I have felt so ashamed of my scars, lumps, fat, and age. I'm working on loving myself even at 55. If I can post thru all that dysphoria and csa/sa shame, just hanging my vulnerability out, then maybe someone else will try to love themselves even harder. No body is shameful. No one should have to carry what we do. It's cruel to do that to ourselves or one another. It's gonna be okay, bbs. You are all the most beautiful people in the world. I love you. 😍🫂💪🤳 thanks for reading this love letter. - Opal

as i expand service i have included in-community work but with some caveats to make my engagement here in Seattle and online be less transactional in-community with the goal being fully pro-bono for non-sexual teatimes and therapeutic roleplay. i have a significant number of younger trans women and trans femmes wanting services that aren't something anyone should need to pay to receive if they are in our community. i serve other's needs far less important. being loved and having care shown should be free. in my personal life, it's free. if you sit with me on the street i will love you right back.

that all being said I have a question for the world of trans people needing intimacy and considering talking with a fssw; what would you want non-sexually? like cuddling or sleepovers or loving touch? i already do teatime and some basic mommy roleplay and those are non-sexual with me gently enforcing return to those boundaries. i admit my need to nurture others and im hoping this also addresses my mommy dysphoria. i am almost a client as much as any trans person who is looking for my services. its a formalism because of this unique situation. i dont really know what else to do. i cannot have so many relationships without systematizing and i am not interested in exploiting a need that is common in our community. even if folks bring it right to me, asking. we are all so shaped by sacrificing ourselves and our bodies for love and intimacy.

i put on a grey wig and took some pictures and i caught trans people. more than i could have known i might catch.

**** edit Of course you can DM me, bbs! This is a sensitive and personal question.

If you like to serve, serve me.

I found a stick. It's a pretty good stick. Say heyyy if you're trans and like a good stick. If you don't like sticks or prefer something else keep it to yourself. This is a stick appreciative space.

Fuck my butt.

just dont die. that's it. it will be confusing. dont hurt yourself if you feel alone. try to wait until you have some time to think and feel in a safe place. it's not your fault either. life is real hard sometimes and we are so soft and our lives are fleeting. we can break. things are not like everyone says. hang on, bbs. it might be a daily struggle to figure out what is happening inside and why but you can do it. you might not feel like you have a gender or a new feeling comes up that is unrecognizable and foreign. it can be much more confusing with loss of time and sense of identity assaulted but just hang on. hang on. hang on. im real sad rn and so confused myself but i can say that im holding on. just hold on.

Guess who was judiciously kicked from said trans discord? 🤡 look at me dance!

OK. Enough fooling around. Tell me, what you are doing and gonna do to fix, break, or grow anything at all?

My post about living in the forest, it got worse there.

I tried. In tried to call-in the folks who rescued me from the street and from their own volunteer host. None have the bandwidth for friendship with me. It wasn't until my interaction with the relocation group ended in a spectacular way did a meeting about restorative justice get scheduled. I wrote my victim statement.

No one calls me. No one believes me but my therapist. These rescuers aren't my friends like they say. No sisters showed up as friends and once aid ended ive been slowly ignored. Everyone is sick or busy. I'm just a rescue. I don't rate even tho it was their volunteer host. I heard "we told the whispernet" and general radio silence until I pushed to call-in anyone at all across my own network. One stranger replied but seemed unreliable. Another org member decided nah. The meeting was not inclusive. It left me feeling empty. It felt like I was there to convince them it happened. It's taken time to digest that I'm just another driver of policy and not a person here.

I finally cracked today and dropped 2 victim statements in a local trans activist discord. The one from Utah and the one here.

My daily life is now worse than in Utah. I'm in transitional housing that was misrepresented and I'm harassed every day in my room or in the shared spaces. My harasser calls the FBI every day to report me for gender terrorism. I should have killed myself in Utah like I planned.

I'm not going to try again. I'm ending my mutual aid and direct action. Folks I helped fucked us over by returning to Indiana and compromising their safehouse. I deleted almost everything. I need to find someone who will take Bear.

Between now and then, if you are in relocation spaces in the PNW or in the u.s. and want the statement I will provide it on request and vetting so act soon. If you know folks in these spaces, there are many, tell them too. These people are planning a trans refuge here. I'm alone hanging my ass out on this one until I wrap up. No one is standing with or beside me and I'm done standing alone.

Never fucking forget that justice delayed is justice denied. Ask yourselves why Huerta didn't disclose and who benefited from her silence. I don't even come close her caliber. I'm just some random asshole.

I'm using my voice one last time. The fuckers in the forest are watching this account.

Mir, Jess, you both are hunks of shit.

• Opal Wild

everything is a rope.

Kill me. I'm so traumatized from the last year that I barely function. I keep trying to do the work but I need psych care that would put me at more risk now that mental healthcare providers are giving data to ICE.

I look out of the window from the room in which I sleep and its raining hard. I'm near Renton Washington and everywhere is flooding, people are dying, and things are getting worse as the weather pummels Washington.

Folks are helping me. The community here is amazing but I am still so afraid of everyone. I put on my best big girl face, hike up my dress, and do the work but it's not helping. Every day I grow more isolated and feel more alone. All these trees remind me of how I survived hanging myself. They remind me how small I am. The terror of scale with no one to hold me is almost unbearable.

The praxis of accepting help is a the hardest labor I've ever done. Nothing feels right. Everything is getting worse and these amazing folks who are showing great love and support need it returned. I can't do that and it hurts in a way that I can't explain.

I keep saying that the parts of me that have been burned away weren't needed. That they weren't important but its not what I feel. I don't have dreams for a future. Those were burned away. So was my success at not self harming for decades. This isn't a forge and I'm meat not metal. I am doing my best but for reals I'm not okay.

I was approved for psych disability so i have more than nothing. I guess that's something for as long as the feds keep paying and I stay out of their grubby little hands.

Maybe I'll wake up and I'll not think im in my car or cry out. The folks here haven't mentioned it but they must hear me having the night terrors.

I can't talk about big stuff that might put the face of yours truly on the public front line of our fight for international asylum. I'm fucking terrified of becoming visible in a way that increases danger for me. I'm hoping I don't fuck it up because trans children and their families need asylum. I can't imagine the consequences of our failure on this front. I can barely stand, psychologically, and I don't want to do any of this. I want to go to sleep for good not take on a truckload more fuckin guilt and responsibility than I already feel.

I need rest. I'll be sure to keep fighting. Not for me because I'm not there yet but tomorrow I'll fight to stay, for Faye. Tomorrow is for Faye.

kthxbye - Opal

Thank you for reading till the end. Have some pics so you can fall in love with me and make me your pretty princess and protect me.

(this is copied from a comment i made a minute ago)

even after being evacuated to seattle im having a hell of a time staying alive. living in my car, having no connections, going to another fuckin BHU, being released still actively suicidal, making connections, getting some material and financial help, sleeping flat and warm for the foreseeable future, having no more money for food, snap being gone, roomie traumatized too

still fuckin suicidal after all of this because i am so damn traumatized. being safe inside, warm, and fed doesnt erase how bad its been or what i fled in utah or how i was abused on the utah bhu and by an activist there. i broke so bad and im still just trying to find what pieces i have left. i feel so bad for this student's family if they care at all they are probably suicidal themselves. ;( ;( ;(

we need help but its all burning down and we are trying to run ahead of the flames, in the smoke, alone and terrified. so many choose death for much lesser reasons but trauma isnt quantitative or qualitative. it fuckin hurts so much even now. my survivor guilt is murder. my feeling of love, community, protection, and safety all ring hollow because of the trauma. i need more time. i need more time but im not relaxing, im feeling like at any moment i will be back in my car, fearing everyone, and knowing that my mind and heart are still broken, trying to survive first myself and then the WHOLE WORLD

i cant let them win but i need so much help to just keep breathing every day. i cant tell my lovely friends how im really doing because they cant handle it any better than i am. they arent with me here so i cant hug them or be hugged by them or protect them or be protected by them. new friends are all sus because of the trauma. i know, i see, but i cant stop these feelings and put the better ones in the right place yet. i can see but i need time. time to heal.