#and yeah yeah i know i need therapy i'm working on it

[venturelovebot]

A/N: This took me longer than I wanted it to but it's finally done! That means there's only one fic left to finish before I open up requests again. :•) Enjoy!

Premise: Depressed!GN!Reader finds out they're not as worthless as they think they are.

Warnings: None! Pure fluff.

You scribbled on the corner of the page to test your ink pen.

I have to vacuum the floor again soon. Dishes need to be done again today. I don't know what I want to make for dinner. More chores need to be done tomorrow. Is it even worth it anymore?

You pause. Every entry from the start of this week looked exactly the same. Flipping through the pages you notice that the beginning entries aren't much different either. Seems like every day has turned monotonous and bleak for you for a long time now. When you really think about it, when was the last time you were truly happy to wake up in the morning? Nothing came to mind.

The amount of hopelessness that filled your mind, body and soul was immense.

"Good morning!" Sloan sets down a coffee mug with a cat meme on it for you. Their smile had genuine happiness behind it– not something you could relate to.

"Good morning." You mimic their smile and watch as they take a seat next to you.

You're not sure how they could be so happy to wake up to the same burden every day of their life. Surely they must of thought you were baggage at this point. You were just waiting for the day they got tired of your presence and finally packed up and left. Everyone did. It was only a matter of time for them, too.

You bookmark the current page of your journal and close its cover.

"Don't forget your medicine!" They set your pill case next to your cat meme mug.

"Thanks."

They give you a kiss on the cheek.

You want to cry. Instead, you just watch as they take a seat next to you at the dining table for breakfast.

"Not hungry?" They ask.

They fork small bites of waffle into their mouth.

"I already ate." You lied.

"Oh? What did you have? I didn't hear you making anything."

You knew they were worried about you, but your brain didn't accept this.

"Just toast."

They're quiet for a moment. "Just toast?" They repeat.

"With jam. I'm not completely tasteless." You halfheartedly joke.

In order to dodge more conversation you open your pill case and down everything on an empty stomach.

"You have therapy today, right?" It feels they're playing a game of Twenty Questions.

"Yeah. I can make it there on my own, though."

"Well, I don't have anything to do right now. Why not let me take you?"

Right. You forgot. You were used to them being gone for weeks on end because of field work, studying or traveling. They took a couple weeks off to spend time with you. It seemed to be happening increasingly often as of late.

"It's alright, really. I don't want to bother you with it." You insist.

"It's not a bother! I promise!"

They're smiling again. It's hard to say no to that face.

"Alright."

...

Your therapist gives you back your journal after reading the last few entries. Nearly fifty minutes had already gone by and you don't feel like you've gotten everything off your chest yet.

"So, you feel like nothings gotten any better then?" They inquire.

"How are things supposed to get better at this rate?"

You collapse into the sofa and stare at the wall behind your doctor.

"I'm a burden. I can't do anything right. Everyone else already has everything figured out. What am I supposed to do? I'll never be good enough at anything."

Your therapist jots down everything you're saying before looking back up at you.

"If it's okay to ask... what do you want to be good at, exactly?"

You think about it. "Anything."

"Do you really think that's true, that you're not good at anything?"

You nod.

"You woke up this morning. You're breathing. You're very good at doing those two things. You're taking up space and existing. You're listening. You're feeling. You do these things without even thinking about them. Is that not a sign of skill?"

"That doesn't make me a worthwhile person, though." Tears start forming in your eyes and your therapist hands you the tissue box.

"You don't have to do anything well to be a worthwhile person. You exist, and that enough makes life worth living. If you want to learn more then you can, but knowing everything won't increase your value. You're valuable just by being here. Your worth as a human being is not determined by what you can or cannot do, or what you do or don't know."

Your therapist stays quiet as you sob into multiple tissues. It takes several minutes for you to calm down enough to continue your session.

"I still can't help but feel like a burden to everyone though." You still find it hard to speak after crying so much.

"Those who see you as a burden will never be worth your time. People who want to be around you will stay around you, even if they can't be present in your life at all times."

Rain begins gently tapping at the office window.

"... wouldn't it just be easier to shut everyone out, then?" You point out.

"Well, sure... but then you would never find out who truly loved you, or find others who are going to love you despite it all."

Another moment of silence passes between the two of you before the clock chimes in the distance.

"Same time next week I presume?" Your therapist fills out an appointment card for you.

"That sounds good."

...

You forgot your umbrella. The rain has already begun to pour.

Y/N: Alright. I'm ready.

💛lil meow meow💛: ᕕ( ՞ ᗜ ՞ )ᕗ

💛lil meow meow💛: ON MY WAY!!!

A car speeds by while you're waiting and splashes you from head to toe in puddle water. You're lucky enough that your phone case is water proof and that your journal is in your bag, otherwise everything would've been ruined.

Weird. You haven't thought about the positives in a long time.

You carefully wipe the droplets from your phone before another text message pops up.

💛lil meow meow💛: [Uploaded a photo at 3:56 PM].

It was a photo of you from behind.

💛lil meow meow💛: Omg? There's just a cutie pie standing outside? Do you think they're single?

You turn to look in the direction the photo was taken, then Sloan snaps another photo of you.

💛lil meow meow💛: OMG they noticed me!!!

💛lil meow meow💛: They're walking towards me!!!

You open the car door and the warmth hits your damp face.

"Wow. Now there's a cute person in my car! No way!" They grin and gesture over to you.

You can't help but smile.

"Sorry I wasn't fast enough to pick you up before the rain started..." They add.

They reach over to hold your hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

"It's okay. I can shower later." You reply.

You look out the passenger side window at the world covered in gray. The sooner you could get home, the better.

"So, how did it go?" They ask.

For a moment you replay the conversation with your therapist in your mind. You're not sure if you want to bring it up.

"Well..." You start to say, but you choke back the rest of the words.

Tears form in your eyes and you turn farther way from your beloved to hide them. You attempt to focus on the street lights passing you by instead.

"It was okay."

A brief silence passes between the two of you.

"You can be honest with me." There was a genuine concern for you in their voice that you were all too familiar with.

You bite your lip and think about your therapist again.

"Do you think I'm a burden?"

The question seems to come from no where for Sloan– but for you, it's all you've been wondering for a very long time.

"No! Of course not! Why would I ever think that about you?" They answer almost a little too defensively.

"Because you're smart, and you already have your life figured out– and I'm just a nobody, really..."

"No, you're not. Not to me."

You wipe the oncoming tears with your sleeves. The weight of the world comes baring down on your shoulders once again. Hot breaths escape between choking sighs and you can't stop yourself from sobbing all over again.

"I'm sorry–" That's all you could repeat, over and over again, like a broken record.

"[Y/N]..."

You can hardly hear them over the sound of your downfall.

The crisis seemed like it lasted forever to you. Everything you've been keeping bottled up for so long comes pouring out all at once without any warning. Even though your heart still hurts, you can feel it becoming lighter with every passing minute.

You can't form words. All you can do now is cry, cry, cry.

So cry, you did.

For minutes on end, tears flood out from underneath your swollen, bloodshot eyes. Your face was pink and pain pounded in your head from all the upset. It felt like forever until you were calm enough to form coherent sentences again.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Once again you find yourself apologizing for things beyond your control.

"There's no need to say you're sorry. Let's just get inside so you can get out of those wet clothes."

You didn't even realize you had made it home already.

...

One mental breakdown, shower and ibuprofen later you felt like a brand new person.

In the same cat meme mug from this morning your beloved sets down some hot chocolate for you to help you cheer up.

"Do you want to talk about it?" They ask.

You can feel them wrap a blanket around you before sitting down and scooping you up into the warmest hug you've ever received. You close your eyes and melt into their affection while placing your head on their chest to listen to their heartbeat.

"I guess I just feel worthless most of the time." You admit.

"But why? You're not worthless to me. Not one bit." They comfort you the best they can.

You can feel Sloan place their hand on the back of your head and gently stroke your hair.

"I feel bad for taking time away from you. You have everything in your life figured out. I can't imagine why you still come around to visit me."

"Because I love you." There's a softness to their reply that makes your heart feel safe and secure. "I love spending time with you, so I take time off to visit you. If I didn't want anything to do with you I'd be gone already."

You think about their words for a minute and wish you had something equally as nice to reply with, but instead drowsiness begins to fog your mind.

You open your mouth to speak but a yawn escapes first.

"Rest, mi vida. Don't let those thoughts bother you anymore. I love you so much–" They place a kiss to your head. "– and I'll love you even more when you wake up."

They let you lay down and listen to their heartbeat for a little while longer.

"You mean the world to me. I don't care about anything else right now– just you. I'm here for you. Everything else can wait."

"Promise?" You nuzzle into their chest, ready to fall asleep at any moment.

"I promise. I'll write it on my tombstone." They reply.

"I'll hold you to that."

"You'll have to wait and see. I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, first."

For the first time in a long time you felt yourself genuinely smile.

[hungerpunch]

i see even comedy that doesn't typically "punch down" has circled back around to using crackhead/crackwhore as a joke. i'm so exhausted by you all. you are so cruel, so casually callous, it's worrisome. you don't realize how easily that could be you. you think you're so superior, so pure, so intelligent as if addiction cares about how smart you are or what you do in life. as if this entire country (usamerica) is not machinated in a way to get people hooked on painkillers. as if the docuseries industry isn't busting with expositions that reveal the wide-ranging sprawl of addiction here and exactly how manipulated we have been. as if loads of people in "white collar" jobs aren't addicts. as if loads of stay at home parents aren't addicts. as if addicts can't have pearly smiles and collect a paycheck. as if there's any real merit between the person who got into a party drug as an impressionable kid then couldn't stop and the lawyer who started doing coke to stay awake for 80-hour workweeks then couldn't stop and the unsuspecting patient who was prescribed opioids by a doctor then couldn't stop. there's not. no one is better than anyone else. addiction is leveling. equalizing.

and the worst part is you are one, too, you up there on your high horse. you're addicted to something. something in this world has its claws in you, its grip on you, that you want to stop but can't, that you could not stop without support. so shut up. shut the fuck up. the people you call crackwhores, meth heads, junkies, etc. they are real fucking people. we are real fucking people just like you. we are real people who deserve your fucking respect and compassion. we are just people who are trying to exist within a system that is trying to eat us alive, just like the rest of you. it's not cute. it's not fucking cute. it's not cool. stop fucking laughing.

[daz4i]

not to tmi but. i used to think sex in general isn't for me bc it was boring and never pleasant even if i wanted it. but only doing anything sexual in the context of bdsm (and a lot of pain involved usually) definitely helped. anyway i think now the same thing is happening to me with romance and bloody and/or gruesome violence

[stellacadente]

hi Nico! I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this, I hope you’ll be okay and can take some time to yourself :( <3

thank youuu silver i really appreciate this!! i'll be okay, shit just isn't Fantastic rn been struggling w this and other stuff so like. it's not easy but i'll be fine i'm trying my best to take care of myself and find peace within myself which is the hardest place to find it but honestly i think the only one?? but yeah ly and i hope you're doing well 🩵

[akchually]

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[ekho-ekho-ekho]

Broke: Tarot is bullshit. It's like the zodiac: the symbols are way too open to interpretation and anything can mean anything. It's all a big grift.

Woke: Tarot may or may not be a legitimate tool for accessing forces beyond our understanding . . . and that's assuming such forces exist in any way we would recognize! But the cards do evoke a lot of common themes, as well as different stages in several types of spiritual journey. Since art imitates life (and vice-versa), tarot can still be useful as a framing device to gain perspective on your own journey of personal growth. Mostly though, it's just fun to mess around and see what comes up!

Bespoke: I consulted my deck for advice yesterday and all it did was bully me :/

[gas-stxtion]

//i need to go the FUCK to bed but also ahaha omg,,,,,,,,,,,, maybe after i get properly moved in i'll talk a bit about the gas station owners

[bookwyrminspiration]

quil. how much art did you have in your drafts.

there's actually still two left, but those are empires pieces and I'm not active in empiresblr so they can sit a little longer.

But! I like to leave long tags on everything I reblog (because I love reading tags, so I want to give that experience to the op) and I don't always have the time/energy to do that when I see cool art, so I just stockpile it in my drafts to be tagged and compliment and unleashed on the world when I do have the time/energy!

I don't reblog nearly as much art as I'd like to, so this is a newer method that I'm trying out :). We'll see if it's up to my standards!

[zephyrfuse]

btw it's like 1:30 am here but shout out to the commissioners who want to support me, and are extremely patient with me cause of my situation and apparent injury, y'all are MVPs thanks for hanging in there knowing it may be a while

[sparkly-skies]

I just had a thought because of your tags on the Aleksi posts and what we've been saying about his scene. That he's so accepting and like he's seen this all before and knows what it means.

You know when you feel your mental health going down and you can't do anything about it and you're getting so annoyed about the thoughts in your head and how you can do nothing to make them go away?

That's what this reminds me of. Not saying that Aleksi's demon is some mental illness but his attitude towards his dark self brought these thoughts on.

I saw you sent this, loved it, forgot about it between other life stuff, saw it again and thought I'd let it marinate for a few days to see if I could think of anything more to say to this, but really, you've said it all:

Having Bad Days again and recognising patterns in how you feel and behave and knowing that those are the same signs you've had before when your mental health took a dive down the ocean again and recognising that you're getting worse and should do something about it, but for one reason or another, you can't. That's really a very frustrating feeling.

Mental illness is so stupid, really: Your brain knows what's wrong, and you can know all about it and understand all the brain chemistry and how your brain works and what chemicals are imbalanced and whatnot, and still it's making you fight against, well, yourself. It's very frustrating and annoying that knowing you're mentally ill does absolutely nothing to make the illness go away.

Of course, we don't know what Aleksi meant to portray with his own Dark Aleksi (unless they decide to talk about it, please), but I think it's a fair interpretation to make. And Aleksi's acting is spot-on!

He spots Dark Aleksi in the crowd - like you would a Bad feeling or unhealthy or tell-tale behavior among your other daily feelings or behaviors, say, you notice you need to sleep more and more again to feel rested or never feel rested at all:

And his face in the next shot says so clearly: "Oh, you again, I know you and I'm so fucking sick of you and your bullshit." And @the-very-rubiest also said he looks so determined, like he's telling Dark Aleksi "I'm ready to face you and I will fight you if I have to", which anyone who's ever struggled with their mental health knows:

Dealing with it can be fucking exhausting. Pretending or trying to convince yourself you're okay can be exhausting, and if you do it for a long time only to suddenly see signs of it (Dark Aleksi) pop up randomly in your day, that makes it worse. You can hardly deny it's there if it's right in front of you.*

But eventually, you will have to face it, and at some point, you will be so fed up with it that you're determined to fight it, to fight for yourself to make it go away. It could disappear for good, or maybe that's not possible, but you can fight to make it as small as possible, small enough that it can't just rear it's ugly head** out of a crowd on a random day to threaten you.

Look at me, saying you've said it all, and then still writing paragraphs about it. What can I say, Dark Aleksi gave me many emotions, and struggling with mental health/illness is too familiar for me to just NOT spill everything on here I think about a possible interpretation of what Dark Aleksi could represent.

*although I love Ruby's Aleksi just trying to find a simple explanation and be like "... alright then, back to sleep it is", hjhjhj.

** I'm so sorry Aleksi, it's just a phrase, your Dark face is wonderful, as much as it should not be.

[avaritia-ffxiv]

We (the FC I joined w/ Ash and moved Saahe to) continued extremes on Saturday, and cleared Garuda, Titan, and Ifrit again for a few people who weren’t there the last time, and after that beat up Leviathan, Ramuh and Shiva for good measure.

So now I’ve done extremes synced, for the second time with the first three, and for the first time with Levi, Ramuh and Shiva. Not touching Thornmarch though. Was fun! Ramuh had to be my favorite, Shiva least favorite ‘cause I had no idea what was happening in that fight and just died repeatedly.

I was tank for the whole duration too, my co-tank changed once ‘cause the one I tanked the first three with didn’t have access to Ramuh and Shiva. ‘Cuz sprouts. Like, I had to switch from Ash to Saahe for the same reason, I just hadn’t gotten that far in the MSQ with Ash. He reached Ishgard today though, while I spent seven hours in VC with another FC member.

Idk what got into me but I had a good time??? We didn’t chat nonstop, obviously, but there was plenty of nice chatter and I was able to answer some game related questions from them (they’ve played for like five days).

And a few days ago there were a few people on VC, just hanging out, and I joined in on that too.

I cannot begin to express how out of character this kind of behavior is for me.

[neverendingford]

.

[pirefyrelight]

Rant about work today below cut

so today was fun (<- lying so hard you can see the sarcasm) I first came in to work at 2 because that's my usual shift and I just didn't check the schedule beyond whether I work or not a few days ago. Turns out I was supposed to be in at 4 to close and the way the sous chef informed me of this kinda soured my mood right out the gate. He didn't call me an idiot for not checking my schedule outright, but I could hear it in his voice.

Whatever, I'll brush it off. There's a coffeeshop with good breakfast sandwiches like two blocks away I'll hang out there for a few hours.

Well turns out they close at 3 in the winter and I didn't know they weren't open until 4. So even though I left immediately and the employee was nice and polite about it, I felt like the asshole customer who was trying to stay after closing. So just another bad emotion to throw in the mix.

So I headed back and sat in the back hallway of work on my phone off the clock since sous was already mad I was here early (for some reason- it's a busy week it's not like I'd be standing around and if I'm already here anyway who gives a shit)

And of course being at work and trying to relax is not compatible. People are talking and coworkers I don't vibe with are hanging out and getting on my nerves for just existing so I put both earbuds in to drown it all out as I scroll tumblr and that mostly works until-

I get the distinct impression that the last thing that was said was to me. I look up and it's the head chef looking at me. I take my music out and ask him to say again. He tells me "you know you can clock in and get to work right"

It was still like 15 minutes to 4. I was planning on clocking in 5 minutes to. Because the aforementioned sous being mad at me for being early. I didn't feel like explaining that and I already don't like chef and didnt want him to think i was arguing so I just agreed that yes I can get to work and did. It still grated on me and getting contradictory orders that make me feel like I can never do anything right is pretty high on my pet peeve list so even though I pushed it down it really set me off inside.

So you know. Before the apron's on I'm pissed.

Did I mention I was off work yesterday? I was off work yesterday. You know what having a day off work does to my station, my lovely neat and organized station that I do everything in my power to keep that way so I can survive my fucking job?

It makes it look like a hurricanes been through there.

If bottles aren't greasy or missing, door handles are sticky, dessert cooler is packed with mess that should be in the offline cooler, plate stacks are missing, and of course I should note we are running both a featured salad and dessert that I would consider me not having space for therefore making an extra layer of clutter I can't actually get rid of.

Oh did I mention we technically open at 3? I have to deal with tickets as I organize all this shit, and mentally I can't look at the probably poorly marked preplist before counters and line coolers have some semblance of organisation.

Theres an adage the previous chef would say, "messy station messy mind," and he was so right.

If only there was a solution. If only I had more time to get set up and get certain sauces and dressings at room temp where they can actually come out the bottle. If only there was some magical way to preserve my sanity and actually get my job done smoothly. But I guess some things are just meant to stay in the realm of impossibility.

And of course because I wasn't working yesterday and the opening was chaos, I didn't notice we were already on the backups that were panned up for beets and arugula for the featured salad. Everything is prepped, but I need it brought to station.

I tell my second as she's pulling the empty pan, "hey can you get four more of these flat bottomed [6th] pans and both types of beets please?" I even pointed at the pan. I meant for her to bring them up and I actually pan them up so I can make sure they're labeled and filled to the top and the backups are wrapped properly and everything but she takes awhile to do that (and she's not the kind to talk to every single person on her way to and back from the cooler like another second on my station) so she's probably panning them on prepline and that's fine, ok?

I didn't Specifically say to bring empty pans up to let me do it, and she's trying to do her job I'm not mad ok. As long as it gets done. Despite what the rest of this post tells you I am not so much of a control freak I cannot recognize that.

Heres the thing. She didn't pan up backups. She did one pan of each type of beet, and one was in a round bottom pan. (This matters slightly in the fact that 1. Flat bottoms hold more volume and 2. They're more stable standing upright on flat surfaces, like on a makeshift cooler made out of a hotel pan over ice that I don't know is entirely health code complient but that's not important here)

Point is it wouldn't Really matter if I didn't specifically tell her to get flat pans and I know there's flat pans back there. It also wouldn't Really matter if I didn't tell her to get 4. What did she think the other two were for? I asked here where the backups were and she was confused so I explained I wanted two of each, and she went to get those.

Do more at one time and you have to do it less often. I don't know how this is so hard to explain or understand. If there were backups already in the line cooler this wouldn't be any issue at all but here we are.

So I finished my wave of tickets and got the arugula myself. Did I mention the distant whistling the whole time? There was distant whistling throughout this entire encounter. Do I need to explain why that didn't help anything at all?

And then there's the servers who just expect me to be able to read their minds instead of what they actually type onto the tickets. "Birthday" ≠ "birthday plate" (birthday desserts get discounted, and some anniversary or birthday people get a big plate denoting the celebration written in chocolate at the top. Idk if this special treatment costs extra or what) and you would think one of the servers that have been working here longer than I have would know that by now.

I want it to be noted that mistakes are understandable but still, having to replate something in the middle of a rush because of a server's mistake has never improved my mood even once. Did the time you save by not typing those 5 letters surpass the time taken by me redoing it for you?

Im so tired. I know I'm bossy and controlling, but I do make a very conscious effort to understand that each thing here isn't something to be mad about. Everyone makes mistakes, and my standards for organization are matched by very few people. I do try so very hard to let all non essential things go, but holy fucking shit it adds up so quickly.

But you know what? There's upside at the end of all this.

I get to go immediately to bed and do it all again tomorrow.

[mountaincryptid]

a phone call with your mother so brutal it has you randomly bursting into tears for the rest of the day ✌🏻

[voids-ideas]

Ok I am going to do this simply because the first thing I will put here I NEED to do it and I have 0 motivation to do it even though it is EXTREMELY important

In fact, I think that's the reason why I don't want to do it... anyway

If this gets to 30 notes, I do that thing ✅️

50 notes, I call to ask if my doctor's appointment has been scheduled (I've been avoiding it for two weeks now) ✅️

100 notes, I go wash my shoes that have long needed washing and are just sitting there, existing, waiting for me to deign to wash them. ✅️

200 notes, I finish organizing my room (I organized it halfway and then left a bunch of things that still don't have a defined place) ✅️

500 notes, I use the things I have to bleach and color my hair. The only thing that has stopped me is the fear of doing it wrong or being too lazy to maintain it.

1k notes, I stop doing things that I know will trigger my chronic pain with the pure intention of confirming that the pain was indeed real (don't do this. 0 recommended) ✅️

5k notes, I try some new food without fear of wasting money by buying something I most likely won't like (my autism hates new foods) ✅️

10k notes, I wear my bi flag earrings in front of someone I wouldn't usually wear them with. I trust that they possibly wouldn't have a problem with me being bi, but I would never get up the courage to tell them anything ✔️ (I haven't, but that person was in my room next to where the earrings are. They were 0% hidden)

20k notes, wtf I have absolutely no idea. If it comes to this, ehhh... Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Do I promise to be honest in therapy and stop telling them that everything is perfect even though nothing has ever been perfect? Yeah, that probably works. Please don't go this far, I don't know how to do this. Maybe I should... but... it would be awful to learn it

April 2024: I stop procrastinating editing this post with the things I've already done. I WANT THE HAIR SO MUCH BUT IT'S SO DIFFICULT

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.