It’s really quite something how poisonous my inner dialogue has become.

I’m used to self-loathing and not being a great friend to myself.

I have never experienced anything like THIS.

For the last six months I have experienced so much heart-wrenching, sobbing grief – all due to Gender Dysphoria. The only thing that comes close to this was when my Mom passed away last year.

In a weird way experiencing all this profound grief and sadness legitimized my claim of actually being transgender. I mean if I was this gutted all the time, every day, it must be real…right? I wasn’t a big sobbing cry-baby otherwise in my life. Other than when my Mom passed away…

My self-hate knows no bounds. I misgender myself, dead-name myself, call myself “faggot”…you name it.

Recently, it feels like my well has run mostly dry. I felt so “done” with Gender Dysphoria, utterly exhausted from the personal toll it has taken on my heart and soul. I am empty. I have nothing left. I feel dead inside.

Now just the odd quick tear and I suck it all back inside. I have a lifetime of experience in burying my feelings. I’m an old pro at treating myself like complete garbage.

Not one to miss an opportunity to kick myself when I’m down…

“If you aren’t a sobbing mess anymore then it must have just been a phase. See? This shows you are delusional. You are getting over this. Totally contrived and now you see…”

Fuck.

Much like the other day. I caught myself sitting quite naturally as a man would sit. Instead of giving myself a break and conceding that I have had a lifetime of conditioning myself to be manly, I ripped into myself again.

“See you naturally act like a man does. You are delusional. You aren’t transgender at all!”

I got invited out to go shooting at the local range with a friend. Part of me didn’t want to go but I couldn’t always refuse to go. I do have to maintain some relationships in my life after all.

I actually enjoyed it. Made both my longest pistol shot (About 75 yards with a 10MM Glock) and a nice 200 yard rifle shot with my friends hunting rifle.

My inner voice would not have any of it.

“See? You enjoyed man stuff! You are delusional. You aren’t transgender at all.”

Women shoot, women scuba dive, women ride motorcycles…

Not me though. All these are just examples of how I am a complete and absolute imposter. So says this hateful inner voice.

Why does this hateful and abusive inner dialogue hold such sway with me?

I thought I had reached an uncomfortable acceptance that I am actually me.

I am here inside.

Part of the problem is depression. When I’m utterly depressed I do not feel like “myself” at all. I feel empty, nothing, I exist as neither male or female. Just emptiness…

So SHE crawls back under the rock where she lives. Hidden from view once again.

Now left alone in this empty shell, hateful me has the podium all to itself. A familiar feeling. I have existed this way my entire life.

The poisonous inner dialogue lies in wait for any little thing to come along.

“Hey you just belched out loud! Guy stuff. See? See? You are such a fake.”

Objectively I know this is ridiculous. Why am I so powerless to silence this interloper? Why does it hold so much providence over me?

The well may have run dry but I know who I am.

I am here inside…

Alli