Changing my pronouns here is the most progress I've made in transitioning. IRL I still look and sound like a guy and that makes me feel like a fraud :/
Transitioning is mostly an internal process tbh and you are already inside of it! It's both being and becoming at every step of the way, with all the frustration and anticipation that entails.
People don't know I'm Canadian, even though I mention it regularly and am arguably the most famously Canadian poster on here (yeah, sure, Emma, people definitely know who you are)
I'm extremely genuine to the point where I have a real difficult time spreading misinformation on this site to avoid doxxing myself. I also have three dogs and live in Boston.
I'm pretty bad at certain aspects of communicating and have persistent weird perceptions of social interaction and etiquette. e.g. I find sugarcoating or otherwise trying to soften the blow of bad news to be insulting/patronizing, and someone telling me comforting lies that I later discover are lies would leave me feeling deeply betrayed. I find it damn near impossible to connect a person's emotional state (which I have become hypervigilant for in seeking any signs of rejection) and the reason for it in the moment, and might only understand later on after analyzing all the different factors.
(99% sure I'm autistic but I'm pretty sure I've stated that outright a bunch)
I am autistic, and relate very directly to pretty much everything you say. Especially the parts about it being almost impossible to connect to other people's emotional states. So you may have your answer. Try seeing if you can get formally diagnosed. Depending on how old you are, there may be resources you can make use of.
Get on the pills. Itโs ok. I wasted 20 years being depressed on and off. Buproprion worked for me and itโs nice to not lose 1/3 of my life hiding in my room.
I've never read the Book of Mormon, despite growing up in the LDS church. If I understand the terminology correctly, then I'm merely culturally Mormon.
I mean, you're pretty much guaranteed a spot in the celestial kingdom - it's like the free space in bingo - and you can just chill there until future Mormons eventually pray your way into the telestial kingdom. It's not a bad deal.
I didn't grow up Mormon, but the one thing I will say is that I wish I'd grown up with y'all's weird cosmic afterlife theology. Instead I just got told I was almost certainly going to hell and the best thing I could do was try to live a perfect life and maybe be forgiven... I much prefer the Mormon idea of the "outer darkness" being a place reserved exclusively for Nazi war criminals and the like.
I thought it was Outer Darkness for me, on accounta hearing the light and still rejecting it
but yeah, we have the nicest cosmology. I remember being really shocked and said when I found out everyone else thinks angels aren't just people waiting to live their lives, but God's personal servants shackled to his will.
I'm the worst poster here but I still have my moments
Trying to become a supervillain but the overpriced real estate market makes buying a lair or even land to build a lair on impossible for me
Can't rent a lair either because the landlords want proof of income and supervillain isn't a "real job" whatever that means. I keep telling them I'll have income and proof of it once I start completing jobs; see I don't have a job, my henchmen and I will do jobs (bank jobs, heists, things of that nature) but that answer just make the landlords and the banks mad
Look I'm not robbing them yet, that's why I need henchmen and I need the lair for the henchmen
My name is Wendy Hartwell White. I reside at 308 Rainbow Meadows Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my heartfelt confession. If you're watching this recording, it's likely that I'm no longer here - a victim of the sinister plots of my estranged polyamorous partner, Hank Schrader. Hank, who has secretly been orchestrating a methamphetamine empire for over a year, manipulating me as his trusted chemist. Not too long after my 50th birthday, he approached me with an astonishing proposition: to use my chemistry expertise to manufacture methamphetamine, which he would then distribute through connections forged during his tenure with the DEA. I was utterly taken aback. You see, I had always regarded Hank as a morally upright man, and at that vulnerable moment in my life - something he was well aware of - I had been grappling with a devastating cancer diagnosis that threatened to financially ruin my family. Hank, exploiting my fragility, gave me a glimpse of the immense wealth even a small-scale meth operation could yield, and I found myself succumbing to his pressure. Little did I know that Hank had a partner, a shrewd businessman named Gustavo Fring. Hank effectively sold me into bondage to this man, and when I attempted to sever ties, Fring used threats against my family to keep me entangled in his web.
I felt trapped, with nowhere to turn. Over time, tensions escalated between Hank and Fring. Fring managed to arrange what one might call a "hit" on Hank, though it failed, leaving Hank gravely injured. The burden of Hank's medical expenses, totaling over $177,000, fell upon me. As Hank recuperated, his thirst for revenge grew insatiable. Collaborating with a man named Hector Salamanca, he hatched a plan to eliminate Fring. It was I who constructed the bomb used in this sinister scheme, and I was not given any choice in the matter. Suicide has crossed my mind more times than I care to admit, but I find myself a coward unable to take that drastic step. Reporting these crimes to the police seemed futile, as Hank had ascended to the position of head of the Albuquerque DEA. To maintain his control over me, he took custody of my children, all while my unsuspecting wife remained in the dark about my criminal involvements, only to be horrified when the truth finally came to light. My existence had become a living nightmare, plagued by self-loathing for the peril I had brought upon my beloved family.
Recently, I attempted once more to break free from this nightmarish existence, and in response, Hank resorted to violence, leaving me with this painful reminder. [Wendy points to a bruise on her face.] I can no longer endure this torment. Every day is a living nightmare, haunted by the constant fear that Hank will carry out his threats and harm me or, worse yet, my precious family. In this desperate moment, I've decided to create this video, hoping that the world will finally recognize Hank for the monster he truly is.
On rare occasions, I like some local-level Democrats. Death to Amerikkka and long live the AES countries that deal with its bullshit, but on a state levels some libs are alright, I guess. They work within the material conditions and rules stated, leaving local socialist and anarchist groups a little less beleaguered.