I’m raising funds for top surgery. And it’s tender to say that out loud.
I’ve hesitated to ask for help because I didn’t think my pain was “bad enough.”
I’ve read stories from other trans folks of acute, life-threatening dysphoria, and I told myself that because mine felt quieter and more manageable, I should just endure it.
But quiet pain is still pain.
And the truth is, dysphoria about my chest has shaped much more of my life than I’ve wanted to admit.
I’ve avoided movement I used to love.
I’ve stayed in toxic jobs, hoping to earn my way toward a body that feels like home.
I’ve struggled with addiction because sometimes, dissociation felt easier than staying present in my body.
I’m sober now. And learning to stay present in my body is what makes this feel so important.
These days, I coach trans and neurodivergent people to chase their wildest dreams.
I tell them to dream beyond quiet endurance.
To imagine lives of breathtaking joy.
So, I’ve decided to take my own advice. And that means asking for help.
For me, getting top surgery will mean:
- Catching my reflection and smiling.
- Moving through the world with more confidence.
- Showing up at Pride in crop tops and hoochie daddy shorts.
- Feeling bold and euphoric and… me.
I’m raising funds for:
- Access to a surgeon whose results genuinely excite me and reflect the outcome I dream of
- Travel and lodging to access that care
- Aftercare and time off work so I can heal without stress
Thank you for holding space for this. And seriously, thank you for being part of the community helping me come home to myself.