Crash Deceleration into Reality

Unlike many, stepping into this life beyond the trans-delusion, I enjoy the dignity of my internal bedlam being contained to my private world of inner reflection. For those of you stumbling about wondering how what seemed like a safe conversation got unsafe so quickly. Your confusion is real! Frequently, as I attempt to navigate this Christian paradigm men continue to bewilder me. I often find myself shaking my head asking “is this where I deck the idiot?” Because my heart is going “what does my being a woman have to do with you being completely obtuse?”

The walk out of the trans-delusion has been an brutal bloody mess. The crash deceleration into reality as the trainwreck ends continues to be a bit discombobulating to say the least. I often my self standing in the middle of the remnants of my self-concept, going how did this happen?

The problem is while I was lost in the trans-delusion I became unmoored from my own story. I had been tearing, ripping, shredding, and rending, flailing about like some screeching banshee berserker, screaming out defiantly NO! Living in the trans-delusion, I was frequently enraged with shame drowning in humility desperately trying not to mortally injure either friend, foe, family, or self as I stumbled about blinded and lost within my emotional turbulence.

Somedays I feel like I am in a hay barn holding lit matches, pouring out gasoline, looking for bridges to burn. And trust me I am burning bridges… Still even in this inferno, I thank God for the storm. I thank Him that I wake up with a heart full of gratitude for the gift of life. I thank Him for emotions, that I have them. After which, I ask Him, Lord help me survive my emotions. There continues to be days when everything I write sounds like empty obfuscations which ring hollowly in my ears. I can no longer afford the luxury of self indulgent illusions. The first step into reality affirmation was detransitioning (stopping transition). The second step was stumbling my way into this strange new reality known as life beyond trans.

Because I am done. I am so done with deconstructive radical trans-queer analysis possessing no external ethical standard or form of objective truth. Trans-queer rhetoric took sex, a once established biological characteristic, and metamorphosized it into gender which is an undefinable social construct. Constructionist rhetoric transformed sex into your truth or my truth, never the truth. This gave rise to a consumer society narrative wherein sex became gender, a commodity people bought and sold.

For RTQs, everything is: fantasy, myth, and illusion. They lack the external objective determinants of reality necessary to engage in meaningful interdisciplinary communication. Without common language most attempts to exchange knowledge or engage in discourse with radical trans-queers are an exercise in futility. Their everything is a social construct belief gave birth to a nothing is real paradigm containing a kaleidoscope of fantastical forms of gender incompatible with reality. Because what they cannot grasp, what hasn’t even occurred to them to ask themselves is “What was my part in all of this?”