Bad week, great weekend, firing squads

The bout of dysphoria wound up hitting for a few days, and it's hard to tell but there's a subtle shift in my art style when that happens:

That's... well it started as a face? Erm.

Happily, I reached out and fully recovered. My cousin and I went on what is apparently her weekly Friday routine: bargain shopping at Goodwill, Taco Bell, (bonus step where we went to her house because she wanted to donate some clothes to me ❤), and a private little cocktail party with her boyfriend and mother. Every step was a blast, and the party introduced me to a lovable new puppy and a drink called... a Mexican Firing Squad I think? It was delicious.

But the clothes shopping—mainly my cousin offhandedly remarking "thank god I'm coming here with another girl for once instead of my boyfriend waiting on me"—totally deflated the dysphoria. My cousin's got me. XD Sometimes a comment is all it takes.

And I completely forgot about my "dysphoria emergency kit," which is basically a file folder of various photos of me before and after transitioning. I can't remember who suggested it, but they're a genius. It's an idea that goes right up there with the "nice things" folder.

I get frustrated and upset because my voice still isn't my own. I've written enough about that last year, but I sometimes forget how much of myself does feel like me now. There may be stretches of road that are hard to pass, but it's important to remember just how long the road behind me is.