This story is from the comments listed below, summarised by AI.
Authenticity Assessment: Suspicious Account
Based on the provided comments, there are serious red flags suggesting this account is inauthentic and not a genuine detransitioner or desister.
Red Flags:
- Lack of Detrans/Desister Content: The comments contain zero discussion of gender dysphoria, transition, detransition, or desistance. This is the single biggest red flag for an account supposedly active on /r/detrans.
- Incoherent Ideological Rants: The posts are dominated by abstract, rambling monologues on "memetic warfare," spiritual conflict, and socio-economic grievances. The tone is performative and unmoored from personal experience.
- Incongruous Personal Details: The one personal anecdote about wearing a skirt is vague, lacks any connection to gender identity, and is immediately overshadowed by more ideological ranting. It feels like a shallow attempt to sound relatable.
- Bot-like Inconsistency: The account rapidly shifts between personas: a geopolitical analyst, a memetic theorist, a struggling writer, and a tradcon lamenting capitalism. There is no coherent personal narrative, which is atypical for a genuine, passionate user in a support-focused community.
About me
I never felt like I measured up as a man, and my depression and low self-esteem made me deeply unhappy. I started to believe that identifying as non-binary was an escape from the person I hated being. After a few years, I realized this new identity was just another trap that didn't fix my underlying mental health struggles. I eventually detransitioned because I understood my problems were internal, not something a new label could solve. Now, I see my journey was a necessary detour to learn that my self-worth had to come from within.
My detransition story
My whole journey with gender feels like it was built on a foundation of not fitting in and searching for an escape. Looking back, I think a lot of my feelings were tangled up with depression, anxiety, and a deep-seated low self-esteem. I never felt like I measured up to what a man was supposed to be, and that caused me a lot of pain.
A big part of my struggle was with porn. I got into it young, and it really warped my view of women and of myself. It made me feel like my own desires were wrong and created a huge disconnect between me and real intimacy. I tried to quit a bunch of times because I knew it was corrosive, but it was a hard habit to break. I think this played a role in how I saw myself and my body.
For a long time, I was deeply unhappy with the traditional path expected of me. I felt like if I'd been born decades earlier, life would have been simpler: a job, a wife, kids, a house. The modern world felt overwhelming and hostile, especially to someone like me. I felt wounded, and I think a lot of us feel that way—like we just want to be held and accepted, but we're too vulnerable to even try.
I started to explore the idea that maybe I wasn't a man. It wasn't a sudden thing, more of a gradual shift. I spent a lot of time online in various communities, and the ideas there made sense at the time. They offered an explanation for why I felt so out of place. The idea of being non-binary or even transitioning felt like a way out of the person I hated being. It was a form of escapism. I even thought about how nice it would be to just wear a skirt sometimes without it being a big statement, just for the comfort of it, but I knew that in the real world, it would never be that simple.
I started identifying as non-binary socially. I didn't take any hormones or have any surgeries. After a while, though, the identity started to feel like another trap. I realized that a lot of my feelings weren't really about gender at all. They were about my own mental health, my struggles with self-worth, and my desire to flee from my problems. I began to understand that changing my identity wasn't fixing the root issues.
I eventually detransitioned. I don't regret exploring it because I think I needed to go through that process to understand myself better. But I do regret that I ever thought it was the solution. It was a detour that, in the end, helped me see that my problems were internal, not something a new label could fix. My thoughts on gender now are that it's incredibly complicated and often gets mixed up with other psychological struggles. For me, it was never the core issue.
| Event | My Age |
|---|---|
| Started feeling deep discomfort with male social expectations | Late teens / early 20s |
| Began identifying as non-binary socially | Around 25 |
| Realized my issues were related to mental health, not gender | 28 |
| Stopped identifying as non-binary (detransitioned) | 29 |
Top Comments by /u/huafibfdiogeriojg:
Crudely written
Rude.
What kind of spiritual warfare?
Flobots said it best. Everybody wants to take a piece of you and replace it with a piece of them. In a manner of speaking, that's what conversation is. It all comes down to memetic exchange (Dawkinian memetics). Ideas have a property in which they self-optimize over time, evolving and becoming more able to reproduce themselves in the minds of others. They lie dormant, like a computer virus, sapping the occasional cycle from the CPU that is your unconscious Mind in order to feed themselves, ejecting themselves through your mouth and fingers the moment they find a suitable host vector. Then they begin the process anew.
Everything I speak, everything I write, everything I type, it is all built on the foundation of what came before, not a word I have spoken was invented by me, nor a symbol I have used. And yet, I put them together in novel orders, expressing ideas that have been expressed before in fresher, perhaps more easily retained ways. This, of course, is mutation, and as we know, mutations are only sometimes beneficial. It is both an art and a science.
At all times, ideas are dueling, competing, battling it out to see which one can propagate itself further, more efficiently, more effectively, dominating the hearts and minds of those previously persuaded by alternative ideas. The Law of Nature commands communication just as it does the Savannah.
The dream would be like, I could just wear a skirt some days and it not be a Big Fucking Deal™. It is so not worth the ballache.
I'm not even talking like, short skirts, I got a used car that had a bunch of ankle-length skirts in the trunk that are super comfy and have nice neutral colours/patterns to them but they're never gonna get worn cuz what's the point of wearing them inside and I'm not here to make a statement or something I just want the swish-swish while I walk.
World War III is a guerrilla information war with no clear division between civilian and military participation.
If you aren't aware of what's going on around you, that just makes you a human shield for someone who does.
MORE IMPORTANTLY: What an odd thing to focus on out of everything I wrote.
I've got the openings to around five fantasy novels saved on my computer. The only thing standing in my way is my own critical eye.
I spent the last seven years writing poetry and I enjoyed it and even think most of it is pretty good years after writing it. I have yet to find someone willing to pay for them though.
I gave a waitress a poem on a napkin in addition to my tip once and she loved it. I signed it in case it's worth something one day. Imagine that, 100 years from now, a napkin with my name on it is worth something. I don't even remember what the poem was, she's the only one who has it now.
EDIT: Thank you, by the way. I apologize for my error and beg your forgiveness.
I may just print this out and hang it on my wall.
Please do. That'd be awesome.
Literally the only thing I live for these days is to make a positive impact in others' lives. Federal Reserve Notes have no value to me, I can't legally say that I burn them every time I come into possession of them. So if my ripple can turn into your wave, Amen, multiplied.
We hear a lot about the numerous echo chambers in which people reside online.
Well, I hear them, but I certainly don't hear about them. I live in them. I can't find it right now... There was this video, pretty recent I believe, from the UK as I recall. It showed some young boy playing a video game, and he's talking over the headset to some older men online. They're encouraging him, talking about the "big day" tomorrow, the implication being some violent event, reminding him that they're the only ones who accept him, the only ones who care about him. It was posted on third positionist boards and mocked, yet... It's the God's Honest Truth. The one group where being a White Man is a good thing to be proud of. Do you blame me?
I can be honest, my desire for tradition is self-centered. I just... I know that twenty, thirty, fifty years ago, I'd have been married five years ago, I'd be working some bog standard job, and the income from that would be plenty to sustain my stay at home wife and four children while having a comfortable life. Now... Women entering the workforce essentially had the effect of importing a number of immigrants to the country equal to the population. It doubled the supply of labour while less than doubling the supply of jobs. And now it requires two incomes to accomplish what one used to. That's not sexism, it's economics... I guess you could call it r/LateStageCapitalism but I doubt that opinion would fly there.
But obviously economics aren't my primary driver, it's the fact that I want a wife, kids, house and job that feels worth it.
porn
Porn is so corrosive and destructive. I know it's skewed my view of women, my view of sexuality, not to mention its addictive aspects. I was two months clean at one point, opened up to this woman I was courting about how I was improving and she completely shot me down and said she didn't care. Felt terrible and haven't done as well since. Which ofc is obviously entirely within my domain, she has no control over my actions, but still. Two months clean after twenty years dirty felt really nice to say.
My buddy's dealing with a meth addiction though so eh, count my blessings, right?
It's just...
I know what we're all feeling. I know it. We all feel the same thing.
We are so. FUCKING. WOUNDED.
And all of us desperately want to hold each other and be held.
But we're all also so vulnerable that even the attempt is painful.
Even so:
As our Wounds press together
And our Blood merges
We become one Flesh
And one Being
So we Unite
And become More.