Violet

Shrinking Violet? I got some negative feedback recently. Will I let that push me back into my shell? If you know me, you know the answer to that question. http://iamviolet.ca/2026/07/17/shrinking-violet/

I wore my new bikini to go tubing this week and noticed these lines on my stomach...

@Perspective@c.im Yes! Another addition: Psychologist: But is the glass fulfilled?

Looking like this...

I got a "ma'am" at the drive-thru today, wearing an old t-shirt and no wig.

Here's part 2 of my video series on how I achieved enlightenment. https://youtu.be/6BV29Rwg91c

My university checklist is progressing. I've requested transcripts from both my previous universities (quite easy considering how long ago that was), submitted the application form and fee, and found two people who have agreed to provide references. Still to come: A resume in the institution's preferred format, an attestation of relevant work experience, a letter of intent, and then comes the fun part: securing funding. I should reactivate my Ko-fi.

Optimist: The glass is half full.
Pessimist: The glass is half empty.
Physicist: The glass is full: half water, half air.
Pedantist: Actually it's more like 55-45%.
Essentialist: Who cares about measurements? There is water in the glass.
Chemist: What glass? It's polyethylene!
Existentialist: Is there actually a glass, or is it a construct of our collective consciousness?
Surrealist: The nectar of the clouds has yet to fill its prison of sand.
Realist: Who cares? Let's just... What the hell?
Opportunist: *swallows and sets down the empty glass.

I'm starting a new video series. If life was a game, I feel like I've won. Join me as I share how I've achieved enlightenment.

https://youtube.com/shorts/wJmgXEwUmKI?feature=share

Guess who's going back to university...again!

In other affirming news, I got into my car after a date last night, caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror, and thought, "I look effing fantastic!"

Holy carp. I just caught a glimpse of my boobs in the mirror, so I stepped back and looked at them. Even when I pull my shoulders all the way back, I've got some serious titties!

I read a thread by @Impossible_PhD@hachyderm.io that made me think. I'm writing my own post rather than adding to hers because I don't think what I'm going to say (which is still forming in my sleep-craving brain) fits there.

I consider myself to be extraordinarily lucky. Blessed. Hit the effing jackpot in life. The moment I was reborn, around 3:45 pm on August 10, 2023, it felt like two halves of me, which had started to drift apart in the tumultuous week since my egg cracked, slammed back together, forming a complete person for the first time in my life. I still had a lot to figure out, but I was mindfully pursuing the nature of my essential being, not just shouting "why me?" into the void, like I had done for the previous five decades.

Dysphoria hit me like a hammer over and over, *wham, wham, wham!* (Now where have I seen that before? 😉) I covered it well and maintained my joy because every hammer blow, no matter how hard it hit, was a Virgo Supercluster better than my previous existence. My face was too masculine, but it was *my face,* not just a foreign mask in the mirror. My body was too muscular, but it was a body I had worked hard to build and maintain into my fifth decade of existence. My voice wasn't the resonant alto I desired, but it was a clear-as-a-bell tenor from years of singing. Despite my size and shape, I could find affirming clothes that fit me and looked damn good on me. My hair... Well, I'm still dealing with that dysphoria, but it's slowly growing and filling in. The fact that I will most likely never have any affirming surgery... That will always hurt, but my recent epiphany puts that into perspective.

That epiphany had several components:
- Fully internalizing the attitude that I don't owe it to anyone to "pass," to fit anyone's image of what a woman has to be - not even my own ingrained image, beaten into me by a ruthlessly binary world.
- Fully internalizing that my gender is something I create continuously as I live my life. My physical sex defines nothing. My chromosomal sex is irrelevant. In the dipolar fields of sex and gender, I'm the best of both worlds, but bound by neither.
- *I* am *me.* Any other descriptor is merely a label. And as I say frequently, a label is merely an incomplete attempt to describe a complex being. Even my five-part label is just a tiny crayon sketch meant to convey the most basic concept of a vast, multi-dimensional, dynamic fractal masterpiece.

I'm not singling myself out as a masterpiece; you are too. We all are.

But perhaps the greatest realization was the meaning of life. Because everything *does* happen for a reason. My best friend came into my life so I could give her the spiritual support to realize that she loves her life, and loves the beautiful being she is. I met another friend so she could realize that it's okay to let go. Another friend gave me a concept to describe my primary drive; she called me a light worker. Even my current job I found to be there for a young coworker who is on their own gender journey. And while scrolling through Facebook of all places, I found an opportunity that may help me brighten my light and share it with more people in a more significant way.

And all of that meaning is real because I create it.

Each one of us may merely be a complex set of chemical reactions that exist at this moment in the history of the universe, but those chemical reactions are so complex, they create a *self.* And that self creates its own meaning.

I am extraordinarily lucky. Blessed. If life is a game, I've won, and I intend to continue winning. But this isn't a game where one player wins and everyone else loses. When a winner shares their prize, they help others achieve victory.

To me, that victory is being completely, irreversibly, unapologetically my *self.* In the face of my being, even my lingering dysphorias don't stand a chance.

Found on Facebook. Attributed to James Baldwin.

@WrenArcher@beige.party
Funding might be a challenge, but I'm on EI (employment insurance) right now, and they often provide assistance for education.

@taedryn@dice.camp As an unstoppable force of nature, I approve of this message.

@bbbhltz "Put sauce on every layer." Literal compliance: perfect. Contextual comprehension: lacking. 😁

@arielwip That's really detailed! The way I do it is much more free-form. I write in a journal throughout the day. Some days I write 300 words; somedays I write 3000. I started kind of spotty right after my egg cracked, but I haven't missed a day since January. I write about 20,000 words a month. @EveOfTheFuture @oddtail

@seachanger@alaskan.social But then who would fill the insurance shareholders' pockets? Fun fact: Americans pay more per capita in taxes toward health care than Canadians do, yet Canadians have more coverage for essential care, all of which is tax funded. *Every penny* paid in insurance premiums and copays *plus* a substantial dollar amount of that tax revenue is profit for insurance companies.

@oddtail That reply was so long, I pasted it into my blog, where it's a little easier to read. https://iamviolet.ca/2024/01/18/what-is-dysphoria/

@oddtail Thank you so much for articulating this so clearly. I'm going to share my reactions to specific parts in case they resonate with someone else who needs to hear this. This is a long post, so I'll break it up with headings! THE BEFORE TIME Two years ago, after my marriage ended, I started rediscovering my femininity, without realizing what it meant. One year ago, I was completely burned out from stress at work, continued grief from my marital separation, and unconscious dysphoria. After getting into a stable situation, I fell into a mindset of being content with my existence, but not really caring about it. I was constantly so very tired. Then came my awakening... WTF AM I DOING?? I had so much doubt during those first couple of months! What am I doing? Is this real, or do I just want to escape this nothingness? But I still pushed forward, doing everything possible to start my medical transition. Even now, after three months on HRT, "Mr. Doubt" still occasionally knocks on the door. IMAGINE... Every time I've ever imagined myself with a feminine body, I've felt a painful longing, a deep ache for something I never thought I could have. I suppressed it for so long because I thought it was just a silly dream, and I had to face the harsh reality that I was just a man--a word I've always hated when I applied it to myself. BACKING UP A BIT The first time I started to embrace my femininity was 17 years ago. I was discovering myself, and feeling great about being accepted by my female friends. I went for three laser sessions when I realized how much I hated my facial hair (without realizing the significance). But after being ghosted by my best friend (100% my fault) and a disastrous dating period, I told myself to stop pretending and face reality. Like the prisoner running back into Plato's cave, I buried my true self and tried to play the role I thought I had to play for 15 more years. WHAT YOU DON'T MIND DON'T MATTER Today I'm 100% committed and 100% overjoyed about my transition, but I'm still zeroing in on the masculine aspects I want to keep. Even that thing. I can't wait to get rid of his two buddies (who are really useless), but I'm keeping a part of me that screams masculinity. I'm also working out to preserve my "hard curves." I love the curve of my shoulders, even if most women would consider them overly bulky. They don't make me feel less feminine. JUST WINDOW DRESSING They say "the clothes make the man." For the most part, I wear the clothes I've always worn. I don't wear makeup to work every day. Despite my highly dysphoric bald spot, I don't wear a wig. All of those things are just expression. I'm confident in my identity and less concerned with how other people see my gender. I don't think of it as "boy-mode." To me it's a neutral presentation. In my workplace, we all wear jeans and casual shirts. On the shop floor, women wear the same coveralls as men. (They don't fit well, but that's another story.) My cis-feminine coworkers aren't seen as male because of their clothing; I'm not male because of mine. SAY MY NAME If there's one thing that makes me feel beautiful inside, it's when people call me Violet. It would have been worth coming out just for that joy. My old name was just a label; my real name is *who I am.* Think of what makes you light up inside, the little things that make you yearn for your authentic gender. Let your doubts rise and wash over you; the sum of all of your joy will wash them out to sea. IN THE NOW Mr. Doubt visits me less often now, but he's still there, snoozing in my cerebellum. I don't care about him. After 53 years in the cave, I feel like I've *lived* most of my life in the last five months. Several times every day, I pause and thank the universe for my transition. I AM VIOLET I'm trans, I'm feminine, and I feel beautiful.

@angiebaby@mas.to "Sorry, anonymous web bot, but I'm not using an ad blocker. I only block tracking cookies. If that effectively blocks every ad you serve, I'm not the one trying to take something I have no right to access."

@ThistleArts@mastodon.art THIS, yes! I'm here because I don't want an algorithm to decide what I see, especially if it's most influenced by who pays the most to flood my timeline. If someone's individual content shows up because my follows share it, and it shows up more because it's popular among real people, Mastodon's "algorithm" is working exactly the way it should.