#PCOS emotional well-being | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shewroteaworld · 5 months

Text

PCOS

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

100 Follower Celebration Request: "🤨 + 'You’re braver than you think and more beautiful than you know.' "

Premise: You've been keeping a secret from your boyfriend. At the most inopportune time, it thrusts itself into the light. He doesn't have the reaction you feared.

Warnings: mentions of Criminal Minds--typical violence, mentions of nausea, discussions of chronic illness, mentions of poor self-esteem

Word count: approx. 3,000

When the unsub impaled you with the knife, you gasped awake.

You blinked open your eyes to pitch black darkness, a pulse of 200 beats per minute, a stomach frothing with queasiness, and cold skin sticky with sweat.

Something velvety constricted your body like cling wrap. The suffocation was akin to being buried six feet under. Fortunately, the feather pillow cushioning your head and the soft foam squashed beneath your fingertips broke through your sleep-addled mind.

It was only a nightmare. You were still laying in bed next to Aaron Hotcher.

Your breath caught, and you went rigor mortis still. Once A’s soft snoring reached you, you relaxed.

Tiredly, you smiled at a ceiling you couldn’t see. You didn’t wake him. The last thing A needed after a horrifying case was to not only be woken before dawn but also be woken by his girlfriend gasping in terror.

Your boyfriend of six months, Aaron, was an FBI supervisory special agent. As a civilian, there was plenty of work information to which you were not privy, especially if a case went south. Often, Aaron didn’t tell you where he flew for work. All you knew was, he’d be away for days. However, sometimes you’d know where Aaron was flying back from once the case was handled. Either, he could tell you once the target was apprehended or you found out via news report.

Based on the news reports from New Mexico that featured the BAU's media liaison, Jennifer Jareau, a cult leader ended his sadistic campaign with an AR-15 shootout and a murder-suicide that caught the state police completely off guard. The FBI caught the scent of his plan, but by the time they sniffed it out, they were 5 steps too far behind. Thankfully, Aaron nor any of his unit members died.

Aaron returned to his DC brownstone to ceramic pans full of your best dishes— all piping hot— on his kitchen counter. You made sure to prepare enough food to last him a couple weeks; emotionally trying work events and tons of paperwork were the perfect recipe for Aaron to not eat enough, and you weren’t going to make it easy for him. The past work weeks had been a whirlwind for you as well; you’d billed 15 plus hours every day for the past week to resuscitate a major merger on its deathbed. You set the last dirtied spoon on A’s drying rack two seconds before he unlocked his front door.

Aaron left the details of his past case vague. He kept the details of his emotional state even vaguer. But you could tell in the extra tight grip of his hello hug that he was in need of grounding. You anchored him with a constant, comforting grip, on his calloused hands. You fed him your best mac and cheese; you even cut back on your beloved pepperjack for his spice sensitive taste buds. Later that evening, you took a soothing shower together and collapsed into bed. You broke your typical bedtime routine: instead of discussing the latest novel you’ve read or life realizations, you watched a so-bad-it's-good corporate soap and ripped it a part for its inaccuracies. That’s when Aaron laughed for the first time since he came home.

You were relieved you didn’t wake him. Even though food comas were “scientifically disproven,” a factoid Aaron passed on to you from his team's young genius, Doctor Spencer Reid, you hoped the welcome home dinner you made him helped sustain his deep sleep.

Your adrenal glands calmed. You closed your eyes, but, not a second later, you were rudely interrupted by a sharp pain three inches below your belly button--- right where the unsub stabbed you.

It was just a dream. With a quiet huff, you rolled onto your side and curled against Aaron’s back.

That’s when you felt it— a tacky liquid sticking your satin pj pants to your thighs. A swell of nausea overtook you, and you feared it was not a byproduct of anxiety alone.

Gingerly, you slid out of bed. With the nausea sliding up your esophagus and the sensation of the room spinning, it wouldn’t take Holmes to confirm the cause, but you refused to panic without irrefutable evidence.

Gently, you folded the covers back. Not daring to turn on your phone flashlight, you tapped your home screen and raised the brightness.

When you hovered the light over the bed sheet, deep red splotches of smeared period blood screamed against Aaron’s stark white sheets.

Something deep and cold coiled in the pit of your stomach. You clicked your phone off. Carefully, you took a few steps back from the bed.

Your stomach whirled. A shiver crawled up your spine. You hurriedly tiptoed across the carpet to Aaron’s ensuite. Even in your haste, you quietly shut the door behind you. As soon as the door was in its oak frame, you turned the lock.

You pulled the roots of your hair with an iron grip. Shit. Shit.

You collapsed onto the edge of Aaron’s bathtub. There was blood all over your pj bottoms. You stood in a panic. You looked back and, of course, in a matter of three seconds, you stained the white acrylic.

You went to his faucet and patted ice cold water on your cheeks. Get a grip. Stress would only make the inevitable worse. Why it was possible for your body to malfunction this severely, you’ll never understand.

If you’d only been blessed with a normal body, one that menstruated on a timely schedule and didn’t come with a laundry list of ugly, graphic symptoms, tonight would be nothing more than a minor embarrassment.

The guilt for waking Aaron on tonight of all nights would be strong, but all you would have to do is tap him awake, apologize, and attack your blood splotches with a hydrogen peroxide–soaked cotton ball and the night would revert back to a typical night with your boyfriend.

You wished you were well enough to clean his sheets. Unfortunately, for you, it wasn't possible. You’d get even more nauseated. Or too lightheaded. You already felt sick when you woke up, which meant you were menstruating for a few hours.

How did you not catch this? Your body at least has the decency of shooting some warning flares, and the new medication your OB/GYN prescribed three months ago was far from 100 percent effective at calming your PMS symptoms.

You ran a hand over your face and through your hair. You were two weeks early after billing unbelievable hours for that merger dispute. This was stress induced.

You forced a deep breath. You needed to find a way out of this.

Suddenly, your vision swam. With no other option, you sat on the stained portion of Aaron’s bathtub. You gripped your stomach as the pain twisted deeper into your abdomen. You hunched over yourself.

Tonight could not become Aaron’s baptism by fire into your PCOS. He was exhausted physically and emotionally. He shouldn’t have to deal with all the baggage that comes when you experience the most natural thing in the world for a woman.

The nausea crawled up your throat, and you forcefully swallowed it back with a groan.

You put your head in your hands. You didn’t bring enough pads. Or tampons. You didn’t have any anti-emetics. What if you got a migraine? What if you fainted and A woke to what appeared to be your corpse lying on his bathroom tile?

Your spiral was interrupted by the man in question. “Honey?” Aaron called, voice strung.

Before you could respond, he yelled. “Honey?!”

You stood, and Aaron’s bathroom tilted on an axis. You barely managed to stumble to the doorway.

Fumbling, you unlocked the door just as Aaron reached the it.

His brown eyes were wide blown and wild. You'd never seen that expression on him before. “Are you okay?” He held your forearms as if he were afraid you’d crumple with too harsh a touch.

“I saw the blood and I…” He swallowed. He scanned you from head to toe repeatedly. “I thought the worst.” He whispered. Your heart fell through the pit of your stomach to the soles of your feet.

He cupped your cheeks. “Baby, you’re really off color. I need you to talk to me. Where are you hurt?” The blood stains on the back of your pants were out of his view.

“I’m not hurt, A.” You said.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Your side of the bed is blood stained.” He said, his voice taking a sterner edge.

“I’m on my monthly.”

“Oh.” He released your arms. His cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, honey, I…” He ran his hands over his bedhead. “I should’ve…I jumped to conclusions.” He sounded shocked with himself.

“You’ve had a long day.” You whispered. “Give me a minute. I’ll clean.”

Suddenly, everything went blurry. Your muscles slacked, and your forehead dropped onto Aaron’s pectoral.

A hand was back on your forearm, this time with a tighter grip. A calloused hand tapped your cheek. “Hey. Hey. Baby. Stay with me.”

Carefully, he walked you away from the door. “Sit.” Fully supporting your back, he sat you on the floor and leaned you against the bathtub.

As soon as your back was fully supported, his ensuite regained color. You could take a deep breath again.

Aaron knelt in front of you. “Honey,” Aaron said, his stare piercing through yours. He stroked your hair out of your face. “I need you to be honest with me. What’s wrong?”

“I told you.” More accurately, you began to tell him.

You shivered. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and stroked down your cheekbone.

“I don’t have a fever.” You insisted. “It’s just my monthly.”

He pecked your forehead. He didn’t believe you. “Is it always this bad?” He asked with a mix of concern and skepticism.

“Yes.” You sighed. “I have polycystic ovarian syndrome.”

“PCOS?” He asked.

You were shocked. “You know what that is?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard of it.”

“It can make my time of the month super severe.” Stubborn tears leaked from your eyes. You wiped your cheeks with the cuff of your pajama shirt.

You were supposed to be the woman who kicked ass in the boy’s club of corporate law by day and kicked ass as the perfect girlfriend by night.

He was not supposed to see you trembling before him, huddled in pain. He was not supposed to see you on the verge of throwing up from period cramps when he almost died in a hail of bullets less than twelve hours ago. He was never supposed to see how weak you truly were.

He took over wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Scale of 1 to 10—how bad is the pain?”

“Maybe an 8?” You said. It was a 9. If you could’ve managed without your head aching, you would’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. The one thing about dating a profiler is they always know when you’re fibbing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

You sniffled. “About my condition or that I’m in pain?”

“I think those are a package deal.” He said gently.

You sighed. Your instinct was to lie, but you stopped yourself. Aaron could see right through you. He was one of the best behavioral analysts in the entire world. For the first leg of your relationship, you’d managed to avoid this confrontation which was a blessing in itself.

“I didn’t want you to see how sick I get. How sick I am.” You toyed with the ends of your hair. “I didn’t want you to know how weak I am.” You whispered.

His eyes softened. “Honey, you’re not weak because you have PCOS."

“There are months where I can’t even stand up.” You said, voice taught with tears.

“And that’s why I need to know." He smoothed your hair. "Have you been going through this every month by yourself?”

“Since I moved out of my mother’s place for undergrad, yeah.” You sniffled with a watery smirk.

He wrapped an arm around your back, then hesitated. “Can I hug you?”

“Please.” You whispered

He pulled you into a hug. His hold was looser than normal, but his embrace still filled you with warmth from head to toe.

“Darling, I love you so much.” Aaron said. “I would never look down on you for this.”

“It’s just…I’m not used to….”

“Being this vulnerable.” Aaron finished sympathetically.

You nod. “It’s just…I get so sick. It makes me so ugly.”

He shook his head. “Hey.” He made sure you were looking him in the eye. “You’re never ugly.”

You chuckled. “You’ll revisit that answer when you see me dry heaving at 3 in the morning.” You said, unpleasant nights resurfacing.

His lips don’t do so much as quirk upwards. Rather, he looked shattered. He squeezed your hands. “I won’t.”

“What can I do to help?” He pivoted.

“You can change the sheets.” You looked to the top corner of the ensuite door frame as more tears welled. “And go back to bed.”

“I won't ever leave you on the bathroom floor in pain, alone.”

“But you should.” You said. He cupped your cheeks with his homey hands. He gently pulled your chin back to level your gaze, but you resisted.

“Why should I?” He asked.

“Because you’re tired. And I’m sick. And I’m broken. And there’s nothing you can do.” You make eye contact and immediately are wracked with full body sobs.

Suddenly, every second of you’d spent building up your self-esteem went out the window as your deepest insecurities broke through. You were never supposed to be a burden to him.

He pulled you into chest and wrapped you in his arms..“Helping you when you’re sick is never a burden. I love you so much.”

“What if you get tired of me?” What if this made him stop loving you?

“I won’t.” He promised.

He pressed another kiss to your forehead. “We’ll return to this conversation when you’re feeling better.” He stroked your cheekbone with his thumb. “What helps? Do you have medication?”

“I have daily medication. I’m still working with my doctor to get a regimine that works.” You wiped your eyes. “Heat helps. I drink this peppermint tea to help my stomach when I’m at home.” You rambled.

“The one by that British brand?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“When I saw their tea in your apartment, I bought some to keep here. I might have some peppermint. I’ll be back, honey.” He left you with a kiss on the cheek.

The tailoring he did to his world to accommodate you would never cease to flutter your heart.

The pleasant moment was quickly halted by your stomach bubbling.

As A’s slippers padded down the stairs, you crawled across the tile floor over to the toilet. You forced your head between your knees.

About ten minutes later, you heard the clack of his slippers against the bathroom floor. “Nauseous?” He asked.

You nodded.

He sat the mug close to you. “Your tea to your left within arm's reach. I’m going to grab some blankets and pillows. I’ll be right back. Shout if you need something.”

You learned by “some blankets and pillows” Aaron meant an entire blanket set.

As you leaned your head back against the wall, Aaron began prepping your makeshift bed. In your peripheral vision, you laid pillows as floor cushioning.

“I won’t judge you if you go to sleep in bed. This gets ugly.”

“Baby, I’m an FBI agent for the BAU. Even if you threw up on me, it wouldn’t make the list of the top fifty gross things I’ve experienced by miles.”

You scooched onto a pillow. Aaron slipped the blankets around you.

Your head found the soft crook of his neck. He pressed his head onto yours, and the pressure instantly relaxed you. Unfortunately, your your uterine muscles corkscrewed. You squirmed in pain.

Aaron shushed you. “You need to breathe. This will pass, just breathe.”

You clasped his hand like a lifeline. What feels like hours later, when the pain begins to ebb away, you pant, “It’s alright if you need to go to sleep.” Aaron already relayed his plans to go into the office on Saturday morning to attack some dense paperwork.

He placed his free hand overtop of yours. “You will always be a priority for me. I hope I’ve shown you by now that I will always take care of you.”

You smiled into his shoulder.

“Also, the heating pad is charging in the bedroom, and, before you ask about the sheets, they’re already in the wash.”

You sighed in happiness. “I could kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?” Gently, he pressed his lips to the top of your forehead.

You smiled again. You could count on your hand the number of times you’d smiled when you’re like this: on the bathroom floor, nauseous and dizzy.

You squeezed his knee with your free hand. “You promise you’ll stay with me?”

“Of course I’ll stay with you. I love you. And, just for the record…this may be tough, but you're not ugly and you're not weak. You're braver than you think and more beautiful than you know. I'm grateful to be the one holding you through this."

In the coming days, you’re certain you’ll have a laundry list of next steps from your boyfriend: call your doctor, check in with a dietitian, monitor stress, anything he could think of to lessen these symptoms. He’ll probably want to talk more about why you didn’t tell him sooner.

But, for now, you're both satisfied with sitting on the bathroom floor and riding this out. And in a moment where the pain could split you in pieces, you somehow felt whole.

Author's Note: I'm happy to say the 100 follower celebration fics are finally going live!

I hope you're having a good day or night! Thanks for taking the time to read my work! And, to anyone struggling with a condition similar to the reader's: you, too, are braver than you think and more beautiful than you know!

xoxo,

shewroteaworld

#aaron hotchner x reader #shewroteaworld 100 follower celebration #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner

668 notes · View notes

guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Here For You

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (period talk!, reader has PCOS, painful menstruation, talks of bodily fluids [blood, vomit], brief mentions of alcohol consumption, nonsexual nudity, one mention of a future blowjob, frankie carrying the redemption of the entire male species on his back)

word count: 1.7k

a/n: another self-indulgent piece because i am currently dying from my PCOS cramps. just a disclaimer: this is based on my personal level of pain and symptoms. everyone menstruates differently. this one is for my fellow PCOS girlies—hang in there babes!

frankie masterlist | frankie playlist

It was a typical Friday night, Frankie off at one of Benny’s fights per usual while you were supposed to have been going out with your friends for drinks, but thanks to a particularly rough second day of your period, that was cancelled. Instead, you laid in your bed writhing in pain, your PCOS deciding to make itself extra known this month by bringing on the most unbearable cramps you’d experienced in months.

Clutching your heating pad to your lower stomach, you reached for your phone on your nightstand at it buzzed. With a wince and a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, you breathed through the contraction-like cramp until you could focus on the message displayed on your screen.

[9:04 PM] Lover: Hey, sugar. Just got to the fight.

[9:05 PM] Lover: Santi’s being particularly determined tonight. You can blame him if I’m drunk when I come home.

You wanted to smile at the thought of a drunk Frankie, his sweetness only amplified whenever he got liquored up, but between the pain that seemingly radiated from your uterus to every single nerve in your body and your extra-sensitive emotional state thanks to your hormones, you found yourself crying.

Without messaging him back—you were too irritable and sensitive to hold a conversation at the moment—you locked your phone and set it back down before forcing yourself to your feet. You nearly fainted from the change in position as you waddled your way to the bathroom, hoping that a hot bath would help ease some of the pain.

“Here,” Santi sat down beside Frankie in the front row of the packed gym, handing him a beer while his free hand held his own. Frankie accepted the drink but immediately set it down on the floor between his feet, his eyes fixed on your message thread, concern filling his stomach with each passing minute and no response. “You gonna stare at your phone all night?”

“Sorry,” Frankie sighed and locked his phone before stuffing it in his pocket. “She’s just not responding right now.”

“You guys in a fight?” Santi asked, keeping his eyes on the two lower-level boxers in the ring that were opening the fight night.

“No,” Frankie lifted his beer to his lips and took a swig before elaborating. “She’s supposed to be out with her friends, but she never checked in.”

“Why don’t you go call her before Benny comes out? Just make sure she’s good,” he suggested and Frankie immediately nodded, knowing that until he heard your voice assure him you were good, he’d spend all night distracted with worry.

The bath had helped a bit, but as soon as you left the comfort of the hot water, the pain hit you like a tonne of bricks. You hardly made it to the toilet before you threw up what little you’d managed to keep down today, the convulsing of your stomach furthering the exhaustion and pain rooted deep in your bones by now.

As you laid there in your towel recovering, you heard your phone buzzing against your nightstand, a sigh leaving your lips at the thought of standing up again. Instead of even trying, knowing full well that you’d likely faint if you tried to overextend yourself—you’d done it before—you found yourself naked, free bleeding, and crawling into your bedroom to reach your phone, sliding the green arrow to accept the call from your boyfriend.

“H-hey,” you croaked into the line, bile still burning your throat.

“Thank god,” he exhaled in relief. “Was worried something happened to you. You guys alright?”

“Didn’t go out,” you managed through a sigh, laying on your back on top of the rug covering your bedroom floor as you felt another cramp begin to dawn. Unable to hold in your whimper, you winced at the pain that began to flood your every nerve again.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie worried. When you couldn’t form a response, you swore you could hear his heart begin to pound in his chest over the phone. “Baby? Talk to me.”

“Can’t—cramps,” you whimpered through heavy pants, trying to breathe through the contracting in your uterus but it only triggered another vomit-spell. “Gonna puke.”

You reached for the trash can you placed at your bedside earlier just in case, but didn’t have time to mute your throwing up before it came out, forcing Frankie to hear the whole thing.

“Oh, baby,” he fretted. “I’m coming home.”

“No,” you croaked in between wretches. “M’good.”

“No, you aren’t,” he snapped. “I’ll be home in fifteen.”

“Frankie,” you sighed, hating the thought of ruining his one night a week he got to spend with his friends. “Stay, I’ll be fine.”

“There’s literally no way in hell that’s happening. I’ll be home in a second baby, okay?” You hummed in response, finally giving in to his persistence.

Frankie arrived exactly when he said he would, not bothering to take off his jacket, hat, or boots as he stomped his way down the hall to your shared bedroom, cooing at the sight of you still on the floor.

“I’m disgusting right now,” you cried, hating the fact that he was seeing you at your lowest—blood between your thighs, throw up in the trash can beside you, a cold sweat covering your skin.

“Baby, no,” he shook his head and stroked his warm palm over your forehead to wipe some of the sweat away. “C’mon, lemme help you up.”

He hoisted you into your feet and carried most of your weight as he walked you into the bathroom. Turning on the hot water, he helped you settle back into the bathtub, letting the hot shower head rain over you to wash the blood away before he switched it to the faucet so that the tub could fill up.

“Gonna go clean up a bit,” he mumbled as he placed a kiss to your forehead. “Have you eaten?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, your eyes closed at you relished in the warmth of the slowly filling tub.

“Okay, I’ll order a pizza.”

“Can’t do pizza—can you just make me some plain oatmeal?” Frankie frowned at how sick you must be to turn down one of your favorite foods in exchange for plain oatmeal.

“Sure thing,” he nodded. “Have you taken meds?”

“Ran out.”

“Pobrecita,” he cooed, sitting down on the closed toilet seat, unable to leave you quite yet. “I’ll go to the drugstore.”

“I feel so bad,” you whined, opening your eyes to look over at him. “Ruined your night.”

“No you didn’t,” he was quick to correct. “I’d rather be here for you than out getting drunk. Do that every Friday anyways.”

You chuckled weakly and leant your hand out for him to take, Frankie quickly intertwining his fingers with yours. “Soon as I feel better, I’m gonna suck your dick for hours.”

It was Frankie’s turn to laugh, lifting the back of your hand up to his lips. “Holding you to that.”

Standing up, he let go of your hand and placed a kiss onto your cheek.

“Be right back, bonita.”

Somehow, Frankie’s momentary presence had given you enough strength to climb out of the bathtub, change in to a clean set of pajamas, throw away the trash bag filled with vomit beside your nightstand, and make yourself cozy in bed all on your own by the time he got back from the drugstore.

Frankie looked pleasantly surprised to see you beneath the comforter as he walked into the bedroom with a plastic bag filled with much more than just a bottle of Midol.

“Look at you,” he commended with a dimpled grin, setting the bag down at the foot of the bed before peeling off his outside clothes until he was was stripped down to just a pair of black boxer briefs. He tossed the comforter back on his side of the bed and crawled in beside you, his warm hands quick to replace the warmth of your heating pad as he pulled you close to his body.

“Even managed to brush my teeth,” you mumbled, exhausted from the pain of menstruating. He chuckled and kissed your shoulder.

“Wanna see what I got you?” You nodded and watched as he sat up, allowing you to place the heating pad over your stomach once more as he opened the bag up and began to take things out one at a time. “First, Midol.” He opened the packaging and handed you two pills which you quickly downed as he reached into the bag again. “Next, snacks.” He placed a bag of your favorite gummy candy on your lap before repeating the action with a chocolate bar and a bag of your favorite chips. “Lastly and most importantly,” he grinned as he reached into the bag and pulled out the book that you’d been dropping hints about wanting for the last month, your eyes tearing up at the thoughtful gesture. “Since I’m forcing you into bed rest, thought you’d want some reading material.”

“I am so in love with you,” you breathed out and tugged him down for a kiss, Frankie’s warm body half on top of yours as he moved his lips soft and slow against yours, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone as he cradled your jaw. “Thank you for doing this—for being here for me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he reminded but you were quick to shake your head.

“I want to. You could have easily just stayed out and left me to deal with this alone, but you didn’t.”

Frankie gave you an adoring frown, wondering what shithead you’d been with before set the bar so low that you were this blown away by what Frankie considered to be just a basic show of love, but he didn’t dwell on the thought too long, suddenly remembering you still had yet to eat.

“Gonna go make you that bland ass oatmeal you requested,” he mumbled as he pecked your lips. “Don’t get up.”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted him and delighted in the chuckle you caused, his chest vibrating against yours. Before he could get too far, you reached out your hand and gently gripped his bicep to stop him, his eyes quickly turning to yours. “I love you.”

Frankie cooed and crawled back into bed for one more kiss, letting his nose nuzzle against yours.

“I love you more.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales oneshot #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic

776 notes · View notes

makeandshift · 2 months

Text

Hasan S/O // period comfort

as requested by this lovely anon. this will mention the menstrual cycle and all the joys that come with it, so if you aren't comfortable reading about that stuff, maybe it is best to just skip this one ☺️

Self-declared expert on the female body and all its struggles Hasan is here and ready to help.

He keeps the house fully stocked at all times because he is nothing if not prepared. Him showing off all the toiletries he keeps around for the ladies in his apartment tour video from a bunch of years ago lives rent free in my brain.

Probably keeps better track of things than his S/O does, honestly. She's complaining about being bloated or having headaches? "You're about to get your period, babe." Which blows her mind every single time (and he is always right about it as well).

Mostly lets her do her own thing and just tries to help out where he can.

The policy is very much she comes to him if she needs him for literally anything (complaining, driving to the store, physical comfort), otherwise it is just business as usual.

The moment she shows any signs of more than just being mildly uncomfortable he's basically forcing her into bed with some painkillers and a heating pad.

If his S/O has any chronic diseases or conditions that affect her period, like PCOS or endometriosis, he's reading every single source he can find to learn more about it.

Randomly drops little bits of knowledge about it on stream someday and chat is just shocked and impressed.

Gives 10/10 backrubs and lets her basically use him as a body pillow if she can't get comfortable.

Bonus emotional support from Kaya who will just hangout in bed with her all day if she isn't feeling good.

#requests #words words words #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi x reader

30 notes · View notes

doumadono · 8 months

Note

EMERGENCY REQUEST

Lately, I've been feeling really really down because of my weight. Although im not really "fat" And just chubby, i can't help but be bothered about people just telling me to loose weight. Trust me, im really trying but because of PCOS its hard to get rid of my belly to the point that I barely eat anything. With that being said, could i please request on how Shoto Todoroki would comfort the reader about being body conscious? Lovelots❤

A/N: I'm sorry to hear that you've been feeling down about your weight. It's important to remember that your worth is not determined by your body size, and you should prioritize your health and well-being over societal pressures. Dealing with weight-related issues, especially in the face of insensitive comments from others, can be incredibly challenging. It's crucial to focus on what's best for your overall health rather than succumbing to external pressures. PCOS can make weight management more complex, and it's essential to approach it in a healthy and sustainable way.

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

After a particularly tough day, you find yourself sitting in the common room of the dorm, quietly sobbing. Shoto notices your distress and joins you without a word. He sits down, leaving a comfortable distance between you, and his presence alone provides some solace.

He watches you with a caring expression, and after a while, he reaches over and offers you a blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. You accept it gratefully, wrapping it around your shoulders for warmth and comfort.

You continue to cry softly, and Shoto doesn't rush you. Instead, he patiently waits, giving you the time and space you need to process your emotions.

Eventually, when your tears begin to subside, Shoto speaks softly, "You don't have to tell me what's wrong if you're not ready, but I'm here to listen if you want to talk." His voice is gentle and understanding, offering you an anchor in the storm of your emotions.

After Shoto's comforting presence helps ease your tears, you gather your thoughts and decide it's time to open up to him. You appreciate his support and trust him with your feelings. "I just can't shake this feeling of not being good enough because of my weight," you stated out of blue.

Shoto sighs softly, "I understand that it can be tough. It's not easy when others are so critical. But please remember that their opinions don't define you."

"It's just so frustrating, Shoto. I feel like I'm constantly being judged."

"I know it's easier said than done, but try not to let the opinions of others define how you see yourself. People who truly care about you will see your inner beauty and strength," he smiles, a tiny smile dancing in the corners of his mouth.

"I've been trying really hard to lose weight, but it's not working as I hoped. And sometimes, I end up hardly eating anything because I'm so worried about gaining weight again." Your chin starts quivering again.

"I admire your determination, but please remember that health should always come first. You shouldn't have to go to such extremes. Your health is the most important thing, and starving yourself isn't the way to achieve it. You're more than your weight, and I want you to be healthy and happy."

You smile with tears in your eyes, "Thank you, Shoto, you're always so sweet to me."

Shoto gently wipes away a tear that rolls down your cheek, "You're welcome. Just know that I'm here to support you, no matter what. Remember, you're not alone in this, and we can work through it together, I'll try to help you. Your well-being is what matters most."

#emergency request #bnha x reader #mha hcs #shoto fluff #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x you #mha x reader #mha fluff #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto fic #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #mha fic #bnha fluff

75 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 2 years

Note

Hey I was just wondering as a person with hyperandrogenism, could you elaborate more about people who take T to help with it? I want to transition at some point and I've been looking everywhere for information on what going on T would be like for somebody with PCOS.

*CLAPS* you came to the right blog and i'm SO GLAD I CAN HELP SOMEONE ELSE WITH THIS!!!!!

i was diagnosed with hyperandrogenism and PCOS at the age of 15 because i was having such heavy menstrual periods that i literally had to stay home from school because i had to change my pad every 45 minutes or so. they forced me on to hormonal birth control instead of presenting me with the option of testosterone hormone replacement therapy and to this day, i am angry at those doctors for not realizing they could've given me the choice, because they could've spared me from a lot of misery in my teen years.

i had been naturally growing a full beard with no outside help since i started puberty, and it was a nightmare for everyone BUT me because everyone else found it threatening. my mother made me put Nair on my face (that chemical stuff you use to burn the hair off your legs- no, you're not supposed to put it on your face and they did Not make the kind for your face back then.) to get rid of it because it freaked her out so bad, quote, "everyone will make fun of you and you'll get called a dyke and butch and a lezzie and a man and it'll be embarrassing, and then they'll think I'm all of those things, too." Mental gymnastics olympic gold winner, My Mom, everyone.

i wanted to just keep my facial hair, but my mother was obsessed with keeping me a Presentable Girl while everyone else in my school, once they saw the beard, went. oh, it's a guy. and interpreted me in the polar opposite direction. they started relentlessly telling me things like "you're not a girl" "you can't be a girl" "it doesn't matter if you carry a purse or wear makeup you're not a real girl" because they saw my life from the outside and were now under the impression that i was "a guy trying to be a girl," while my mom was trying to prevent me from being "a girl who everyone thinks is a guy".

needless to say, this caused a lot of frustration and confusion in me, because i just wanted to go with what my body was doing, and i found that i was naturally very masculine and butch and let me tell you, starting testosterone was incredible. it was like i picked up from where puberty left off! i finally felt myself evolving into who i was meant to be, i swear, because it felt like i was a half complete person until i started taking T.

my voice dropped very quickly, i was getting voice cracks and croaky tones very early on, within the first 3 months or so. my facial hair took a while for it to stop being patchy, while i was growing a full beard, my mustache was very thin, and there was some hair that didn't grow in small patches, probably due to the years of aggressive chemicals damaging my face. i started growing very thick, bushy, noticeable chest hair very quickly as well, as well as thickened and darkened arm, back and belly hair.

i was a greaseball for a while and that was somewhat unpleasant- i think for about a month after i started i was extremely greasy, i noticed this because i had already been working out at the gym beforehand and i was suddenly. very. sweaty and slimy all of a sudden. honestly it gave me euphoria when i realized it though because i went "oh my god... the T is working!!!" it's the little things that give you Masculine Joy

my face got very sharp and angular very quickly, my cheekbones became way more noticeable and my jaw became a lot more streamline and sharp. i used to have a somewhat round face but now i have barely any fat on my face at all. after a long time on T, my mustache finally grows in fully! though it's still kinda hard to see, but it finally isn't just in the corners of my lips <3

i did have a period of a few months in the beginning where i was very emotional, i wouldn't say i was simply JUST angry. i was more passionate than normal, and it was easy for me to laugh or cry really hard, or sometimes be more irritable than normal due to being more sensitive in general.

Bottom growth happened very quickly and intensely, ive been told by several transmasc partners that i'm one of the biggest they've been with, so i would say you're likely to get fairly substantial bottom growth if you have PCOS or hyperandrogenism. =) it seems that area really takes to the extra testosterone and goes nuts with it! be warned, it will be extremely extremely sensitive to touch while bottom growth is occurring, like even seams in your pants can be uncomfortable, so go easy on yourself. i have never dealt with vaginal dryness or atrophy, btw, so i can't comment on anything like that.

hope that gave you a picture of what it was like for me, personally =) every person w/ PCOS and hyperandrogenism is different, but i'm really glad i could help provide a resource that is difficult to find! for many of us, those of us who have naturally high testosterone love and WANT what it does to our body, and we should be able to get to control how much T goes on in our body- that includes getting the option to increase it.

211 notes · View notes

onwacollective · 2 years

Text

Womb Healing Masterpost

Please share far and wide.

With the increase of hormonal imbalance as a result of the collective being fed constant cycles of stress through the media, I’ve felt called to organize info that’s been useful to me on healing the womb and healing hormonal imbalance. While menstruation pain has been normalized, it is not natural to regularly be in pain during your cycle. Consistently painful cycles are the body’s way of communicating that something is wrong and that the womb needs attention. I’ve provided some tools below to help.

I’ve broken the info up into three categories: energetic, physical, and gut health. I’ve found it to be true that womb related issues are always energetic first. Fixing the physical issue without addressing the emotional/energetic wounding will cause the illness to manifest in the body in another way. The physical category focuses on how to address womb imbalance by making changes to diet and behavior. The gut health category is gut specific healing because many hormones are created in the gut or called into creation by the gut microbiome. If you have hormonal issues it’s likely you have gut health issues as well.

The most important element of healing your womb is discernment. Use your discernment when moving through this information. Some things will be helpful and relevant to you and some will not. Everyone’s body is unique. Honor that on your journey to healing.

**note: some of these resources advise restrictive dieting (example vegan, low/no carb or otherwise) to heal the womb. While using these diets to detox for a little while may be beneficial, I’ve personally found restrictive diets to be more damaging long term. I’ve found the most benefit from prometabolic eating or eating ancestrally. With any dietary info provided in these resources, use your discernment and prioritize listening to your body’s unique needs.**

Energetic

VIDEOS

Caroline Myss: Why People Don't Heal

The Truth About Uterine Fibroids In Melanin Dominant Women (Black Women) - Dr. Jewel Pookrum

5 Mindset Shifts That Have Completely Transformed My Health Journey

PODCASTS

S3E07. HOW TO GIVE YOUR BODY A “SOFTWARE UPDATE” - the art of updating your physical body on emotional breakthroughs for better lymphatic drainage, emotional release, and brain-body connection w/ Julie Tracy

BOOKS

You Look Like Something Blooming: A Memoir of Divination Seeds to Cultivate Your Feminine Garden Temple by India Ame’ye (you can also check out India’s tumblr HERE)

Sacred Woman: A Guide to Healing the Feminine Body, Mind, and Spirit by Queen Afua

Set Boundaries, Find Peace by Nedra Glover Tawwab

Physical

VIDEOS

HOW TO V STEAM AT HOME | DIY Yoni Steam

The Goddess Collection aka KrystalTheHealthAdvocate YouTube Channel

DIY Castor Oil Pack Tutorial | How to Castor Oil Pack for Fertility, Fibroids and Liver Health

BOOKS

In the FLO: Unlock Your Hormonal Advantage and Revolutionize Your Life by Alisa Vitti

Hormone Intelligence by Aviva Romm, MD

PODCASTS

S3E02. FROM WELLNESS EXTREMES TO A HEALTHY FOUNDATION - why getting back to basics, saying no to fads and fueling our bodies is the medicine women need with Nina Passero, FDN-P

S3E05. BEYOND BIRTH CONTROL - tracking your menstrual cycle, reproductive empowerment + ways to take control of your fertility and health with Lisa Hendrickson-Jack

S2E12. PCOS: WHY ARE SO MANY WOMEN SUFFERING? - a conversation about carbs, body temperature, metabolism, stress and phone addiction with Amanda Montalvo, RD, FDN-P

S2E2. WHY HORMONE IMBALANCE IS ON THE RISE - Dr. Aviva Romm shares tangible solutions for endo and PCOS

BLOGS/INSTAS/WEBSITES

What is Yoni Steaming?

Herbal Tea Nourishment - https://thealkalinegoddess.com

@thegoddescollection on insta

@JessicaAshWellness on insta

https://www.jessicaashwellness.com/

Gut Health

BOOKS

Gut and Psychology Syndrome: Natural Treatment for Autism, Dyspraxia, A.D.D., Dyslexia, A.D.H.D., Depression, Schizophrenia by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride

Glucose Revolution: The Life-Changing Power of Balancing Your Blood Sugar by Jessie Inchauspe

BLOGS/INSTAS/WEBSITES

@GlucoseGoddess on Instagram

@JessicaAshWellness on insta

How to make your own Saurkraut

How (and why) to do an Enema

PODCASTS

S2E13. THE LIVER GUT CONNECTION - Dr. Asia Muhammad on why fatty liver is exploding, leaky gut, and the root of most health concerns

APPS

Monash University FODMAP diet (for locating food sensitivities)

I’ll add to this list as I continue to find and remember resources that have been supportive. If we let it, womb healing can be a beautiful initiation into feminine power. Be gentle with yourself 💗

#reblog to save a life #reblog to save a womb #womb health #pcos #fibriods #endometriosis #chronic illness #gut health #self care #black women #eatmangoesnekkid #beauty tips #sacred woman #spirituality

229 notes · View notes

spicyraeman · 5 months

Note

Well interacting with you makes my week too! **aggressive friendly fist bump**

I hope your holidays are going well 😁

Wolfheart is ending me. Can I pet that dawg? CAN I PET THAT DAWG? (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZGeN9U7kG/)

I love seeing the hairy SH art! PCOS / trans / wolf girlie, I stan all versions I see. We're not cowards here! The new band drawings are fire, still making my heartrate go jglcbxlw. And seeing the growth? Honestly it's magic to me, I think it's perfect then it becomes even more perfect and I'm just how?? How possible?

Veteran'zel, Baby'zel, Beam'zel, Horny'zel, Rat'zel, all I do is love'zel! The cheetah/dog doodle + wet rat'zel made me hiccup from laughter, we were blessed.

Buddy, Karlach's got her tail docked like the gith children, that's why! See, problem fixed **insert Flex Tape meme**

Also for Lae'zel's accent : yes, she would have such a harsh accent! As a foreign speaker, the pronunciation isn't always intuitive and is sometimes paradoxal. She probably never used some sounds, and it's hard to guess a lot of them. It's so inconsistent. I lack air in the middle of my sentences because of the tonal accentuations differences. Languages are crazy man. Lae'zel would have a stroke, struggling to say "library" with Gale correcting her.

I've been upgraded to bestie? Careful, I feel like the most specialest goblin in town now 😎

I also wanted to share with you my recent victory : I passed my exams with unexpectedly high grades! It's been 10 years since I succeeded in anything school related, I feel strangely proud and hopeful. I attribute this partly to the intense hyperfixation for BG3. I can come back to this fandom and get comfort when I feel burned out and in need of motivation. Thank you for being part of it and sharing your blorbos with us. Good soup for our cold starving souls. So yeah, you and your art matter even if you find it bleh sometimes and you doubt yourself.

I wanted to be brief but I'm incapable of shortening shit even if my life depended on it. Violently dumping my brain in your ask like I'm late on garbage collecting day. Sorry not sorry for the awkward emotional stuff. Take care of yourself, bestie ✌️

🫀🚑

Sry for answering these “backwards”, I just needed to get the conlang stuff out first before all my good braincells shut down lol

hope the holidays are going well on your end as well :]

To pet a werewolf truly is the dream isn’t it, wereshart is prob my fav hc for her it just fits so well. I've been trying really hard lately to figure out how to draw her recently bc despite the art disparity her and lae’zel are neck in neck at being my fav characters. Seeing the growth in the bass drawing really gave me that boost of confidence that I'm at least slightly getting there lol

I truly do love Lae’zel in every form, but wet rat’zel rotates in my mind more than it should, sadly its not a hc I could ever commit to considering I can’t even remember Karlach’s canon tail lmaoo I really should just hc that karlach got her tail docked at this point, that or I need to make a checklist for her so I can go through and make sure ive got all her bits when I draw her

Also Ive already posted my big rambling mess about Gith accents but yeah harsh accent lae'zel best lae'zel, it just makes sense

But yoooo big gratz on the exams! Def something to be proud of!! I can agree this fandom really is a huge motivator, I haven’t had this much drive to do anything I've been doing recently in years. Glad I could help provide a lil comfort spot full of blorbo soup for the soul lol

Dw about shortening shit as you’ve prob seen i’m prone to rambling and also every emotion I experience is awkward so that's just par for the course here.

Hope life treats you well till the next ask, peace ✌️

#asks #again sry for answering backward #I just got sucked back into the conlang fixation

9 notes · View notes

draconikia · 1 month

Text

okay i am in my room writing and sipping my water while dr who plays. im gonna go on a bit of a whinge in the readmore, so feel free to ignore but i feel like my insanity is best explained at times?

so basically with my mom's cancer diagnosis and chemo, i've taken over the running of the house. it's not that bad. its technically what i was raised to do ( conservative christian home and all ). the issue is, i am disabled. while not visibly ( ok kinda but like most ppl dont notice ). i have lupus, pcos, hypothyroidism, EDS, and some weird fucking blood thing that the dr hasn't figured out yet.

if i were in another country i'd likely pursue diagnoisis for both chronic fatigue / exhaustion, as well as MH diagnoisis beyond 'hey u have anxiety and depression'. also myglasses prescription needs renewing but i have been so tired i cannot function to go to the dr myself rn.

anyway. all this leads up to me being a feral pile of mud in human form.

i WANT to write. i WANT to be here. i CRAVE writing. i CRAVE being creative. but my focus and anxiety are often times absolute shit. my anxiety is treated, but as of moms chemo starting i've started reverting back to less than stellar habits. this means, sometimes im just a wreck. i dont KNOW i'm anxious until i've done something that incidentall hurts me. like i bite my nails off til they're bleeding when i'm half asleep at night. i scratch myself in my sleep. i am extra clumsy rn and keep partially dislocating joints and spraining muscles.

i also have to keep my mood up, because my mom depends on me to be hopeful and cheerful bc she's -- understandably morbid. this means i'm her emotional support and primary physical caregiver. some days!!! she's great. other days, i'm cleaning up after her and feeding her every few hours when she doesn't know what she wants to eat and fixing three or four different meals because we all want different things.

so yes. this is why. i have one braincell and sometimes it ... well tbqh it just fucks right off and leaves anxiety and depression running the show and they're little shits tbqh.

#ooc**#excessive mun whinging in the read more #plz feel free to ignore just #saying

6 notes · View notes

lantur · 1 year

Text

I am so frustrated at myself right now. I spent last week being super sick and now that I've started to recover physically, the mild depression has crept back in. Yesterday I was in a Mood about how I wish more of my friends lived close by instead of out of the country/out of the state.

I also felt a resurgence of bitterness over the fact that my mom cut me out because I won't have a baby on her schedule (if at all. I have PCOS, which has implications for fertility, and Derek and I are still on the fence overall.) It sucks so much to be viewed just as an incubator of a future grandchild, rather than an overall good and interesting person with many worthwhile goals and dreams outside of possibly someday having a child. My only value to my mom was having a baby, and since I can't/won't do that right now, she won't engage with me. Anything else I offer as a human being doesn't matter. It's very dehumanizing. I ignore my negative feelings about it most of the time, but the bitterness came roaring back yesterday.

I use my emotional connection with my friends as a way to fill the void left by not having a meaningful relationship with either of my parents, even though it's not the same. In my ideal world, I would live super close to all my friends and be able to have someone pop over for dinner/book club/movie night/neighborhood walk whenever I wanted.

I was supposed to have therapy last Wednesday, but I couldn't because I lost my voice. I'm disappointed, because obviously I really need to see my therapist lmao. We did reschedule for this Friday.

I didn't sleep well last night because I woke up coughing twice in the middle of the night, so I don't think that helps my mood today. I'm just going to try to be gentle and patient with myself today as I get through the day.

#lanturing

24 notes · View notes

flowering-thought · 5 months

Text

I guess my health issues won't quit 🧍‍♀️

Um so I really hate going into detail but you all deserve to know what's going on especially since it impacts how long it'll take me to finish some drafts I want to release sooner rather than later.

So if you don't know, I have a chronic pain condition. One that has no cure and not a lot of things can treat it or manage it well. Luckily I mostly have it managed except yk flare ups here and there where I feel like I'm dying. But I just pop an edible when that happens and the pain goes away.

But unfortunately my other condition decided to act the fuck up 🧍‍♀️

And so now I get to tell you about the hell that is being a uterus haver. I have a condition called PCOS also known as polycystic ovarian syndrome. Too hard to explain what it is but what it does for me is it skips my periods and makes them come back with a fucking vengeance.

And so after not having mine for maybe uhhhh well let's just say an incredibly unhealthy amount of time (if I say the amount of months I think I'll get yelled at for being a dumbass 🤡), it came back.

Now having a period ain't a problem, it hurts like a mf but that's okay. The problem was that it lasted for over 2 weeks.... So they gave me some meds to stop it.

Guess what came back three days after I was told to stop taking the meds??? So um medical issues galore and extreme emotions thanks to the hormones that come with not having your period for an extreme amount of time.

So I'll be having probably a lot of doc visits and other shit going on thanks to this mess.

If my health doesn't improve I might just write anyways as I'm truly running out of things to keep me sane with my health issues being as they are.

And I want to apologize for taking so long cause I really do want to finish everything and work on things that I've been wanting to work on like finishing off the Ganondorf storyline I have going and getting back to my precious Cult and writing for my ocs that I adore cause I miss the Kawaharas and my baby Irene-

I'm incredibly sorry I always take a long time and also so very thankful for the people who enjoy what I write and take the time out of their day to read what I write.

Please have a good day!! Or night! And stay hydrated and hopefully have better health luck then I do. If you have it worse tho I'm sending good luck your way!!! Please stay safe with how crazy the world is getting and don't forget to eat a snack now and then <3

#.hana_talks_txt_♡#an update on my insane health issues #and truly stay safe everyone!

5 notes · View notes

lostandfem · 2 years

Text

This is a copy of the letter I mailed to the surgeon who performed my double mastectomy or “top surgery” when I was 20 years old. This letter, addressed as a “Notification of Detransition” was mailed to the cosmetic surgeon. I wrote this letter to inform the doctor and his staff that a former patient of his 100% regrets the operation performed on her, and has detransitioned and is now living as a biological female with no functioning breasts.

I kept the letter short and emotionally detached and, despite my traumatic feelings around this loss of self and body parts in my private life, knew it was crucial to maintain a rational composure in stating the facts of my situation. I described how my gender dysphoria was not cured by surgery or medical transition, but instead was fully resolved within 2 years through cognitive behavioral therapy, because the “gender dysphoria” was in reality, complex post-traumatic stress disorder. I described how I realized, only 2 years later at age 22, that the surgery had been a mistake, and that I didn’t receive proper mental health treatment when I was obtaining the surgery, the supposedly necessary gatekeeping he required to perform the operation.

This was important to include because, although I doubt as a cosmetic surgeon who has made his career entirely dedicated to performing double mastectomies on young women and girls as young as 16, that he cares about the mental wellbeing of his cliental, he advertises his practice as being a legitimate medical service by insisting that he follows the “WPATH Standards of Care”, the leading organization of trans medicine which requires at least 2 letters of referral from mental health providers for a patient to receive medical transition. The Standards of Care advocate for thorough screening for mental wellness, and selecting only appropriate patients who would truly benefit from transition.

It was crucial to inform the doctor that, in my case, the Standards were not met, as the mental health care I was receiving, and the subsequent referral letters, were negligent in providing assessment of my mental health situation, and therefore, his practice was not actually following the WPATH Standards of Care. Furthermore, what I did not include in the letter due to a desire to preserve my anonymity, was the fact that I openly discussed being suicidal with the doctor during our consultation, and feeling suicidal on the day of the actual surgery. Regardless of the recommendation letters, I presented to my doctor as not of sound mind to make a major elective surgical decision, but he performed the operation anyway.

After relaying my personal beliefs that this treatment was unethical in my case, I made it known to my doctor that I am far from the only former FTM patient who regrets medical transition, and cited Dr. Lisa Littman’s study of detransitioners showing how high the comorbidity rates are of various mental disorders in the FTM population, and how this issue is not just a personal error, but a growingly widespread phenomenon. I closed the letter with a call to action for the doctor to reconsider what his practice views as ‘medical treatment’ to treat mental disorders. I plainly asked him to confront the reality that he removes young women’s and even minor children’s breasts to treat problems inside their minds, and if he truly believes that is following the medical oath to “Do No Harm.”

My story is similar to many detransitioners who share why they felt they needed to transition. I grew up on the autism spectrum, experienced verbal, emotional, and psychosocial abuse from family resulting in PTSD, depression, and anxiety, had severe depression from attachment issues and hormonal dysregulation from PCOS, felt chronically othered and different as a girl, young woman, and person, suffered with relationship difficulties with romance, sex, and friendship due to undiagnosed trauma, and latched onto “gender dysphoria” as the cause of most of my difficulties.

I sought treatment for my gender related distress and learned online that the only solution was to accept being transgender and transition to live as a gay man. I followed the usual coaching of the process to “healing”, first, to socially transition and come out as nonbinary and transgender, second, to receive hormones from an informed-consent clinic, with no mental health evaluation or gatekeeping, and finally to have top surgery, the greatest rite of passage for the FTM cult. Throughout this process I saw multiple doctors, a psychiatrist, and therapists, none of whom questioned my identity, traumas, or provided help for my complex mental health issues. I had just turned 20 and was fresh out of an inpatient psychiatric ward for suicidal ideation when I desperately made my appointment to try and heal my depression through altering my body with surgery.

There is no need for further explanation. I was 20, developmentally immature, mentally ill, suicidal, had PTSD, and not in a rational state of consciousness, yet the mental health system failed to provide its due service, and my doctor and other cosmetic surgeons hungrily leapt at the opportunity for fresh meat to profit from operating on, in this unchecked, wild west market for “gender medicine.”

I share this letter with you to showcase real-life consequences of trans medical propaganda, and the repercussions our young people and children are facing. The last I checked; my doctor operates on girls as young as 16. I’ve done my soul-searching, grieving, extensive therapy, and self-punishment for the mistakes of my childhood self, but am healed enough to have progressed into self-forgiveness, acceptance, and upholding unrelenting boundaries around my peace, sanity, and healing process. I did not provide a return address on the letter I mailed, as I did not want to endure excuses or shaming correspondences.

The letter remains a rallying cry from the young women of the detrans movement to advocate for better medical treatment, no placation or bullshit apologies desired. I don’t claim to speak on behalf of anyone else, but unfortunately appreciate that my story is identical to countless other girls, and I hope that sharing this will somehow help them heal, or better yet, prevent the need for their healing in the first place.

—

Dear Dr. XXXX and Top Surgery Clinicians,

I am a former patient who you performed a double incision mastectomy on in 2017 while I was 20 years old. I am writing to inform you and your office that I have detransitioned and no longer identify as male/transgender and have returned to living fully as my biological female sex. I want to inform you that I fully regret having the surgery to have my breasts removed. My symptoms of gender dysphoria were the result of CPTSD from childhood abuse and my transgender identity was a maladaptive coping mechanism to deal with the reality of the trauma.

I have fully resolved my feelings of gender dysphoria through cognitive behavioral therapy and view the surgery and transition as a placebo that gave me only false hope of feeling better about myself. I 100% regret the surgical outcome of my body and miss having my healthy breasts. I was 20 when I had my identity crisis and detransitioned 2 years later at 22. I believe I did not receive proper mental health screening by my psychiatrists who wrote my surgery recommendation letters because they said I was mentally stable while I was actually suicidal and exhibiting symptoms of undiagnosed PTSD.

I have found healing and community within the online population of other detransitioned women with similar experiences of trauma, and I want to inform you that I do not believe removing the breasts of young women, especially minors, is medically ethical given the severe rates of comorbid mental health issues in the FTM population. I do not believe I was stable or mature at 20 to transition and I don’t think a minor child under 18 in any circumstance is stable or mature to consent to having her breasts removed.

There is a rising number of detransition cases just like mine as evidenced by the rapid increase of detrans stories on Youtube, and the Subreddit r/detrans. There has also been a recent study by Lisa Littman at littmanresearch.com on detransition which shows that 60% of the detrans study participants transitioned due to underlying mental health and trauma reasons, and 25% due to being lesbian or gay.

I ask you to consider my story and the stories of others as your ethical duty as a clinician to first do no harm, and rethink if removing healthy breasts of women and children so they can pretend to be men is physically or mentally doing no harm.

Your patient, Laura

#detrans #detransition #detrans experience #dysphoria #dysphoria treatment #gender critical #radblr

52 notes · View notes

prettiestcowgirl · 9 months

Text

i spent last night by myself as i cleaned up after my first dinner party. my childhood best friend and i made handmade gluten-free pizza, herbed french fries, and a garlic-olive oil aioli. i also bought some sparkling mineral water and local-craft made sodas for everyone. i had my best friend go to the garden out front of my house and make a bouquet for the dinner table; we have daisies and white hydrangeas. we played the evangelion cover of fly me to the moon while guest showed up. they brought wine and housewarming dishes.

later on, after a few hours of talking, everyone went home. i spent the night washing dishes while listening to a crime documentary. life comes at you fast. i started the year terrified to leave my bed and now im hosting dinner parties in my new dining room.

there is still residual suffering; i realized i have a lot more trauma than i previously thought. my roommates will slam a door accidentally or move their personal items to a private place or walk loudly throughout the house and i panic because i assume theyre mad at me. every slammed door makes me shake. im so used to my mother's volatile emotions that i cant comprehend people doing things accidentally or non-threateningly.

the quiet has also been hard. now that there isn't screaming and abuse, the silence is unnerving; it gives me too much time to think. ive been thinking of my dad a lot lately. ive been thinking of my grandmother. i am no longer surviving, so i am just thinking, and it hurts so badly. i was warned that once i left that house id start shedding layer by layer.

the first week i could hardly move. i laid in bed after work and slept until the next day. the second week i hardly showered and considered the woods behind my corporate office as a good resting place if i did the unthinkable. i woke up this week and i was somehow better. i stopped smoking. the nights spent crying were minimal. the sleeping improved. i had things i aspired towards. its slow getting to the surface, but it's so close, i can feel it.

i have wonderful health insurance due to my job and i decided to prioritize my mental and physical health now that im free to nurse myself back into a human being. i got a new psychiatrist and im being assessed for transcranial magnetic stimulation. it's for people who have OCD and major depressive disorder and don't respond to medication. sounds like rebranded shock therapy. im willing to try anything at this point.

ive also decided to try things for my physical stress symptoms, the pain, the shaking, the migraines, the dizziness, the nausea, etc. i am looking for an acupuncturist in the city as im only two train stops away from 30th street station. ive contacted a holistic doctor and a nutritionist. i meditate. i do breathing exercises. i surround myself with as much calm as possible.

ive lived in this body addled with stress since i was small. im scared ive put too much strain on myself already. last night at my dinner party, we discussed our hypothesis that stressed killed my father. he suffered a widowmaker, and we always assumed that it was due to his negligent lifestyle, but my roommate and i talked about her uncle recently passing due to one as well, and he was healthy. he had a primary doctor, he was fit, he ran, he ate well; harrowing that death comes for anyone regardless of their choices.

i slowly worked through the idea that maybe he was stressed. maybe my father was stressed. maybe stress and cortisol and adrenaline wreak havoc on these soft bodies we live inside. i was tested for cortisol at seventeen and was misdiagnosed with pcos due to my high levels. years later, after getting an ultrasound to finally address the constant pain i experience during sex and urination, they revealed that i didnt have any cysts on my ovaries. this meant that i didnt have pcos just very high cortisol floating through my body. it kind of clicked for me. i have abundant health issues and a terrible mental state and its slowly grinding my body to sawdust.

i think im finally in the place to start healing. i think i can do it. i want to see the other side. i want to replace this body and start fresh.

#headspace

2 notes · View notes

alostlittleriverlotus · 2 years

Text

so i gained weight. Really fast, lots of weight. Few years back. It was concerning because it just kept going up despite literally nothing changing. And with my intrusive thoughts and medical anxiety, I wanted to talk to a doctor.

literally every single one except my obgyn is obsessed with me dieting and being more fit for weight loss. It's brought up in every appointment and it's so fucking triggering to me.

I'm happy at my weight. It's stabilized. And it's not something I can easily control. I'm still not 100% sure on a cause, but I'm looking at PCOS and hormonal shit. And literally doctors treat me like I'm some unhealthy filthy creature. Pain I have is written off as because of my big boobs or because I'm overweight. Even tho that pain is actually why I'm not more active. That and trauma and executive dysfunction.

I feel like I have to justify my existence and I literally feel so out of control and awful cause I can't stand up for myself, especially with my mom there.

1: For where my weight it, it is a good balance of muscle and fat. I'm still actually quite strong which is something I'm proud of personally because I enjoy feeling my muscles work. I actually enjoy exercise for a lot of trauma/neurodivergent reasons.

2: People don't owe you perfect health and not everyone can be fucking healthy. I am healthy for what I can be. So I'm happy where I am. Am I exactly healthy for what I could potentially be? No. But I also don't have access to a lot of things and have issues out of my control. Either way, I shouldn't have to be made to feel like such shit because I don't exercise enough or have a few bad food habits. I literally feared getting fat and had an ED. Not to mention the reason behind that which is literally covert s*xual trauma from a very young age. Why do I have to literally pour out everything about myself that is personal and overwhelming to be believed? I can barely open up to my friends and girlfriend. I am happy being fat and being where I am. I don't need to be physically fit or perfect.

3: Even my mother constantly brings up my weight. Even tho since childhood I have mentioned knee pain, back pain, leg pain. Now it's gotten to a point where it's bad enough to keep me bed ridden. I have gone up to my mother and been like "I NEED to see a doctor for this. It is BAD and I am SUFFERING." But no. I just need to walk more, get outside more, and control my weight. She loves to say I never told her or she never knew how bad it was even tho A: you should remember this kinda shit, it's important, I'm your CHILD and B: I have flat out told you I am in misery because of it. But no. I live with a mother that doesn't give a shit about me.

4: Some of my issues are caused by me just not knowing. I'm autistic, I'm traumatized, I have no guage of what is normal or not. I just learned about my covert s*xual trauma after so many fucking years. I had worked through all my other trauma, but that I didn't even know existed because I just assumed shit was normal! I literally cannot tell everything about myself. I don't have a guage for when something is concerning. It's like how I can never fully tell what my emotions are or even when I'm hungry. I am incredibly self aware, but I have a problem with being able to tell things about myself from me being autistic as well as traumatized.

I just. I fucking hate doctors. I brought up my weight because the weight gain was sudden and literally nothing changed. But it's blamed on the pandemic even tho it start two years before it! It's blamed on me not being active and not eating right even tho I eat far better and manage a lot of stuff! I don't even overeat! I have to literally fucking justify it to myself because of how doctors make me feel!

I'm literally so fucking sick of doctors and the medical field! They make me feel judged and awful and hate myself!!! I hate that I have no control, I hate that I can't stand up for myself, and I hate them so much! Everyone always says doctors know best cause they studied, then why are doctors so fucking clueless and don't listen to me?! I've discovered more on my own entirely thanks to other disabled folks! Hell, me working through my trauma is thanks to OTHER TRAUMATIZED FOLKS. Doctors know better? But they don't fucking care. I hate this system, I hate these doctors, I hate that I'm not taken seriously. Ugh!!!

Not to mention that's just discussing all my physical issues. Now add how my fucking personality and mental disorders and all my fucking trauma add on to that! Yeah, it's motherfucking hell to be mentally disabled and physically disabled and have literally nothing at all. I literally am just so fucking mad!!!

7 notes · View notes

noirblueeyes · 1 year

Text

Eden Knight's story and its affect on me as an black Jewish intersex genderfluid enbian: a very long vent and essay

(Trigger warning: Kimberly Pierce, JK Rowling, TERFs, Alice Walker, Michael Knowles, Matt Walsh, Boys Don't Cry (brief mention), devilish transphobia, devilish intersexism, ableism, SA, murder) (Content warning: medical language)

Note: This essay is only on my personal thoughts and feelings regarding Eden Knight and trans rights and equality and ways this affects me. And even though I'm talking in context of my intersex mascuinity I'm not going to talk over transfems and trans women. This is only based on thoughts and observations that I've had for a while and especially are fitting now.

A month ago I read an essay by Thomas Page McBee, a trans man journalist and TV writer who was giving his thoughts on Kimberly Pierce's movie Boys Don't Cry about Brandon Teena, a movie I watched a few times before. Thomas' essay was titled 𝑯𝒐𝒘 ‘𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝑪𝒓𝒚’ 𝑴𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝑴𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝒂 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 (https://www.out.com/print/2020/2/13/how-boys-dont-cry-made-me-rethink-what-it-means-be-monster); and I couldn't stop thinking about this essay for days afterwards.

Mainly because Thomas's takes were right on and this was something that I relate to. And lately I've been really heavily interested in studying queer subtext and coding theory in horror themed media (cinema or literature). And I'm autistic and I have hyperfixations that include aliens, mermaids, creatures and monsters and lately I always see them as metaphorically symbolic for queer and trans folk as well neurodivergent and disabled people.

And especially for disabled and intersex people (especially disabled and intersex people of color), and I have an overlapping intersection of all these marginalized identities.

Now, I need to share some backstory about myself for context: I found out I was intersex last year. Ever since I was a kid I knew I was different; from why my views in gender and gender expression were always nonconventional, my obsession with androgyny, why I never felt like I could fit in with other women and why I always felt like I had a maleness about me. That and why I had a ton of challenges physically and hormonally; why my periods were heavy and irregular, why I had excess hair on my face and body, why my voice was deep, and why I had a ton of testosterone. All of this pointed to the fact that I have PCOS. So I dealt with that by doing tons of diets and cleanses to alleviate my symptoms. But still that sense of myself being anomalous still remained and I was looking for answers. Then one day I found documents of of medically registered intersex conditions and variations, many listed in two parts. And on the second part of the list, I saw PCOS on the list. And specifically PCOS-related hypoandrogenism. Then recently I discovered that I have comorbidities of tetrasomy X, ovotestis, 45,X/46,XY (X0/XY) mosaicism, Klinefelter syndrome (XXY), Partial androgen insensitivity syndrome (PAIS) (types 5 and 6), XXYY syndrome and XXX XXXX XXY mosaicism and chimerism. All of my biological sex ambiguity is internal, hormonal, reproductive, chromosomal and gonadal. And symptoms that were listed on these conditions are what I still deal with: oily skin. Acne. pattern balding. Irregular menstruation. Deepening of voice. Thick hair growth (hirsutism) - on the face particularly the beard area, limbs, underarm and pubic area. Having autism spectrum disorder. increased breast tissue (gynecomastia) in teen or adult years. having flat feet. broadening of shoulders and chest. shoulders wider than hips. growth of body (underarm, abdominal, chest hair and pubic) and facial hair. larger stature. Experiencing depression and anxiety. Having social and behavioral issues. Displaying impulsive behaviors and having emotional immaturity. Experiencing learning disabilities (reading and language differences). Having attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). greater development of thigh muscles behind the femur, rather than in front of it. widening of hips. lower waist to hip ratio than adult males, rounder face. enlargement of breasts and erection of nipples.

All of which I had as a kid and still have as an adult. I was stunned and shocked when I read and discovered this. But afterwards, I felt peace and a sense of relief, and now everything started to make sense. And in an ironic twist, in an effort to understand intersex people I find out that I'm one of them. And as of late I've been pondering on so many complex and complicated emotions that I have in wake of my discoveries and which now fuel my passion for addressing these topics.

And the fact that I have ovotestis, high mixed levels of testosterone and androgens in some places and partial androgen insensitivity in other places, mixed chromosomes, numerous mental illnesses, physical male sex traits and genetics, personality disorders and disabilities, that's enough for devilish society to see me as a monster or creature of sorts. Even the fact that I'm a mosaic chimera is enough to qualify me as a monster. Then that + my visible blackness and blasian Jewish identity and culture, is icing on top of a multilayered cake.

And in recent retrospect, just me identifying as an intersex individual would have JK Rowling and radfem TERFs calling me a gender traitor (and me being of color just exacerbates this).

Yet here's my point though: I've learned to love and embrace my otherness and embrace my monstrous queerness. I'm at the point now where I relish in and embrace the way God created me and places I'm in regarding my biological sex and gender identity journey, complexities and all.

Though I have yet to read my copy of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, I can certainly relate to Thomas's sentiments of relating to Frankenstein and especially in intersecting context with my disabilities as well.

Interestingly, the origin of "monster" is the Latin word monstrum, a "divine omen," a derivative of monere "to admonish, advise, warn, instruct, teach." Which I think is very interesting cause this puts me in the mind of God's angels as how they're originally described in the book of Ezekiel; usually in popular mainstream media we see angels with two wings and long tunics but in Ezekiel 1, this scripture's description of God's design of them are very complex and almost scary and fearsome but also still beautiful and ethereally otherworldly. And I find it very interesting that images, sketches, portraits and paintings of biblically accurate angels are getting increasingly popular among millennial and gen z artists (particularly Jewish, intersex, BIPOC and disabled artists), and that these angels are seen as deconstructive focal points of beauty, even revolutionary symbols, among these communities.

if anything there's a multilayered lesson to take away from this, one of these lessons standing out to me via a comment on YouTube from Soraya M. that I'll never forget: 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇𝒇; 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒏.

Thus, this makes me think of angels and their biblical and artistic metaphorical symbolism in today's context, as many instances of God's people (Virgin Mary, Zechariah, Samson's parents, etc.) reacting in initial fear when they see these angels but these angels then telling them to fear not, showing that these angels ultimately have benevolent and good intentions.

Now of course that's a different category that I wanna keep in respectful context. With regards to people, I think of this artistic and multifaceted lesson regarding today's modern context of people society deems different or outcasts; whether regarding queer and LGBTQ folks, disabled and neurodivergent folks, immigrants, refugees and/or BIPOC people and any intersecting communities and identities, we're just normal people trying to navigate our way in life and everyday world around us. Granted we're humans, though that's the main point; our humanity is what matters.

Now I'm going to go into an instance where I'm gonna get very personal and bring this back to not only my intersex masculinity but also my intersex male brothers; I find it so funny (and disgusting) that Candace Owens can blatantly say she has yet to find trans people that are good people.

Or that JK Rowling can go on a weaponized white woman tears sympathy baiting campaign as a deflection for her transphobia.

Or that Alice Walker, a black woman, can side with and rationalize JK Rowling's devilishly vicious transphobia (though in retrospect, not surprising considering Alice's own virulent antisemitism and antiblack male sentiment).

Or that Matt Walsh can use devilish transphobia as a vehicle to hide behind as a deflection from his own sexism, misogyny, chauvinism, fascism and proponency for abolition of laws regarding age of consent.

I've ran into so many trans and intersex people online and social media that just try to live our lives sharing our hobbies--like art, drawing, food, books, movies and building friendships with each other--that are very lovely people.

Meanwhile Candace promotes all kinds of devilish anti-black hatred towards her own people 24/7, Candace supported Kanye West and Andrew Tate and doesn't bat an eye.

JK Rowling's hateful rhetoric now has TERFs and radfems getting bolder in displaying devilishly vicious and venomous hatred towards trans people, especially trans women and even towards cis women and girls, and particularly biological intersex people that don't agree with them.

Michael Knowles recently blatantly promoted and called for trans people to be genocided, a take so extreme that Christina Buttons, a writer at Daily Wire, had to distance herself from Michael and Matt Walsh and Christina quit her journalism job at Daily Wire (which says a LOT).

Alice Walker is just one prime example of a growing trend of cis black feminists and black radical feminists regurgitating devilish transphobic rhetoric and mindsets, just one aspect of transphobia in black communities.

And yet Alice, Joanne, Matt and Michael and these radfems, TERFs, gender criticals and conservative keep insisting that they have well meaning intentions and are just being protective of children when this is further normalizing devilish fascism and hatred.

Briefly circling back to Kimberly Pierce's Boys Don't Cry, this is still the only mainstream movie that has any transmasculine and trans male rep; and even though BDC now has a very complicated legacy and discourse within trans communities, particularly given Kimberly's initially outdated and cringe TERF/gender critical approach and handling of Brandon Teena's gender identity, though Kimberly seems to have thankfully educated herself in recent years. (And considering Kimberly even had TERF/GC-esque views, this is huge and really stands out as a positive progressive example of allyship. JK Rowling can take more than a few notes from Kimberly!)

All of this being said, with Thomas' Frankenstein references and Soraya's statement in mind, many points still stand:

Brandon Teena wasn't a monster.

Eden Knight wasn't a monster.

Brianna Ghey wasn't a monster.

Cashay Henderson wasn't a monster.

Brazil Johnson wasn't a monster.

Regina Allen wasn't a monster.

Tori Cooper wasn't a monster.

Venus Xtravaganza wasn't a monster.

Eliot Page isn't a monster.

Zaya Wade isn't a monster.

Dylan Mulvaney isn't a monster (and neither is Drew Barrymore for treating Dylan with kindness and decency).

trans women and girls aren't monsters.

trans men and boys aren't monsters.

Enby and GNC people aren't monsters.

Biological intersex people aren't monsters (and we don't need fixing via devilish forcible nonconsensual surgeries).

Lucifer and the way he creeps into the hearts of Candace Owens, John Lotters, Tom Nissens, JK Rowlings, Matt Walshs, Michael Knowleses and Alice Walkers of the world to promote and enact hatred, rape, bigotry, division, dehumanization and genocide is what's monstrousness. And we're not gonna take it anymore. If these devilish bigots want to continue promoting hate towards us, it's time we fight back. We're here, we're queer and we're hard to kill.

And this time around, whatever doesn't kill us better run.

#justice for eden #TransRightsAreHumanRightsTransDayOfVisibility #TransDayOfVisibility #disability #Intersex

5 notes · View notes