Raise Omega- Markko's Top Surgery
Donation protected
The Bare Bones
I need help raising money to pay for my desperately needed chest surgery. It will cost approximately $7,000 and is not covered by insurance. Please consider donating as much as you can spare: a dollar, $2, $5, $10, $15, $20, $50, $100... anything. The smallest amount can go a long way. Please, also consider passing this along to your friends, family, coworkers, bosses, instructors, classmates, roommates, neighbors... anyone.
My Story
I grew up in a conservative Baptist home in Northeastern Missouri. I was raised on Christian values and consequently, conservative ideas of sexuality and gender. I often felt as though I was the odd one out of the family; the black sheep. I was always standing apart somehow but could never figure out why. Turmoil at home grew throughout middle and high school when I began exploring my gender expression (or trying to). I cut my hair short and experimented with clothing styles to find my fit. I was very aware of the ridicule I'd get if I strayed too far from what was expected of an adolescent girl, so I searched for a style where I could express myself more accurately without straying too far from my box of expectations. That's when I found the emo culture and style. Needless to say, that didn't help my case at home. We'll just leave it at that.
I came to college, grew my hair out but maintained the emo/alternative style and tried to be more feminine. Then I discovered women. Being in college gave me the distance and freedom to let go of the values I was raised under and try to find my true self. Exploring my sexuality was a good start, but I eventually found that the term "lesbian" felt just as wrong as "straight." However, it was my lesbian identified partner of the time who introduced me to the word "transgender."
I searched the internet and reached into my past memory for answers to my questions. I had heard the term "transgender" before but I never thought to learn more about what it meant and to try to apply it to my experiences. The more I learned the more I could feel my identity forming. Finally, I had a word to describe how I felt. An event with that same partner triggered me to take the first steps in doing something about what I felt.
Since that day, I've been through almost a year and a half worth of counseling and therapy, a year of self-administered hormone injections, about a year and a half of binding my feminine chest to appear more masculine, the loss of all of the friends I had at the time, and the gut wrenching experience of having to come out to my parents, not once, but twice in the same year. Needless to say, they still remain unaccepting and I've been all but completely disowned and disassociated. I never once felt as though I had a choice to do the things I've done. The pain of my family's excommunication persuaded me to think about reverting back to the gender I was assigned at birth and being just the masculine girl I had presented as before. Each time that thought crossed my mind, I couldn't even bare it. It felt like trying to put an eagle into a canary cage. Not only did it not fit, it was torture to even try to settle in and make the best of it. I needed to take a leap of faith and find a more appropriate habitat, so to speak.
I have begun my transition from female to male. As I mentioned, I've been injecting myself with testosterone (which I pay for out of pocket) for a year now and the changes that have resulted have been wonderful. My voice has dropped lower than some of my biologically male friends' voices, I have facial hair and body hair, and my body fat has redistributed to a more masculine pattern. I have even had my name legally changed.
Still, I am in agony. Still, I am reminded constantly that my body does not portray the man I am inside. I wear a garment to conceal my biological chest; transgender men (like me) call it a binder. It is a garment similar to a tank top except it is made of very stiff medical grade nylon and spandex. I wear this binder every day for anywhere between 4 and 24 hours and it takes me, on average, 5-20 minutes to get it on... depending on my level of emotional distress at the mere fact that I need to wear it in order to go anywhere outside of my bedroom... even if it's just to pee. Due to the stiffness and constriction this binder causes, I have developed permanent scars on my shoulders from the straps chafing and cutting into my skin. I have severe acne on my shoulders, back and chest due to the sweat build up under the binder. My breathing and movement is restricted so much so that even a short flight of stairs or a walk down the street is exhausting. Something so simple as getting dressed is a chore. More than that, all of these typical everyday activities where I struggle make my situation very clear and my depression is worsened. Being social, particularly with other men, makes me overwhelmed with anxiety. I generally avoid it. Before I began my transition, I fell in love with longboarding. The pavement turned to butter underneath my feet and I was in another world where my stress and anxiety melted away. My longboard was my source of exercise, stress relief, escape from reality, active expression, motivation, and direction. It was a safe place. Now I find myself longing for that freedom again, but because of the strain and exhaustion and depression that results from binding, I can't even muster the courage and energy to take a spin around the parking lot.
I've told you my story because I need your help. I am still a full time student working through this transition, other mental health issues, and the added stress from my disownment and removal from my parents' health insurance. I am struggling just to pay for my medications and food. I desperately need to have surgery to remove my breasts so I can move, breathe, socialize, walk and play with my dog, and longboard. The cost of the surgery is approximately $7,000. Unfortunately, I have no means of coming up with the money to fund this on my own. Please consider helping me. You could help change my entire life... you could help save me.
Rewards
Below is my painting titled "Heart in Hands" and is available to specific donors as described in the color coded Reward Levels.
I need help raising money to pay for my desperately needed chest surgery. It will cost approximately $7,000 and is not covered by insurance. Please consider donating as much as you can spare: a dollar, $2, $5, $10, $15, $20, $50, $100... anything. The smallest amount can go a long way. Please, also consider passing this along to your friends, family, coworkers, bosses, instructors, classmates, roommates, neighbors... anyone.
My Story
I grew up in a conservative Baptist home in Northeastern Missouri. I was raised on Christian values and consequently, conservative ideas of sexuality and gender. I often felt as though I was the odd one out of the family; the black sheep. I was always standing apart somehow but could never figure out why. Turmoil at home grew throughout middle and high school when I began exploring my gender expression (or trying to). I cut my hair short and experimented with clothing styles to find my fit. I was very aware of the ridicule I'd get if I strayed too far from what was expected of an adolescent girl, so I searched for a style where I could express myself more accurately without straying too far from my box of expectations. That's when I found the emo culture and style. Needless to say, that didn't help my case at home. We'll just leave it at that.
I came to college, grew my hair out but maintained the emo/alternative style and tried to be more feminine. Then I discovered women. Being in college gave me the distance and freedom to let go of the values I was raised under and try to find my true self. Exploring my sexuality was a good start, but I eventually found that the term "lesbian" felt just as wrong as "straight." However, it was my lesbian identified partner of the time who introduced me to the word "transgender."
I searched the internet and reached into my past memory for answers to my questions. I had heard the term "transgender" before but I never thought to learn more about what it meant and to try to apply it to my experiences. The more I learned the more I could feel my identity forming. Finally, I had a word to describe how I felt. An event with that same partner triggered me to take the first steps in doing something about what I felt.
Since that day, I've been through almost a year and a half worth of counseling and therapy, a year of self-administered hormone injections, about a year and a half of binding my feminine chest to appear more masculine, the loss of all of the friends I had at the time, and the gut wrenching experience of having to come out to my parents, not once, but twice in the same year. Needless to say, they still remain unaccepting and I've been all but completely disowned and disassociated. I never once felt as though I had a choice to do the things I've done. The pain of my family's excommunication persuaded me to think about reverting back to the gender I was assigned at birth and being just the masculine girl I had presented as before. Each time that thought crossed my mind, I couldn't even bare it. It felt like trying to put an eagle into a canary cage. Not only did it not fit, it was torture to even try to settle in and make the best of it. I needed to take a leap of faith and find a more appropriate habitat, so to speak.
I have begun my transition from female to male. As I mentioned, I've been injecting myself with testosterone (which I pay for out of pocket) for a year now and the changes that have resulted have been wonderful. My voice has dropped lower than some of my biologically male friends' voices, I have facial hair and body hair, and my body fat has redistributed to a more masculine pattern. I have even had my name legally changed.
Still, I am in agony. Still, I am reminded constantly that my body does not portray the man I am inside. I wear a garment to conceal my biological chest; transgender men (like me) call it a binder. It is a garment similar to a tank top except it is made of very stiff medical grade nylon and spandex. I wear this binder every day for anywhere between 4 and 24 hours and it takes me, on average, 5-20 minutes to get it on... depending on my level of emotional distress at the mere fact that I need to wear it in order to go anywhere outside of my bedroom... even if it's just to pee. Due to the stiffness and constriction this binder causes, I have developed permanent scars on my shoulders from the straps chafing and cutting into my skin. I have severe acne on my shoulders, back and chest due to the sweat build up under the binder. My breathing and movement is restricted so much so that even a short flight of stairs or a walk down the street is exhausting. Something so simple as getting dressed is a chore. More than that, all of these typical everyday activities where I struggle make my situation very clear and my depression is worsened. Being social, particularly with other men, makes me overwhelmed with anxiety. I generally avoid it. Before I began my transition, I fell in love with longboarding. The pavement turned to butter underneath my feet and I was in another world where my stress and anxiety melted away. My longboard was my source of exercise, stress relief, escape from reality, active expression, motivation, and direction. It was a safe place. Now I find myself longing for that freedom again, but because of the strain and exhaustion and depression that results from binding, I can't even muster the courage and energy to take a spin around the parking lot.
I've told you my story because I need your help. I am still a full time student working through this transition, other mental health issues, and the added stress from my disownment and removal from my parents' health insurance. I am struggling just to pay for my medications and food. I desperately need to have surgery to remove my breasts so I can move, breathe, socialize, walk and play with my dog, and longboard. The cost of the surgery is approximately $7,000. Unfortunately, I have no means of coming up with the money to fund this on my own. Please consider helping me. You could help change my entire life... you could help save me.
Rewards
Below is my painting titled "Heart in Hands" and is available to specific donors as described in the color coded Reward Levels.
Organizer
Markko Adam Lovaye
Organizer
Ames, IA
