vrell-is-not-alone

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#17: With a Whimper

My mind has always had an affinity for my own death, and now is no different. As stress piles on and hopelessness rises, it becomes stronger and stronger. I didn’t exactly have a favorable starting condition for this kind of thing either. My mother had suicidal tendencies growing up. There was a few times that I had to beg her to not do anything. I was just a kid. Talking down someone who should be my caretaker from killing herself. While at the same time she blames me as one of the main reasons she wanted to do it in the first place. You know, the type of thing that can mess up adults. Let alone a young kid. I may not remember much, but I distinctly remember that happening. I was also conditioned from a young age to believe that things can’t really get better. School was rough for me to the point that I became suicidal for the first time in early middle school. No matter what I tried, noone would help me. There was nowhere for me to go. Nothing I could do. And the adults around me didn’t do shit either. All they did was drug me up so I wouldn’t feel much. What does this tell a kid? Well, it told me that there is no fixing things. Things won’t get better. That I have to just suck it up and take it. I have largely accepted these facts. That I will never be someone important or interesting. That I will only be wanted for the utility I can provide, and discarded once that is gone. That all my value is predicated on servicing others. Some people in my life are trying to change that. But those lessons were beat in through years and years of trauma. They will take a long time to purge, if they ever do get altered or removed from me. And in the meantime, they sit and scratch at me. They drive my decisions and opinions towards myself and the world. And honestly, I think a fitting end to the story of someone like that would be the great backup plan. The things that lets them go out on their own terms, free the world of being burdened by them, escape their own struggles without bothering others, become a mere corpse rotting in a ditch under the soft sounds of a rainy night, and be forgotten to the indifferent march of time. That sad whimpering out of existence fits far better with someone like me than the other ways to go out. After all, this story is a grimdark tragedy. So, since I don’t believe I will make any real impact on the world, that things won’t change, then what is the point of not taking up the proverbial pen and finishing off my story instead of dragging it along unnecessarily? I’m not fully sure, to be honest. Maybe it is the few drops of hope that remain. Maybe I’m too stubborn. Maybe I’m too lazy. I dunno. But I don’t need to know. I do know something important though: whatever is holding me back gets thinner in times like this and I’m not sure if I hope it holds out or finally gives way. - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl.

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #tw suicidality #suicidality #i really need therapy #what do you mean talking you parent down from suicide isn't normal? #people say it gets better but honestly i have yet to see it #forget me #i wanna disappear #disappear #woah i put a lot of tags on this one

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#16: Writing Temptations

Whenever I write these things, there is always a temptation to use flowery language, roundabout words, visual depictions of nonphysical phenomena, and other techniques used by storytellers. To try and make the words flow smoothly and in a way that feels at least somewhat profound. I’m not sure how successful I am at that: I’ll never be a good gauge for myself. I do think I did a good job on some of them though. Especially the endings. Some of them ended in ways that I think were pretty good, such as #8. I definitely think I could do better though. It probably doesn’t help my progress that I don’t really go back to read through my work after I have posted it. Either way, point is: I see others write such profound and interesting and important things with words that flow and weave into perfect little strings of thought that sit and impact my mind. And I wish to be able to do that myself some day. I don’t think I’ll ever fully get there though. I have little reason to believe I’ll ever be more than a woman screaming incoherently into the void. Sometimes it is a depressing reality to accept. But sometimes it is okay. There is something to the seemingly meaninglessness of it all that feels profound to me. And I guess maybe that’s enough sometimes. I really hope it is enough. I’m not confident I can achieve much more.  - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl P.S.: Apparently the signature I use on these things has changed since I originally started it? NGL, I prefer the original one, so I am gonna go back to it.

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #writing #why do I want my work to be profound? #some of you are very good at writing #how many of these is it appropriate to post in a day?

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#15: Mutual Suffering

On Monday night I pushed myself too hard to get homework done. It got to a point that I was so stressed and anxious and on edge that a paper towel roll falling over caused me to jump, panic, freeze up my legs for a moment, and cause me to shake for a few hours. Needless to say, I was (and still kinda am) doing rough. But I’m not here to talk about my lack of coping mechanisms or perpetual state of crisis. I’m here to talk about a different event that day. In one of the class discords I am in, I brought up the fact that I hadn’t attended class in a week, and that spiraled into a large discussion about how shit of a situation most of us CS majors are in. Turns out I’m not the only one unable to focus, extremely demotivated, and generally giving up. There was this nice long conversation about how we had all been lied to about what the field would be like. About how the CS department was falling apart. About the hiring freezes and waves of layoffs in the field. About how job prospects were dying. And on one hand, it was really nice to not be alone. To know that I’m not the only one falling to pieces. To know that it isn’t my fault. But at the same time, there is something about it that hurts. Maybe it is losing my “specialness”. Maybe it is knowing that now it is a big systemic issue that none of us have the power to fix. Maybe it is something else. Either way, it did do something: furthered my faith that dropping out is the right move. I just hope it actually is the right move. Vrell - Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #mutual suffering #wow venting actually did something interesting #computer science #college life

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#14: Harassment Euphoria

So I had an interesting experience last night... For some background: I am someone who plays VR to escape reality from time to time, and my favorite VR game is VRChat. My escapes into it are twofold: getting a chance to talk and socialize in a body that I can be comfortable in, and a darker side of the game that is technically against terms of service but that isn’t really enforced as long as your are responsible about it. Through both of these, I am a fairly open person, and that includes being open about my sexuality. I’m not gonna start fucking in public, but I’m not afraid to talk about those matters. I have also cultivated a bit of “phantom sense”, I can vaguely feel what people do to my character in game, for better or worse. Anywho, last night I had began visiting public worlds in an attempt to socialize and relax a bit. In one of those worlds, I found a recruiting group for a crime roleplay thing, and began to chat them up since I’ve been meaning to try VRChat roleplay for a while now. During our conversation, my phantoms sense got brought up as a roleplay tool since, while it was initially cultivated for carnal desires, it works really well for things like roleplaying getting hit or shot which ultimately happens in that kind of RP. Well, of course someone else in the room picks up on this and begins to aggressively sexually harass me and those around me, with a focus on me in particular. The harassment included physical touching and threats of rape, which were very concerning and overwhelming. I ended up getting dragged away by the RP group to an induction event where I would end up talking to and joining them away from that guy. While such a thing really hurt to be a victim of in-the-moment, and I’m still processing it, there was that one shitty part of my brain that liked it. Culturally speaking, receiving that kind of harassment is scene as a thing that happens to women (even if it can and does happen to everyone) so my brain got a hit of gender euphoria from it, which admittedly makes me feel worse and muddled up my ability to protect myself in-the-moment. I find it kinda funny how sometimes it is the terrible things like this that can help the most with my dysphoria though. Either way, it definitely has left me uncomfortable and with some things to think about. But hey! That one RP group was pretty cool, and gave me a nice end to my night. I’m definitely gonna want to snoop around their roleplay setup and try it out a bit more. So at least there is that. Vrell - Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #my brain very much concerns me with the things it is into #harassment #gender euphoria #sexual harassment

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#13: Catching up.

Hey, it’s been a while. I haven’t posted in a bit. Let’s change that. The winter break from uni and work was an interesting one. My partner left for another state, I had to make the 25 hours on the road to rescue and bring them back, I got a giant stuffed moth, started what might be the roleplayer to furry pipeline, and have fully realized that I probably won’t make it on my current path. I also got rid of my shitty therapist and will hopefully find a new one soon (I have a meeting later today! I hope it goes well.). I’m (admittedly very slowly) making plans to leave my college and either transfer to another or just drop out entirely. I got a new set of meds, including vitamins for a deficiency I apparently had. I met some cool people online, who are making me start to question if maybe the world can be kinder than I thought. I’m not gonna get my hopes up on that yet though. And as I go through and deal with all of these, I couldn’t help but remember this thing that I had forgotten over the break. I figured coming back could be a fun thing to do still, and so I did. I still do stress over not having posted in a while though. Then again, I did say that I wouldn’t be consistent. So I guess I should just tell myself “I told you so.” Vrell - Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #look i was busy #I desperately need to leave this place. #catch up #not really sure what else to tag this one with

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#12: The Power of Plushie

Right now is a really tough time in life. Dysphoria is quite high. My plans for bottom surgery seem to be falling apart. Money is limited. Work is busy. Finals are upon us. Burnout has set in. My partner is leaving to another state soon. I’ll have to face my abusive family soon. My coping mechanisms are failing. All in all, things have gotten really rough, and so I find myself desperately clutching to whatever I can get my hands on in terms of comfort and rest. And recently, I asked my campus’ LGBTQ+ club for advice on managing dysphoria, and while I didn’t get much helpful info for dysphoria specifically, I did get some general coping skills to try. And one of those was holding a plushie. I had an old plushie sitting in the corner of my room that I hadn’t touched in ages, and so I tried. See, I didn’t get to have stuffies growing up. I was a “boy” and therefor got “boy” toys like toy trucks and videogames. I remember being envious of some of my sister’s toys, although the stuffies were one of them, so I doubted this would help. But when I tried it, my whole opinion on them changed. It was so much easier to let it out. To cry. To cleanse myself. It was even easier to subsequently focus, remain collected, and get work done as well with it in my lap. And so I started bringing it with me to work and to class. That thing has been on my hip almost everywhere I’ve gone, and while I am worried about what others may think/do or growing dependent on it or something, I still do it. After all, it’s a bit of help that I desperately need and, to be perfectly honest, I think I look cuter carrying it around. So yeah, I’m a 20 year old woman who has a ~13 inch plushie clipped to her purse. And I ain’t giving it up any time soon. Deal with it. Vrell - Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #stuffies #plushie #plushis #stuffie #comfort #Why the fuck does college have to be so stressful #hugging a plush isn't as good as hugging you but it'll have to do #mental health

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#11: My Therapist Sucks

I love it when people suggest I bring problems I bring to them to my therapist. My therapist is supposed to be good at her job. If memory serves me correctly, she’s the lead LGBTQ+ therapist at the clinic I go to. She’s got a PHD and all the qualifications. And yet, she’s an awful therapist. See, there’s a common experience I have with her. I bring her issues that I’m facing and instead of giving me any functional feedback, she either tells me to do what I am currently doing or tells me that I’m actually fine. Like, I can struggle to get out of bed, ditch class because my anxiety is too great to go to campus many days, and be unable to handle my dysphoria, and she’ll tell me that I have good coping skills. I’ll bring up how I’m struggling with waves of bottom dysphoria and she’ll just tell me to “use my coping skills” and provides no extra functional feedback when I bring up how my coping skills aren’t working. It doesn’t help that I can’t trust her either. I had a week long dissociative episode earlier this semester and she handled that VERY poorly, ruining my trust with her. If I had been given the option to, I would have left her long ago, but that’s the worst part: I’ve asked to be transferred to another counselor at that clinic but she won’t let me. And if I stop attending therapy, my insurance won’t cover some of my transition care. And so I am stuck with her, at least until I find a therapist at a different clinic. And the funny thing is, my local LGBTQ+ clubs recommend her! I’ve raised some dissent though, which will hopefully help some people. But still, in the meantime I am stuck. At least I have my partner though. Initially they told me that I needed to bring my stuff to my therapist. Once they saw the results of that though, they started to help me directly. With that same dissociative episode, I got released into my partners custody, and within a few hours they managed to snap me out of it and get me stabilized a bit. They did FAR more than my therapist would ever do. Despite having none of the qualifications, my partner the best “therapist” I’ve ever had. And I think that’s kinda sad.  - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #therapy #mental health #finding support as an lgbtq+ gal is hard #why are there so many christian gay conversion therapists in this town #how the hell did I live 20 years without this enby in my life

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#10: Crying for Another

I had an interesting experience the other day. Toward the end of my little autumnal feast (it’s not thanksgiving because fuck you that’s why) with my partner, our conversations began to turn to some harder topics, and as a part of that, there came a time where they tried to soothe me by trying to get me to imagine a good future. The future where I find my polycule, where I am happy and healthy, where we’ve gotten through the hell of now and that it’s okay. And try as I might, I couldn’t. I began to tear up and break down further from it because, well, I couldn’t imagine such a thing. My brain doesn’t understand what that would look like. And I could see my partner break a little at this too, but they regained their composure and walked me through not a future, but a simple little quaint scene of sitting at the window of an apartment we own, with them bringing me a lovely little coffee. And I could see that. And then they told me that that was what the future would be and it all faded. I began to break further because my brain just couldn’t believe that something even as mundane at that lied ahead for me. And that’s when my partner broke down. They saw the break in me and it was just too much for them. They felt so bad for me. That I’ve been through a world such that I can’t even imagine a quaint evening looking out a window with a coffee in my future. The gripped me close and bawled into me, crying out how it wasn’t fair, how I deserved better, how terrible it was that I couldn’t even imagine that. I ended up focusing on consoling them and taking care of them a bit. After all, I had made them sad (even if they disagree with it being my fault) and I didn’t like seeing someone be like that for me. And yet, at the same time, that little moment said something to me. See, noone’s cried for me before like that. And it’s kinda funny. Because they cried more than I did. Between years of being unable to see a future beyond depressed wage slave or dead in a ditch and switching myself off to care for them, I can withstand things like this a lot better than they could. But it did sorta reveal to me just how bad things are for me right now and how even if I am still in a terrible situation, this is the best I’ve had in a long, long time. And I wish I could say that things are going to be better still. But, well, I don’t really believe that. It’s kinda the crux of the whole situation after all. And I can’t help but wonder if I’m right. - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #depression #wow someone actually cares about me now #trauma's a bitch #mental health #i may be into crying in the bedroom but this ain't it chief

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#9: Desperate Escape Fantasy

You know, sometimes it’s all just way too much. The constant stress and overwhelming nature of day-to-day life can make a girl desperate for any way out. And that includes some things a girl wouldn’t typically want. Now, it’s no secret that I’m kinky as fuck, and while this started as a kink thing, it has since branched out beyond that. I’ve been recently fantasizing about being kidnapped. About being forced to be someone’s plaything. Where all the complexities of life get boiled down into a few things: either playing the role they want me to and doing what would please them, or desperately fighting for escape. Either way, the complexity of life suddenly collapses down into a singular goal. And with your options cut off as they would be in a situation like that, there’s no more complexity. And while it can be fun to fantasize about that escape, it does leave me in a potentially vulnerable state. Because if someone did try to kidnap me in real life, I should try and fight back and break free. But honestly. I’m not sure if I would anymore. I wonder what it says about my life if literally being kidnapped seems like a better option than what I live through now. I would miss my partner though. But hey, who knows? Maybe they will get kidnapped too or better yet, maybe they will kidnap me?

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #kinky #I swear mom I'm not getting abused I'm just a masochist. #escape #mental health

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#8: Help from a stranger.

At the end of our shifts at work the other day, my coworker had a familiar look about them. I saw that feeling I had. The look of someone existentially tired. Someone who desperately needs a break but either can’t afford one or won’t take one. I let them know that I could see it in their eyes, and asked if they wanted a ride home or to go get lunch and have a chance to talk about it. They agreed. And so I spent the next roughly 4 hours taking us to a place to get food, heading back to my place, giving them a chance to vent out the years of trauma and exhaustion they feel, giving them a chance to see the weight they’ve been bearing, and arguably most importantly, giving them that rare and amazing “hug” thing that is so hard to find when you’re physically alone. We weren’t friends. We didn’t owe each other anything. We were just coworkers that occasionally talked. And yet here we were. It was nice being able to send them off feeling better, and definitely was a better use of my time than homework. But at the end of it, I felt kinda sad. Because in all my life, noone has ever done something like that for me. And I don’t know if anyone ever will.  - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #mental health #vent #I really need help but reaching out is hard #Are we all depressed and tired?

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#7: I don’t pass.

Not passing sucks. I got groceries today, and on my way out of the grocery store, the greeter said “Have a good night, sir.” And damn. That hurt. I was even dressed fem. But it’s just a fact that I don’t pass. When I first came out to my mother, she told me that I needed to look up pictures of drag queens since, according to her, I would never look more like a woman than they do. And honestly, I’m scared that she may have been right. My mirror at home is covered with a pillowcase because of how hard it is to look at my reflection. I know logically that the thing in the mirror is me. But I know that in reality, it isn’t. That thing that looks back at me is not what I am supposed to look like. And yet it is what I look like. And so, I don’t look at it unless absolutely necessary. Because having to confront the fact that I look the way I do. The fact that I look like a man in a dress. It hurts. It hurts so much. And if I could just cover the mirror and be fine, it probably wouldn’t be an issue. But every time I leave my room, I am faced with the fact that I don’t pass with the ways that others interact with me. Whether it be deadnouning or starting at me from across campus, I can see it. And no matter how much others like my partner reassure me, the way those people interact with me is the cold, hard evidence that says I don’t pass. And I’m tired of it. I wish I looked like the girl I want to be.  - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #trans #passing #god please why was I born wrong #testosterone fucked me and now we're here

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#6: I wish I could talk.

TL:DR: If someone needs to talk to you about something heavy, don’t fucking threaten to report them. It’ll just scare them from speaking to you. Trigger warning: mentions of suicide and suicidal thinking. I’ve had many lows in my life. Recently, an LGBTQ+ organization I’m in has been gathering stuff to have a day of remembrance for members of the community that we’ve lost, with the suicide of one notable member of the community being something that has been discussed especially. And this has got my mind running back over its own thoughts on the topic. I’ve always had an affinity for my own death. Or at least I’ve had it for longer than I can remember (which isn’t that long to be fair). I’ve also always had issues talking about it with others, whether they be family, friends, lovers, or therapists. People can’t just let you talk about things like this. When I first brought up the urge to kill myself to my mom as a kid, I was forced on really strong antidepressants which aren’t supposed to be given to kids because it can really fuck up their heads. A past therapist of mine postulated that my memory issues might be because of that. And it turns out I gotta be real careful with what I say to my current therapist: she almost sent me to a mental hospital. So much for them offering crisis care. And as for my partner, well, she’s said to me that if she ever believes I may harm myself she will be getting me sent off somewhere. And I get it. That’s what is typically said to be the right move (although some testimonies, which I am inclined to believe with the state of US healthcare and culture, state otherwise). But it just makes me afraid to talk to anyone about it. After all, if I accidentally say the wrong thing I could end up hurt. And besides, I’m someone that believes that, at the end of the day, we should have the right to make that decision for ourselves. And unfortunately, this is a topic that it can really help to be able to talk about it with. I’m fortunate enough to have one person I can really trust. Him and I have a pact that we will under no circumstances report each other without the other’s consent since, well, we’ve both been there. We both don’t want to be afraid of talking and reaching out for help. We can’t help each other much, but at least we can talk. I know a lot of other people don’t have that though. And I worry for them. It’s hard enough only having one safe set of ears. I can’t imagine having to keep it all bottled up completely.  - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #Safe Spaces #I wish I could just talk #I need a better support structure TBH

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#5: Gendering actions sucks.

TL:DR: Gendered actions make life harder to live sometimes. So today started rough when I went to get into my car and found that it didn’t start. Now, I’m not a car person, but luckily I have a car with some fancy computer shit in it, so my dad was able to tell me what was wrong from all the back where he lives. It turned out that the battery was fucked and needed replaced. This sucks since batteries aren’t cheap, but overall, not too bad. I’m handy enough to do it. So I got the help of a friend (Thanks again if you see this!), bought a new battery, and we got it all taken care of. However, it did kinda hurt to do it. And it reminded me of another incident I had earlier this week. At work, someone came in and asked me, as the person sitting at the front desk, to find someone not scared of spiders to kill a spider for them. Well, I’m not scared of spiders, so I got up and did it myself. But afterwards I felt terrible. Not just because I probably should have captured and released the spider (which I totally should have) but rather because, growing up, I was expected to take care of things like spiders and wasps for my mom and sister because I was one of the “big strong men” of the house and they were afraid of them. And so, in doing the same thing now, I had unfortunately taken on a masculine role and was feeling dysphoric due to it. And the fact that this is a thing is kinda stupid: actions don’t really belong to gender identities. However, from years in an upbringing with decently enforced gender roles, it is still a thing that wears on me to this day. And my experience today with the battery was the same thing. Growing up, neither my sister nor my mom were expected to know how to fix things or do mechanic work. So doing something like handling a battery replacement isn’t a thing that that they would ever be doing. And here I was. Doing it. Doing the thing that I was told I would need to be able to do as a man. So uh, lesson for y’all: be careful with gendering acts. It might just make it harder for someone else to get done whatever responsibilities they may have in day-to-day life. Then again, I love how some acts I like to do are female gendered because gender euphoria, so... Your mileage may vary?  - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #why the fuck is it still cold outside #car parts cost a fuckload #pointlessly gendered #girls can kill bugs too!

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#4: I can’t take the cold.

TL:DR: Transition has given me cold vulnerability and I hate it. I remember always being hot growing up. Not aesthetic-wise, but temperature-perception-wise. I was fugly as a kid. But I was a kid who was always hot. And that meant that I fucking hated the summers that got over 100F and fucking loved the winters that dropped below 0C (yeah we used mixed units here. Fuck your understanding of temperature). If it was 70F out, that was comfortable weather. If it was 50F out, that was jacket weather. Maybe we bring out a coat at sub 40F and a hat, scarf, and gloves when it got real cold. But I’ve been transitioning medically over the past year, and there was something I noticed this summer: I wasn’t excessively hot anymore. And it was really nice! I was actually decently comfortable outside. And then it got cold. If it’s 60F out, I need a jacket now. If it gets below 50F, my hands will start to go numb without gloves. If it gets below 40F? I’m fully bundled or else I’m freezing, and even then I gotta move fast or else my body starts to get real upset with me. Even with gloves my hands will start to numb up in a few minutes. I have no idea how I’m gonna survive when the weather gets real cold this winter. I don’t have the money for better/new winter clothes. And yet my partner has a fan in their window in weather like this. It’s bullshit. But the pros of estrogen are worth it. I just need extra cuddles to warm back up. I wish I had a reliable source of cuddles.  - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #dear god its cold outside #please mail me free cuddles #I need an adorable oversized sweater #I made a pact with estrogen and this is the price I paid

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#3: Identity and aesthetic terms.

TL:DR: When making recommendations or complimenting people, it's important to keep their own personal preferences and goals in mind. So recently I experienced an interesting situation. A friend at a local LGBTQ+ event on campus had recommended a particular hairstyle to me, and despite being a very feminine hairstyle and me being a feminine-leaning person, being recommended that hairstyle as something that would "suit" me was quite discomforting. And eventually, I realized why: while the hair style was feminine, it didn't fit the aesthetic I was personally wanting to achieve. See, even though I'm a transgender woman and I am pretty (according to other people, not me, I think I'm ugly as fuck) I am very dissatisfied with my appearance. And there's a reason for that. I don't just want to be fem leaning/generically look good. I, more specifically, want to have an aesthetic air that I can best describe as somewhere between "cute gremlin bastard" and "adorable soft smart bean" (exactly where depending on my mood). As a part of that, I wanna be described as cute and/or adorable, not pretty or beautiful. And while the hairstyle was pretty, it was NOT cute or adorable. Being told that this not-cute-or-adorable hairstyle would fit me made me uncomfortable because it was effectively saying that I was not cute or adorable, which while true for the time being (despite the protestation of my only current partner and most of my friends), ultimately hurts to acknowledge. However, since that person was making a recommendation purely off the fact that I was transfem and didn't know about this, they just had the fact that I generically want to present fem to base it off of. And this ultimately leans into the terms I prefer to use as well. While I fall under the umbrellas of "transfem" and "trans woman", I personally prefer the term "trans girl" since it better fits the aesthetic and "vibe" I wish to emanate. And looking back over those that I've been around in the past, I think this is an important point to keep in mind these types of things. Like my partner is not the type of person who I'd recommend a knitted turtleneck sweater to, even if it is the exact type of thing I'd wear, because it's not at all her style. And that's because even if we are both transfem, we're ultimately going towards different goals, even if those goals aren't super well defined. The same thing can be said about my first ex. He is a transmasc. And yet he's the type of guy I'd recommend a corset to because he personally presents as a goth femboy and it it the type of thing I've seen him interested in in the past. Yet if you tried to recommend a corset to a random transmasc, they could easily get upset at being recommended a traditionally feminine garment. So, consider this a terrible diet PSA thing: When making recommendations or complimenting people, it's important to keep their own personal preferences and goals in mind. Also, pronouns in bio are so last week, all the cool kids are putting preferred aesthetic in their bios. I'm personally cute/bastard. - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl P.S. If anyone makes fun of me for being a stereotypical "I wanna be cute anime girl" transfem, I'm gonna have to say "u rite" and go cry in the corner.

#gender? I hardly know 'er! #trans #RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #the fuck is a hashtag #the power of words #damn you write a lot #wall of text

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#2: Motivation is a bitch

I remember early in my college career, the classical excuse for never getting anything done was always "I don't have enough time." But honestly, now that I have more experience, time itself is not inherently the issue. If I was able to use my time effectively and efficiently, I could easily get everything done with tons of time to spare. The problem is using my time effectively and efficiently. I've found as time goes on, I am less and less capable of doing that. There was a point in time when I was able to juggle 17 credit hours and living on my own and all the responsibilities of adulthood without a ton of effort. A time that I maintained (mostly (fuck you that one professor who targeted me and caused me to lose my 4.0 GPA)) straight A's with relative ease. And yet now, I'm struggling at 12 credit hours, wondering if I'm gonna pass my classes and not even turn in some assignments or do some quizzes. And I look back, and ask how the fuck did I get here? There are a lot of reasons for this, most of which I am still unpacking and figuring out, but a very important one on my mind recently is the issue of "Motivation." Motivation is an amazing thing. It makes it really easy to just do things. Motivation cannot be forced. You either have it, or you don't, and many factors such as mood and mental health can play into it. In general though, I find having a goal I want to achieve that I can realistically achieve and can see my progress towards is an amazing formula for having motivation. However, I don't have motivation. At least not for the two big things I need to do right now, which are 1) continuing college/achieving my computer science degree, and 2) getting everything together for an SRS I hope to get next summer. A lack of motivation in these wouldn't be a big issue if they weren't time sensitive. If I could just hold off until I felt better, was recharged, and could force the work to be done with willpower, it would get done and it would get done well. But I can't do that for reasons I may detail in a later post. And I want to highlight the two main ways that I've lost motivation in my life, namely: no longer wanting the goal I was working towards or believing the goal is likely unobtainable. For the first, I remember being a senior in high school, deciding on my degree, and saying "Hey, I could do CS. I am decently good at tolerating programming/debugging and I'm good at it." And thus, at the start of my college career, I had a goal I wanted. And then as time went on, I realized that CS was not programming. A programmer programs. A software developer (the closest job title that I'd likely get with my CS degree AFAIK) manages teams of programmers and does the higher level design. They don't necessarily program. Add on the extreme business focus towards the end of my degree and the pain of terrible professors (there is a few reasons why CS is the highest drop rate major in engineering at my university and they get a LOT of complaints from us) and it gets nigh impossible to feel that this is worth it anymore. It's not what I want to do. I don't want the goal I used to be working towards. But I don't have another choice financially. And so I am stuck here. For the second, when I get depressed, I get pessimistic. And right now, my upcoming SRS that I have vaguely planned out is kinda muddy on whether or not it'll be possible to get. I really, really need to get it this summer since if I don't, I may not have a window where I can take time to recover (gotta love US work culture) for the next few years. And yet, so many things have to go perfectly for this window to be met. My insurance has to cover the procedure. Electrolysis has to be finished in a relatively short time frame. The meetings with the surgeons need to go well. I have to have a plan in place for recovery. I need to scrounge together enough funds to cover my expenses post-insurance. And to make it all worse, it's nigh-impossible to find good information on this stuff. It's all so fucking vague and everything comes with the asterisk of "your mileage may vary." And so while I can sometimes be hopeful about it, when I get pessimistic, it all feels impossible. And it might be impossible, so I can't even dissuade those pessimistic worries with logic. And it's impossible, why waste my money and time and effort on it? And thus the motivation is lost. So yeah. Motivation is a bitch. And I desperately need her. - Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl

#hate my degree #the fuck is a hashtag #wall of text #RoaDTG is a terrible acronym

[vrell-is-not-alone]

#1: Why am I here?

Hi. I'm Vrell. And while I may get into the existential question of why I am here at here at some point, I figured a good starting place for my page of incoherent ramblings is the reason why the hell I made a tumblr account. The short answer is that I had posted a wall of text in a discord I am in and someone asked me what my blog was so they could subscribe, so I figured I should make one. The long answer starts with the fact that I've been looking to get my thoughts out for quite some time now: after witnessing others doing it, I figured I could potentially spew my own thought stream into the internet too. I also commonly have trouble putting my thoughts into words, so I could probably use the practice with typing it out and the extra support the time needed to type something out affords me. Third and finally, I need a better place to vent my ramblings and frustrations than just my only romantic partner at the moment. They are wonderful, but I'd rather not overwhelm them. And uh, that's kinda it. This isn't a well thought through act. I'm kinda just winging it. And that's okay. After all, this doesn't gotta be good. So, where from here? I'm gonna pick a random topic I feel like rambling about and talk about it. There will be no schedule, no regularity, no promise of commitment. Just a bit of rambling. -Vrell, Depressed Trans Girl.

#the fuck is a hashtag #RoaDTG is a terrible acronym #i have no idea what i am doing