✨Addi’s Top Surgery✨

Heya everyone I’m Addi,

And I’ve lived with chest dysphoria for as long as I can remember. It’s something that affects me every single day, some mornings I can’t even bring myself to put on a shirt because of how uncomfortable and disconnected I feel from my body. The simple act of looking in the mirror can be overwhelming, and it often feels like I’m carrying around a weight that isn’t mine.

Top surgery isn’t just a medical procedure to me…it’s a step toward being 100% me. It’s the chance to wake up and finally feel comfortable in my own skin, to wear the clothes I want to, and to move through the world as the man I truly am. It would mean being able to take a deep breath without that constant heaviness pressing down on me.

Unfortunately, the cost of surgery and recovery is far beyond what I can afford on my own. Between medical bills and the time I’ll need to heal, it feels impossible without help and as amazing as the NHS is the waiting list is wayy too long. That’s why my family and friends have suggested I’m reaching out for support.

As most know I’m not one to ask for help or a “hand out” so I will be doing some digital artwork for any that donate and would like one.

Every donation, no matter the size, brings me closer to living authentically. Even if you can’t donate, simply sharing my story means more than I can put into words.

Thank you for reading, for sharing, and for supporting me on this journey toward becoming fully Addi.

With love and gratitude, Addi xx

❤️

I’ll be attaching a poem I wrote here incase anyone would like to read. It’s quite raw but is explains dysphoria in the best way I can.

Dysphoria:

If I could erase a part of me I would,

This is a common thing.

But mine I hide with a hood,

Making my day hang by a string.

Normal to feel conscious of yourself,

But it doesn’t feel it to me.

Like I’m sat on a self,

For everyone else to see.

A special moment finding a shirt I love,

Often ruined upon the changing room.

Fluttering away like an evil dove,

Black fogging my brain with gloom.

It’s strange as I’m a confident guy,

But with an anchor on my chest.

I slouch as if I’m shy,

And all I focus on is how I’m dressed.

Looking in the mirror I wonder why,

I think like this when I am so blessed.

My family a ray of shining support,

Never hungry and a roof over my head.

Who am I to complain when I’m never left short,

But going anywhere fills me with dread.

Like my reflection is a whole damn court,

With every judgment being loudly read.

Misgendering stings but I say it’s fine,

They don’t mean too it’s hard to adapt.

But "she" and "girl" crawl up my spine.

As I’m the toughest on the body in which I’m trapped.

But I’m very lucky no really I am,

Think about the person I’ve come to be.

To know what it’s like to be a lady then a man,

And I finally get to be me.

❤️