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Does being more aware of my body mean that I have to be uncomfortable with it? It. An object. Is 'it' something that exists outside of me, is 'it' something I inhabit, or is it that me and my body are inseparable? And why is it that this last thought scares me so much?

I have spent a long time existing outside of myself. My new found gender variance and trans identity (like picking up a shiny coin) has snapped me into a sense of awareness of myself, of me as my body. But I now find myself resisting the trope of bodily discomfort. My discomfort.

Am I just running in circles here? Is there something about being more aware of my body that translates to discomfort? Is comfort an illusion, an ignorance of my body? I don't think it has to be. But I think that my lifetime outside of myself has not prepared me for my body.

edited and re-posted

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