#chest dsyphoria

[bonsai-wanders]

As I always say, a boys hoodie a day keeps the dsyphoric and homophobic school away

Sorry for the random photo lol. No selfies for me

[luidilovins]

for those of you who are nonbinary/gnc/ androgynous or have vague dsyphoria writing the tags what the most random shit that gives you gender dysphoria and euphoria? my random dysphoria is whenever I wash dishes and the front of my shirt gets all wet it doesn't even have to be my chest even just my belly and my random gender euphoria is whenever I lay on a tennis ball on the floor to fix my back and I'm just laying there groaning with my hands folded over my belly lik some 50 year-old man named Bill or some shit.

[passing-the-cis-test]

Introduction!

Hi everyone! I'd like go make a few well known points on this blog, such as its purpose, what it includes/will eventually, rules, and a little bit about myself.

Origins/About the Admin

The admin uses he/him pronouns and will use the online alias of Red.

This account was born from a conversation between a good friend of mine and I. I, a trans boy, have had to do so much digging and so much research, discreet things that transphobic parents won't approve of, and dove through so many loopholes that made my journey through gender dsyphoria and discovering my identity so much easier but so much harder at the same time.

I thought that if I used all that I had gathered and put it all on one platform, specifically focusing on that one thing alone, it would give other people out there what I didn't have. A bit of ease through what is already such a tough journey.

JUST TO CLARIFY!!:

This blog is safe for all umbrellas of queer or straight origin.

This blog is safe for everyone.

This blog is NOT trying to "convert" people. The "transgender agenda" that transphobes seem to stamp all of us with is nothing more than wanting to be ourselves and feel comfortable as who we are.

If you are uncomfortable with this? Please, feel free to leave. I never asked for transphobes here and I certainly don't want them to stay.

This blog WILL be providing tips and tricks for all the handsome young boys and demiboys, beautiful little ladies and demiladies, gorgeous genderfluids, incredible enbies, and all of you wonderful somewhere-in-betweens!

Just what are these tips and tricks?

Tips and tricks will include how to pass as what society deems feminine or masculine.

I do not judge if you know you are a boy and want to be feminine, I do not judge if you know you are a girl and want to be masculine.

This is not meant to enforce society's ideals of the gender separated stereotypes, but rather showing you what those are and helping you present when in an unsafe space or an unaccepting space.

But what about asks and messages?

Please do not be afraid to shoot me a message through my inbox! Anonymous messages are completely acceptable and I am fully willing to answer any questions I can.

Don't be afraid to ask overly specific questions either! It could be an advice box if you need it :)

No transphobic or homophobic asks will be tolerated. You will be blocked, reported, and never seen on my blog again. This goes for transphobic jokes, memes, news articles, claims, scientific reports, etc.

THIS IS NOT A VENTING BOX!! I'm sorry in advance to my loves who are struggling with their lives right now but in order to help you if you submit an ask in the ask box, I must answer publicly. If you need to vent, don't be afraid to send me a message. :) I am here for you all and will listen to you all.

The admin of this blog does cope with ADHD (attention deficient hyperactive disorder ie. brain zoomies zoomz and cannot focus well, gets off task easily) and autism (ie. help me with social cues please I do not understand neurotypical people) so if you could use any of these codes at the beginning of a message I would greatly appreciate it!

(vent) - you would like to vent [ this is a rather general one ]

(help) - you would like advice with something included in your message

(word vomit) - you would like to rant about something in a negative way, like you had a bad day and need to get it off your chest

(rant) - you would like to talk to someone about something good or positive that may have happened :) THESE CAN BE SUBMITTED VIA ASKS IF YOU'D LIKE TO! this kind of ask will be included under the tag #trans positivity and will be made public to spread some hope and joy :)

What will this blog include other than just advice?

This blog will include all sorts of things, pertaining specifically to transgender people, regardless of transition status 🙏❤

This is a source of information, an outlet, and a friend to go to if you need a little boost.

Remember that I love you all, and you are all good people. No matter what others may say to you.

(P.S. please don't be afraid to repost screenshots on pinterest or other websites, I want this to reach as many people as it can 🙏🙏 this blog is only meant to help)

[space-spooker]

I hate bras. I hate them. They make me want to leave my body. I hate them. So fucking much. I feel so fucking hot and uncomfortable and I want to get out of my skin. Why won't my mother fucking listen to me?

[crescentmp3]

yaaaaay gender dsyphoriaaaaaa

[fruit-teeth]

Avalanche (part 4)

/(before this chapter starts I wanna say that breastfeeding is depicted at the beginning, so if that makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form, I would suggest being mindful going into this. Thanks!)\

“Scout?” Sniper opened the bedroom door, stepping in cautiously. “Hey, love, are you all right?”

Scout lay on the bed, their son pressed up to his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice soft. His eyes were focused on the baby.

Sniper sighed, closing the door behind him and heading for the bed. “Look, I’m sorry I handed him to Pyro without checking with you, I...” he trailed off, realizing what Scout was doing. “Are...are you breastfeeding?”

Scout didn’t look up, but he nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, shifting a little to rest his hand comfortably on the baby’s back. “I didn’t think I could, but...I dunno,”

Sniper sat down on the bed slowly, his mouth slightly agape as he watched. “Wow...I-I mean, I didn’t think it was possible, but Medic said you might have some, I...” he went quiet again, unable to take his eyes off the sight. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Scout shook his head. “Nah, doesn’t hurt. It kinda tickles...I know that sounds weird,”

“No, no,” Sniper put his arm around Scout, watching the baby eat. “That’s good, I think. Very good,” he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s head. “This is probably healthier than the formula, anyway,”

“Yeah,” Scout leaned against Sniper, still watching the baby. He smiled weakly after a moment. “He’s gonna grow up and be a real strong guy, I bet,”

Sniper smiled back, and he kissed Scout’s head as well. “Definitely. If he’s anything like you, he’ll be just that,”

Scout snorted, his cheeks reddening a little. “Me? Nah, come on, Snipes!” He pecked a kiss to Sniper’s cheek, humming. “He’s more like you,”

“Think so?” Sniper observed as the baby finished eating, and Scout brought him up to his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Scout assured, patting the baby’s back. The baby let out a gurgling squeak, and Scout pulled away just in time to see that he’d spit up on him. “Oh—!”

“Whoops,” Sniper quickly grabbed a tissue, wiping up the mess. “That’s all right, he probably ate too fast,”

Scout sighed, grimacing a little. “You’re tellin’ me...I don’t think he’s gonna want that crummy replacement milk after this,” his shirt was still pushed up, and he could only stare for a moment at his own chest. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this...it felt nice, but somehow, it felt wrong at the same time.

Scout pushed those thoughts to the side as he settled the baby into his arms, shushing him gently when he whimpered. “Hey, it’s okay,” Scout cooed, wiping drool from the little mouth. “You’re good, bud,”

Sniper wrapped his arms around Scout, reaching a hand around to pet the baby’s soft cheek. “So,” Sniper spoke up after a moment. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask...” he swallowed, trying to think of how to phrase this. “You...you didn’t know you were pregnant? It’s just that you and I have been at this for almost a whole year, now, and I never suspected a thing,”

Scout took a breath, pressing the baby a little closer. “I mean, I felt sick, y’know? But I thought it was the flu or somethin’...must have been morning sickness or whatever,” he thought back, trying to remember if there were any other signs. “Oh, and sometimes I’d feel little things in me,” he put his hand against the spot, which was just below his belly button. “Somethin’ would poke me sometimes, but I didn’t think it was anything,”

Sniper nodded slowly, and he placed his hand on the baby’s head. “Must have been him trying to tell you he was there,”

“Yeah...” tears suddenly filled Scout’s eyes, and he sniffed. “I feel so bad...I-I should’ve known!”

“Hey, hey,” Sniper drew Scout close, offering a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s okay, don’t get upset,” he intertwined his fingers with Scout’s, their hands resting together on the baby’s chest. “He’s here, and he’s okay,”

Scout sniffed, holding the baby tighter and nodding. “Yeah...yeah, thank God,” he sighed, kissing the baby’s soft nose. “I’m fuckin’ glad he’s here and alive,”

“Me too,” agreed Sniper, caressing Scout’s arm.

They sat in silence for a good long while, watching their son fall asleep as they kept him warm and safe. After a few minutes, Scout remarked, “I thought of a name, too,”

“Oh?” Sniper straightened up, all ears. “Okay. Let me hear it,”

Scout cleared his throat, settling the baby into his arms. “Axel Jayce,” He told Sniper confidently. “Couldn’t pick one, so I put ‘em together,”

Sniper let this sink in, and then chuckled a bit. “Oh, Scout...well, it’s a nice name, don’t get me wrong, but...” he stared down at the baby’s face. “Does it suit him?”

Scout shrugged again. “Well, he could grow into it. You never know,”

“Hm,” Sniper pursed his lips together, a thought crossing his mind. “You know— what if we just called him ‘AJ’ for short? I feel like that would work better, you think?”

“Oh!” Scout blinked— he hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah! I really like that, it’s cute,” he kissed the baby’s forehead again. “Just like him!”

Sniper chuckled, his arm tucking around Scout’s shoulders. “Yeah, and like you, too,”

“What? Oh—!” Scout hid the grin in Sniper’s chest, giggling, “No, no! Quit it, man,”

[mr---moth]

I wanna tell you guys about my first experience with truscum. It'll have a point it's not just be bitching. Probably.

I was just a bit younger than I am now and newly identifying as genderfluid after IDing as nonbinary for about a year. I was still presenting really femininely and I felt so extremely insecure and dysphoric about it. So I was searching through the genderfluid tag on here to make myself feel better. Well I eventually found a post in the tag where someone was just being so extremely nasty about genderfluid people. The whole "It's fake!" "It's insulting!" "It's fucking stupid!" sthick ,ya know? Well little Valentine was just as argumentative and defensive as he is now lol You've seen truscum loosing their shit before so I'll spare you the boring details. But the parts that stuck with me was how this guy went on a 5 minute rant about how much his sister being genderfluid and female presenting made him want to take his own life it made him so angry and shit because he thought they were doing it for attention and how, despite having heavy dysphoria, I was just a cis girl that was insecure about my chest. For a little background about me I have extremely chest dysphoria so you can imagine just how much that entire interaction hurt and bothered me. For weeks after I constantly questioned if I was just a cis girl trying to be special and if my very existence was going to make someone suicidal. Not a great time for my mental health.

Obviously I learned I wasn't a genderfluid person and that I'm actually a trans guy and I'm really comfortable with that. It fits it feels right yada yada. My point is while that was right; I'm not a genderfluid person but that interaction did not make me release I was a transman. It slowed that process down. It only served to make me feel bad and question myself MORE. And it still does from time to time. This grown adult bullied and berated a minor. And for what? To make me have some epitphany about my gender or something? To help me along on my journey? No. He only did it because he felt like taking the piss on someone he felt was a freak and not like him.

And I see this same shit ALL THE DAMN TIME. Poor kids just trying to exist comfortably getting harassed and bitched out by adults that think they know everything. It's not useful. It's not helpful. It's not constructive. It's harmful. It's harmful and it makes that kid feel like shit even more than might already do. And these Truscum fuckers seem to ENJOY it. 'Lmao this fake trender' while that "trender'" probably has so much more self doubt in their head now. And we all know what that can lead to.

So transmeds how about you stop pretending to know everything or that you know someone's entire life because you don't. You're just a hateful stranger on the internet with too much time on your hands so you fill it with being nasty and dickish to people you don't like.

And to any non-dysphorics, mogai, people with neropronouns, ngc trans people, nonbinary, agender, genderfluid and people of any age that are still figuring themselves out, you aren't pretending to be special. You ARE special just the way you are. You deserve to be happy and comfortable no matter how you ID. You aren't hurting anyone and you don't owe anyone an explanation or an apology. I love you and I am just so fucking proud of you for being you. For just existing. And someday things will be better just please be there to see it.

[wimplebimple]

doing everyday transmasc things like looking at top surgery results for people with similar body types and day dreaming about that being me some day 😋✌️

[bonsai-wanders]

Dysphoria Hoodie

My brand new dsyphoria hoodie. Oml I'm never taking this off 💚

[dogboy-willgraham]

Dysphoria is weird I don't have other body issues bc I have lived my entire life on a farm homeschooled with very little in the way of friends or socializing so I didn't develop them so I am perfectly good with my acne scars on my back and shoulders but I hate them because they're slim and therefore feminine in my dumb brain even tho like my dude, that's completely untrue like my sister's husband is quite slim and lithe and I don't even wanna adhere to the cis idea of a man but also mmmm shoulders be /-\ instead of /---\

[dog-teeth]

if it's alright that i ask, how did your dsyphoria manifest? and how did you deal with it? a lot of the time, I'm really confused as to whether or not im experiencing dysphoria, or just blowing basic body discomfort out of proportion, and im curious what it was/is like for you, especially since you're genderfluid.

hi im tipsy so not at my most articulate but dysphoria for me feels

wait hang on putting this under the cut bc Long ish Post

like theres a disconnect between how people see me or how i was born vs how i want to be, generally my dysphoria was rarely ever tied to my body intrinsically as ive heard other trans peoples is (e.g. having trouble showering or having sex, feeling like being born in the wrong body), it was mostly how people percieved me. like i hated my voice pre-T and didnt even rly connect it to dysphoria except for when it made me unable to pass, i just thought i didnt like my voice. and with my breasts, i feel like i would have had significantly less issue with having them on my body if they werent so unequivocally tied to femininity in the eyes of cis society and a dead-giveaway of my agab. but also i always found breasts to be inconvenient, the way they feel when running and jumping and laying down, and generally i just felt like i wanted to be flat-chested, but i didn't hate my chest, i thought it was cute a lot of the time, but the incongruence with how people saw me as a result of them made me personally uncomfortable (i LOVE seeing transmasc people with visible breasts tho i think its so gender and cool and i wish there had been more representation for that earlier in my transition!)

my dysphoria as a genderfluid person comes out when i feel like i can't control how people read me, or (like a lot of other trans people) when people read me as something other than i want them to. especially since my gender changes are largely internal and i rarely ever communicate them with anyone. and i get 'dysphoric' i guess about how its not very acceptable for me to say 'im (kinda) a boy' or 'im (kinda) a girl' and have it be understood that it is not permanent but is still real for me. i feel a lot of external pressure to be perfectly androgynous as a genderqueer person but sometimes i do feel like a girl & that doesnt make my gender or my transition invalid, and sometimes i do feel like a boy but that doesnt make me a man. i use the words very loosely and i think language and communication often falls short of encompassing it. not being able to adequately describe myself is also dysphoric.

when i was younger tho dysphoria often felt like i just felt like a boy/agender but i knew no matter what i did people wouldnt see me like that and my body was Female with a capital F and i didnt want it to be. it felt like being cornered and trapped within other peoples perceptions of me and my own body.

i think theres an overbearing narrative of hating your body as a trans person and wishing it was like the "opposite" gender, but its often more complex than that for both binary and nonbinary trans people. its a weird mix of how you internally want your body to be and how you want other people to see you which is based on your body. idk. like i said im tipsy.

i think its also important to remember that dysphoria and dysmorphia, like all words and especially labels like these, are not solidly-defined or static or universal and to sort your feelings into discreet boxes is almost never possible. all you can really do is think about what might make you happy and what you want and how you feel, in all its multitudes and confusion.

[thelesbiancitizen]

I really admire how well spoken and thoughtful you are in your responses and the level of empathy you show so I was wondering if maybe you could give advice or sources to help me, if it's too much trouble or too emotionally exhausting then feel free to ignore this ask and I'll keep googling and researching on my own so nbd. I'm gender critical and while I definitely don't think transitioning would solve my problems most of the time I still have major body dsyphoria and actively want to start hrt and get top surgery on my worst days. Its especially hard because I'm gnc and a lot of people say I'm "trying to be a man" either in a religious conservative way or in a "supportive" progressive way. I used to bind my chest and considered getting a packer for a while as well as did voice training and while I've stopped for now I think back on the feeling of passing in public or having my friends tell me how masculine I looked and the temptation to start up again feels overwhelming. I don't know how to fight it some days other than reminding myself how financially unattainable a lot of options are for me rn and I'd appreciate your advice

Thank you for the kind words, anon, I really appreciate it. I really feel for you on this. Something that I think dysphoric or detrans people don’t often talk about is how good it really does feel to ‘pass’, and how hard it can be to give that up. You asked for advice, but I would like to tell you a story instead. When I was binding and wearing men’s clothes and on T, and I passed as a man, it felt really, really good. The ‘gender euphoria’ was real. I looked in the mirror and really liked what I saw. I felt confident in public. I was ecstatic when my voice was dropping. It all felt really good and right. So my reasoning for detransitioning was not because it felt bad or wrong, not really, anyway — it’s more complicated than that. Sometimes trans people say “detransitioners realized they’re actually cis” or “transition wasn’t right for them”. But that’s besides the point. I really liked passing as a man. The problem was when I realized that the person in the mirror was not me.

I had changed my name, my pronouns, my wardrobe, I tried to change my body shape and size, I even tried to change my personality. I tried to change everything about myself to become more of what I thought I should be, and less of what I didn't want to be. I made myself into a man. I felt I was creating my True Self, that I had won something, won a battle against my body, my femaleness. But it slowly began to dawn on me that in creating myself as a man, I wasn’t only creating a person who wasn’t really me anyway — I was, in actuality, erasing myself. I slowly realized that in transitioning, I had created a kind of persona for myself, the ideal man I imagined in my head. Instead of being a weird, awkward, androgynous lesbian woman, I imagined that by transitioning, I could escape that fate. I was fairly successful in erasing everything about me that said ‘female’. I tried to erase my past. I tried to erase my body — literally. I tried to erase my voice. I was running away from my body, running away from the reality that I was born a female and that my body would always be female and I could never, ever escape that truth. I could fool others. I could even fool myself from time to time. But I could never fully forget that I was female. And my entire transition was based on this lie, that it was possible to erase my femaleness entirely. I couldn’t. And the more I tried to erase it, the more I began to truly and utterly despise myself -- the real self underneath the idealized version I was trying to become. I loved the Crafted Me, the False Me that I had made up during my transition. I loved the man I saw in the mirror. The Real Me remained, buried alive, no matter how many times I tried to kill her. She would not go away. And one day, all of sudden, the illusion fell apart; the man in the mirror was not me. I felt like a fraud. Who was I trying to fool? I could fool other people, but I could never fool myself. I was exhausted. I was exhausted of scrutinizing my body and tearing about everything that gave away my ‘terrible secret’ of my femaleness. I was exhausted of policing the pitch of my own voice every time I spoke, of chastising myself for sounding too much “like a girl”, I was tired of feeling panicked every time I had to go outside because it meant I had to put on my uncomfortable binder and wear hot, baggy clothing to hide my curves even if it was 90 degrees outside. I was tired of looking at my body in the mirror and wanting to rip it to shreds with my bare hands and crawl out of my skin. Why? What was wrong with it? What was really wrong with my body that made it so detestable? I realized it was... nothing. There wasn’t actually anything wrong with my body. And I had been told there was by so many people, people I trusted, even, and then I took that script and ran with it, telling myself my body was bad and wrong and ugly and hateful. I looked at pictures of myself as a little girl before everything went wrong, and I cried. For the first time I really, really realized — that little girl is me. She is still alive. I am her. Every time I put on my binder I was telling that little girl that her body is hateful and wrong. Every time I shot testosterone into my stomach I was telling that little girl her body is hateful and wrong. Every time I looked in the mirror and pinched and prodded and scowled at what I saw, I was pinching and prodding and scowling at that little girl. I had been convicting her of a crime she had never meant to commit -- the crime of being born female in a society that hates females. But she had never done anything wrong -- I had never done anything wrong. There was no crime. Why was I doing this anymore?

Very quickly I lost my appetite for transitioning. My binders made me feel sick. I could not wait for the testosterone to leave my blood and it made me feel squeamish to imagine it in my veins. I called up my doctor and told her I was going to stop T and she gave me the go ahead to quit cold turkey. Once I realized that by transitioning I was not creating my Authentic Self, but was, in fact, destroying myself, everything about transitioning became horrifying to me. I was horrified at what I had done. I felt I had betrayed myself, I felt I had been betrayed by a community that had claimed to care about me. For days I held myself and cried and apologized to myself and to the little girl in the photos. I promised to do better for her. I knew I had to find a way to make it up to her, to myself. My body wasn’t wrong after all. I think because I could never learn to love my body for how it looks, I tried to destroy it instead. So I decided: if I could not love my body for how it looks, and I no longer wished to destroy it, then I had to find ways to learn to love myself that had nothing to do with the way I look. I was finally done waging war against my body; I wanted to make peace with myself. I laid down my weapons. I decided to leave my body alone. It has been a long and difficult road, and I am still traveling on it, and probably will forever. But I am committed to this peace treaty with my body. I have tried to  focus on the way my body allows me to live. My body allows me to take walks in the woods and to smell the fresh air, to smell pine trees and flowers and mud and cut grass. My body allows me to knead bread and make shepherd’s pie and French pastries and my whole apartment smells like sugar and brown butter and coffee and I did that with my hands and my muscles and my brain. And then I get to eat that food and taste it with my tongue. My body allows me to walk to the art museum down the street and I can use my eyes to look at the paintings and I see paintings of other people’s bodies and I realize I never ever judge anyone else’s body even 1% as harshly as I used to condemn my own. And sometimes I spot my reflection in a pane of glass and I see the silhouette of my body and I start to cringe and I hear the voice start up to tell me that I look bad and wrong and I tell myself, stop, no, you’re ok. I think of the shape of my mother’s body and how she is shaped like home. I think of the shape of my aunt’s body and how she is shaped like love. I think of the shape of my friends’ bodies and how they are shaped like laughter and happiness and even if they aren’t “beautiful” they are beautiful and I must be shaped like something beautiful, too, if they love me the way I love them. And I keep walking. And when I get home I play guitar and I thank my fingers for being able to make chords and strum the strings the way they do. I pick up an embroidery project and thank my eyes for picking out the colors and my hands for being able to make bullion knots. And I read books on things that make my brain buzz with aliveness and I thank my body for allowing me to read those words, to read poetry, to understand poetry, to write poetry. And I try to do these things as much as I can and to remember everything that my body allows me to do, and how little it matters what my body looks like. When I am happy and living my life and baking and playing guitar and laughing with my mom and swimming in the ocean and crying on the phone with my brother, it does not matter one single bit what size my chest is or if my stomach is flat or if there is hair on my legs or if my voice is deep or high. None of that matters. Transitioning only changed minor things that do not really matter in the end. It could not give me happiness and peace of mind and security in the knowledge that I am valuable and worthy and wonderful all on my own, without changing anything. I am who I am, and that is enough. It has to be enough. There are days when it is difficult to remember this. I remember the little girl in the old photos. On those days, I do it for her.

So my advice is this: however you need to, forgive yourself. Forgive yourself for whatever you need to forgive yourself for. Forgive yourself for hating yourself, forgive yourself for not knowing how to help yourself, forgive yourself for making mistakes, forgive yourself for times you were misled and for times you didn’t know what else to do. Forgive yourself for being charmed and for hoping for miracles. Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know. Forgive yourself for being human and for having a body. Forgive yourself for not being able to live up to unreasonable expectations. Forgive yourself for not being “feminine enough”. Forgive yourself for being born female. This is where you start. And when you start to forgive yourself, you will find that deep down in the depths of yourself, the parts that you tried to bury and kill will still be there, they will still love you, and they will forgive you, too.

When you can learn to forgive yourself, you can begin to build trust with yourself, real trust. And this is why I can't give you specific advice, because moving forward from here is something only each of us can find out for ourselves. Not in a spiritual woo woo way, but in the sense that while each of us have so much in common, we all have chinks and cracks in different places, and I don’t know you well enough to know where yours are, exactly. I wish it were easier and there were magic words I could say to give you the answers you need. But what I can assure you is that, as cliché as it sounds, you do already have those answers inside you. Forgive yourself, learn to hear and to listen to your inner voice again, and find out what you really need to feel whole again. And then do your damnedest to get it. Maybe you can relate to some of my story here, maybe not. It's ok if it doesn't ring true for you. But at the very least, I hope this snippet of my story might help you begin to think about your own story. Sometimes we tell ourselves stories that other people have written for us; and we tell ourselves the same story for so long that we forget that it’s possible to rewrite it, and to start telling ourselves a new one. Good luck & all my love to you.

[phoenixdragon5411]

Hi. So I'm on the genderfluid spectrum and have been struggling with dsyphoria a lot. I really want to get a binder but this is all so new to me. I don't know what brands are good and the ones I've looked at don't carry sizes for people like me with bigger chest sizes (40DD). What do I do? Does any brand have binders that would fit me?? At this point I'm desperate for any advice

[space-spooker]

Does anyone have safe ways to bind with no binder? I'm so fucking desperate, please.

[baronessblack1988]

Mental Issues I’ve noticed:

- Fear of being alone

- Fear of losing loved ones

- Fear of rejection

- Constantly guilting myself for doing anything nice for myself

- Constant people pleasing, more so for loved ones now and not for random people

- Gets attached too quickly

- Overthinks relationships

- Fear of getting yelled at

- Fear of sudden loud noises

- Fear of men

- Feeling like I HAVE to be physically intimidating in order to protect myself

- Fear of showing emotions like kindness and love accept to people I know and love

- Stress over money

- Stress over sickness

- Stress over caring for loved ones

- Perpetual feeling of loneliness and isolation

- Must take on everything

- Constantly seeking validation from loved ones

- Constantly looking out for people who may try to hurt me or loved ones

- Hypersexual

- Guilt when feeling attraction to someone

- Resistance to change, especially if it’s sudden

- Constant planning of everything

- Must control my environment

- Perfectionism

- Fear of success

- Difficulty concentrating, sometimes gaps in memory or spacing out

- Don’t like asking for help with ANYTHING

- Would rather hurt myself than someone else

- Low self esteem

- Don’t feel pleasure in things I should enjoy

- Constant intrusive thoughts

- Periodic episodes of depression and anxiety

- Hyper fixation on emotional situations

- Sabotaging my own relationships

- Frequently irritated and angry

- Suicidal ideation

- Indifferent to physical pain

- Impulsive spending

Physical Issues I’ve noticed:

- Frequent chest pain

- Frequent shortness of breath

- Frequent light headedness

- Frequent fatigue

- High anxiety constantly

- Unable to sleep

- Panic attacks

- Headaches

Possible traumas:

- Parents divorce

- Constant yelling growing up

- Frequent feelings of loneliness between the ages of 6 to 14

- Isolation between the ages of 6 to 10

- Little to no friends between 6 and 14

- Sexually assaulted by family member at the age of 5

- Father disowning me at 11

- 8 suicidal attempts over the course of 5 years

Possible issues:

- PTSD

- Depression

- Anxiety

- Separation Anxiety

- Rejection Sensitivity Dsyphoria

[reflectionprojection]

I am so insanely jealous of people that can have key hole top surgery or use k2 tape while I'm over here strapping these things down wearing baggy clothes. I know they're just as dysphoric or more dysphoric, but my god I just want my chest gone or small enough to cover and be able to breathe.