#gender therapy

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Ritchie Herron

Published: May 23, 2024

Today is a day I can't really ignore, because whether I want to mark it or not, my body reminds me regardless.

Six years ago, conflicted, but optimistic, i thought I was doing the right thing getting 'Sex Reassignment surgery'.

A Long Story 🧵

I transitioned as an adult, I was 26. Me and my fully developed big brain thought this would be a good idea.

I had severe OCD and a myriad of mental health problems. I mean even then I be head tiltin'...This was me at age 25, pure giga chad

Soon as i found out transition was an option, I went in full force, like a bat out of hell!

I had become obsessed with the idea that my body was being poisoned by testosterone, that every masculine trait needed to be annihilated, for i was a true and honest woman after all. 

As a child, I was soft, loving, quite literal and I loved to sing, dance and dress up, but i also loved my diggers!

Me at age 10 before I went to sing karaoke with my friends family. You cant see it but my friends shoulder is on the right, he was a year younger too! I was tiny!

When I came out to my family, in isolation they all asked the same question when I told them I had something to tell them: "You're gay, aren't you?"

"No! I'm a real transsexual!" I said. Convinced I was the truest of the true. Genuinely born in the wrong body and all that noise. 

It was 2013 and I had found a supportive online community that helped me get on the right path to transition.

Facing a 15 month wait for the gender clinic. I found out I could start the blocker (And stop the 'poison'!) if i had two private diagnosis of transsexualism. 

So off I fucked to Scotland for a private diagnosis, as i waited to be enrolled for the gender clinic.

I was on a low income so I did the only thing i could, and got a payday loan. "Fuck debt, its this or death!" I reasoned.

Two days later I got the full diagnosis for £500. 

It took until April 2014 for the Gender Clinic to agree to give me the Goserelin Zoladex implant (testosterone blocker).

When I got it, I was so happy the poison was about to stop. At first, I looked a right state. I did the opposite of blend in. 

By January 2015, I was finally enrolled into the gender clinic and after a while, the blockers were showing some effect. Though, I wasn't committing to it at all.

I found myself desisting from the idea of estrogen/transition all together and just thought I'd live as just some androgynous looking guy.

It all changed when i went to the gender clinic. The very first question I got asked by the psychiatrist was: "have you given any thought to gender reassignment surgery?"

I said honestly, I wasn't sure, I dont think i ever had that type of dysphoria, besides i really want to see the therapist. 

They agreed to refer me to a gender therapist in March 2015. In total I would end up have 97 gender therapy sessions with them.

Gender therapy is not like normal therapy. It helped defeat my doubt, and also helped me defeat others who were doubtful. 

In July 2015, the Psychiatrist asked if i had given any further thought to the surgery.

I said I wasn't sure, and i'd like to find out more. Thats when i realised NONE of them had any technical knowledge about the surgery, what it does, etc. It suprised me. 

I got refered back to the place in Scotland, since I already went there for the pre-diagnosis.

I took my mother, she wasnt convinced.

The therapist told her, infront of her grown ass 28 year old son, if she didnt affirm, he'd kms. 

She told me the surgery would make myself feel better, and that regret was extremely low (I was worried about regretted it) and bleeding.

I have a huge fear of bleeding, I'm a wuss! yes... 

Once the surgery referal came through in late 2015, i panicked! Too quick i said!

"It'll be there for when your ready." The psychatrist said.

But all I really wanted was therapy. 

I said no several more times, I forgot exactly how many times they asked, but it was constant.

By 2016 early 2017, life was still chaos, but blending in felt easier, I wasn't getting noticed really and most people gendered me as a woman.

I was happy enough as I was, but back at the gender clinic in 2017 I was delivered an ultimatum. Accept surgery referral or get discharged.

That would also mean an end to the therapy, and it was keeping me stable.

I bit the bullet and said no once more. 

My gender therapist, also somewhat co-dependant on me as a client for now 60 odd sessions, didnt want to let me go either. He reasoned that i did have dysphoria and surgery was probably the best option.

So i called the psychiatrist back and asked to be refered back for surgery. 

I've went over it in my head 1000's of times.

Why did I go along with it? Why didn't just stop it?

It just felt like a ride i couldnt get off, and it got faster and faster.

Everyone was routing for me. 

Day of surgery, may 23rd 2018.

After staying an extra 3 hours in theatre, i finally woke up around this time. 4:00pm ish.

I was still bleeding and had lost nearly 2000ml from the surgery and drains.

A friend helped snap this.

I apologise for the haram photo, but this is what the area looked like a few weeks after.

I had Lichen Scoloris, which was ignored and is now inside the hole and around the entrance. I had a constricted urethra and both my scar lines on both sides split open, which would get infected.

I won't share anymore, but i have a lot of photos that are far more grim.

It's what happened I really can't show you.

The depression, the pain, the insane pain oh my god. Not being able to pee, to feel anything.

Feeling betrayed 

SO I GO BACK TO MY GENDER THERAPIST THREE MONTHS LATER....and i say "Hey, I think i made a mistake, i think i regret this."

"No you dont." He said.

I went back every other week and told him, i regret it. He said no. 

One year of this back and forth. I was refered to a psychiatric team, that said i didnt have regret, I had Unstable Personality Disorder and severe Obsessive compulsive Disorder.

And then I was discharged in January 2020.

It was the worst time in my life, those years. I was very angry at myself, and everyone I talked to reassured me that I didnt have regret and if i did, it was my fault anyway.

But I resisted...And in 2022 I spoke out after desisting 

I'm 37 as of Saturday... and I'm facing life ahead of me as a castrated male. It's not easy territory, but if i want one thing to come out of this, it's to give others a chance, a warning about surgery.

But i wont stop anyone. Just don't try and stop me.

If you would like to support my work, please consider liking/retweeting. I do it for free but will happily accept tips for sausage rolls.

Also consider checking out my substack where i write a lot of shit and youtube where i talk even more shit t.co/tQSunLfhVk tullipr.substack.com

I really needed to get that off my chest so thanks for reading. It's appreciated

[psychomorphary]

I've known for a while that I'm nonbinary, but I'm still mostly in the closet. My husband knows, but I didn't come out to anyone else until recently. I've told two close friends so far. As I'm still mostly in the closet, I'm still pre-transition.

However, a few weeks ago, I decided to find a gender therapist. I didn't think I'd actually be able to find one in my area, especially a trans one. But I was lucky enough to find a trans, gender therapist. My first appointment with them is tomorrow.

I'm really freaking excited. I'm also nervous, as I haven't really gone in depth with anyone about my gender dysphoria, except my husband a little bit. This is all new to me as well, as I'm not 100% sure how gender therapy goes. But I'm really hoping that they're cool and provide me with a safe space to truly explore my gender identity. I'm hoping that they'll be able to help me navigate coming out to people and what's right for me transition wise. Hopefully, they'll also be able to help me navigate doing what I want for transition, as I'm not sure how to go about getting top surgery and such.

So yeah, I'm nervous but excited. I have my appointment in a little more than 13 hours. I've also had some bad experiences with therapists before, so I'm hoping that doesn't happen again. This waiting is just getting to me. I'll be happy once this first appointment is over with lol

Oh and before anyone starts an argument with me, I KNOW I'm nonbinary. I merely want some assistance with building my confidence over my identity, building a better support system, and figuring out exactly what I want for transition. I'm not confused or anything like that. So if you're gonna be transphobic, just go away.

[haggarrd]

I've been watching the cky movies like every week since janurary of this year and im considering it as therapy

[yuribeam]

for whoever needs to hear this:

starting HRT doesn't have to be a huge momentous all-or-nothing decision. you can just try it like you would an antidepressant you've been informed of the risks of.

there won't be any immediate irreversible changes overnight. you can always stop, change your dose, change your delivery system, decide it's not the right time. you can even microdose if you want to.

you don't have to tell anyone. you don't have to announce it if you don't want to.

stop waiting for a perfect time in your life because it won't come.

stop waiting to reach a mythical level of certainty that never comes to anyone, for anything.

you've been thinking about it long enough. if you have the opportunity, just give it a shot. you're worth the courage it takes to make a change in your life.

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[nyxxx696sblog]

say hi for a very cute vid in your dms (not a joke!!!) 👉👈

[stinkydemon]

One good thing happened on this week well on Monday I want to gender a group therapy for the first time, and I met some really sweet and like I don’t know they seem really sweet people to me! and they’re really genuine and understanding people I kinda wish I met a other trans men because it’s was mostly like two trans women one indecisive if it’s like gender queer gender fluid I’ve met someone who is questioning and also a different person who is gender queer or watever queer would like no gender I guess I don’t remember what it was called they don’t identify anything in the gender binary I guess and I was the only trans guy and it was interesting hear there story and side and I told what I did wat I struggle when I hear other people struggles and stuff it’s was really nice :) and I told that I skate and that was just one person they said oh! you do streets skate? and I yes I do! and they were so interested then the group therapy finished they immediately said to me do you know about new wave? I was like no never heard of it? and they said to me you’re gonna find so many like skaters, gender queer and women every kind of person who is scared to like go to the skate in the park find some people this is like a group exclusive for like making friends and everything I said holy shit I was trying to find something like that so I’m so glad that that person said that to me and I’m kind of excited to like sign in and go there Oh yeah, the therapy itself was really like refreshing and I was nervous the whole time still at the end, I was still nervous. Everybody was OK at the end for me i was still nervous. I don’t know why it was just too much for me and I don’t want to sound dumb or something like that. I don’t know, but it was fun I cannot wait for next group session! 

14/9/22

[serosblunt]

Katsuki fucking LOVES that you’re smaller than him, he drools over the thought.

He goes feral over your hips being swallowed up by his rough grip while he pounds into you mercilessly from behind. He looms over you, caging you in his embrace, as sweat drips from his forehead down your back. He fills your senses, he’s all you know as he shoves you into the sheets once more.

And he’ll be damned if that doesn’t make him fucking animalistic 😳

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt IV good omens but all i know is i watched three episodes on a stream with you all

Three hours being in a server with good omens fans in the wild *insert random emojis to sound like optimum clickbait youtuber except this ain't clickbait*

Okay I woke up. Before everything just WASHES out of my brain, I'm gonna describe whatever happened last night best as I can, because that's what I do.

Some of you were unable to attend the stream, and were sad. But don't worry I got you guys here's the rundown:

people joined the server. people were confused. i was afraid. i was assured that i should be, which was meant to comfort me.

people introduced themselves. someone said they had worked in a brothel as a bartender, which was cool, they said they had many stories. they did not elaborate for fear of scaring the newcomers. The newcomers, aka, me, were already scared, and it was not of the brothel stories.

I brought an emotional support orange with me. It looked uncomfortable. I thought it would be rotten. It was not, but we would not know that until later.

@thescholarlystrumpet entered fabulously, and started the stream.

i didn't realise the show had started for a good two minutes because there was a random voice over that was telling us about Earth's star sign (Libra) and somehow that didn't compute in my brain as being part of the episode. I thought we were checking audio.

It turned out, the episode had begun, and everyone was acting like this is a completely normal way for a show to start.

We time-jumped from the fall of man to modern day society so fast that I got whiplash.

There were a lot of orgasmic noises. I asked why. I was told in no uncertain terms that those were screams of labour. I'm sorry to everyone who has given birth ever.

There were three babies. I tried to keep track, it was hard. I thought the Antichrist won prizes for tropical fish. I was wrong.

I fell in love with Crowley and his hips and was very gay on the chat. This was heartily applauded.

I didn't realise an hour had passed when the episode ended, which it seemed was to be a common theme. I said nothing happened which everyone found funny for some reason.

I was very concerned about Armageddon. Everyone assured me that it would take place over the course of the season. I asked why we'd speedrun through millennia in five minutes but eight days took several episodes. I was a naive fool. Time is a social construct and this show cares not for social constructs.

They fucked up the mission. This was also to be a common theme.

I begged for a break and had to shake my head to try and get the brain rot out. I did not succeed.

The second episode commenced. The intro concerned me, because the cartoon Aziraphale looked pregnant or like a chicken. I asked if Crowley had impregnated him. He had not.

The pornography scene had to be replayed because I was so lost and had not relished it properly.

There was a lot of crying on the chat. Every few minutes someone would say a normal sentence in English and everyone would respond with crying emojis. Needless to say, I was concerned. This was also to be a common theme.

I asked why we were talking about random children. I was told it was The Them and they were the Antichrist's friends. I liked the hellhound.

I wanted to adopt the Antichrist, and grew more thirsty for Crowley every time he was a casual accessory to murder. I'm relying on this fandom not to use this as evidence with the cops. The chat was not reassuring, they said maybe.

I thirsted for Crowley more. This was also to be a common theme.

Aziraphale was very cute, I realised. That was nice. It was not nice when he had gay panic and said mean things to Crowley and they broke up. This was also to be a common theme.

I got so gay for Crowley that I ate the emotional support orange. It was gaseous. The chat was concerned, and everyone got excited every time oranges were mentioned after.

The third episode was a fucking roller coaster. Crowley and Aziraphale were your average high school couple but biblical for 6000 years.

Both were casual accessories to murder, and sometimes the cause of the murders, before going out for a date. Crowley got horny and he stopped listening every time Aziraphale ate. This was also to be a common theme.

The chat was keeping count of the husband breakups. This was not nice.

The Bentley was silver in many scenes, and people were forced to concede that they saw it. I was smug.

Crowley was sexy. She served gender, or as some people in the chat said, she served cunt. Her hairstyles got better and better. No one liked the 60s one. I did. I like everything she does. I love him.

Things happened. The fandom infected me. Someone mentioned how the book said Crowley felt lonely. I was near tears.

Crowley walked down the aisle for Aziraphale. We all were happy.

The book case, the thermos, the bandstand. I was broken.

Everyone said very emotional goodbyes.

I made a post on tumblr that was absolutely incomprehensible but accurately conveyed my love for Crowley. I fell asleep.

Same time next week, I believe.

I hope this was an adequate summary of the livestream for everyone, I am broken irreparably and if anyone mentions the bandstand I will have to start drinking and not stop till I get a happy ending. I cannot afford alcohol. I will ferment grapes myself if I have to.

[transxfiles]

i walk into the across the spider verse spider society lobby right as everyone starts trying to kill some teen. i walk past whatever weird chase scene shit is going on. i walk directly into the free gender clinic and talk to the spider physician about starting hrt.

[genderqueerpositivity]

CW: testosterone therapy, periods, physical changes from HRT

Earlier this year, I'd reached a point where I was wondering if I'd already seen all of the benefits and changes from testosterone therapy that I could possibly receive. It really seemed like everything had come to a halt as far as changes from HRT go.

Worse, what started as random spotting and painful cramping (which I originally blamed on really high stress) eventually became full blown periods, and this went on for months. At one point, it really felt like I wasn't even on T anymore. I blamed myself, because I would occasionally be late or forget to apply my testosterone cream. I thought that the bleeding, the inconsistent T levels, and the lack of progress was my own fault.

And then, I had to switch compounding pharmacies. And every single one of my problems disappeared within two weeks of starting the first tube of cream from the new pharmacy.

Nothing else has changed. Not my dose, nor where I apply it. I still forget and apply a few hours late sometimes, other times I miss a day entirely.

But the periods and cramping haven't returned. And I'm beginning to see small changes here and there again. I have to trim my ear and nose hairs now; I have more chest hair than ever before. It's time to face the fact that testosterone has made me a bear lmao.

Point being, looking back I really think that the quality of the testosterone cream I was getting from that first compounding pharmacy was kind of suspect. Looking at reviews online from other people really confirmed my suspicion; many people claimed that the quality of the prescriptions they received was wildly inconsistent from month to month. Not to mention, more recent reviews seem to suggest that their business is going under entirely, and from my own experiences attempting (and failing) to get my prescriptions filled with them in a timely manner, I'm not surprised.

I don't often see a lot of posts from trans folks on testosterone who use compounded cream, so I want to put this out there for others to see. If you're struggling to maintain consistent T levels, don't rule out the quality of your prescription as a possible cause. Make sure that the compounding pharmacy you're getting your T from is reputable and has good reviews.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Dr. Miriam Grossman

Published: Nov 1, 2021

There’s something rotten in the state of my profession, the mental health field. While therapists are usually the first to reach out to trauma victims, there’s one group we neglect. Even worse, we blame the victims.

I’m referring to parents of gender-confused kids, whose stories I am hearing firsthand in my office. Parents come to me because I’ve publicly objected to my profession’s faulty views about gender identity and its treatment. How many parents are unable to find help? Judging by the number of recently created organizations and online groups where such parents gather, there are thousands, and the numbers grow by the day.

My patients, and those in the parent-run groups, are shocked, overwhelmed, confused, and anxious. They’re not sleeping or eating. Many have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Why have they turned to one another for help? Why don’t more come to us – psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and counselors? We’re the ones with the degrees and experience.

They don’t turn to us because we have failed them.

Of course young people are also victims of the trans craze, but my focus here is their parents’ distress. It is massive and demands acknowledgement.

Following their teen’s bombshell announcement, most parents initially consult with gender therapists or clinics. The vast majority tell them they must unconditionally accept their child’s chosen identity, use a random, unfamiliar name, and help Sara bind her breasts and Michael tuck his genitals.

Parents object, suggesting a slower process and deeper exploration. They insist: we know our child! The ideologues dismiss their parental instincts. They see their discomfort, but brush it off.

Bad Advice

For those therapists, the parents are the problem. Not the child’s social anxiety, autism, irrational thinking, or social media addiction. No, the issue is mom and dad’s refusal to embrace their teen’s two-week-old identity and allow a kid to run the show.

The therapist shares that assessment with parents, sometimes in front of their child. In doing so, the gender specialist strikes heavy blows against a family in crisis, who turned to her with hope and trust: she undermines parental authority and weakens the parent-child bond.

As if that’s not enough, she refers them, following a hasty, incomplete evaluation, to an endocrinologist for hormones to block development. Safe and reversible, the therapist reassures the parents. Your child needs them now. In fact, it’s already late.

She speaks with authority and confidence. There’s a consensus among professionals, she explains. If you reject our advice, the risk of losing your child to suicide is increased.

She threatens this about their child — the center of their lives, their most precious relationship! The therapist may have spent only a short time with him or her, but she knows what’s best.

Some Parents Find the Facts

The parents go home, emotions reeling. Some decide to trust the expert and they’re soon at the endocrinologist’s office, signing consent for drugs that will prevent their teen’s physical, emotional, sexual, and cognitive development. Their child looks happy; they pray it lasts.

Others dive into the research. Sooner or later they are startled to learn the truth: If teens go through natural puberty there’s a 60-90 percent chance of desistance (outgrowing transgenderism, aligning with one’s biology). Changing names, pronouns, and presentation can be a slippery slope and decrease desistance. Once on puberty blockers, desistance is very rare.

Blockers are controversial, have a history of lawsuits, and their off-label use in healthy children is experimental. There is a risk of suicide in gender-questioning teens, but there is no evidence that transition lowers that risk.

No Consensus

Parents learn that the United Kingdom, Sweden, and Finland carefully examined the dangers of hormonal treatment of minors and minors’ ability to give informed consent for such treatments. As a result, those countries made U-turns in their policies; patients must wait until they are 18 for medical intervention. Similar concerns are coming out of New Zealand and Australia.

Bottom line: parents who look further than gender clinics and therapists discover a heated debate regarding how to help kids like theirs. There’s a consensus among experts, they were told. Are you kidding? There is no consensus whatsoever.

So the parents search for a therapist who won’t immediately affirm the new identity, but instead take it slowly, get to know their child, and figure out the appeal to her of a new identity. A clinician with a more cautious, nuanced approach — that’s all parents want. Another shock: there are almost none.

Counting psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and counselors, there are more than a million therapists in this country. I located a group of therapists who believe in long-term, exploratory talk therapy for gender-questioning youth, and there are only 60 members, with many outside the United States.

My Patient’s Sad Experience

My patient “Cheryl” is an example of a traumatized parent. Her 18-year-old autistic daughter, her only child, identifies as a man and has been on testosterone for six months. Cheryl is convinced she and her husband were misled by a gender clinic and that “Eva” did not have adequate evaluations and therapy. For the first time in her life, Cheryl is taking psychiatric medication for her constant crying, sleeplessness, and anxiety.

Cheryl feels she’s at odds with everyone: Eva, family members, friends, schools, doctors, therapists, politicians, the media, and the culture. On how many fronts can one person fight?

I was not surprised when Cheryl told me, “Sometimes I wish my daughter had cancer. The whole world would be there for me.”

Doctors at Johns Hopkins tell Cheryl to embrace her child’s “evolving sense of self.” But when she first heard the lowered pitch of Eva’s voice, Cheryl threw up. A double mastectomy is planned; the thought of it floods her with panic and horror. She fears for Eva’s physical and emotional health, including her sexual health.

Cheryl also grieves for the biological grandchildren she’ll never have. But there’s nothing to be done about any of it. Horror, fear, helplessness, and grief are Cheryl’s constant companions, outside of the days when she just feels numb.

We Must Challenge the Narrative

There are thousands of parents like Cheryl. Where are the psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and counselors who will validate their experiences without judgment? How is it we’re able to serve the emotional needs of sexual offenders and murderers but not the traumatized, grieving parents of transgender children?

It’s because to do so would challenge the entrenched narrative in our field: that denying biology is part of normal development, and if “transphobic parents” would just accept that, it will be all rainbows and unicorns for their kids.

Few of us challenge that narrative, at least publicly, so parents have turned to one another in droves to cry, rage, and brainstorm. But they can’t even meet openly; the woke environment forces them underground. They fear losing their jobs and relationships, even their child, if exposed. Hence the secret meetings, private Facebook pages, made-up names, and extensive vetting. They hide in the dark as if they’re guilty of some awful crime.

This is an appalling betrayal of parents. To my colleagues: we’ve lost all credibility because of our surrender to a destructive, unscientific ideology. We’ve harmed thousands of parents and children, and they’ve had it with us.

Not too long ago, doctors performed frontal lobotomies as a cure for severe mental illness. They severed connections in the brain with crude instruments inserted through the eye socket. It was a barbaric but mainstream procedure, performed on about 40,000 people.

Right now in the United States, girls as young as 13 are having mastectomies and minor boys are castrated. What will it take to put the breaks on the massive transing of children? Call me a cynic, but I’m guessing a few huge lawsuits.

Trust me, the lawyers are coming, and victims will finally have a public platform. They will tell the world of the nightmare that descended on their precious children and families, leaving them traumatized and broken.

I eagerly await that day. Until it comes, I will be meeting with Cheryl every week, validating her story, helping her cope, and weeping along with her.

==

"When I tell people what I’m afraid of, nobody says to me ‘ooh, that makes sense. You should be afraid of that.’ They may be sympathetic to my suffering or they might laugh at how silly it is, but no one I have ever met has ever reinforced it.

In fact, I pay for a man to tell me at regular intervals that my fear is ridiculous. Perhaps not in so many words, but there’s actually a service for that. It’s called a therapist. That’s what therapists do, they politely tell you that your fears are ridiculous.

And although it’s been hard to beat this fear, it can be beaten. In large part because no one is reinforcing it. I can only imagine how much darker my darkest days would have been, and how much longer I would have suffered them had the whole world been telling me to be afraid.”

-- Allison Tieman

The entire point of therapy is that there is something troubling you and you need someone to help you dig into it, to challenge your own thought processes, ask difficult questions, make you reconsider your conclusions, and really figure out what’s going on.

A “therapist” who validates, affirms and reinforces someone’s troubles and internet self-diagnosis is dangerous, unethical and should have their license revoked.

“Doctor, I feel like someone is after me, always watching me.” “Yes, there is someone after you, always watching you.”

“Doctor, I feel like if I get in an elevator, I’ll die.” “Yes, if you get into that elevator, you will die.”

It sounds completely insane when you substitute any other concern.

This isn’t therapy, it’s indoctrination. As predatory as any Catholic priest.

[fic-over-cannon]

Jason Todd that’s so used to feeling second best that he can’t quite believe it when someone chooses him. Sheila never wanted him, gave him up the first chance she got. Catherine never managed to pick him over the drugs (and he knows now that that’s not how addiction works but he was a child watching the only person who loved him love what was killing her more). Bruce picked him up as an afterthought, another poor little orphan boy to always fail at filling the shoes of the first. He’s barely cold in his grave when there’s another, better version already standing next Bruce. The Titans couldn’t see past the legacy Dick left behind, constantly compared Jason to him as the less adequate model; barely sufficient, much less welcomed. Jason wants so badly to be chosen first but time and experience has only ever taught him otherwise.

Jason falls in love with you, but he can never fully believe that the love is returned fully. He’s so eager to be your only choice that he’s terrified of when you’ll eventually pick someone else over him. He wants to be greedy, drink up the experience and novelty until he’s sick on it, but he can’t. Can’t help that creeping sense that your love and attention is in finite supply, unseen deadline looming closer. He’s always got one foot out the door, unable to fully commit to a relationship when he’s bracing for the blow of you leaving. Sure that one day you’ll finally see all the flaws that make him not enough, the flaws that everyone else in his life have already discovered. Convinces himself that there’s a middle ground, one where he gets to love you but at a distance that means the leaving won’t hurt so much. But that means always holding the two of you on edge, the pressure and expectation of your choice lingering and twisting until the two of you are no longer what you were in the beginning. To know when he gets too close, he has to constantly be re-evaluating your relationship. Every moment spent together waiting for you to flinch, to waver in your commitment to him, and ready to act when he sees it. Believes that if he’s the one holding the knife, it won’t cut as deep.

He can’t see that everyday you wake up and choose him, that your love has always been a choice you are willing to make for him. Everyday you have to bear the weight of his scrutiny and it is exhausting. You know he’ll never fully trust you because he can’t believe you won’t leave first. That he’ll never fully open up to you, because he doesn’t want to hand you weapons to hurt him with, to make you reconsider choosing him. You know that if you push him on this, he’ll only interpret it as the first stages of you leaving. You’d thought that with time and proof he’d start to believe. To choose you and your love as much as you’ve chosen him.

Now, now you are trapped in a cage of your own collaborative making. If you leave now, you’ll only have proven his greatest insecurity all along. If you stay, this love will continue to fester like a wound. There is no outcome where you both come out unscathed.

[heterorealism]

[redditreceipts]

[velvetti]

A mole was found

Warning: Non-con, double penetration, rape, bondage, threesome, implied no aftercare, gender neutral but made with male reader in mind, rushed, not proofread, this is more like a oneshot.

If accidentally getting affiliated with the mafia is unlucky, then you would be the god of bad luck. And unfortunately for you, after being assigned to spy on the mafia for over a year, they had managed to find documents detailing their exploits, which gave them enough evidence to drag you to the torture interrogation room.

Like any normal person, you tried to resist but let's be honest, could you really fight against trained mafia members dragging you by both of your arms? Not to mention when they've been annoyed by your constant resistance, they knocked you out by smashing your head against the wall, hard enough to make you unconscious but not hard enough to kill you.

By the time that you have woken up, you were set on your knees on the floor, hands tied behind your back with a blindfold over your eyes. The position...confused you? Usually traitors would be set on a wooden chair, fully tied down with a gag in their mouth, not whatever position you are in.

You could slightly make out the layout of the room based on how the light is shining down on you, seemed like the mafia members didn't bother to give you a thicker blindfold. There is a single lightbulb over your head, otherwise most of the room is dark and quiet. In the mist of confusion, you decided to risk something, tapping your finger on the floor and pretending to be impatient in order to try to use the echos to imagine the room's layout.

The plan worked, but things didn't seem to be in your favour as the room turned out to be quite large. How could you even escape in these circumstances???

Right at that moment, you heard footsteps echoing from a direction, cutting your line of thought almost immediately. The sound is somewhat scattered, you could make out that two people are heading towards you. You feel the light shining on your blindfold getting slightly darker, someone is standing right in front of you.

You heard murmurs and whispers, a cold sweat fell down your forehead while your hands fiddled together. You figured it's the best decision to stay silent and not say anything unless you're talked to, after all there isn't any reason to give away any information about yourself.

You felt a pair of hand grips your chin, the fingers digging into your cheeks and tilting it to different angles. You assumed it was to judge your appearance, which seemed to be at least attractive since you heard an amused hum from whoever was checking you out.

You felt your waits being held, turned over to your back before your head is placed on a lap of one of the two people, your knees being held up to your shoulders. The only thing you could hear is the sound of belts buckling and your voice protesting whatever the two are trying to do to you.

You froze the moment you felt the heat of something hot right over your face, as well as the feeling of your clothes being unbuttoned. Without any warning, the warm length shoves into your mouth, causing you to gag almost instantly, tears building in your eyes.

Meanwhile underneath, two fingers were knuckles deep in your hole, stretching it open and revealing your insides to the cold air. The fingers didn't stop rearranging your insides while the length moves in your mouth, ignoring all your gags and pathetic noises.

The second length eventually enters your under hole, a pair of hands grips your hips to move you more steadily. The cock in your mouth muffles your noises, shoving deeper down your throat when the length underneath pulls out to its tip, just to ram inside you again, giving you a bulge on your lower stomach.

You were biting your underlip, trying your best to not make any noises but they kept going out of your throat without any sign of stopping. You felt so violated yet it felt so good getting your insides ruined by people you don't even know the face off, unable to fight back and vulnerable like some kind of onahole.

The cock in your mouth was pulled out, a small strand of saliva connected its tip to your lips and left a quiet pop sound. The person holding your waist suddenly held you up straight, burying the length inside you deeper and grinding it against your spot. Before you could make sense of anything, the cock positions its tip against your entrance. You tried to protest and push the first person off, it was only met by a spank on your ass and the person shoving their cock into you.

The two started going by a faster pace, each taking turns to hit your deepest spot as the person behind you pulled your head back by your hair, the person in front of you shoved two fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans and play with your tongue.

After half an excruciating hour, they finally finished inside you with a grunt. At this point, your mind was already blanked, your body sweating and twitching from the intense workout, your hole gaping even when they pulled out and tears falling down from your eyes, staining the blind fold.

You heard a few small sentences before you pass out.

"What should we do with them, boss?"

"Keep them, they're good as a stress reliever."

At least now you know that you're good in bed <3

Author note: This will get a remake due to the unsatisfactory of the plot.