Goodbye my beloved readers

Moving beyond “beyond non-binary”

I am not really sure if this is ‘goodbye’ or ‘arriverderci’, but I do think it is the end.  I am not writing here much anymore and that is just that my life has moved to a different place.

When I first began writing this blog in 2022, a whole new world was opening up to me: being sexually submissive, exploring those feelings, and talking about how submission was reconciling me to myself.  More importantly, I journalled my transition.  Some of you have been faithful readers, yes, but more importantly, helped me survive.  Literally.

Suicidal ideation has been a fact of life for me since childhood.  It is an integral part of the transgender experience.  My transition has gone hand in hand with the most intense feelings of risk that I have ever experienced.

I knew I would take my own life if I didn’t begin transitioning.  To the point of no longer going out on the balcony of my lovely Miami Beach apartment for fear of leaping.  I went as far as putting all the furniture against the door to slow me down in case I was drawn.

Asking my then wife to come and live with me fell on deaf ears.  Her antipathy to the US was greater than any desire to be with her partner.  I don’t think she was cheating, even though she had a history of it before me, but that is just my trusting nature.  Most of my friends and family think I am being naïve.

But if you can’t be naïve, then what?  Who wants to be jaded?  I refuse.

Why am I giving up this platform?  It doesn’t feel representative of me.  I am no longer non-binary, for one.  Being non-binary was a compromise response to a male body and an ostensibly male life.

As oestrogen has steadily taken hold, I don’t even recognise that energy anymore.  Though I don’t give two figs about it, I have been diagnosed as intersex.  Meaning I really was like this all along.  It explains many things, including behaviour, my androgynous looks especially when I was young, my near total lack of body hair in a family of very hairy men.

I put paid to the narrative that submissive “men” are not “alpha” or can’t get ahead in the office.  My success in the corporate world was precisely because I was submissive.  It was easy to follow me, because I didn’t direct but enticed, seduced.

My testosterone levels throughout my life were at the bare minimum to just get me into puberty.  On top of this, my receptors, or sensitivity to testosterone was very low.  In other words, my body has been rejecting testosterone for my whole life. It explains so much.

What I am experiencing as my “second puberty”, on doses of oestrogen that are consistently higher than anything I ever experienced with my own T, is having a double effect because my cells receive oestrogen wholeheartedly.  It is a weird feeling to feel “right” in your body after a lifetime of mental, emotional, and spiritual agony.

It is for this reason that I am “beyond” non-binary.  I am not transgender any more.  The definition of the condition requires the presence of gender dysphoria—a disconnect between the sense of self and the body.  As a post-op transsexual, I am just a woman who had a hysterectomy.

I don’t really remember what it was like to have male feelings.  Do I cry more?  Maybe, but that could also be a function of confronting challenges in my life which would overwhelm anyone, including me.

A number of friends and my family are actively “saving my life” by supporting me in so many ways, mainly emotionally.  There are a few idiots too, but thankfully I don’t know many.

As I settle into womanhood, what I feel compelled to write about has taken a completely different turn.  Mostly now it seems I am writing feminist-oriented pieces.  And it feels important, whereas this now feels as if it has had its time.

What else?

I’m not really submissive anymore.  I still think about it from time to time, and I do still equate “love” with a kind of selflessness that is inherently submissive.  But my submission was towards women as an apology for men, and to say, “I am not one of them.”  Well, now we know.  

Acts of service remain my core giving love language.  But I became a dominatrix not for the money, but to alchemise myself.  And that is what is happening.  And the process helps me to see my own desire and my past.  Perhaps I am a switch now.

Even my desire to see my domme has all but vanished, even though I admire and respect her and find her breathtaking.  I cherish her as a person and have enjoyed being with her immensely.  I don’t “need” it anymore, assuming it was ever felt that way.  It was lovely to play with someone who was the polar opposite of my first domme, such an antidote to her narcissism, even if both have played therapeutic roles.  What I need are my friends and real relationships not based on economics (as if that is ever possible).

Ditto for the escort I have enjoyed seeing so much, and who was party to such watershed moments in my life.  And it isn’t that I don’t want these kinds of connections, I do.  But my personal life is offering me up so many intimate relationships through both play with my colleagues and also through a vibrant tantric community where there has been no shortage of women who like to play with women.

I have always been super intentional about why I go to see a companion.  There has to be “something more”.  A ritual.  Real meaning.  Without this, it is just hedonism, and there is nothing wrong with that, but it isn’t me, never has been.

I do want to thank you who have read this blog, have commented and liked my posts, and have also helped me through some very dark moments.  I have published roughly 850 posts since Q2 2022.  But I have written nearly 1,400, and some of them, though out of sequence, will surely be published here or elsewhere should the spirit move me.

Overall, I am interested in turning to this material and seeing if I can fashion a book from it.  If I do, I will let you know.

Lastly, I am “face in” on this blog.  And everywhere else, including places far more scandalous, I am “face out”.  There are plenty of things that I could have never written had I not been anonymous.  For that I am truly grateful.  But being true to myself is also now increasingly living my full expression.  And when people change from one thing to another, it sometimes helps to leave the past behind.

Goodbye my friends.  Thank you for riding with me.