looked so much better in my head

anonymous asked:

does dysphoria never go away? u said u feel dysphoric and ur insecure abt ur masculinity (in the gym) and i feel like for me it's just flipped around (im trans and haven't medically transitioned). i feel like it'll never get better. i feel like i'll always be depressed

first, keep in mind i’m still pretty early in my transition! 6 months isn’t that long to let puberty do its thing, so things are still very much in flux.

anyways, my dysphoria is SO much better than it used to be. i don’t hate myself every time i hear myself speak, i don’t feel terrible every time i look in a mirror, etc. i can actually semi-ignore my dysphoria when i’m out and about instead of always feeling it, mostly because i know i mostly pass and so the knowledge that i don’t pass isn’t always in the back of my head. i still have quite a bit of dysphoria, primarily because i still have anatomy i don’t want that can only be corrected by surgery, but there are also other things (e.g. my face looking Too Feminine to me, not having facial hair, not being muscular enough, having curves, etc). at the gym, my dysphoria really reared its head because i saw all these guys who were perfect stereotypical microcosms of masculinity and i felt incomplete and insufficient in comparison. but that kind of stuff doesnt happen nearly as often as it used to.

from what i’ve heard from people who consider themselves extremely far in transition or post-transition, like 10+ years, they say that dysphoria isn’t really a thing in their day-to-day life, it only crops up occasionally, and they rarely think about being trans. so yeah, it will get better. it’ll take time, but it will get better :-)

Mom and I got into a talk today, and I can’t remember what started us on it, but it was about how America just over-commercializes things. And I mentioned how for some reason America puts so much stock into things like having your teeth uber white when most other countries honestly don’t give a shit. Like when it comes to beauty standards, perfectly straight, white teeth isn’t a requirement.

And my mom dead ass looks me in the eye and said, ‘that’s because in America, white still means clean and is prioritized above all else’. And I let out the longest ‘OOOOOOOOOOOOH’ ever(t’was a sick burn).

She nailed it on the head. White means purity. White means cleanliness. White means this. White means that. White is ‘better’. Add on the need for being perfectly straight and we’ve just described a hefty percentage of America’s backwards thought process.

5

6 cool fall miles in my hometown.

First 3 miles I maybe went out too fast and slowed a bit the last 3 miles. Around mile 2 some guy kinda joined me and I kept pace a bit in front of him. He stuck with me about 2 miles and I turned and he turned. Not gonna lie it felt good knowing I was running faster than him. 😁that doesn’t happen often. Or as Tom thought maybe he was just staring at my ass, but I really doubt that. Only Tom does that.

The leaves are falling, but haven’t really changed that much compared to last year. Today we head to Maine to go see his dad and friends. So I’m hoping the leaves are better up there. They look like it from @er1nruns pictures cause I’m a total stalker. 🍁🍂

10

doctor who meme: [1/10] quotes

“When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it will never end. But however hard you try, you can’t run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knows it like the Doctor. But I do think that all the skies of all the worlds might just turn dark, if he ever, for one moment, accepts it. Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day. Not today. Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody dies at all. Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair, and the Doctor comes to call.”

5

this… is so self indulgent,, but… i’m thinking about the bad end of jfa again…

(not shipping)

EDIT: the bad end of jfa is an *innocent* verdict; this is a scenario in which franziska never comes to save the day! sorry for any misunderstandings

Aries: Do not mourn over things that never did you any good. Do not look at those moments with rose colored nostalgia. They will always lead you astray. 

Taurus: Keep your head up. The critics will come hard and fast. Tell them to fuck off with middle fingers up. You are so much better then this fucking town.

Gemini: The ghosts can’t hurt you anymore. Even as they reach out from the past. You’ve got the salt. You’ve got the gun now. You are in charge, and they should be scared. Not you. Not anymore.

Cancer: Stop going back to burned bridges. Trying to make something out of the ashes. Remind yourself you set the flames for a god damn reason. Mourn the loss, but don’t keep going back to the scene of the crime.

Leo:  You are not the chaos around you. Not the pain that the aftermath is causing. You are so much more then the bad things you think about yourself. Learn to make the eye of the storm your home.

Virgo: Sometimes you need to let go of the past and all of the memories it holds. It’s going to hurt in a way you couldn’t imagine, but you have to clean out the infection to get better. You will get better.

Libra: Stop following people down rabbit holes. If you were meant to be 6 feet under you would be. Do not rush time and do not test fate. You can not try to take their place.

Scorpio:   Do not apologize for doing what you had to do. For having a spine. For learning to pick up a knife and defend yourself. You do not owe them  an explanation. You do not owe them an apology. You do not owe them anything.

Sagittarius: Stop trying to destroy your beauty, just because you can not see it. It doesn’t matter how much alcohol. How many pills. How many scars you give yourself. You are still as bright as the sun. Just as beautiful as the moon.

Capricorn:  Hold them to the standards you expect of yourself. If they can not meet them, then they don’t deserve a seat at the table with you. Do not dim your light or slow down to make them comfortable. It’s not worth it.

Aquarius:  It’s okay to indulge. Okay to go numb every once in awhile. You do not have to sit there and make yourself suffer night after night, just to be strong. It is okay to break. It is okay to be weak. It is okay to need a moment of true peace.

Pisces: If you keep faking a smile long enough, you’ll eventually start to believe it to. Just try and pretend at being happy now, so that you can learn to be really happy when the time comes.

—  This Weeks Zodiac
I’ve never stopped loving someone I wasn’t forced to. I don’t get bored with people or fall out of love… I don’t crave excitement or traverse ever expanding social circles… if we are close then you’re one of a select few and I’m content with the status quo pretty much indefinitely.
My head is never turned by someone better looking, my opinions are never swayed by someone more charismatic and my affections are never bought by someone’s wealth… so if I distanced myself from you emotionally it was because you were hurting me over and over until my back was to the wall and I was left with no other option…
Because I’m the kind of person who only ever stops feeling when it hurts too much and my forgiveness has long since run out. Even then, it has always been a gruelingly painful process of systematically shutting down the emotional connection layer by layer for my own protection until there was nothing left; not hate, not anger, just… nothing. So if you didn’t see it coming then you should have because it takes time to build walls and shut people out… And if you’re hurting then I’m sorry but the simple fact is that if you’re on the outside I didn’t put you there… you did it to yourself.
Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

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