoria and how much her insomnia is acting up... But it doesn't really bother me that much. 

Do I want sex, generally? Sure! 

But am I "trapped"? No. 

I have a need for frequent orgasms, to keep my libido from destroying all my higher brain functions... But I can easily get them myself. Satisfyer Pro 2 Gen 3 is magical and wonderful, and gets me all the orgasms I want. I still feel somewhat self-conscious about it, when I go to masturbate while Novice is right there in the small apartment with me.... But she says she doesn't mind, and I believe her. So I'll get over my awkwardness eventually. 

I could get sex, if I wanted to. I could contact NN again, or Student. They'd both probably be up for it. Or I could go back to the swingers club that I visited once a couple of months ago. I didn't get fucked by anyone then, but I could if I'd wanted to. Or I could start surfing Grindr again, if I got desperate enough. I'm not, though. 

I say I want sex, but it's not really true. If I wanted just sex, I could get it. And I don't. 

I want her. Her breath, her skin, her moans, her body, her embrace. I want to be connected with her, give her pleasure, give her my love in a million different ways. Since that can't happen right now, I'm content to wait. As long as there is other ways to form that connection, other ways to show that love, I don't need the sex.

We connect, and love, in a million different ways; We connect through cuddling, through our tactile language of taps, through conversation, through teaching and learning, through laughter, through games, through smiles. We see each other, we understand each other. Even when we don't understand ourselves.

We connect, we love, and I'm content. Not just content; Happy. The sex isn't that important. 

I can't promise this will always be the case. Sex could become an itch I need to scratch, much like the orgasms are now. If it does, I'll deal with it then. Probably by going to the swingers club and get fucked senseless once or twice per month. It's my problem to deal with, and I will. 

I love her. Looking back on 2023, it's all filled with her. Novice. My girlfriend. My partner. My love. On December 3rd, we'd been together a full year. I hope we get many, many, many more.