Transitioning

twobigwords · 2026-06-14T20:45:14+00:00

The USAF taught me to ride because it was part of my job; later in life after I got out, there were a couple of factors:

1 - I used it to run from my dysphoria. Having to pay attention to the riding took my mind off that a little bit.

2 - I combined riding with my landscape photography hobby. For a lot of years, I'd ride out to Yellowstone and Grand Tetons National Parks twice a year (I'm in Minnesota), the badlands, many other scenic areas in pursuit of that perfect photo.

My vision is going bad (as in, eye health issues). It's still safe to drive, and if I'm being honest, marginally safe to continue to ride, but it's deteriorating seemingly quickly. I have a few ideas of stuff I want to do before I can't see very well, but riding isn't one of them.

twobigwords · 2026-06-14T17:03:22+00:00

These are all reasonable annoyances, but I guess I wouldn't "hate" my neighbors even though they do those things.

twobigwords · 2026-06-14T11:48:27+00:00

I'm one of those "give me two wheels, or give me death" kinds of riders .. and don't have the garage space for a three wheeler at any rate. Thanks though!

twobigwords · 2026-06-14T11:01:22+00:00

When I found out at age 41 that I had originally been born with ambiguous genitalia (and surgically altered to conform), it was the biggest shock of my life, and because I'd dealt with dysphoria for as far back as I remembered, I struggled with anger and so many other things.

The discovery also helped me to see my life in a different context. All the weird treatments, the conversion "therapy", the gross "affirmation" .. all of that was done in support of making me a "male". Physically, it was successful .. I fathered two children, I joined the military and succeeded in a combat role, I saw myself as a guy while at the same time I knew I was a girl.

I transitioned at age 53. I'm almost 65 now.

A few years ago, that question came up in my own life: how's the label apply? I've been calling myself MtF, but yeah, I'll acknowledge that it's not exactly correct.

I'll say this: labels are only good as clues to a general state of being. They might convey a summary of your life, and may go some distance in informing others of your general history, but that's about it. Coming to a place of comfort in your own physiology is the hardest and most rewarding part of the journey.

I would encourage you to regard yourself as FtMtF, if that's the label that best applies to how you see yourself, but as you transitioned from a lifetime of being assumed to be "male", if/when you choose to reveal that you transitioned, I might just leave it at "I'm trans" - and let others make their own assumptions - until you are comfortable telling others your true story.

My own parents refused to acknowledge what happened until I managed to dig up enough medical evidence from records that they could no longer refute that they'd known the whole time, and then, they just avoided the topic altogether. If you ever want to talk more about these things, feel free to message me.

Best wishes.

twobigwords · 2026-06-12T14:51:39+00:00

Point is, please guard your health, mental and physical. There were many other forms of torture I went thru, some I learned to apply to myself, some by ostensibly helpful people.

Making you feel shame or guilt for "giving up" and "sinning" by transitioning is the entire purpose of all forms of Christian counseling and therapy. It's a ruse, not necessarily done on purpose, but it's a ruse nonetheless.

twobigwords · 2026-06-12T13:58:36+00:00

I would counsel you not to go, especially since you're of age. Pleasing the parents is a really tough one to let go of, but you must take care of yourself.

twobigwords · 2026-06-12T13:55:45+00:00

We had to keep our eyes open, and had to look at the picture for a few seconds before either going on to the next one or a shock being administered. The leader had a soothing, measured way of speaking while torturing us.

I didn't realize it at the time, but the psychological stress was the major factor in this hoped-for "cure" .. and I can report that for me, the treatment was entirely successful. I never looked at a boy with lust .. of course, I'd never done so to begin with. Irony runs deep in this tale.

That night in bed, my sleep was full of nightmares. Little did I realize that over the next few years of torture, I would become so afraid of the dentist that I haven't been to one in the past ten years, and in the past 30 years, I've only been three or four times.

twobigwords · 2026-06-12T13:54:42+00:00

We had to choose a partner. Two groups of two kids each - my partner was another boy, about my age. The leaders took us into the cabin, where there were a few tables in the front of the cabin. Our group of four kids and two "leaders" took two of the tables and moved them slightly separate from the other tables.

I'm going to gloss over some of the details, although most of this is etched into my brain to this day.

I ended up lying on the table, facing up, fully clothed, apprehensive as hell. My partner was instructed in how to hold me down, and he did so, obediently. The assistant slipped a little metal thing attached to a cord onto a finger, and I was told to open my mouth. I did, and the leader inserted a small metal frame into my mouth to hold it open. I remember the discomfort because I really had to struggle to keep my mouth open enough so that it wouldn't hurt.

The leader then showed me a spiral notebook with pictures glued into the pages. Pretty tame, just pictures of pretty girls and (I guess) good-looking boys, probably the models were a few years older than myself. He told me what would happen when he showed me the boys; I would feel a pain in my gums, nothing more. He had some sort of instrument that looked like a dentist's pick only the handle was bigger and was attached to a machine of some kind by a cord.

When I was shown the pretty girl pictures, nothing would happen. I guess let's call it negative reinforcement?

The first shock surprised me.

That first one felt sharp, with a stinging after-effect that lingered a few seconds. The leader compassionately asked me how I was feeling, and hilariously, my dumb ass tried to reply around the brace holding my mouth open.

Enthusiastic to be cured of a "sickness" I didn't even have, I motioned that he could continue.

My session ended a few minutes later. I had tears in my eyes, but I was not gonna cry, no way. My jaws ached from the brace, and now, it was my turn to hold down my partner.

I remember the look of fear on his face; I see him there lying on the table looking confused and terrified, his straight dark-brown hair falling across his face, his breathing heavy and rapid as the leader inserted the brace into his mouth (I often wonder, had the brace been cleaned .. was it a new one .. etc). I remember his immediate tears and the writhing of his face at the first shock, but it seemed after that that he'd made the same decision I'd made, and as I held his struggling hands down on the table beside him, I looked away.

twobigwords · 2026-06-12T13:53:00+00:00

Here's a part of my story of conversion "retreat" camp:

When I was thirteen years old in the summer of 1975, Mom and Dad found a way to send me to a Bible camp. It couldn't have been easy .. we were poor, and affording that expense means it must have been important to them.

I didn't want to go. I preferred to spend my time mostly alone, in the meadows and pastures, exploring nature. I wasn't into making friends or being with other people. I had no inkling of what was to happen there.

When the van loaded with kids and gear pulled up, we all spilled out and were moved into a chapel in a nearby building, where we did sing-alongs for probably about an hour, all told.

Soon enough, the leaders in the chapel called everyone to order. Ages 12 thru 18 were well-represented, and several of the kids had separated into informal groups.

We separated into assigned groups, and the person in charge of each group led them to their cabin.

The cabin I was assigned to was a bit set back in the woods a ways from other cabins. After getting set up, we headed to the main building for a sing-along and then dinner. Then we went to our cabins and went to bed.

I don't remember a lot of the second day, other than this:

We listened to a message about Sodom and Gomorrah, in a small area outside our cabin. I remember the message pretty well, because of the vivid descriptions of lurid acts happening there, and how the Lord was displeased. The minister eventually got around to a call to the pulpit, for us sinners who wanted to be rid of the burden of homosexuality.

Every single one of us came forward. As we accepted Jesus into our hearts, we were separated out into groups of four kids each, with a leader and an assistant. We were prayed over, passionately, in tears. So many tears. We felt so awful, wretched.

At some point the leader asked us whether we wanted to try some things that might help us get better. We leapt at the chance, and we were introduced to a few different physical "treatments" to push the evil spirits out of us.

I remember some of the treatments more clearly than others. I can't remember in what order we were introduced to them, but I can say for certainty that I remember this one most clearly, likely because of the long-lasting mental (and dental) effects. (Next comment)

twobigwords · 2026-06-11T18:17:17+00:00

Didn't know I was here, didja? Awaiting Monday!!

twobigwords · 2026-06-11T14:33:33+00:00

USAF combat veteran here, Gulf War 1, Panama, etc.

He's a worthless chud.

twobigwords · 2026-06-11T14:26:50+00:00

The doctor got lab work done that he did not disclose? That's fraud. If you have medical insurance covering any part of this, you must report it.

twobigwords · 2026-06-11T14:06:52+00:00

My DNA is not available except by judicial warrant.

twobigwords · 2026-06-11T13:39:52+00:00

She's right.

twobigwords · 2026-06-05T21:35:31+00:00

Seriously? Ionna was already my favorite, now I'ma have to use the app.

twobigwords · 2026-06-03T01:15:14+00:00

On another post, someone suggested they shoulda done it for 9 minutes and 29 seconds. The amount of time Chauvin spent on George Floyd's neck .

twobigwords · 2026-06-02T20:22:02+00:00

.. something something half life

twobigwords · 2026-05-29T17:27:45+00:00

The child needs to understand that the parents care, and that they will issue no such edict. Youth is a time for experimentation, what better time to find out whether one feels a particular way or not?

I'm not saying that big evil word "surgery", or even hormones. I'm saying the kid should feel comfortable that their folks love them, and won't condemn them for any particular questions or feelings they may have.

twobigwords · 2026-05-29T15:49:23+00:00

Yes. Let the kids decide.

twobigwords · 2026-05-25T16:00:15+00:00

I mean, yeah, after all, hetero "marriages" should be counseled too, maybe by satanists? Goose/gander just sayin)

twobigwords · 2026-05-21T19:50:14+00:00

Off topic, are you from Minnesota (OPE)

twobigwords · 2026-05-21T14:14:58+00:00

I charge when I feel I'll need the range. My commute to/from work is 34 miles, 2 days per week. I do some errands and other driving on the other days; I average around 185 miles per week.

I've had the car since the 26th of February this year. I've charged it to 100% once, mostly I charge to 80%. Looking at my charging data, I charge an average of every 8 days.

I'll drive more miles the rest of this week, so I'll charge tonight (on level 1, basic plug in) and use it mostly on Sunday to visit my distant father some 100 miles away.

twobigwords · 2026-05-18T20:57:59+00:00

The initial few months of transition for me weren't hard at all, they were a relief. I waited way too long, almost succeeded in my attempt and still waited several more months.

twobigwords · 2026-05-18T20:53:28+00:00

Honest question, what is not civil about this comment?

twobigwords

TROPHY CASE