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All my life I sought a life-long relationship, and, yes, I found true love for ten years, (in my forties), only to lose it for my refusal to marry her (back then, a Holy Union), for fear of losing my Disability benefits and bankrupting her as a result.
As I approach my 60's, I realize I have become more complex, because of all the life experience I have been through, making it more difficult for me to find someone with whom I am compatible. What brought this home to me was my experience with four Lesbian dating websites, (from my mid-fifties to the present), where the women my age (59) were more complicated and had more complex demands on a potential partner.
Slowly, it gradually occurred to me, that if I didn't find an alternative way of looking at love and companionship, that very likely I would remain single and have no romantic love and companionship for the rest of my life.
Gradually, I realized serial brief relationships (with the possibility of a relationship growing into a friendship or even a long-term relationship) would be a lot more realistic.
Here are my reasons:
WHY IT'S BEST I LIVE ALONE
- Am set in my ways.
- Needs to use the bathroom on short notice.
- Terrible odor when I use the bathroom.
- Never shared my living space (not even with my lover of 10 years).
- Can not share my apartment and finances due to being on Disability.
- Needs to live in HUD Public Housing (if anyone wanted to live with me, they, too, would have to be "very low income," too).
- Allergic to horses, dogs, cats and birds (most Lesbians not only have cats and dogs, but sleep with their pets).
- Am actually happy with my apartment (and I am unlikely to find as good an apartment - especially HUD Housing - anywhere).
- Only negative where I live is some residents in Beacon and many residents of my apartment complex, I don't like. Avoid them and save money to take trips every three or four months.
- Love my building.
- Management treats me humanely.
- Maintenance treats me humanely, and does an efficient and thorough job maintaining and cleaning the building as well as making repairs in my apartment. (Most HUD Public Housing properties are poorly maintained.)
- Very low crime rate where I live. (The lowest crime rate I have every seen at a HUD Public Housing property I have ever seen.)
Here are what I think are the advantages of short-term relationships:
The Advantages of Short-Term Relationships
- Due to very low income (some would call this a "budget income," I can not relocate quickly to continue dating a woman (in order to avoid a "U-Haul" situation where I would move in with her, and hope for the best!)
- Most women do not qualify (very low income) and are uncomfortable dating a woman who lives in HUD Public Housing, especially if it is poorly maintained and is in a dangerous neighborhood.
- Able to enjoy the relationship before the drama and games begin.
- Can't find a woman locally to me because of homophobia where I live. (Most women are already coupled before they move here.)
- Both parties should be single out of respect for other relationships and for themselves.
- Sex is not the primary reason for such a relationship, but companionship.
Of course, there are many other reasons people may choose short-term relationships rather than long-term or lifelong relationships.
Would like to hear from others if they resonate with this in their own lives (especially if they are 60 +) and how realistic they think this is.
Am I selling myself short? Or am I having realistic expectations for a 59 year old, average-looking woman, who is kind, compassionate, supportive and has many interests?
Thank you in advance for your comments!
Unfortunately due to some issues I won't be able to host my content here anymore. I have many reasons. But thank you gentle folk for your love and support. I wish you all the best. If you want to be in contact:
Hear me screaming at the clouds on twitter: @charllandsberg or my Twitter Profile
Come have a look at my weird and wonderful art on Tumblr
Have a look at my cooking and everyday photography on Instagram
I'm all over the place. Be good. Take care of yourselves.
All my love
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This is the story of my transformation and my life as a crossdresser and how I was and who I was a girl or woman.It all started with a fight with a school bully who challenge to a fight at the park near my house and I lost the fight for he was on top on me and had me to being a sissy. I didn’t know what that meant at that time so I look it up and found it what it meant. That began my quest to find out what it felt like to be the opposite sex/gender. I started with my mother’s panties and then I got my own and then on out I started to get my own wardrobe. I have purged quite a few times and the third time being the last time and I got rid of my entire wardrobe in all. But I had all the right stuff, panties, bras and pantyhose and skirts and blouses and high heels and pocketbook and lipstick and makeup. I have wondered it felt to be a woman or the opposite sex gender and got into fantasy and Mistresses and got to services and have called phone sex services quite a few times during my time as Judy. Even written a script for the ladies on the phone out.
I have to gone to Lady Ellen’s Transformation Service to do my pictures two times. Back in the early 2000’s and it was all together I had a few girlfriends and have met a couple times with one or two of them. But have been able to connect with any of them as being mates or partners. Everyone since I have posted my pictures online has told me how good I have looked. Yes it comes quite naturally to me.Why do I crossdress? Well, it began like I said in a effort to understand the opposite sex/gender,
Then I started to feel good about my feminine self aka Judy, which then lead to aspire to be like a good secretary. I prefer blouses and skirts and heels and slips (full) under dresses and heels to anything else. Judy likes to dress up a secretary or a business woman. Even getting out of male clothing is somewhat relaxing to me. Judy is nothing like my male mode of Jay. Judy is my second self and she likes to relax with a blouse and skirt and heels and lipstick and makeup on.
That is about it.
It's been an extremely long time...but yeah, I'm still here. Nothing much has changed and I lost the ambition to blog because it was an endless parade of the same thing every day. It felt like a waste of time to keep repeating myself. Not sure why I'm here again, but I think maybe on the rare chance that anyone was wondering where I went or, by chance, was worried; I wanted to let everyone know that I'm alright.
Whats New: Just over a year at my job in Security, and nothing has changed too drastically. We had a conflict during my shift between a civilian and a staff member and I clicked back into my pre-training when I wanted to be a State Trooper and handled the situation the only way I knew how. I got in the middle of it. I was able to defuse the situation safely and separate the two individuals, writing a detailed report on time, location, involved parties and descriptions of the would-be assailant. I didnt think anything of it. It's my job, it's what I do.
Well, apparently the higher-ups of the company I work for didnt think it was just "what you do". They called a meeting, held a conference, and low and behold...I was upgraded. I'm now full-time, with benefits (soon, not yet. Paperwork is awaiting) and I was given huge praise from both the Town Police Officers and the Academy I work for. Not only that, but the situation forced them to realize that we, as Security, are vastly ill-equipped for our jobs and finally have decided to listen to our needs and provide us with new supplies. A newer, larger vehicle that we can safely transport clients and students in (we are using a little P.O.S. hand-me-down Ford Ranger right now which is horribly cramped all the time and I hate driving it.). I'm still in work-mode so my typing is kinda professional still Anyway, we're each getting water-proof, theft-proof, USB charging Dock equipped backpacks that will have flashlights, mace, first aid, notebook&pen, a security monitoring computer and etc. We're also all getting new uniforms and much-needed spotlights and gear that we SHOULD have had months ago. It took my situation with an aggressive individual for them to realize "hey, these guys COULD get hurt while protecting these kids...we should gear them up." FINALLY.
So that's work.
(Plus I was at the Post office today ((with my security jacket on....because it's basically the only winter coat I own.)) and one of the postal workers stopped me and said his son goes to our Academy and asked about a drug raid he'd heard about. I explained that one particular student who will remain nameless had supposedly had prescription painkillers in his possession that were not his, and we confiscated them. I assured him that we do frequent and random sweeps of dorm rooms and dorm buildings for anything they should not have, and he seemed happy with that. The last part that got me was just before he walked away, he said "Thank you for protecting our kids. You guys do a great job." Finally....recognition.)
YOUTUBE: Yes, I am still recording YouTube videos! I am HORRIBLY behind on posting them, unfortunately, but life's been a bit hectic atm.
FACEBOOK: I now have TWO pages up on facebook for my Youtube channel so you can stay up to date. One page is specifically for my channel videos, while the other is dedicated to my craft hobby (which just started so its very very slow) where I am selling crafts that 100% go towards my top surgery.
(Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatYoutube & Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatCreations)
Oi vey....where to start....So I still havent had my surgery, obviously since I have my creations page to pay for said surgery....I have been fighting continuously with Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield on getting them to pay for my surgery, even if just a portion. They refuse. The reason is this: My LEGAL gender is MALE. My Birth certificate says FEMALE. I cannot change that without GRS which I will not do. Anyway...My ID says Male on it. So when they filed for my surgery, they initially filed it under FEMALE BREAST REDUCTION. Well, since my ID says Male on it, they cannot do that. Because I am legally male. So it would go under Gynocomastia, which I do not have. Which..frankly doesnt matter because they dont cover it anyway.
I've spent a minimum of 4 hours on the phone every time I call, explaining over and over and OVER again that I am Transgender, I am legally male but physically female, and that this is a breast reduction not because I'm transgender but because of spinal damage, pain, interferance with work, and a damaged trapezius muscle. All of which has been noted by my doctor FOUR TIMES, including all the necessary paperwork (and more...) sent to them REPEATEDLY. They either claim that A: they never got the paperwork, B:It lacked a piece of info they wanted, C: They have it and are reviewing it OR......D: They cant find my account at all. I spent TWO HOURS on hold just for them to tell me that the line I HAD BEEN TRANSFERRED TO...doesnt handle what I'm looking for so they transferred me BACK to the people I ORIGINALLY WERE TALKING TO. Absolute, complete, utter flipping NIGHTMARE!!!
With my anxiety & Depression issues, it came to the point where I would completely avoid calling them because it would completely destroy me for days afterwards. I've had people offer to help with with the call or figure things out, but either they offered once and never followed through or they simply werent understanding that everything they wanted to try...I've already done it. No one....GOT what I was trying to say. It started to feel like no one cared anymore either.
I called GLADD FIVE TIMES. I only ever got ONE response, which was "we'll call you as soon as we have more info for you.". That was months ago....nothing.
I called the State of New Hampshire's Offices for Insurance to figure out what to do. "We'll call you back." They never did. Not only did they not return my calls, but every time I called them back and demanded to talk to someone, they'd just keep saying "Ma'am, someone will call you." Misgendered AND ignored. Thanks for that.
I called SIX...ADVOCATES...FOR TRANSGENDER PEOPLE IN MY STATE. Again, either they didnt know how to help, didnt call me back, or simply said "keep trying". For someone with severe Anxiety, the phrase "just keep trying" is like saying "Haha, well that sucks."
I cant keep trying. It causes me such dysphoria, severe depression, anxiety and physical illness that I have to call out of work, take days to recooperate and fight of the HORRIBLE sensation of the NEEEEEEEEEED to self harm. I'd been able to stay sober of it thus far, except for one episode involving a fight with my homophobic, trump loving, transphobic, Democratic-hating sister&mother-in-laws...(Long story short, I had just worked 14 hours, was tired and exhausted; and was accused of abusing her animals. Not by the mother, but by the sister-in-law. Who is basically the princess of the castle. I lost it.) So the insurance company locked me out of my online account conveniently a week before my due date to switch insurances, so I couldnt even access my account to change insurance companies before the due date ran out and....low and behold...I was renewed with Anthem BCBS for another year. I dont have enough swear words and foul language names to throw at them to express how I feel...
I also, by the way, emailed Anthem personally either through Twitter's Anthem Help page or their main help page, which ran in circles up to the point of them calling and leaving a message ON THE ONE PHONE I SPECIFICALLY ASKED THEM NOT TO CALL BECAUSE I WONT GET THE DAMN MESSAGE, then when I called them back, I got nothing. Just an answering machine. FOR THREE WEEKS.
When I mentioned this to them, they shrugged it off. Yeah.....F You too.
(BEFORE YOU OFFER TO HELP ME WITH THE INSURANCE THING:::::::No, I do not need the help right now. Thank you for thinking of me anyway. But with my job title changing, I'm getting new insurance and there is absolutely no reason I can think of to try and pursue Anthem BCBS's jerkoffs when I'm leaving them really soon. Thanks anyway.)
So, anyway....thats life right now. As you can see, not much has changed. New promotion and same insurance b.s.
Oh, and apparently I have dissociation with my chest. Which doesnt surprise me. I found out because I was in the shower, washing like I usually do with my eyes squeezed shut and my heart breaking at the sensation of having to wash those stupid boulders on my REAL chest underneath, and....what's this? I look down and I apparently had a pimple or something that had developed on the underside of my left breast, but had gone unattended to for god-knows-how-long, so it festered and became raw and infected. Did I notice? No....I didnt even feel it. I've always had next to no feeling or sensation in my chest since I was cursed with them, but I didnt think much of it. This made me really realize...I have no feeling in them whatsoever. So I experimented. I ran my hands along the sides, fronts, top and bottom....but nothing. If it werent for feeling it through my fingertips, I wouldnt feel it at all. Absolutely nothing. It's like...I feel the pressure of my hands but that's it. Not a tickle or a whisp of sensation. I have completely, entirely, absolutely dissociated with my chest so much that I no longer feel it. It's no longer 'mine'. Its just...there. That's what kills me even more.
Theyre there, theyre attached to me...but if I dont even have feeling in them, they feel even more alien to me. I'm not supposed to even have them and this just proves it even more. It didnt hit me as hard as it did at the doctors when I casually mentioned it and she was confused. Apparently ciswomen are SUPPOSED to have feeling in them. Like...everywhere.
It's weird. It's like a feeling of abandonment. That I've hated them so much and for so long that theyve finally given up and just died, but I still gotta carry the corpses around. Now, more than ever, I just want them gone...It's almost too much to stomach. I choke up thinking about it. I feel like a part of me has just died, staring me in the face and flipping me the bird before being just completely gone. But instead of leaving, it lingers in the doorway and stares me down, laughing at me and mocking me because they wont go away.
It sound stupid but I feel like theyre taunting me. Like "We know you dont want us, so we're gonna take away any sensation of being here, except you'll still have to carry our dead weight. You cant get rid of us, you will still have a huge lump in your shirt and we will NEVER allow you to touch your real chest underneath. You hate us, and we hate you. So live with it."
I even opted out of my nipple grafts so that the surgery would be cheaper. Not just for a cheaper price, but because I've always had issues with those parts anyway so there's no point in hoping they'll heal and stay where they put them when a huge part of me knows they wont. They dont heal well, never have. I get pockets in them where sweat and crap lingers and I have to clean the areas like pimples. I dont want them anymore. I dont want anything to do with any of them.
But I still have to bind them.
I still have to readjust them in my binder.
I still have to wash them.
I still have to toss and turn to find a comfortable position between suffocation, smothering, pinches or unending sweat.
I still have to put lotion on the extremely dry and chapped skin from binding.
I still have to carry them around on my aching shoulders.
I still have to nearly suffocate with them just to tie my shoes.
I still have to feel them jerk and yank on my sore back when I try to use a treadmill.
I still have to make sure there's no sores because they dont bother to tell me when something hurts anymore.
I still have to try and save up 8000$ to get rid of them because insurance doesnt give a flip.
I still have them.
And they taunt me.
My relentless bully...is my own body.
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Today is St. Distaff's Day. Compitalia, celebrating the household Gods. Today we honor Frigg and her followers, the "Freefolk". "Partly work, and partly play Ye must on Saint Distaff's Dayu" the old adage goes. It is also time for me to "shield in place". I need to take a break from the constant ups and downs regarding "my" dysphoria. My affliction. Tired of facing inward and trying to fix something that in the scope of my life? A lot less of an "issue" than it needs to be, considering. What? Well, let's throw out some things shall we? I have recieved some excellent "counseling" from someone who says my dysphoria is NOT my biggest concern. OK. Good to know. My counselor is a pretty decent person. Specializies in helping people who's professional lives expose them to some very traumatic stuff. I was amazed at how good this person was at getting me to talk. Good to find someone I can be comfortable with. A person that is familiar with the "problems" people who work in compartmented "projects" all they're lives can develop. I thought I was lossing it to Paranoid schizophrenia! The counselor just laughed at me and said "No, that's called self preservation. Johnathan Pollard actually existed. That actually happened. Your pretty much screwed for the rest of your life, just stay frosty and relax". Showed me this picture and said if you can balance these? Your mental health issues will be skosh. When I broached "dysphoria"? Push me over with a feather, the counselor replied "You'd be astounded to know just how many people I deal with could use a little clarity on THAT subject". Love them Doc's that don't beat around the bush!
How is your 2017 going to go? I have a good idea of how mine is going to go. Lots and lots of time in medical facilities. Lots of appointments. Lots of testing. I am VERY HAPPY about that. This flurry of medical activity surrounds my Soulmate and not me. She is FINALLY going to get the medical assistance and screening that she deserves. She is. not me. I am working on my "blackouts" and my manic depression issues, but for now, I am good. I have a mea culpa. I have NOT been a good spouse for a while. My prediliction with my tripartite self. I have been selfish. So, there you go. "Ronnie" is a steady state for me. 50/50. MODLOC. I have a lot of "new" things to deal with. I can NEVER drive a car on public roads EVER again, unless it is the most dire of emergencies. I can't get on an airliner. I wouldn't be able to fly a plane. I'm not even supposed to operate power tools without supervision anymore! But that doesn't mean I have to stop living or caring about the awesome folks I've met here.
I was going to leave this site and then I thought, why? It can help me. Hopefully, I can be of help to someone else. I have 41 and in a less than a month, 42 Y E A R S invested in the person that I DO love most. Violet pretty much is my Universe and she deserves better from me. Sure, some will say that I may be "disengenious" with regard to the "community". That I am not being "true" to myself. Really? I exist in a different "plane" than most people. The person who is my betrothed is also a Petty Officer in the US NAVY, like I am. She saved my life. That's what she does. She can make a towering Marine break out in a sweat by snapping a rubber band, holding a syringe and saying "Need to draw some labs". The only things that can make the USMC hesitate? Godzilla and Hospital Corpsman. Oops, my bad. Hospital Corpsman THEN Godzilla. Got to preserve the natural order of things as the Creator has made them. Nope, for me? This fight isn't about a community. It's about my sanity and I am the ONLY one that can fight it and that means being in it to win it. I may never be "complete", but I promise, I will try NOT to be boring. But I'm not that salty so having a wingman? PRICELESS. I know she always has my back. BRAVO ZULU Doc!
So for this new blog, I chose "Scutum" because I need a shield right now. Something that will insulate me from the Demon I have just gotten to go back to sleep. Scutum is called "Sobieski's Shield" in some places in Europe. Jan III Sobieski was a bad ass. Your writings here and how you look at the World and what you are doing to cope and just the minutiae of our everyday existence can be the exact thing I need to stabilize when I start to get wiggy! 2 anchors are better than one. I have Violet and I have you all. I am blessed. Monsters from the id. They're real.
A New Line Drawn In The Sand
So here we are, yet another year. 2016 was to say the least not a year that brought much happiness or progress in my life. It’s funny to think just how life works out; at the start of 2016 I was in such a good place. I felt I had done the right things and had done what people had told me to do to succeed in life: however the thing is no matter what you do in life, no matter how much you plan, pray, achieve or succeed, the world, life and maybe even destiny has a completely different road for you in store that will end up leaving you clueless, scratching your head wondering why?
My journey has not been a straight line and I know it sounds cheesy but quite often has been up and down, zig zags, twist, speed bumps and sometimes even at time complete 360’s. As of this time last year exactly I wrote in my (what is a very expensive diary) by Demi Lovato is this following entry
‘Dear Diary… First things first I can’t believe I'm actually writing in the 35 dollar book. TBH it is a big rip off. Are the pages made out of the most exquisite paper? Anyways what’s going on with me? I kind of love this busy period of my life. It makes me feel that I have a grasp on life. Work is going good and I am little excited to see where this will leave me. Summer school tomorrow. Hope I can continue the motivation and complete everything I need. Frightened yet excited…”
This is compared to a diary entry I wrote in late august 2016 of some lyrics I quoted of a song that represented everything I felt to the core of inside me.
‘Your memory is breaking my heart. Ill pretend I'm okay with it all. Act like there’s nothing wrong. Is it over yet, can I open my eyes? Is this as hard as it gets? Is this what it feels like to really cry? “
My 2016 self was to be very correct in her concerns and she sure should have been frightened for what would soon come. Who knew the person writing this would have left school only 2 months later, on a bender of drugs and crime that never ended.
It’s a very hard thing move on after you've had so much pain, loss and suffering followed with making bad choice after bad choice and crossing that line so many times, that you’re so far distanced past that line you begin to barley remember it exists, why it was there to even begin with. I’ve been travelling over that line since I was 13 and sometimes I do have to wonder if I’ve travelled so far past it and stamped so many times across it, that my own line doesn't exist or it is so far dusted out that if not at all gone, barely visible where I'm far beyond ever getting back to that little girl I left behind that line. Maybe it’s time to take my own advice and acknowledge that little girl, the pain and damage I and others have inflicted and draw a new line in the sand with a hope of a better tomorrow'
This is 2017 though I remind myself, let’s try and reflect as much as we need to in order to learn, process and move forward with our lives however not dwelling on the past and finding that balance between reflection and then moving forward. A lot of my previous blog post since deciding to get clean have been about self-reflection and about the bad times throughout 2016 and telling some of the impacts of those bad times and choices throughout 2016 had on me from physically throughout to socially, emotionally etc. I admit to you that I do write those blog posts in order to try and help others on their journeys, bringing some awareness and doing whatever I can by speaking out. I also admit I get more out of writing it for my readers then my readers get reading it. I thank all my readers who read my stuff whether it be friends, family or someone from around the globe. You all help me get to a place where I am now, I can’t even express in words what I get out of writing this.
This moves me onto my next thing I wish to talk about in my new year, a new chapter. Being in my second detox stay. Being herein such difficult times such as being in here throughout new years and being in here with such strong incredible people and hearing their stories has washed over a me a sense of gratitude and appreciation for the life that I lead and all the gifted things I have been blessed with and not just from now but since I was brought into this earth. So many young people out there have been dealt such a shit hand in life since the beginning whether it is from physical abuse, being in foster care, being kicked out of home or even left homeless. I hear such sad Stories and even remarks...
Wait scratch that, NOT SAD stories BUT courageous, strong and inspiring stories of such young courageous lionhearted beautiful people. These stories and remark s make me so grateful for all that I have been given, such as loving and kind parents and family, a roof over my head with heat and food plus filled with privileges of nurture and celebration. I think it is so important to have a grateful heart. I have written before in a previous post about the importance of gratitude and appreciation but I feel each day I learn just how much this is true.
I am thankful for my second chances, the ability to be able to live in a world filled with services and places that are graciously there to help you along your journey, my second chance at VCE and like above my loved ones followed with finally my sobriety.
Thank you so much for reading this, like I've said I've gotten so much out of this and I appreciate all the kind and supportive comment and messages. Please if you think my blog can help anyone out there please put them on to it. I am always free for a chat if anyone wishes to talk.
‘Dare to be something more’
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As much as I am a women, I remain a man inside
I am living as girl on 24/7 basis, and I enjoy every minute of the wonderful experiences I receive from my bipolar transgenderism personality.
As much as I live as a girl, I also live myself in his shoes and carry on the responsibility of being a man. The importance of being a 2 nation theory personality is key in having dual characteristics of attributes.
As I wonder about my long term goals, for surgery, I am unable to transition due to Family purposes. Now ask yourself if you are to go to surgery, you have on back of your mind, a lingering thoughts of your own financial burden, well the question answers itself automatically.
I love living as her by receiving positive gestures all day long
but I need to do my job as himself in order to sustain a paycheck to paycheck at end of every month, which is important.
For instance the job where I work for, I couldn't have done it without being him! That's why I have dual genders for purpose of attaining employment.
I have said it before but without negative impact, if I were to get a real job as transgenders person in a straight man's world's, I would have it by now, but I don't, as I wasn't so lucky in my endeavors!
At least that are my experiences I have to share with.
Well in conclusion, I have to keep my job, as far as surgery is concerned, it will be after 10 or 15 years depending on financial support I get.
Well it's season of greetings and hope and togetherness! I hope everyone has a great Merry Christmas and wish happy new year 2017 !
Visit Shazy Jeo on YouTube channel videos
and check out http://outcast-all.com for all those living abroad individuals feeling homesick, or Misfit students anywhere, and don't forget to see (A to Z list section) there is something for everyone !
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Update - 12/6/2016
To say that a lot has happened since I last posted is an understatement. I will post more later.
I am currently recovering from FFS surgery on Dec 2nd. I had a brow reduction & lift. Upper eyelid surgery, rhinoplasty, fat transfer to the cheeks. Chin reduction and shaping and tracheal shave. Tomorrow I have an appointment to hopefully take some of the stitches out and splint on my nose..
I have been off from work since Dec 1st and will be returning to work as Lisa on Dec 19th. I changed my name with the court and my name and gender marker on my SS card. In a few days, I will be going to the DMV and later the passport office to change my name and gender marker there as well.
Why is everyone that is not my doc (family that is ) worried about what is or not between my legs or if i have GRS . it is really not any of their concern .......ugh , i came out to you to let you know who am not to try and control my life or my journey ............
Hi this is Ace. I am looking for FTM or MTF friends in Rochester NY. Many of my friends have dumped me or moved west (the dumping due to my FTM status. I need friends in Rochester NY who will understand me and be good friends. I am alone alot although I am married long story). Please check me out. Thanks
Who doesn't love a hand full of skittles every now and then? No, I'm not going to go into any commentary on candy at this time, though. My subject is actually about love in diversity, namely the LGBT community and more specifically the pride flag. Although this site is geared more toward Trans...(fill in the blank) and our flag is a flag of different colors my intention isn't really about colors. The rainbow has been used as a significant symbol throughout our world's history. In the 16th century, during the German Peasant's War the rainbow flag was used to symbolize a new era, hope and social change. The rainbow flag represent the city of Cusco in Peru. It represents Buddhism, In the 1920's it represented the International cooperative Movement, which stood Unity in diversity and in 2001 it became a logo for the I.C.M., placed in the middle of white background. Each color representing different meanings:
- Red - Courage
- Orange- visions of Possibilities
- Yellow - The challenge that Green has kindled..
- Green - A challenge to strive for growth
- Sky Blue - A goal to achieve global unity
- Dark blue - Helping those less fortunate
- Violet - Warmth, beauty and friendship
In 1961 the rainbow flag stood for Peace. Then in 1978 Gay Pride!
Yup the good ol' rainbow flag in unity and love. The colors have traveled around the world to arrive in this day and time as a symbol of hope and an expression of courage . It has been told that in various countries that gay men signaled others by the wearing of a specific color. In England they wore green carnation, in Australia the color was yellow, usually in the form of socks. At one time, somewhere, the color was purple, as in "Purple Power". During the holocaust a pink (gay) or black (lesbian) triangle was used for the prisoners. Now brought together in the form of a flag that not only represents rights but also pride.
As the story goes that the original rainbow was created by the Hebrew/Christian God as symbol of a promise with love. Now please don't take me as a hater when I say that it should be returned to be just that, a promise with love or in love. I don't mean in love with your partner, but in love with each other as a whole. This world needs to learn to love one another. Across the oceans and across the land. The rainbow flag needs to be spread over the globe not only in the homosexual community, but in all community, all cultures,(or sub cultures) in all society. Remove all labels and just as the colors of the flag came from around the world let it now fly around the world in love and unity in diversity.
So I have to move out my apartment due to breaking up with my ex. Which is great! it's great because though we get along and we will always be friends, we need different things from our partners that neither of us are going to get. I am packing all my junk, and realizing I have way too much. As I pack though I found tons of pictures of me from what I call the dark ages. The Dark ages were the period of time after high school but before college, a whole six years for me, in which I went back into the closet and suffered a period of self harm and also a mental break down. I survived through a period of sever depression that I didn't even realize I was going though until I was lying on my bed with a butcher knife. I realized how dark I'd gotten I vowed to never ever let it get that bad ever again.
I feel like if I don't share this part of my life than I'm not being straight with people when I say life gets better. This part of my life that led me to who I am today. This time of my life that made me realize that nothing matters if you can't find that happiness in yourself. That there is nothing selfish in transitioning, but its wicked selfish to kill yourself. I say that because of the potential each of us has that is wasted when cut short. I know the insanity of fear and the desperation that comes along with it. I also know that taking your own life in your hands can be the most powerful and freeing feeling in the world and there has never been any grater feeling in my life than that gift. It was a gift I earned by staying alive despite the pain along the way.
As I Sit in my bedroom packing all of my belongings, trying to breathe as this cold ravages me, I cannot help but be excited for the road ahead of me. I am terrified and yet so emboldened by the fear that I have this duplicitous euphoria. Today is May 27, 2016 and I am Benjamin Crowley twenty five nearly twenty six year old black transgender man living in the United States at time feels terrifying and electric at the same time.
Terrifying because as I grow older race, which had never been a problem for me and mine, is becoming an odd affront to society. Actions that others take for granted I never previously would have thought were racially motivated have become a stark raw truth to be being black in America. I feel nervous as I transition that people will interpret me differently because of the projection of my identity into a public spotlight. This however is at the back of my mind as I sort through my things.
At the fore front is the power held in the words, “I am enough.”
I am enough. Similar words blazed though my head four years ago nearly to this day as I worked a warehouse job slaving into the night earning more money than I knew what to do with. I had no kids no titles and no self-worth. I had let others dictate to me what my future held and in the stagnant space between their idolization of the hardworking young black woman whom earned her keep I found myself in a great state of melancholy.
What does it mean when you have everything you could materialistically want and are still unhappy?
I weighed 150 lbs. and had kinky over processed blond hair, a nice body and a sad smile. I hated myself. The person they all knew, who wore punk make up and listened to green day… she was a lie. She was only happy when it rained, hated bras and wore heels in a defiant streak of masochism. It wasn’t until she faced self-demolition did she realize that what everyone though she was wasn’t her at all.
In fact she wasn’t even a she. Never in her head did she see herself as a ‘She’. In her head her self-reference was always ‘I’ and when it ventured to the dangerous gendered lands of pronouns she, realized, had always been a he. So where was she now? Hiding in conformity because she was scared of losing everything she had. But she was already loosing…
This path she was one would never make her happy. So he cut off all his hair. Stopped wearing make-up and heels. Stopped bleaching his hair. Stopped starving himself to be pretty and started loving himself a bit more every day.
Started college. Manically picked out masculine clothes. Introduced himself as Ben. Learned self-love and proudly thinks, “I am enough.”
Thank you everyone again for you viewership.
It's been 8 months since I have been on HRT, and I am feeling great. It's amazing how smooth my process has been. I am a senior in high school and I already have my name and gender marker changed legally and I am living my life authentically, I am extremely proud of how far I have come in just 2 years. I have opened so many people's minds about my community and I have been given so many opportunities so represent my community. I can't wait to experience more!
Haven't felt like doing much of anything and really have been just going through the motions. My cat, the cat that Bree got when I was way down from my bout with cancer back in the early aughts, had her own bout with cancer and lost. Initially they thought it was lung cancer and gave us steroids to help her fight it, but it turns out that was just the secondary cancer. She stopped eating, started having seizures almost every hour and was falling apart. When we took her into the vet that's when they found the brain tumor just by looking in her left eye. The tumor hadn't been visible the last visit at all and it was pressing in on her brain causing the seizures, loss of appetite and all that. At fourteen years old and with no real options left I had to say goodbye to her. Our son was there, Bree was there, everyone that was close to her was there, but it was still hard as hell. I'm tearing up now writing about it and it's been a week. I imagine this is going to last a while.
I miss my cat.
I did start getting somewhere with my therapy. My therapist does like that I'm trying to keep a written journal which I write in when I'm feeling things and what thoughts are driving them since most of the time I feel numb and can't really feel anything at all except an overwhelming case of meh. Ultimately what she has tentatively diagnosed me with is Persistent Depressive Disorder, also known as Dysthymia. It's a possibly ongoing depression, not necessarily major, but it can cause most of what I've got going on in my head most of the time. She and I discussed my abuse as a child, we touched on my gender identity confusion, some of my emotional triggers and she did suggest that a combination of treatments would be good for me, so it looks like I'll be getting some medication to take some of the edge off while I try and work with her to figure out what I can do with or without the medication to deal with this, so I guess that's good. I don't necessarily feel good or bad about the diagnosis. I mean I figured I had something going on in there, only now it has a name.
I have been a bit mean to Bree and it's not been fair. I did apologize for it and I've been trying to be more mindful of my mood and what's coming out of my mouth or going on the keyboard. She doesn't deserve any ire I might be feeling. I've had a few really down days which hasn't been helping and I'm weening myself off of caffeine bit by bit. I'm drinking almost none at home and although I've been bad a few days here with lunch and dinner, it's mostly been water or tea. I'm drinking more water at work and less coffee. There is still a bit of soda but not much there. I'm sure that's been a bit of the issue, but being down makes me a bit of a jerk to be around, especially when I can't seem to bring myself to do or want to do anything and that's on me, not Bree. Ugh.
I did touch on my gender confusion with my therapist and we talked about why I've gone down the crossdressing route instead of pursuing transition and she did question if I'm doing it to please everyone else and not myself, and no, this is as much about what I need and want as everyone around me. While it was tempting to look at transitioning as this magic pill that would fix everything, that's not going to do it for me. The underlying problems I'm having that led to the depression will still be there and a whole host of new ones. I'd still have to deal with my childhood abuse, my procrastination, self-loathing, laziness and problems being social with people I want to be social with. That isn't going to just vanish with transitioning and right now I'm really doing the crossdressing to feel better and elevate my mood from being low or to raise it a bit so I feel happier, it's not so that I feel normal like I'd originally thought. I was doing it to feel and while I do feel more like my old self, I also get that when I settle in and have some fun at things I'm supposed to be having fun at. A few different road trips with Bree to our favorite restaurant and to the zoo and just being with her in general and engaging on the same level that we used to when we first started dating really opened my eyes to that.
Working some of this out has helped, but right now I'm kind of still grieving even while I'm trying to feel better and it's just kind of putting me in this spot where I don't want to do much of anything. Being a bit more creative has helped a bit, but I have to prod myself into doing that. Once I'm in that head space I have a lot of fun with it until things go sideways and then I just kind of shut down. I'm definitely a work in progress at this point. I have a whole host of problems to work through, but I have a great wife and life with Bree who's been nothing but supportive through all of this. I have a diagnosis now and at the very least a hope that I can get to feeling more like I used to with a big ole smile on my face.
Right now though, I'm still missing my cat.
Joined this site a few days ago after many years of fantasizing wondering what it would be like to explore what i was really feeling inside. Did some deep soul searching and realized that to feel complete, i have to explore and sort through my emotions. I have been supressing and fighting my true feelings. I am on a fact finding mission. This is the first i am expressing any of these feelings. It feels good talking about this.
Trans Workers UK is a Facebook closed group that advances Trans rights in the UK workplace, I'm a member of the group and regularly advice is sought and given by trans workers on most aspects of being trans at work. However by far the most numerous postings are for trans who are still "in the closet" as far as work is concerned, who are wanting advice from those of us who are fully out in the workplace and in life. Most of these folk have come up against the societally conditioned old barrier, that they'll be ridiculed, or lose their jobs and workmates, this is by far the biggest hurdle that we have to overcome, it's our pre-judice, based on experience in society at large. Most don't realise that it's 2016 & not 1975 anymore, and that attitudes have moved on.
Anyway I posted my recent experience to help them overcome their fears;
"Last week my employer (a County Council) sent me on a Fire Risk Assessors course, with a view to my carrying out Fire Risk Assessments for the Council's properties. This sort of fits in with my existing role as a H&S Advisor. Anyway I was kinda nervous about attending the course which was held at the Firefighting College in Moreton in the Marsh. I had imagined it as being a very male orientated place, and half expected to be stared at or have the occassional joke or wise crack made at my expense. I couldn't have been more wrong, I was pleasantly surprised to find that doors were held open for me by smiling young firefighters, who were also very polite. I thought wow, if anyone had told me 3 years ago that I'd be wearing knee high boots, treggings, leopard print top, make-up and attending as a woman at the firefighters college, I'd have said "yeah, in your dreams". But there I was doing it. So to all who are contemplating gender change at work, but think it's impossible, think again, I've done it, it's so much easier than you might think. No, as a male I was not a small built effeminate man, I was a 100 kg 5'10" bloke with wide shoulders and narrow waist, and yeah, I thought it impossible to do what I've done, and yet here I am as Eve, my true self. I hope that this helps to inspire others to to do what they really want and not hang about wasteing time, I regret not doing what I did much earlier in my life. Good Luck to you all xx".
I came home with this blog post in mind, thinking about it the whole way. But while I sit here and stare at my bright screen in a dark room, I some how second guess my motives. Either it to vent my emotions, or either it is to educate others. Perhaps it is a bit of both. I'm posting this briefly before I lay myself down to rest from work, having just gotten home and showered as quickly as I could before the routines of others came into play and prevented me from brushing my teeth. Again.
The topic I want to drag into the open once more today, though I'm sure you're all tired of hearing about it, is Multiple Personality Disorder.
It not only baffles and infuriates me to no end but it also greatly saddens me that anyone of sound mind would assume, even for a second, that this disorder is a matter of fiction. That the mere aspect of having Multiple personalities within your mind is simply a play at gaining attention or affection. The sheer fact of how challenging and frustrating it can be, and often is, completely confuses me when I hear others telling their friends how Multiple Personality disorder is a made up disease by people who crave attention. Much to the assumption that being transgender is only for attention, I suppose. I'd like to put a few things down that have very recently plagued me for the past month...
I wish it was only for attention. I greatly do. Because if it were for the simple reward of attention, I could merely shut it off whenever it suited me and forget about it completely until I felt lonely enough to gain more attention from it. People hardly ever realize how difficult life can be when you're juggling your daily routine around several other opinions in your head. Something as simple as remember to eat breakfast can be a daunting task, as you may be just about to eat but another personality takes front instead, skipping the meal or not feeling hungry; and by the time you return...half the day may have gone by. Or perhaps you're a victim of 'triggers' that can easily upset other alts and send you into an episode of emotions and hallucinations. Perhaps you're driving your vehicle at 65mph on the interstate and your child alt decides that he wants to try driving like the adults do. This could spell instant disaster for not only yourself and your 'headmates' but for anyone else on the road as well.
Any spare thought you have to yourself could easily be shared with your group without you giving permission for such. Any idea you have can easily be stolen from your thought, and taken by another. You may be neck deep in a task that you rather enjoy, when suddenly you're six hours away and your hobby is no longer in your hands. You wander and look for it, wondering where it's been placed. When you ask others, they'll simply ask you "Where did you have it last?"
Well, that's simple. I had it in my hands. Six hours ago...But then they may go on to discribe that you didnt seem to worried about it five minutes ago. But they also do not realize that the body moved, the mouth spoke, the lungs let you breathe and the eyes let you see. But they did so for someone else. Your own body betrayed you and allowed someone else to misplace your things, change your channels, change your style. But its not even your own body, now is it? No, you share it. As daunting of a task as it is to share your personal things and to have to hand over possessions that you love dearly, you must also remember never to alter your physical because...you share it. It's not yours. Not really.
Anything you do must be discussed in a group format, if possible, so as not to upset someone else that you literally must listen to for the rest of your life. Every minute is shared, every secret is spoiled. Any memory you wish to keep sacred and to yourself, you must spend extra energy to keep guarded. By the time you have your most precious memories guarded safely away from the prying eyes of others within your mind---you've far too little energy to even bother fronting at all. You may drift off for the day, for a week...for a month perhaps. Everything requires energy, and you must not forget....you share that too.
Your most intimate thoughts...you share. Your most secret fears...you share. Your most tragic memories...you share. Nothing is yours anymore.
Sometimes even, you will discover your secrets have been shared with someone without your permission, and only because that alt had been clumsy enough to not delete his text messages...
If you make a private account on a computer, a place to call your own and to try and hide away from the other voices that constantly ask you questions or bicker about when one should be allowed to color while the other wishes to watch television...dont forget. You share everything. That password you thought was your own? No, no..they often see those. Although you dont look at the keyboard, your mind remembers the placement and the letters and therefore; the words. The password is not yours anymore.
Being a Shepard Alt is just as difficult and I implore everyone with DID or MPD to please appreciate the chaos that your Shepard must endure. They must be the ones to dictate who may come and go and when they may do it. When one may color while the other watches his television show, while juggling who will be able to go to work tonight and do a good job; all the while balancing out when your host may have private time of his own with his boyfriend. While doing all that, you must try to not play favorites else it makes the other alts jealous and therefore rebellious. And nothing is more frustrating than a rebellious personality who, by the way, also has control of your limbs.
This is why it confuses me.
Why the idea of this disorder being simply for attention is such a drastic blast of false assumptions that it makes my head spin. Well...our...head spin. Mental disorders and diseases take so much of your life away, that you hardly seem to realize you're even living anymore. It takes up so much of your time, that a year can go by and you regret not doing anything productive with it. Your job may be in danger of termination every time you decide to relax and let another take your place, as mine is in now. Unknown to me, jobs have not been done properly. This was brought to my attention tonight when I was informed that my duties are being limited during the summer, and my boss is doing everything she can to keep me from being terminated from too few hours given. Bless her, I know she is trying to make sure I stay employed. But she also is not aware of the personalities that I try so desperately to keep within my head. Fact is...she does not even know I exist. Simply that I am speaking in my host's stead, but she will only know me as him.
And so we come to another piece of the never ending puzzle.
Being invisible. No one will know you if you are not the host. Not really. You may never walk to a crowd and hear your name spoken first, or at all. You may not even see your name on paper unless written in secret by your own hand. You may or may not ever have the opportunity at physical affection or intimacy, as these are usually things that the Host keeps for themselves. If this is different for you, please understand that you must appreciate this. Not every alt has this opportunity.
Take every opportunity as a blessing, in fact.
Some of us may simply be a manager, and never a person.
Please be kind to Multiple Personalities....we are many, we are important, and we are often but shadows in your bright world.
Recent EntriesLatest Entry
Day one Post Op:
Pain and Mobility Expectation - To be too sore to live and need help with absolutely everything.
Reality - I have taken my pain meds every 4 hours, and I am not in much pain, just a little sore. It's more of a discomfort.I am able to lift cups of water and pillows. I can't lift my arms higher than my chest muscles, but turn on lights using my head. I couldn't twist bottle caps off yesterday but I can tonight.
Comfort (sitting, lying) Expectation - I wasn't sure, but was expecting it to be miserable and hard to get up and down.
Reality - I first have to use my LEG muscles to sit on the edge of the couch and slowly scootch back. I have a "dead" neck pillow behind my low back, two firm pillows propping up my legs and a pillow under either elbow, plus a neck pillow. My caregiver needs to add these to my sitting situation. Bed is the same except I have a regular pillow under my back and a leg pillow sits slightly under my butt. If it's not there, I am not comfortable at all.
Sleeping Expectation - I thought I'd be out cold for a week!
Reality - The most sleep I have had in one batch was 2 hours and 16 minutes. Oddly, I am not that tired. As soon as I watch tv, I doze. I hear the show with my eyes closed, but not sleeping per se.
Burping Expectation - None.
Reality - OMG OUCH! Also,last night I thought I was going to vomit prior to every burp. I got the bucket ready, and just burped into it (Except once, which was just from eating an orange)
Drain Tube Expectation - Not sure, but assumed there would be some.
Reality - None.
Bruising Expectation - Lots and dark.
Reality - Minimal (but I guess it could get worse over the next few days)
Recovery isn't as terrible as I thought it would be. I don't know what would happen if I wasn't taking my pain meds though. I saw my surgeon for follow up today, and the car ride sure sucked with all the bumps. My left nipple is still bleeding, she said thats normal. It also appears that I do have nipple sensation still, which was very important to me. She asked if I could feel my nipples, and I said no, so she came over and scratched me harder than I was doing and I felt a tiny sensations. She said that would most likely come back stronger with time.
The most odd thing about this experience is that a small portion of my bottom lip is numb, still 46 hours post op. It's from the ventilation tube.
Honestly, the worst part about this entire experience was getting the IV put in. I have small and curly veins, so they pricked me a few times. I was also expecting my hand to be bruised because if it, but nope, not at all.
I guess if I had to give advice to anyone having (top) surgery in the future it would to be to work your core and leg muscles, because those are the ones you'll use to get up and down. Also, have a wide variety of sizes and firmness in pillows on hand.
It's been a little while, been very busy. Now starting laser treatement and soon starting hrt. Really excited about this all and am now fully out and refered to as luna etc ... correcting a few people here and there however very much enjoying existing as me and not my old self. I miss being around here much and hopefully will make some time to be more present on here. Work has been keeping me busy with many projects and all sorts of good new things. I look forward to reading all the posts and blogs I have not been able to attend to till now. Hope to catch ya'll people soon. <3 <3 <3
Wait for meevery moment passes taking its toll.Remind me, I can not remember if it was lost or something they stole;Forgive me, forget me, do not weep.As I will only sink further drowning in the deep.With but a faint whisper, be quiet, be still. I just want to sleep.There is only silence beyond the coldA throat that which sorrow took grasp, took hold.Cry out! Cry out! I can not breathe;Is there nothing I can do? nothing I can say?To implore you to holdout for another day.Perhaps I am your friend or a stranger you have yet to meet.Just take my hand I will help you to your feet.Look me in the eyes and just stare,You will begin to realize I do care.Open your heart let me see,I will come, please wait for me.- J Anderson.
[TRIGGER WARNINGS; INCEST, CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE, SUICIDE, VERBAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE.]
Basically the gist of this is never casually joke about suicide and incest, ever.
I've found that support for myself as a transgender person among other transgender people is almost non-existent. So the gloves are off. I'm coming right out with my worst secret and wanting it public.
This post isn't a fancy infographic and it hasn't any gifs of gyrating bodies. It has no pictures or selfies or cats. It has no links to news stories or articles. This post is a news story all its own. It's one of the worst things you will ever read. All of it is true. God knows I can't put hours into one of my other posts and exist. My posts require you to read. So here goes: no setup, no build, no background. No one's reading this far anyway.
My Mom knew I was a girl. But, she also had a thing for teenage boys and everyone including my friends knew it. When I was 11 or 12 she stripped naked in front of me and showed me how women masturbated. At some other point, we had intercourse. She was attracted to me. She needed her fix of teenage boys through me. We kept this a secret because we knew how violently my biological father would react.
Later on, we knew we couldn't live with ourselves. I was suffering from an eating disorder, bipolar disorder and gender dysphoria. I was vulnerable. At some point, we made a suicide pact. We would at least die on the same day, if we couldn't die together.
On March 17, 2009, the suicide pact was finally enacted. She died, I tried but didn't. Why I am still alive is a story for another time. Recently, I tried to tell my biological father that my anorexia had relapsed and I wanted to get some help getting something to eat. He chose to humiliate me in a public place instead.
I went home and stared at a suicide note I had written a while ago, thinking they would be my last words. My biological father has permanently surrendered his right to talk or look at me again.
It is a miracle I am still alive and I get no credit for my strength of character to avoid suicide. I am not the rich spoiled brat transgender woman that tv news and daily newspapers favour. My pain is much, much deeper than getting bullied at school. But I am invisible.
I do not hate my Mom. Her illness was not unknown and she clearly overcame it when my sister and youngest brother were most vulnerable. No physical damage or consequences came of it, like pregnancy or an STD. I love my Mom and I think in penitence she has become my guardian angel. She is a very good guardian angel. I also had a vision of her as The Shepherdess of the Garden of Twilight, the title of one of my novels. But her role as such a Shepherdess is for another post.
No, it is my other family I hate because of this. They should be taking care of me and helping me heal. Instead, they think I am better off never hearing from them, and if I never contacted them, I could accurately say I have no family at all.
I have been through 23 years of therapy for my damaged childhood, and my family. I will not be polite about it amymore. It has ruined my ability to enjoy sex with partners. But I said to my biological father "my anorexia has relapsed" and he chose to humiliate me anyway. My anorexia relapsed because trauma about my sex with my Mom had been released. My therapist thinks I'm cured just by saying I was sexually abused. I don't think any other therapist will help, please have empathy and do not suggest any.
I confessed these things because no one is reading. This is a long-form entry like my others and because it requires reading skills that high school students are no longer required to have, this blog entry is as invisible as I am.
My name is Debora Simon. My email is firstname.lastname@example.org | My twitter handle is @areaeightyfour | My facebook page is easy to find under Debora Margaux Simon | Please DM me on twitter or PM me on facebook or email me to contact me.