It sure does suck when you're soaring pretty high and then go SMACK right into a telephone pole of reality. I just gotta tell myself that it's a hiccup - a bump in the road of life. I wonder what my therapist will have to say.
Chest binding is really, all about validation. When I wear a binder, I feel great because it makes my chest flatter and it hides these damn breasts. But when I can't bind - whether I'm washing a binder, or in my current predicament where my chest is starting to ache (from overuse or the wrong size, I don't know), I feel absolutely horrible because there's just no way for me to hide these breasts. It's not just from others - I've done layers in the past - I excelled in baggy clothes for a few years, but it's also hiding them from myself. When I'm not binding, I'm hyper aware of my chest and it serves as a harsh reminder of what I was given at birth and what I'll be stuck with for even longer.
So where do I stand? I can bind and be miserable and depressed or I can not bind and be miserable and depressed. If I had the money I would be at a surgeon's door begging for top surgery. But I don't, and I have to find a middle ground to balance myself and just... cope. I wish I had a group meeting to look forward to, but that's a week away. I don't think my therapist can help me much with this, but it's worth taking a stab at it. That's what she's there for, right? Helping me deal with life and stay on the right path.
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