March 03, 2024 | 3 min read | August Joaquim
Scars of Resilience and Acceptance
double mastectomy surgery, emotional journey, love-hate relationship
My surgery was pursued not solely based on transition, but for the sake of this post, only transition is what I desire to speak about. Here is a part of my journey that most don’t dare to share, for fear society will say, “I told you so.” Well, to that I utter, even fallen leaves have a purpose.
My scars tell a story of both triumph and tribulation.
I stare at the reflection of my newfound form and revel in the freedom from the constant fear of breast cancer, a weight quite literally lifted off my chest. I embrace the flatness and smile at the absence of curves that never were meant to be mine. As I stare at my body, this home I hold dear, I inch taller with pride. Only when clothes hug my flesh does the empowerment settle, however. Finally, my chest has aligned with the image I’ve longed to see.
The Love-Hate Dilemma: Finding Beauty Amidst the Blemish
self-acceptance, scars as reminders, body positivity
At first glance, I couldn’t help but feel conflicted emotions towards my chest. The scars etched across my pale broken flesh serve as a constant reminder of the battles fought and won. While I cherish the freedom from fear, and my euphoria, there are moments when a certain disconnection creeps in.
When the fabric falls away and I’m faced with the raw reality of my chest, the love and comfort fade into a bitter ache. What stares back at me is not the masculine silhouette I envisioned and begged the sky for, but a patchwork of scars and uneven lines. My chest feels foreign, disconnected from the rest of me.
A Ruckus of Emotions: Learning to Love My Imperfections
vulnerability, self-love journey, emotional healing
Through tears shed and smiles earned, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery that transcended physical appearance. It was in those vulnerable moments that I learned to embrace my imperfections – to see them not as flaws but as badges of honor earned through resilience.
Redefining Beauty Beyond Conventional Standards
inner strength, beauty beyond appearances, authenticity
With each passing day, I’m reminded that beauty and masculinity radiate from within. The strength echoed in my eyes speaks volumes louder than society’s narrow definitions of perfection. My chest tells a story – one of survival, growth, and an unwavering need to be.
I scroll through photos of other trans masculine individuals post-surgery, their chests sculpted into symmetric perfection. And then I look at mine, a shapeless void that mocks my yearning soul. It’s not just disappointment, it’s a profound sense of loss, mourning for the body I thought I would finally inhabit.
I’m still healing, but the wounds run deeper than the surface. Five weeks and 3 days post-op, and nothing has changed; I am still shackled by dysphoria.
When those thoughts roll in I must remind myself that scars tell a story of survival, of determination, of a love so precious. Via my therapist, I hear such a negative response is normal, and to that, I must agree, as the feeling dilutes with each passing day.
There is beauty in my authentic survival.
Celebrating Each Day as a Triumph Over Adversity
gratitude for life, empowered survivorship narrative
There are days in which my inner demons are too loud to reason with. I used to hide my breasts beneath layers of cloth, tormented by balls of fat never meant to be mine. Now, on the days the demons roar, I fear I’ll always be covered up, a prisoner to my asymmetric insecurities. The irony, I hear it. I begged the sky for this, praying for a day to be flat and free.
And in response, I say, “There it is,” a line so simple yet poisonous to the negative thought.
Today, I stand tall – not just physically but emotionally. Every breath taken is a testament to the battles fought and conquered. My love-hate relationship with my chest has evolved into a love that exceeds time and reason, reaching a younger self desperate to breathe.
Against all odds, I became flat and free. A thought strong enough to reel me back in, reminding me to breathe and be patient with myself.
Writing a New Chapter Filled with Self-Love and Empowerment
self-empowerment narrative, personal growth journey
Each day comes a new battle, leaving each night an opportunity for victory. I do not regret the surgery, let me be clear. It was a necessary step in finding peace and self, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to mourn the loss of what could have been, to grieve for the body I never had.
I realize that my beauty and my masculinity don’t lie within this fictional idea of perfection, but embracing the self I fought to be. The scars, both visible and hidden, are like earnest arts of embroidery.
So, here I breathe, 38 days in this new sculpted flesh, baring my soul to the internet, in the hopes that someone will read my words and know they aren’t alone, as I once thought.
When researching others in their journeys similar to mine, these darker thoughts weren’t typically covered, leaving me feeling isolated and broken.
That’s why I’m here, writing about a part of my transition that isn’t as stellar as most tend to share on social media.
This is my truth, my struggle, my story. Although these are my words to speak, I know there are some out there who find themselves along a similar path. It’s okay to not be in love with every aspect of your story, of your journey. Just because you aren’t happy all the time doesn’t mean a mistake was made. Together we forge on!
Acceptance and liberation come in chapters. A novel isn’t made up of just one.
No responses yet