Richie has been on testosterone for almost 3 years now. We’ve been together for almost 5 years and have been through some of the best and worst times together. I’ve seen him grow into the man he is today and he has seen me blossom into a much stronger woman than I was before I met him.
I bought him his very first binder and watched him try it on 3000 miles away on a webcam. I watched his hair get shorter and shorter, even shaved bald at one point, and I’ve heard his voice change from familiar to unfamiliar to a new familiar. I’ve known him by different names, and have seen him in many different forms, but I’ve loved the same soul the whole way through. I was there when he came out to his friends, his family, his classmates, professors and colleagues. I’ve felt each and every wince he made every time he was misgendered, and I’ve felt every cringe of his each time he looked in the mirror and felt disconnected from himself. I kept him company through the silent years when his family had no words to explain their confusion, their fears, or their hallmark guilt. I’ve kept my fingers crossed in sterile halls of hospitals while he’s gotten surgeries to correct or remove parts of him he felt weren’t apart of him at all, anatomy that only made him feel less human. His words, not mine.
We lived in different countries, loved each other from afar, 3000 miles to be exact, for almost a year before I ever knew what the rhythm of his breathing late at night sounded like, or noticed the light speckling of freckles across his cheeks that his webcam failed to highlight. We’ve seen more airports, highways and hospital rooms than the average couple, but our struggles do not delegitimize our strengths.
Many people don’t know the story of how we met and I don’t know if Richie even realizes that he played a huge role in my recovery. Richie first contacted me online the same night that I attempted to kill myself and almost succeeded. I overdosed on October 8th 2009. I didn’t get to see his message that night, or many nights after that until I was stabilized and later discharged from the hospital, approx 2 months after he first said hello. Ever since, he’s been a lighthouse for me in my darkest nights, and he’s shined stubbornly, consistently, loyally, through the thickest storm clouds that have hung overhead 28 long years of my life.
I haven’t seen Richie shine bright in a long time. Days have been getting darker and darker for him, clouds of dysphoria have completely smothered any light that once illuminated from him and I feel like he’s more lost now than ever before and it’s time I try my hardest to help navigate him through his own storm.
Many know or have heard about my secret top surgery fund that I started for him for his birthday on August 30th. The original post has over 7000 notes and growing, his gofundme account has over 9000 views but we still have not raised even half the amount that we need for his surgery.
I need help. I can’t do this alone. Top surgery is a medical necessity for him. It is the only thing that can curb or completely eliminate his top dysphoria. His deteriorating emotional and mental health right now is directly correlated to his top dysphoria, his fear of being outed as a trans man because he hasn’t had top surgery which puts him in an extremely vulnerable and dangerous position, and the pain of binding 12+ hours a day which is a health risk in itself.
This is the most important thing I’ve ever done. This is the biggest secret I’ve ever had to keep. I need to do this for him. I need to make this happen. Please help any way you can; by reblogging or liking any posts about his top surgery fund or by donating any amount of money that you can spare.
"You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you."
- John Bunyan
The link to donate and read more about what prompted this fundraiser: