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  • Lori

    Transgender Bloggers Wanted: Share Your Journey

    By Lori

    Create your own blog at TGGuide.com. It's FREE and you can start right now. Some people blog as a sort of journal to share our thoughts, feelings, experiences and insights. Others blog to express opinions on social and political issues. Others blog to share their knowledge and experience with others. Go ahead. Express yourself! Others may be grappling with issues you blog about and your words could provide useful insight or answers. Here are some blog topic ideas to get your creative juices flowing; A daily journal about your life and experiences
    A journal documenting when you go full time
    A journal to document your gender reassignment surgery
    Dating experiences and tips
    Crossdressing tips
    Experience with makeup
    Passing in public
    Your experiences when you go out in public
    Restroom experiences
    Transitioning at work
    Dealing with counselors or medical personnel
    Introspection about your particular gender identity
    Dealing with or overcoming self-limiting beliefs
    Dealing with addictions
    Dealing with self-destructive behaviors
    Interactions with police or government workers
    Changing your drivers license, birth certificate, etc.
    Applying for jobs
    Your big day, when you go full time
    Hormonal development (please don't discuss dosages or make medical type recommendations)
    Experiences with electrolysis
    How other members of your new gender react to you, and your experiences
    Your recommendations to others about to follow your path
    Your thoughts about whether surgery is necessary to be your desired gender
    Differences in how you feel dressed or not dressed
    What your life would be like if you still repressed your inner identity
    Poetry or prose
    These are a few ideas to get you started. Feel free to leave comments to suggest your own ideas, or just start a blog and share with everyone. Just log into your control panel to start your own blog. This could be interesting!

Still alive!

So that job Nikki took last year has been going well, he's still there, and I have joined up also.  More money than I've ever made, and while the working conditions are extremely chaotic and we don't have much time for a personal life, it's weirdly satisfying and they seem to like me.  And it enabled us to afford to buy another house while we wait to sell the one we still own.  Which of course means my NJ friends aren't talking to me for this week after I showed them the Zillow ad and admitted I negotiated under asking price, which could maybe buy me a garden shed back home.  I do miss NJ still, but who can afford it these days!   Nikki's doing wonderfully despite not being in therapy since she passed, but he plans to find a new one once we are settled.  I get not wanting to start over twice, and I hope he gets one he likes as much.  I think he's way  more stable these days than I am.  Of course, I also am the one that came up with the idiot plan to move in with my mom to try to sell our house.  *smirks*  Self-inflicted injury.  But we are moving FINALLY sometime in the next month or two.  Still married, still going along with the flow, have managed to NOT injure myself with Nikki's breast forms lately (brownie points to anyone who remembers that story!).  Although I did manage to nearly kill myself with mom's weird bathtub, the kind that goes waist high that you walk in and bath in without having to step over the tub wall with this odd shaped door by slamming my head into it full bore when I dropped something.  Some days it's a wonder I live.    Nikki also wants me to go back to a therapist, he did some research and thinks I've been misdiagnosed with add instead of adhd, as apparently it presents differently in women, but they'd only done the research on male children back in my day.  If he's right it explains a lot.  *Looks around* I refused to tell him how many of the criteria I fit when he was asking me about the list, I'll get a pro to re-diagnose me thank you very much. LOL Hope you are all doing well!  




On Turning Sixty . . .

Looking back, I accepted my birthdays quite happily and proudly except for the last year before the decade turned and the first year of the new decade. For instance, I grieved turning 19, as I knew this was the last year I could call myself a teenager, and grieved a little more at 20, as I knew I was not only no longer a teenager, but never will be again. This happened at ages 29 and 30, as I knew I was leaving "young adulthood" behind. Again, at ages 39 and 40, I knew I was definitely middle aged. At 50, I realized I was medically a senior. And now, at 59 turning to 60, I definitely was a senior! Sometimes, I am unexpectedly reminded that I am getting older, such as the time I visited a beautiful library in downtown Brooklyn, that was filled with young people.  Finally I found a seat, among a large group of teenagers, and I settled down to my work.  Noticed adults pacing up and down between the tables.  Finally I got up and asked the librarian if it was OK to sit where I was, and she answered that I was sitting among high school students taking their SAT's!  The adults walking around them where proctors!  Apologized, and moved my stuff.  This scene reminded me so much of myself when I was their age, and how different I am now to what I was then. Somehow, I seem to see my life by decades. 0 - 10  Child 10 - 20  Preteen and teen 20 - 30  Young adult 30 - 40  Young middle-aged 40 - 50  Older middle-aged 50 - 60 Young senior Interestingly, the last few years I dream about being 18 - 22 years old and not using mobility aids (a cane)! In my case, I feel like in my early 40's, except when I am reminded that I am 60 when I look in the mirror or notice I suffer more aches and pains than in the past. Recently I had what I call, "The Linear Dream."  At the time I was 58.  There was a marked linear line, marked off by feet.  At the other end of the linear line, was my two year old great niece, standing, facing me, at the two foot mark.  In my case, I was at the sixty foot mark, having stepped forward to the fifty-eight foot mark, as I was fifty-eight years old.  Know the dream was about age, but, beyond that, I do not know what it means. Somehow, I feel more comfortable about aging, when I think in terms of "the circle of life," rather than linearly.   Here are some of the changes I have observed in myself due to aging: Fear of being "out of date." Fear of being alone (dying alone). Don't have as much a sense of purpose as I used to. Can't be as much "hands on" as I used to (accepting physical projects) More "word finding" difficulties. Having trouble with spelling and grammar. Chronic pain. Can't run. Less balance. Feel "underfoot" by society at large. More spiritual. Less eye/hand coordination. Difficulty learning new material. Feel less confident in finding a partner. Don't feel needed by my family. Can't walk far. Difficulty hearing with background noise. Intermittent tremor. Greater difficulty losing weight and keeping it off. Can't see as well, requiring a magnifier as well as glasses. Dry and thinning skin. Dry scalp and hair falling out at the scalp, as well as thinning and finer hair (don't mention the gray!) "Age spots." Dry mouth and eyes. Easy bruising.        May I ask how you have coped with aging?




I joined TG Guide almost four years ago. The time seems short and in hindsight it's passed quickly but there were many deep valleys amid the peaks. Last weekend I hiked to Tolmie Peak with some lesbian friends. Imagine that, out and about as natural as can be.  Now making plans for GCS, hopefully by end of Q1 2019. And yesterday my ex-wife phoned to ask if I'd like for her to help me through recovery! (You bet, I answered.)  Wow.



Transgender Struggle As Seen Thru Shakespeare

They hath disgraced Transgender folks and hindered our existence, laughed at our struggle, mocked at our gains, scorned our identity, thwarted our dreams, cooled our friends, heated our enemies – and what's their reason? We are Trans. Hath not Trans folks eyes? Hath not Trans folks hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as CIS folks are? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. - Original text from Shakespeare’s A Merchant in Venice edited by me to reflect Transgender folks struggle in a heteronormative bigoted society.

Transgender Struggle As Seem Bby S

They hath disgraced Transgender folks and hindered our existence, laughed at our struggle, mocked at our gains, scorned our identity, thwarted our dreams, cooled our friends, heated our enemies – and what's their reason? We are Trans. Hath not Trans folks eyes? Hath not Trans folks hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as CIS folks are? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. - Original text from Shakespeare’s A Merchant in Venice edited by me to reflect Transgender folks struggle in a heteronormative bigoted society.

I am transgender. Yes, yes I am

I am transgender. Yes, yes I am. Millions in our community are on my side.
Science is on my side.
Psychology is on my side.
Civility is on my side.
Respectability is on my side.
Love, is on my side.
Friendships are on my side.
Humxn history is on my side. Just love us for who we are. We are just as real, just as humxn, and just as worthy as you. ♥️

Just a lil intro

I am a Trans Womxn, I am Queer
I came out March 25th 2016 
My pronouns are XE XIR XIRS
I am a womxn, I am valid, I am beautiful 
I deserve love, respect & happiness like everybody else
Please see me as the Womxn I am
Please see me as the humxn being I am
Please love me and respect me & no throw me away
I have sooooo much love inside me that shouldn’t go to waste
Please see me, please value me.


I’ve only just come across the post that states curse words are not allowed. I will be backing up my present posts and creating a blog elsewhere. I apologize for missing that rule. 

The good, the bad, and the terrible

Friday was my annual check up. Or, it was supposed to be. I picked the most masculine clothing I owned(it’s really not much at the moment..). I thanked my hormone issues when I examined my face, as I already have stubble on my chin and upper lip. I sat in front of a makeup mirror, admiring it. In the past, I would’ve shaved it off. But being pre-T, I am thankful for what masculine traits I can get.  And then I shifted my focus to the rest of my features. Baby face. Chubby cheeks. Big, doe eyes. Long eyelashes. Double chin that weakens my already feminine jaw. This wouldn’t work. So I looked up drag kings. How do they contour? How do they highlight? What colors should I use? And...I didn’t have much in the way of contours. Just some taupe, slightly shimmery eyeshadow. But it would work. I carved out my nose with my makeup brush. Then my eyebrows. A feeble attempt was made at chiseling my chubby cheeks. It didn’t pan out. I decided on black eyeliner. Not to keep a “feminine” aspect, or to highlight my eyes, per se. I’ll be honest: I never outgrew my punk/goth phase. I greatly admire Billie Joe Armstrong, Gerard Way, David Bowie...you get the idea. I wanted something that felt like armor.  Getting dressed was more difficult. My lost masculine bottoms are basketball shorts, and I am still conflicted about leaving public with unshaved legs looking as feline as I do. So, black leggings. My binder has not yet arrived, so a tight tank top layered under a backwards camisole. And then a loose tank over that. Not enough. Ah, plaid button up. There you are. But you are a purple check print...hm...it’ll do. I have better shirts being delivered soon.  I felt okay leaving this way. I was covered. My chest wasn’t bound, but it was definitely not as prominent as it could’ve been(being a j cup and all...). And so I drove out to my appointment, stomach in knots. Once parked, I had a very unfortunate realization. I wasn’t going to be taken back to the room right away. I’d be in a waiting room. With other people. Why I didn’t take this into consideration before, I don’t know. I pulled down my mirror. Despite the contour. Despite the facial stubble. Despite the short hair. I still looked like a woman. A gross woman. One that didn’t care. I felt sick. I hadn’t no way of knowing who would be inside. Or how they would read me. Why did I have to keep the stubble? I silently thanked myself for having the sense not to wear the basketball shorts. And I walked in.  Bright, overbearing lighting. ‘At least they can see me well,’ I thought to myself bitterly. I walked to the counter. And forgot to check my voice. Yep, there you go...that’s my scared, feminine voice. Not like I hadn’t just practiced a deep, masculine voice the whole way over. Nah, I need to make sure I stand out. “Your Doctor is running 30 minutes late. Why don’t you come back in 30?” I breathed a sigh of relief, and told her I would wait in my car for a bit. I would avoid the waiting room for now. I pulled out my phone and texted two people. My partner. And a new friend(Sz) I had started speaking with from online, also a trans man.  “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have dressed masculine. I’m drawing so much attention to myself when I could’ve made it easier.”  Partner: 😕 Sz: No, you did the right thing. Medical professionals act confused if you dress one way, and ask for treatment to be another. I took a few deep breaths. I had accepted that my partner doesn’t “get” it. I know he supports me, but this is also unfamiliar territory. He was doing his best. Which is why having Sz there in that moment helped bring me down. Sz followed up with cute pictures, which made me smile. And then it was time to go back inside.  “Your Doctor is running an hour late now.”  I had already sat down and tried to make myself as small as possible in the sparse waiting room. An elderly couple across from me. A middle aged man in front of me. An elderly woman to my right. I wasn’t looking at them, but I was acutely aware of their positions and their wandering eyes. I wanted to get my appointment over with. But I couldn’t do it. It was close to closing time. Today was my birthday. I wanted to be anywhere but here. So I approached the desk to ask about rescheduling. “I have an appointment on the 9th, can I just reschedule then?” She told me she would pull it up and see what the appointment was for. My stomach dropped. Because I knew. And she didn’t. And there were people around. And I have stubble on my face because I’m fucking selfish. And Im wearing eyeliner. And my face looks dirty from attempting to contour. She pulled up my file.  Her nose scrunched. “Oh.” Her eyes fell immediately to my chin. I no longer got the “I respect you as a person” eye contact. She was clearly uncomfortable, and I started feeling dizzy and sick. Breathing became manual. “I guess...you could...handle...*THAT* at the same time. Uh..sure sure. I’ll just add it on here, uhhh” she glanced at me. She was looking for a ma’am or a sir on my face. On my body. Anywhere. But it just awkwardly dropped. I thanked her. My voice was much weaker. I told her to have a good evening and safe weekend. She wished me happy birthday.  And I power walked to my car and cried. That night, Sz and I texted for hours as I watched TV with my partner. Things felt right again, although I was unsure about what would happen at my next appointment. I stayed up until 4am feeling a flurry of emotions.  And it’s unfortunate. Because despite having my partner here for support. And having Sz for support. My brain actively works against me. One of my new shirts got here today. A red, plaid button up. Simple, but it excited me. I fumbled with the buttons, laughing when I realized they were on the opposite side as all my other shirts. I wanted to try it on. I had studied the size chart. I knew my size. And then I went to button it.  I couldn’t button it over my chest braless. I tried lying down. Nope. I layered my small tank top and backwards camisole. Still no. My binder isn’t due to be finished for another three weeks. And it’s hard to breathe again. Something so stupid...a couple of BUTTONS just wrecked me. In that moment I wanted to tear myself apart. I wished I could just tear them off my chest. I just wanted to wear the shirt. I just wanted one thing to make me feel masculine. And I have nothing.  I look at myself and see a woman. I speak and I hear a woman. And I know if I hurt myself, I could look too unstable to start T. But it’s so fucking hard when I just want to be out of this body. I can’t live like this and be happy. And I want to text Sz. I want to tell my partner. But what am I saying? That a fucking shirt ruined my day? That I keep digging my fingernails into my chest as if that’s going to make them go away? No, I can’t do that. July 9th. That is my appointment to discuss HRT with my GP. I don’t know how I’m going to wait that long. It hurts. Fucking hell it hurts. 


Tomorrow is my birthday. One year closer to 30. In the grand scheme of things, I am not old. If the average life expectancy is roughly 75 years, I still have more than half of my life to go. And yet...it’s almost thirty years wasted in this body. Almost thirty years of living as someone I’m not. Thirty years that could’ve been spent living authentically. Instead I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to peel back layers of femininity, searching desperately for the man underneath.  I’m supposed to be patient. I’m supposed to trust the process. I have to be okay with not being able to afford top or bottom surgery, even though I wouldn’t need it in the first place if I hadn’t been born this way. Tomorrow is my annual check up, and then I have to wait two weeks for an appointment to discuss a referral to an endocrinologist. But what if my GP won’t give me that referral? What if, despite the diagnosis of gender dysphoria, my doctor doesn’t believe it to be legitimate? What if that second appointment she set up was to convince me otherwise, or to tell me I would need to find a new doctor(in a rural area, I might add)? Since coming out, I’m much more aware of my...features. Beforehand, I lived in a state of dissociation. I could look at myself in the mirror, but I wouldn’t see myself. And it was only long enough to pass by or finish getting ready. I had so many people convinced that I wasn’t a male, and if I was that good at it, maybe I could convince myself. Maybe I was wrong. I just had to...push down the dysphoria. Force myself to be feminine. But I kept slipping. The more I forced myself into that box, the more I longed to be out of it. I bought “boyfriend-style” clothing from a women’s clothing store, because as long as it was made with women in mind, it was okay, right? I bought graphic tees. Doc Martens. Checkered vans. Plaid vests. Baggy shirts. “It’s unisex,” I told myself. I mean, it’s true. I’m a strong believer that any one, regardless of gender identity should be able to wear whatever they want. I love people who challenge gender norms.  So why is it a such a problem for me? If I’m so open to challenging gender norms, why am I feeling pressured to present a specific way? Why does my brain hate me? I can’t stand looking at myself. It’s hard to not feel like a fraud as is, but if I were to dress in an overtly feminine way? It’s like I am betraying myself, undermining what progress I could be making. Even more difficult, I am overweight. I’m broke. I am very large busted. Buying a new wardrobe is very difficult. Finding men’s clothing that fits my stupid hips or chest has been a nightmare. I bought a pair of basketball shorts. It’s so simple, but it was a big deal to me. The inside lining tore when I pulled it over my thighs and onto my hips. It killed me.  But tomorrow I’m supposed to celebrate getting a year older. In a body that isn’t mine. With no answers about anything. Uncertainty. Pain eating me from the inside. Does it get better? Does it really? 

This world is destroying my family

Hi Everyone, I am the father of an 11 year old "transgender boy".  My daughter decided a couple of months ago that she wants to be a boy.  She had dealt with a lot of anxiety and depression for a number of years due to bullying in school.  It got to the point that she didn't want to live and she went into a psych hospital for a couple of weeks and then an outpatient facility for almost 2 months.  This was in January - February.  Nothing about wanting to be a boy ever came up at all during or before this time.   About a year ago she mentioned that she wanted to wear some boys clothing which she did for a couple of weeks before going back to girls clothing.  We figured it was a tomboy situation.  About 2 months ago she came up with the idea that she wants to get her hair cut to look like a boy as well as wear boys clothing.  My wife allowed this.  She told my wife she wants to be a boy.  This decision is ripping my family apart.  Her twin sister is very confused by this as would be expected.  Her older brother by a few years does not accept this or her at all.  He wants to have nothing to do with her.  He is in therapy to learn how to deal with his feeling but the fact is...... I really don't disagree with how he feels.  My wife and I are arguing constantly.  My wife says she does not wish for our daughter to go down this path, but that she is happier and we should feel good that she is alive.  To me that is setting the bar at the lowest possible level which means that anything my daughter wants, she should get.  My wife believes that transgender exists while basically I do not.  I believe my daughter is confused, has anxiety and depression and this is just her newest way to get attention.  I believe she needs therapy to help her with her confusion.  Everything I read about says there is no proof biologically, or chemically in the body that transgender brains or bodies are any different than hetero normal (I don't really know the proper term) people.  Up until June 18 2018, even the WHO (World Health Organization) considered transgenderism a mental disease.  They only removed transgender from that list because it was causing a stigma for people who thought they were transgender... not that they believe transgender isn't a mental illness.   This situation is destroying my family.  We are fighting almost constantly (we all see therapists due to this) but I don't see how we are ever going to agree.  My wife wants to look into puberty blockers.  I say absolutely not as everything I read says there isn't enough research / data to know they are 100% safe.  I keep reading about people that thought they were transgender with some even having the surgeries and living as the opposite gender for some amount of time before getting the therapy they needed.  Then they realized they were never transgender to begin with and transitioned back.  I don't see how my wife and I are ever going to agree about this.  Both of us can find many stories, doctors and studies to back up our beliefs so I don't see how we can come to any kind of agreement.  We both love our daughter and want her to be healthy and happy but we completely disagree on how to help her.   This entire situation is excruciatingly painful.  I want my daughter back but I don't know what to do.  Every fiber of my being wants to tell her to cut this shit out.  I want to tell her she is not a boy and that this experiment is over.  Girl haircuts and clothing are the only choices and that if this is what she wants to choose when she is 18, then I can't stop her.  I don't say this because everyone is telling me this could damage her.  In my opinion by not telling her this, I am allowing her to be damaged by this decision.  I believe she is setting herself to be alone with no friends as girls hitting puberty will want to be with other girls getting their makeup and hair done and going shopping for clothing while boys will never accept her as one of them.   I see her having a miserable life going forward and I don't know what to do.  




An intro post

This is where I am now. Years of running, suppressing, hiding....I’m here now. It’s a surreal feeling. I came out to my partner of over a decade for a second time. This time, rather than peeking out of the closet and giving a wishy-washy, noncommittal suggestion that I’m not cis, I walked out of the closet, then closed and locked it behind me. I’m out to him. I am bare before him. This is me. This is who I’ve been. I’m not going back into that closet again. I already suffocate in numerous other closets. Closets I’ve designated for my local community, my family, the general public. But I will not be closeted around the person I love. Fortunately....he loves me too. And he has accepted me with open arms.  There is a freedom in embracing this, even in such a small scale. It feels like exhaling a  breath you’ve held tightly within your chest for years. But there is fear. I can’t run back into the closet. I can’t turn my back on the child inside of me who never got to be. Nurturing myself means nurturing the little boy I always was all those years ago, who lived in confusion and uncertainty. But nurturing isn’t easy in a metaphorical war zone. This is unfamiliar territory. Knowing that this is who I am doesn’t mean knowing what to do. It doesn’t mean I suddenly have all the answers. And finding community while living in a military town. Well. That’s another danger entirely.  I’m choosing between being closeted in public, and thus a danger to myself, or out in public and put in danger by others. In total, I am “out” to four people—my spouse, my psychiatrist, my talk therapist, and my eating disorder therapist. My talk therapist, S, was not receptive or remotely validating. Continually made references to the behaviors of teenaged girls. Made a very slick, under the radar reference to Brandon Teena in an effort to make me feel shame. You get the idea. My psychiatrist, J, was 100% supportive. I left that day with a diagnosis of gender dysphoria, and a list of what resources she knew of. My eating disorder therapist, H, was similarly supportive. She encouraged me to find ways to celebrate my identity, and thanked me for sharing something so personal with her. My spouse, C , of course, has been 100% supportive. We’ve watched so many videos together about trans men/transmasculine people. There’s been a lot of discussion. I’m confident he understands how vital this all is to my survival.  But it’s a double edged sword. The same blade I used to cut my bindings also sliced open an organ of emotions and repressed memories. Suddenly the denial I was able to use to suppress my dysphoria is no longer there. What was initially a casual journey in finding myself, now feels like a race against time. I’m bleeding out, but only I can see the mortal wound my liberation inflicted. And everywhere I look, I see locked gates and red tape. “We don’t cover that.”, “you need a referral for this.”, “I don’t deal with...that stuff.”. And I want to ask them. What happened to “first, do no harm”? I know you see me. I know you hear me. I am bleeding in your office. A cosmetic procedure to you is a lifesaving procedure for me. “First, do no harm.” At any rate. I’m here now. I will plant my feet in the soil. And I will grow. 

My transition (Update)

Hi all wonderful people. It has been a while since I posted anything here. After my last post I met a beautiful lady through this site, Steph53, Steph has become very special to me.  Steph was very kind and supportive and introduced me to what are now many friends over on Facebook, this is where I now spend most of my time. As for my transition it has progressed rapidly. I am now a month into my Hormone Therapy . I now largely live full time as my true self.  I have been out into the real world a number of times and this is now my norm rather than something out of the ordinary. Elsa obviously won the battle with William, it was never a contest. William is now a distant memory and only gets referred to in the 3rd person i.e. he did this, he did that, he was like that. He now plays no part in my life as i move forward. This is now my time to live, to shine and to grow. I do want to relate a recent event which made me realise just how strong I am now. The past weekend 16th -17th June 2018 my daughter and her partner was invited to her grandmothers for lunch, i was happy as they are very close and it showed me my issue had not damaged their relationship despite me not being in the good books with my mother in law any more. I knew of the invite a few weeks ago. On Saturday evening i was informed my wife was also invited but not me again while not happy I understood. As Saturday evening wore on it hit me what this meant, I was no longer welcome on my wife's side of the family and i suddenly felt very alone and isolated. I became very upset. I went to bed and woke up around 3.30am and I was angry, very upset, very down and very vulnerable . i quietly cried into my pillow. Then something happened, i started to think of all the things I (Elsa) had gone through to finally be born. Up until this point whenever I had discussed my battles and coming out and accepting who I was it had always been from his perspective never mine.  As i went back to as far as I could remember, my early childhood, I realised the immense struggle i had had just to be heard, to make myself known. The physical abuse by a Father and older brother who couldn't accept that I existed. To a mother that knew I existed but was not sure who i was, stopped the abuse and protected me. While my father effectively ignored me for a long time my older brother took every opportunity to bully me psychological.  Into my early teens when thankfully my father went back to sea as a merchant sailor and was never home and  the older brother sent to remand school. Finally I had some peace and for around 2 1/2 years I thrived, i dressed all the time although in secret and and with a lot of guilt and shame due to the earlier tortures. My mother knew but kept it to herself and we never discussed it. It was towards the end of these years that he began to dominate, I don't know why, maybe it was the increased testosterone, but he started to isolate me and bury deep down in his psychology. He began to grow into a man physically, he had a mans skin suit. the problem was, that as I watched on, he had know idea what a man was, he was a intrinsically a woman. His only guide was how other men behaved around him, largely his family, and they where not good role models. I could see he was very confused, he did his best but increasingly became more isolated as he didn't seem to fit in but didn't know why. This is how it would continue for the next 40 years from the age of 20. I would eventually find the strength to make myself heard and he would be forced to dress, he hated it and would attempt to bury me even deeper and build more walls to hide me. Every 3 - 6 months i would find a way out and the cycle would start again. He married and had a daughter, this was the first time I ever saw him happy. after work he couldn't wait to get home and be with his new daughter and wife. I was happy, i left him alone and even began to think that maybe this was his turning point and I would slowly fade away and he would finally find some peace. His wife didn't handle the birth to well, she loved her daughter but post natal depression set in. He became confused as he wife seemed to become more and more distance until an event occurred that would change him forever. His mother passed away at 60, he was devastated. He needed support, his wife needed his support but at that exact time his wife broke down. He had to fly down away from home to be at his mothers funeral on his own. I can remember watching him as he approached his mother casket,  his family, their wives and their children where all sobbing and he felt the emotion start to well up then shockingly as all that emotion was about to pour out he slammed it down, he refused to show any weakness to his family. He sat stoically through the whole funeral and as he helped carry the casket out. He never cried over the mother he was so close to and was never able to again. From this point one he became cold and any emotions where nothing more than an illusion.  I was determined to right this ship as this was not healthy for either of us. The cycle began again but this time he just  coldly accepted it and moved on. He turned it sexual, he would drink to excess, he would hurt himself through these periods, sometimes lasting up to 2 weeks all privately and unknown to those around him, he felt regret and shame and guilt but he'd learned to push them away and bury them as he did to me.He became depressed and often suicidal, he never acted on it. He had money to earn and and a family to maintain. The only person he was close to and showed any emotion to was his daughter, he loved her so much as I did and As i now do. She kept him alive. At 50 everything changed, he was tired of the constant battle, his daughter was now old enough to take care of herself and was living her own life, he was happy for her but he was loosing his anchor.  He simply gave up and there was nothing I could do. he buried me deeper than before and built so many walls i could no longer influence him. He simple existed and just pretended to be alive. He became and empty shell. I refused to give up.  I kept clawing my way out and very occasionally i would make myself heard. for almost 10 years this went on. However i became stronger as his psychology began to weaken. He could no longer maintain the prison of walls he had put me behind, because he just didn't care any more. for a while it was touch and go, he meticulously planned his own suicide even got to the point of ordering the supplies, but I was to strong now, I had not come this far to simply allow him to deny me my life. I stopped him and finally as Christmas 2017 approached I convinced him he had to choose, either come to terms with me or we both cease to exist. It wasn't his choice it was mine and I chose life. It still took a few more months. He couldn't understand what was happening, this constant need to be a woman, it became ad obsession it was still very sexual  he purged 3 more times, wasted a lot of money but after each purge I forced him back again. I forced him to research and read about transgender issues, understand it from a scientific perspective, he trained as a scientist so I knew this would appeal to his scientific nature. He finally began to understand. I made him book an appointment with a transgender therapist, now he began to understand who I was. About a week before the appointment we where driving to the shops, i kept whispering to him, you know me, you know who i am, you need to say, say it in your head and then say it out loud, it was his final piece of resistance but not to much. He finally said it, in his head and then out loud. I AM A WOMAN. I WAS FINALLY BORN, I WAS FREE. and the rest as they say is history. I write this now 5 months into the transition. I am at peace, there is no longer any conflict and because of all I have been through to finally be born I am stronger than he ever was. If you can remember back to the beginning of what is now rather a long blog entry, these memories came back at 3.30 Sunday morning  17th June 2018 at about 4.30am I began to sob uncontrollably. I had grown up, this was my life now and he was now just a distant memory. More than that, i was no longer angry, upset, down and vulnerable, I was calm, happy, upbeat and resilient. It no longer mattered who accepted me or not, I was me, this is my life and I will live it on my own terms. I had struggled and fought to be free and that has made me strong. There is very little the world can do to me that I haven't already endured, it will try but I know i will alway prevail. If you decided to read this far thank you I truly appreciate your interest. To all the wonderful people on TGguide and Transgender Radio in Australia who tirelessly maintain and keep these sites alive, that allow people like me to find a home and express ourselves and meet others like us and of course to all my Transgender friends on Facebook. I do however dedicate this to one very special lady who has helped me so much and it his through her kindness and support that I have come so far so quickly. for you Steph. I truly do love you. Hugs and kisses Elsa




Did traumatize myself a tiny bit?

So How do I see things today? Well the train is chugging along at an acceptable pace. I am still on hrt and doing all the things I was before the pit stop. I am just taking things much slower in every way. I have dialed back everything to a level that is comfortable enough for me to keep moving forward. I will pay attention to everything more closely especially how my decisions will affect me and others down the road. I ask myself all the time “what does this really mean & what are the consequences”. Do I really need to take this particular step or do I just want to. It used to bother me being in an “I between stage” but I have learned to accept it and actually have fun with it. YouTube has helped a lot. Girls that have expressed the same thoughts and feelings that I have or have had in the past. I tend to relate to the girls that aren’t all glammed up. They are not putting on a show just talking about what they have been through. Physically  and emotionally. I guess my main focus is to be as healthy as possible in every aspect of life. That is a tall order but at least it is something to aim at. Just aiming at being a passable functional girl seems really shallow to me now. As trans people we are extremely valuable to the world in that we have a unique perspective on life. No cis man or woman can fully understand this in my opinion. Life is to dam short to sit in shi.... I think we are here to experience the physical world and I really don’t know what being stuck in the wrong body means but there is still time for me to ponder this. Why is this happening to humanity? Something deep down is telling me that this might be a step in evolution. I might be just crazy thinking, wishful thinking or a way for me to cope with life but.....I don’t know. My intuition is telling me that I might be on to something here. It’s funny how when people talk about alien visits, visions, or sightings like the “grays” for example. They are rarely identified by sex really. I have to laugh at myself sometimes but hey, who knows. I like to stay positive if I can and I’m a bit of a jokester as well. With that I will go and have fun with Father’s Day. I’m going to get all machoed up for a day to see how I feel. Lol.   Christy 👽 





The conversations I have with myself about who I am and who I want to be help guide me on this journey. It’s a fun way for me to think about life (As 2 separate people) but, I only have one body so what to do? Who will dominate in the future? I don’t know yet and that is ok for now. I was studying PTSD recently and it related to me in a way. Even though I have been thinking and wanting and wishing to be a girl my whole life, I never really thought I would be. Ever. Unless some magical event took place I would be stuck with what I had been born with. Then when I was desperate enough during one of those moments (which there were many) I took a small step. This first step made me feel great. It was scary and exciting at the same time and what was once a dream now seemed like a reality or a possibility anyway. The momentum was building and I knew that I had to keep taking steps otherwise I might fall back into the same crappy place again. The excitementand the feelings were overwhelming and to see smallphysical changes (which seemed huge at the time) just made true transition a reality in my mind. Even though I was in therapy a lot and thought I was mentally prepared for this, I was not. The little girl popped out and she was running the show. Just like a teenager. As long as it wasn’t obvious to the outside world what I was up to things were acceptable and manageable for me mentally. Within in 3 months I had facial and some body hair removed, I was on hrt under a doctors care, I came out to some people, joined trans groups, let my hair grow (which was a lot harder than I thought it would be, looked like crap) bought clothes and started wearing them when I could, practicing my voice everyday, learning and wearing makeup, made my eyebrows feminine, doing yoga at least 3 times a week and lost 35 lbs while changing my eating habits. Looking back at this it all seems extremely fast but that is what she wanted. The realization that this was to quick of a time line started to creep up on me. When Ifinally stopped and took a long look at what I was actually doing I freaked out a bit. The hrt had removed much of my dysphoria and the reality of how hard and long this transition was going to be became clear. Do I really need to change? I was naïve and the shell shock was too much. I hadn’t prepared mentally for this and I needed to get it right one way or the other. So pulled the cord on the train and got off telling my doc what I was up to. I had traumatized myself just a little bit and needed to regroup. Now I feel much better about things and I have more confidence in my decisions but I have to keep checking in. I also have friends that will tell me when I’m swerving off the path. Will I stay on the train for the rest of the trip? Probably not because I learned so much about myself at the last stop. But then again who knows! treat someone nice today that doesn’t deserve it. It will come back to you when you need it.  Christy😻




New Beginnings

After what seemed like a forever dry spell, I finally opened another account today and wrote some business. I had just come from a promising sales presentation with one company and thought I'd check up on an employer who had put me off the last time since she just didn't have the time. Today she was ready and we just did it. I wasn't expecting that, but I'll take it. I have been seriously considering doing something else, but I really would like this to work. I have some more promising things coming up. We'll see. Eventually, I will downsize, but I'm not ready yet if I can help it. I like my privacy and being able to do pretty much what I want--not that I do much. Just me and my puppies.

The Talk.

I posted this in the forum as well. Let me know what you think. Am I crazy? I don't think I am. This is about how I have been dealing with the male and female sides of myself. My 2 spirits if you will. Are there really 2 spirits or personalities? I really don't know but I do know this. Thinking, writing and talking with myself in this manner has given me a sense of peace. A better understanding of myself. I'm not sure where we are going but I plan on making it as fun as I possibly can. I do feel that everyone has something to offer this world and I enjoy helping them find out what that might be. Or at least try. Watching a person “wake up” to the full world is fascinating and meaningful. It seems I keep waking up myself and reforming my opinions about me and me and the world. So, why did I get off the transition train for a bit and then hop back on? Well, something just didn’t feel right and it wasn’t fear. Responsibly for others was a big part and I needed to take a closer look at what the destination of this journey really was. I have kept my feelings about being or wanting or wishing to be female a secret for sooooo long that when I finally admitted it, the girl was ready to run. So she did and it seemed like there was no stopping her. She planned on being fully in place within a year. She was so excited about this idea that she lost track of the real world and everything she had helped to create in her lifetime. Luckily her best friend who she thought was holding her down came to her rescue. He taught this very young, happy, excited and all knowing girl to slow down. Almost in a child like way she was bound to make big mistakes and hurt herself. So with a loving hand he started to walk with her but not hold her back, just to keep her close. He gave this child some space to test her confidence and explore the world, but he was always there close by to help her understand the world and comfort her when she needed it. She is free to bump her knee and get hurt so she can learn from her mistakes. This is the only way she is going to grow into the women she might want to be. He is kind of like a parent or older brother in many ways, always there to protect her when she needs help but has enough wisdom to know that this is her journey to travel. She is growing and aging extremely fast which causes him to worry more than normal. This is the first time he has ever done this and he knows he will make mistakes. She entered her teenage years very quickly and she became selfish and arrogant, thinking she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what she wanted and needed so she started making plans without thinking it through or talking it over with him. I want, I need, I am, I will be, I will feel, I will see and then I will be able to breathe. Now he has a full grown teenager on his hands in a very short period of time and she has the resources of a full grown adult. Off she went doing what she wanted and he was left behind (she wouldn't even talk to him) which made him sad, but he understood this is a tough journey for her so, he let her go. Growth is what he was praying for, in himself and her. For him the acceptance of raising this girl was a bitter pill to swallow because he knows that when she is fully on her own he may not exist anymore. Fortunately, he loves her more than he loves himself so, he says nothing to her about his fears. Feeling guilty for holding her back for so many years, he lets her get away with more than he should have but, that is when she saw him clearly for the first time. He had been such a strong figure in her life providing security and protection but now something was different. She realized he was vulnerable and sad in certain ways and she couldn't believe she never noticed this before. She was unsure of herself. Like a princess in a castle always looking out the window dreaming of what could be she never really looked around. She was living in a strong beautiful castle that pampered her all the time, she just didn't know it. She wasn't allowed to leave the castle because his fear for her and himself was so strong that the doors could not open no matter how hard he tried. He had worked on opening those giant wooden doors everyday for his entire life. She became embarrassed about all the selfish things she had done and said vowing to change her ways, but that is a tall order to fill for such a young girl. She headed back into the castle were she felt comfortable and she helped him work on those giant wooden doors. As time went by they both grew and found a whole new respect for each other. They started appreciating all the things that each of them bring to the relationship.The good and the bad. They discussed what the future might look like if they never get the doors open and leave the castle. They talked for hours upon hours about what life would be like if they did get the doors open. Where would they go? Would they go together? Who would decide where and what to do? Would they both survive this unknown world? She grew into a women during this time and he could see how strong she was becoming. He was proud of her. She finally saw him for the man he had always been and loved him for it. Instead of fighting with each other they were working together and communicating about their individual needs and desires. Likes & Dislikes. That is when they found the key that opened the doors. It was lying on the table in the foyer, right in front of them the entire time, they were just to blind to see it. They have a deep trust for each other that for now seems unbreakable. Now he was ready to let go completely so, he said go explore the world you have a great adventure before you. I love you with all my heart and if you need anything at all you know where to find me. She smiled looked out at the beautiful world and took her first step. She turned back to him and asked...would you like to join me on this adventure? He smiled and said...of course I would but I think you should lead the way for awhile if you don't mind. I'd be happy to she said but we are at our best when we work together. Back on the Train..........of life. When I think of myself and my life as a story that is being written...by me & me.....it inspires me want to write the best dam story I can. Christy




Lying Low

I've been sick this past couple of days--since Monday actually. Our training room at work has an ac vent that blows right down your neck, and I didn't have a jacket to ward off the chill. Funny to move from Minnesota to Florida to get out of the cold, only to freeze in air conditioning. Not sure that was the cause. Anyway, it started as a nasty cold Monday afternoon. I should have stayed home on Tuesday, but we have a new recruit that I was scheduled to train, so I did spend a couple hour with her. She even felt sorry for me and bought me some deli chicken soup to take home. The soup was good by no cure. I think it's flu since I have achy bones and am running a `100-degree temp. I've read several times what the difference is, but I don't remember. I did get my flu shot, but they are not 100% effective.  Note: I began this on Thursday and my computer decided to do its own thing, so I'm back again on Friday. For some reason, I didn't lose what I had written. Anyway, after sleeping my way through most of the week, I am back at it again. I'm not totally out of the woods, but I definitely feel better--more myself. Maybe Emma was right in that I needed a break, and I was going to get one whether I wanted to or not. Fortunately, my week was light. I did some follow-up today, and should,  be ready for next week. I am reading John Connolly's Every Dead Thing. I've read it before a long time ago. It's a somewhat grim tale but well-written. It's good to be reading fiction again. I like to keep up on the news, but most of it is so depressing. Hopefully, this country can be saved. My opinion.

Trying Times

I had a long chat with Rich, my District Coordinator, this morning over iced-coffee at a Dunkin Donuts in Coconut Creek. It was across the street from the Hyundai dealership where he was having his car serviced for a brake alarm light. We haven’t had the chance to sit down and talk for quite a while due to both of our busy schedules. We hashed out my possible promotion to CIT (Coordinator-in-Training), and in the end we both concluded that now was not the time—if ever. Rich felt—and I totally agreed—that it was more important for me to be selfish right now and make some real money. So, I will be taking more time to do my own prospecting and less time training other agents; however, complications have already arisen. Rich’s wife, Robin, is in the hospital battling a urinary tract infection because of her recent major surgery. Reading between the lines, she is not doing well. I have a bad feeling that she might not make it. Rich is a real man’s man who married late. He also is very emotional and cries readily—something I am unable to do. As his right-hand man, I will continue to fill in and help as best I can. Some things are more important than money. I will be okay. I hope Rich will.

Betwixt and Between

So, while it's been a while since I've opened any accounts and made any money, it seems that I am continuing to be groomed for a management position. I was invited to a higher level training at our market office this afternoon which was attended by veteran agents and managers for the most part. My regional manager also wants me to start attending monthly leadership training. This is all well and good, but as I think I mentioned before, my district manager (and I) are most concerned with my livelihood. His wife is back in the hospital with a urinary tract infection from her recent surgery, so I have had to help out. Maybe it's called paying it forward. Anyway, I am still due to have coffee with him on Saturday. We'll see what he says. And in the meanwhile, I have painted my toenails a kind of dusty rose. I think I still like deep red better, but this isn't bad.

La Lucha Aeterna ( The eternal struggle)

Not sure I have the Spanish spelling right. I saw the sign on a vendor's cart in a Mexican market, and it stuck with me. Much effort, and little gain. All of our team seems to like working with me. My district manager's wife has been pretty sick, so I have been helping him out with the training, but I feel like I'm getting spread pretty thin. I am having coffee with him this Saturday. He wants me to succeed so maybe we can sort this out. Otherwise, I'm free floating. Not sure I'm ready for a relationship yet. I'm in no hurry or in any great need at this point. "When the right one comes along..."

Planning ahead

My life as an AFLAC agent has been a struggle lately. I am still closing accounts, but they are small ones and don't amount to much. So, I have started to look at other employment opportunities.  I don't need to make a lot which is a good thing. I am going to be talking to my District manager soon and see if he has any ideas. I had planned to stay in the house a while longer, but I could always sell it and move into something more affordable--like a trailer. I can't bear the thought of giving up my two poodles so I don't think an apartment would work. I wonder if there are mobile home parks for trans people. I have thought that it would be so cool to have a little community where we could all just be ourselves without society judging us. Maybe I could find a trans woman to share with. Who knows? We'll see what I can do in the coming month. Maybe make some money.

New Routine

So, as I mentioned yesterday, in an effort to get smarter, I am going to write a blog entry after I eat, walk the dogs, take a shower, and dress for the evening. (Heretofore, I would take to my chair after bathing and promptly have a good nap--maybe later.) Tonight, my topic is food and my evolving diet. My wife was a real meat and potatoes kind of girl, and so was I for most of my life. It was how we were raised, and we thought nothing of it. As we grew older, however, we began eating less meat, and when we did, it was either chicken or hamburger. In the meanwhile, I had been reading more and more about the ill effects of meat in the diet, and especially red meat. Now that I am on my own, with only myself to answer to, I have cut way back. I don't eat any red meat--well, except for the Big Mac my boss bought me a while back (he had a coupon), and just a little chicken every now and then. I am starting to branch out in my cooking, and I am working salmon into my diet which is somewhat challenging at this point. I am using canned salmon, and it is a little gamey smelling, to say the least. I have been putting a lot of lemon on it along with hot sauce, and it's not too bad that way. I'll have to keep experimenting. Anyway, my feeling that going at least partially vegan will be more healthful and help me maintain my girlish figure (LOL) as well as being more environmentally friendly. More humane to the animals too. So, that's all I have to say on that tonight. Hope to hear what you girls are eating.