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I couldn't sleep last night, so I wrote a song, I'm going to post the lyrics, hope you like it I would love feedback, positive or negative
such a faux façade
Do you know who you are?
Have we pretend too long?
Should I hide my face?
Am I a big disgrace?
Why should I conform
to just fit in?
I hurt no one
I cause no harm
I’m just trying to be
who I know I am
You’re so lucky
that you get to be
the person that you see
in your reflection
but I must wait
to set myself free
Why do I have to prove
who I am inside?
Is it my destiny
to hurt eternally?
Do you know what I go through
just to live my life?
To feel the emptiness
of a thousand lies
I hate this
Living like a misfit
I’m here to stay
I won’t go away
I’m not going to change
I’m not going to hate
I’m tired of the pain
If you can’t handle this
just walk away
Such a heavy hand
I must detach it
all the hate for myself
Chorus 1 (sans 3rd stanza)
What’s it worth to you
to make me feel ashamed?
Do you sleep well at night
knowing you cause pain?
Using hollow words
and spiteful lies
that we’re not beautiful
in God’s eye
and I love this
proud to be a misfit
Our first eating of GSA, I had everyone go around the room and introduce themselves. Your name, Major, Preferred Gender Pronoun and why they came to GSA.
So I would say
"Hey, My name’s Tyler, I’m your president.
My Major is Education.
My Preferred Gender Pronoun is He, His, and Him
and I came to GSA originally, because i needed to get to know people like me, but now I’m here to lead and teach you and the community around us.”
Apparently in the last… oh let me say 30 meetings she totally forgot that i was trans and when i came in and shared that i was so happy i got a new binder, she questioned…
"Why are you excited about a book?"
"it’s not a book…. It’s a tank top… thing that makes my chest look more flat."
"but why would you want that?" She asks….
I told her, “It makes me more confident when I look in the mirror and think I see a boy, with no chest, baggy shirts, and no swag. It makes me happy”
"Can’t you just get a breast reduction?" she asks, confused.
"I mean… a reduction totally. But I Don’t just want them reduced. I…. just want them not there, at all. When i look in the mirror before I have to take a shower, Inearly cry. So I started covering my bathroom mirror with a towel just so I don’t have to look.”
"……Everytime I think of myself in the future, I think of a man. Married to a woman with a beautiful personality….."
She cuts me off “but you are beautiful…. Why do you need to change yourself?”
“Who do you think I am in this equation?”
I gave her a look. I had just gone over this a week before. I’m not doing transgender 101 again this semester.
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a lot of things have been going on I have finally gotten to the end of the trial what's my former lover at shop at 12 times I'm involved with another man I'm bettering myself and no longer living as a victim I'm beginning to live more as a survivor I pray everyday and throughout the day that God lead guides and protects me
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I had always been glad to have the parents that I do. My mother has some problems with showing that she cares, but I know it could be so much worse then it is.
On the other hand my father is such a great person. He grew up with a stay-at-home mother and a father in the Air Force. Their family is very conservitive and went to church on a weekly basis without fail. We've notice the hypocrisy that's come from our family.
My father has been so supportive of me. I'm very lucky to have someone like him in my life.
I've been pushing my luck though by having fits of dysphoria. Then I regret saying something that would make them feel bad.
But I do love them and I do recognize that I'm lucky to have supportive parents.
When I wrote and posted "My journey into gender fluidity (part 2) I expected to be posting Part 3 fairly soon. As it is, I'm finding it quite hard to write.
As I've said, these days I'm quite happy and content in my gender fluid identity but my journey here was difficult at times. I want and need to write about that journey but doing so, especially when writing about my early flirtations with "feeling like a girl", evokes memories of the transgressiveness, guilt and shame that I felt at the time. This was partly because I knew instinctively that what I was doing would be disapproved of deeply by my parents and the outside world in general.
It was also because I didn't really understand what I was doing. I knew I didn't want to actually be a girl but the need to physically "become" a girl for an hour or two was quite compulsive. It felt like it was a need that was hard to control. I didn't want to stop doing it but I also felt that it would be hard to do so even if I did.
I'm wondering if other young people experiencing gender ambivalence also felt this compulsiveness to explore the "other side".
Well, part 3 is nearly complete after many rewrites. I hope to be posting it soon.
Meanwhile, I've just posted another message on the "Why Do I cross dress?" thread on the MtoF cross dressers board. It's delving a bit deeper into how cross dressing functions for me as a biologically male but gender fluid person.
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Welcome to the wonderful world of my life. I hope you are sat comfortably. Please make sure your seats are in an upright position, tray tables are folded away and please keep your arm inside the vehicle at all times. If you scream, it means you want to go faster!!!
This is my first blog on here, so a little about myself. I'm Amy, I'm 32, a transgender female. I have come out to my friends and family. My friends are amazing and supportive. My parents are supportive but I think struggle a bit. My eldest brother is great. My sister and other older brother haven't spoken to me since I told them. I'm the youngest in the family.
Right now i'm unemployed. I was working at a veterinary practice but after I told them I was trans and wanted to transition, life there got very difficult. I do have an interview for an assistant job at Toni&Guy on thursday, so hopefully I can get that and move out on my own again. I am wanting a job where I can work my way up and grow as a person, in an accepting environment.
I'm not female full time yet out of respect for my family but when I move out, then I will be. I am waiting for a date of my first appointment at the Laurels gender clinic in Exeter. I have got the funding, so just waiting for a date. They said possibly september.
Well thats me in a nutshell. Hope you are all well and drop me a line if you fancy a chat or a new friend.
Peace and Love xx
I can hardly believe that August has come around so soon and wow, things have so moved on.
My personal relationship with my beautiful partner Ruth has recently reached the maturity of two years engaged and it feels so good to have that special person in my life.
I got made redundant again in February as the company re-structured and no longer needed my position. As it happens I was about to quit anyway since I had made plans to move to the North of England and come April that has happened. I now live in Bradford within the beautiful county of West Yorkshire, England.
I own my own house, no mortgage/rent to pay and without that financial load on me I am attempting to work for myself, another major change in my life.
Silence – sometimes a blessing, sometimes a detriment. I often wonder if I’ve yet to define which it is to me. It is a negative friend I have bonded with through my own choice. No one actually forced me to be silent, I allowed it to be. I can’t even begin to express the years that I remained silent while inside of me was screaming to be born; to be free; to be happy, only to be denied because of my fears of rejection by family, friends and co-workers. There were times when I let those fears fester to the point where I began questioning myself as to whether or not I was some kind of freak of nature. The numerous nights I spent alone crying until there were no more tears to shed. Even now, I hesitate to be my true self at times and suffer the guilt for not having the courage to open up and blossom. To let go and be the woman I truly am in every cell of my body; in every beat of my heart; in every waking thought; in every moment.
Questions pop into my mind — How much longer are you going to let everyone else dictate your happiness?; How many more years are you going to hide behind the veil of cowardice and live in loneliness and misery?; How many more hours are you going to waste pondering the “what if’s” of yesteryear? Yet, in spite of the questions and knowledge of knowing that my inaction will only cause sorrow, I still embrace that silence.
Now comes the reality that at age 63, I don’t know how many years I have left and that if I don’t begin to live my life, truly live my life as it should be, I will die physically as I have died a thousand times over in my heart. Adrift in an ocean of a society that is discriminatory by nature; cold and hurtful by ignorance and hate; and blinded by the need to force their views and beliefs on others through verbal or physical attacks, I desperately search for a lifeline, a lifesaver to pull me to safety.
What scares me the most is my inability to ascertain whether I can break my lifelong habits of silence when that lifeline comes along. Right now, the transgender group I have joined is that lifeline and I find myself thrashing, clawing and reaching with every essence of my being to grasp hold of it while still clinging to the safety of the silence I have made friends with, reluctant friends for sure, but nevertheless, friends.
I will frequent this page, undoubtedly cry again and again, but for sure, I will find the strength in it to overcome the silence, one step at a time. I need to or forever be bound to a broken heart.
Now, more so than ever before, I realize through reading and listening to the news that the pain I have endured and still endure has been shared by so many before me. It is helping me to cope and it is my sincerest hope that in some small way I too will serve to help those who are younger and struggling with the same silence and fears, that they may take the steps to reach out and touch base with those who really care as it may just make the difference between having a sad life or a happy one. Life is too precious to squander away as I have so learned — the hard way.
Civilisation is a beautiful creation of man kind. It has given us culture bigger than the world we see and it has educated us and made us a refine and sophisticated individuals. Civilisation has also educated us and has become an authority that had given us a clear code of what is good and what is right. Unfortunately, most of the things that do not conform to how the acceptable majority are considered to be bad. To be different in our civilised society is a very challenging existence. Everyday, we encounter events where we are stigmatised and marginalised even humiliated.
I have noticed however based on my first hand experiences that those guys who bully me or those who are very outspoken on their hate both verbally and physically are those guys who actually who finds people like us desirable. Hate and love are almost in one sphere. We cannot hate so intensely a person we do not love and vice versa. How true is it that the more they hate us, the more they desire us? Why do they show remorse towards ladyboys, while we are just minding our own business? And if it is true that what they actually feel for us is more a desire than hate, why show us hate then? Are they afraid to admit the fact that they find us attractive and would love to be intimate with us? Are they afraid to be stigmatised by the society when they have an association with us? Does civilisation had deprived us to be truly true to ourselves, our feelings and our community?
Allow me to invite you to visit my blog entry as I try to deal with this very difficult questions of our existence vis-a-vis the society we live in. Please click this link: http://ladyboymirror.com/?p=248 for the article on my blog at LADYBOY MIRROR.
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Hello, Trans Community!
My name is Plenya Lyze (just call me 'Nia') and I'm grateful to find this forum to share my journey! As a self-proclaimed 'Trans Cougar,' I represent the more mature members of the Trans World! All I'll claim is that I'm 40+, a woman never reveals her real age! It's just that I'm not a kid; and although I've spent time throughout my life exploring my female (or authentic) side, it's only been in the last two years that I've been able to embrace my authentic self, and commit to change my life path to more honestly reflect what I've always felt - my female, feminine side is when I am most authentic, and most happy!
I have a number of ideas about transitioning; I now realize that each Trans individual's journey is unique and singular. I have loved the last two years since I've embraced and committed myself to making my transition real. For an older Trans woman, I'm playing catch up, but I can definitely see my golden years as a sexy, funny woman embracing the world!
Since starting my journey in earnest, I've thought a lot about what challenges and hurdles I'll have to overcome to live my life 24/7 as female. I started female hormones in October 2012. In the last eight months I'm happy to report that my breast growth is coming along very well. When I was a kid, I was embarrassed that I had visible, female looking young breasts; my only regret is that I didn't grow up in a time like today. If i had had understanding parents, I could have embraced my feelings of always wanting to be a girl; playing with dolls, having girl friends, and just my interest and identification with all things female. When I grew up, however, my family did their best to stifle any expression of these feelings, and often resorted to humiliation and emotional and verbal abuse to try to get me to stop how I really felt inside. I'm happy to have lived long enough to realize that now is the time for me to transition to my authentic, female self, and to hell with what people think!
I have some dreams I hope to become realities, as I search for a way to transition and be able to live and work as a female. I've read the stats, and I know how hard this journey will be. But you know what? I'm now ready, willing and able to make these dreams come true, and I'm eager to find friends to share this journey with and find acceptance and encouragement along the way.
Thank all of you for your fearlessness; I hope to tap into that reservoir of strength and determination to make it happen.
In this post to my blog I am really interested in knowing what questions ran through a spouse's mind or that they asked out loud within the first month or two after their spouse came out to them and informed them of their being transgender or transsexual. Rest assure that I can pretty much guarantee you that if you had/have a question them someone else has had it before you and someone else in the future will also have it after you. From the questions that spouses/significant others of transsexuals or a transgender person post as comments to this entry, I will research to find as much information relative to and really do hope I can find the answers to them for you as well as well. If anyone would like to comment on someone else's comment, I have no objection as long as it is a respectful and helpful comment. Example Question: Did I do something to cause my spouse/significant other to identify and transition to the same gender as me???
First off, Mothers Day.
Happy Mothers Day to my wonderful mom. I have no idea how I would have made to now without her. I love her so much and with all my heart. She is my hero.
No. It has no always been easy. The last few months have been a great example of that. Some would think I broke my mother's heart with my decision to transition. But I think it would have broken her heart more to lose me to the deep depression I was headed for. Because who know where that would have taken me. I was headed for a dark place. I had to tell my parents. I had to tell them what was going on with me. Simply because they are a part of my life. The last thing I wanted was to hid what I was doing from them, then to show up looking totally different.
I have been watching videos and reading articles about trans men And how they grew up and the feelings they had. It sounds so familiar. I felt the same thing. I thought the same thing. I sent a video to Mom. I hope she watches it. And it helps her understand that this is something I have to do. That the feelings I have are nothing new and I am not the only who feels this way. And it also showed his Mom coming to terms with it. All I can do is hope it helps her. That it helps her accept me a little more.
Another thing on my mind.
The discrimination I feel from some members of the LGBT community. Not any of my friends. Those people of been more the accepting and understanding and very very supportive. I am talking about some "family" I have met since. The looks, the questions, the exclusion I feel. From the butch lesbians, it is like "How dare you desert us?!?" And from the femmes out there, it more of "Another one bites the dust.". I didn't realize that the gay world was just as closed minded as the straight world. And I feel very disappointed about it. Heart broken really. I spent most of my life being discriminated against because I was a tom boy growing up. "Why can't you be more like a girl?" Then coming out as a lesbian, "Why can't you be straight?" and, "Why would you chose to be gay?" Now as a trans gender man, and being a straight man at that, I feel that the struggle to fit in and belong to a community is starting all over again. I feel like an outsider in the community that is supposed to be about acceptance and tolerance. LGBT does stand for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual AND Transgender.
It makes me wonder if I will ever find my place. Find my community. Or will I always be looking and searching for the acceptance I am desperately seeking? I don't announce myself to new people as trans gender. I just introduce myself as Dustin. Since that is my name after all. I see the looks I get from people. I "see"the questions. The standoffishness. (Is that a word?) Of course, it doesn't help that some at my place of employment, say "she" with obvious emphasis. Just to make sure the confusion goes deeper. I think I have to insist on being called "he". I honestly thought it wouldn't bother me that much but it does. I can live with being called my old name. I am treating it more like a nick name at this point. Most people are doing pretty good with correcting themselves so it's good. I don't want to be an asshole about it all but I do want that level of respect that everyone deserves. I really feel that once I have surgery, the looks will change. Plus, I want to up my dose of testosterone. I need to see my doctor about it. In between my shots, I start feeling off. Like something is wrong. Almost like a PMS feeling. I feel angry and aggressive. I am ready to take the next step and up my treatments. I want, no. Need to take the next step.
I also have an opportunity to get a new job. I know I know. I love my job. But the new job pays way more money. It would still be Monday to Friday. 6 to 2:30. So an awesome shift. It would ease my mind about bills. And allow me to save more money towards surgery. The benefits are great. The people are pretty cool. I would get to work with my BFF again. I guess the only real problem would be asking my boss for a letter of reference for the potential new job. My boss has been so good to me. With dealing with my name change and my transition. As we are all aware, the only one I have really ever had a problem with is the douche. I admit, I won't miss him at all. I really don't know what I am going to do at this point.
It has taken me all day to write this post. I keep getting distracted by Facebook, T.V and sick cats. Bean and Fidget are sick. They are on the mend now. Thank goodness. We went to the doctor yesterday. He spouted a bunch of medical jargon I couldn't understand. They got some fluid under the skin to help with dehydration. And I was prescribed pills to give them. Problem is, the pills make the cats throw up. It s very hard to keep them hydrated if they are throwing up twice a day. So no more pills. I have a bowl of water outside of Bean's new little house (Thank you Auntie Tasha! ) and a bowl of high calorie dry food as well. She will eat when she feels like it and drink as well. Holding her down and forcing water down her throat is stressing her out more then being sick right now. The girls did get a steam bath today to help with congestion. Bean even sat outside in the sunshine for a while. I think she will be OK.
The doctor also gave me hell for Fidget's weight. Not sure what else I can do. She is already on diet food. And I moved to a place with stairs so she would have to go up and down. It is not my fault she is lazy. Same with Bean. She has always been a tiny little thing. Granted. She is too skinny right now. But even when she is healthy, she is a light eater. I can't force feed her. She is not a big fan of wet food on good days. So. all I can do is try and maintain a good balance between my skinny Bean and my tumba wumba Fidget. Wish me luck.
The Bro Code Article # 23
When flipping through TV channels with his Bros, a Bro is not allowed to skip past a program featuring boobs. This includes, but is not limited to, exercise shows, women's athletics and on some occasions, surgery programs.
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I haven't written on here in a while because of my PTSD mostly, the rest is telling more of this story has only brought up more anguish and sadness.
My 12th birthday had come and gone and I was still in the Hospital, I had become adept at masturbating and except for a few dry humps on Joy that were absolute bliss. I was moved to a old building where they kept the older boys. This was very different, segregated by sex and placed into a situation where they were not only crazy but full of adolescent hormones. In my opinion an awful combination.
Within my first week there I was in a fight with an older kid, he was picking on me and I just had enough. I managed to throw him down the stairs and was kicking the crap out of his stomach and ribs.
That little incident got me thrown over to the maximum security ward, cut off from my family. i was there 2 weeks before they even visited me. I was brought some new clothes and just like that the visit was over. This ward was a new kind of hell for me, the lights wre on 24/7 and somone was always watching us. It grew into another but even more structured and boring realiy. The only highlight I remember was being show the movie "The Fantastic Voyage." In all I was in there for about 3 months before I was returned to the CB building. Little did I know my time there would soon end, but my adventure there was not over. I met another kid about my age, there were no semi private rooms like at the cottage this was open ward sleeping at its "finest" He was about my age and just as scared as myself. I introuduced him to the joy of panties and he quickly discovered that he enjoyed wearing them too. At least i had a freind who understood my desire to wear panties. We never discussed wearing dresses or anything like that it was all quite innocent.
After all, my hormones were raging and all I wanted to do was have sex with girls.
despite a rough start to my time in CB ward it was a time of change as well. Mom had established a small comisary account in my name. I couldn't take out more than a dollar to spend at a time,
Also I was now allowed off grounds for an hour at a time, my home was about 3-4 blocks away and it occured to me I could go visit but at the time I was allowed off grounds no one would be home.
I would go to the candy store and get some soda, or just wander around, eventually I had enrolled in some model building club, and the activity required me to take a bus to a nearby city for "class"
One cold miserable wither evening I had gotten off at the stop about 3 blocks from home and instead of walking up the street back to the hospital I decided to walk to my home in the blustery cold twilight. I arrived in time to interrupt my family's dinner. I had looked in for a few moments before knocking on the kitchen door. I looked at the three of them, eating and then my empty chair, it seemed surreal at the time like I was dead, a ghost at the window yearning to part of something now out of my reach forever. In a way it was a harbinger for a future time just 5 years away.
I knocked and they all turned to look, my Mom let me in while my Dad looked less than thrilled to see his second biggest mistake shivering in the doorway. I stepped into the warm, florescent lit kitchen rife with the smells of my Mother's wonderful cooking.
I don't remember what was being served, i do remember not being allowed upstairs to go to my room. What were they afraid of? All i had to do was pick up a knife or better yet take 3 steps into the dining room and pull out my Dad's loaded revolver from the middle drawer of the hutch and have at them. Of course I didn't think of that, I waited while my Mom called the hospital and arranged to drive me back. The short car ride through the winter darkness was quiet except for the radio playing ABBA's Honey Honey.
I don't recall any kind of punisment for this stunt other than being admonished for "running away"
I came away from that experience very depressed, really feeling like an outcast in my family.
It hurt me so deeply knowing that my family not only had a whole life without me being a part of it but didn't seem to even miss me. Even now after all this time that hurt has not lessened one bit.
However winds of change were blowing and my time there would soon come to an end. I don't really remeber my last few weeks there othere that I strated spitting out my bedtime dose of pills so I can get up early and go down to the kitchen and help out with getting breakfast ready.
I have no recollection of the last day there or going home. I know I was happy to have gotten out for good, but when Sunday evening rolled around I had an anxiety issuue for fear that this was all a cruel joke.
But I was home at last, happy to have my own bed, happy to have all my toys and the things I was not allowed to have in the hospital. I did not go back to school though, i was dropped at my Dad's parents house during working hours to be taken home at the end of the day. I was actually over the moon for quite a long time to be not going back. However I was still on my meds for a few weeks more and suddenly i was cut off cold turkey.
What I didn't know about was I was about to go through a "little" thing called withdrawal. It started with vomiting and dizziness, the endless dry heaves as my stomach was now empty. Crossdressing was the last thing on my mind during this time, as I was now bedridden and violently ill. With a trash can by my side and a clock radio for company. I would not get to eat for many several weeks, I tried to eat but couldn't keep it down, even water would not stay inside me. The doctor my Mom took me to told her to tell me it was just "Chest Congestion".... BULLSHIIT!
I have tried alot of drugs to numb my emotional pain but never got hooked due to my fear of withdrawal. I was sick for about 3 months then better for a week then sick for another month the better for 3 days during this time we prepared to meve to Middletown PA as my father had gotten a promotion and had been commuting back and forth daily between Harrisburg and our city. Which was fine as we barely saw that bastard until the weekend.
I really did not want to move, I had just made some new friends and was adjusting to a life free of being in a locked ward and on debilitating meds.
My beloved grandparents and my numerous relatives were all here as well as the all the familiar places i treasured. As much as I hate that town now, I loved it just as much then. To be ripped away from all I loved and knew was the cruelest blow to my psyche.
But moved we did, i cried and was generally angry and upset, During this time I encountered another relapse of withdrawal and was back in bed for a few weeks.
Next entry, out of the frying pan and into the fire, or a minnow in a pool of piranha's
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Its 5:40 on a lovely bright Saturday after weeks of cold and misery. Like most days when the weather isn't trying to freeze me to death, I decided to take my housemates dog for a walk. For me, walking time is thinking time, and the topic of the day was 'what on earth do I put for the first entry on a blog about being transgendered?'.
I ran through the usual list, boring checklist of my coming out, experiences with the NHS, shamefully confessing that I still haven't told my family despite living as a woman for nearly 6 years (I'll do it next week, honest!), but then I decided to write about just how much being trans is like compared to all those movies people make when they occasionally remember that people like us exist.
After a good hard think, I came to the conclusion that none of them reeeeeeally manage to capture the feeling of being gender fluid, but you know what does? Jaws!
Yes, the Spielberg classic about a giant fish that's basically a chainsaw with fins captures the transgender experience at its most heartfelt. No being Trans does not involve being dragged down to the bottom of a cold dark abyss buy an unseen nightmare (but I'm sure for some people it might). No, Jaws feels like being Transgender for completely different reasons.
Take the plot. For the uninitiated, Jaws starts off with a shark attack, then another, then another. Each time there is one the local authorities desperately try to cover it up, they need the tourists to come toothy nightmare or not. Eventually it's staring them in the face and they resort to hiring a crazed fisherman and sending him out with a shark expert and the local sheriff to collect a bounty on the sharks head. If your wondering where this is going, that is how realizing I was trangender basically felt.
I didn't have the whole 'oh ever since I was 5 I knew I wanted to be a girl etc etc'. Nope, for me it was like the opening of the film. In my early teens I dared to try cross dressing and enjoyed it. Suddenly I was in the middle of the ocean and felt something bite down on my leg. Some unseen thing was rushing up from under me with a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach. 'Oh God.....what if I'm like those freaks on tv who are boys who turn into girls?!?!?!?'. Like most things a teenage indulges in, I hid the evidence and tried to bury it. No one need know, especially not me.
Yet like Amnity Island, the shark attacks continued. Like I'm certain many trans people do, I started to question everything about myself, and thinking what would happen if I were female. Why did I have to do this? I'm happier being like that! I wanted no-one to know the truth, but the chewed up body parts we're washing up faster than I could dispose of them.
Later in the film there is a sign of hope. A group of fisherman catch a large predatory shark just off the coast. All is saved! Life can go back to normal! Of course it's the wrong fish. I got my false hope when I went off to university. No parents, no old friends, no little sibling to embarrass. Just me, a fresh start, and leaving all those daft thoughts about being trans behind. And for a year it worked. Indulging in secret cross dressing aside, I was a hetero male. However, the feeling was just waiting for the beaches to get full again.
Over the summer break, I went back home to my parents. There I had a sudden realization, I hadn't put it behind me at all. I was looking out to the horizon and seeing a huge shark fin mocking me. Well like most of my approaches to problems I decided to dive into the deep end. This was it, me and the shark in the ocean. Only one of us would get out alive! I came out to my friends went almost full time, and joined the uni LGBT society. I figured I would either realize it was stupid, or I would get eaten by it and not care much anymore.
It was long, and slow and frankly nightmare-ish. I got abuse, got taunted, mis gendered, all the usual things that society piles on us. I blamed my trans-feelings. They were ripping my boat apart and trying to tip me into the water to gobble me up!
I imagine some people are upset by me describing the life of a trans person as some unseen terror, but this is where the whole monster metaphor stops dead. By the end of the film the sheriff is clinging to the decking of the slinking boat, the sharks reaching up to bite as he fends it off with a spear and a rifle. Up until now the shark has stayed hidden, it's unknowable, some unseen force your imagination cooks up. Now we see it in all its glory. And you know what? It looks ridiculous!
The prop shark for the movie was frankly awful. Its well documented that i barely worked, and moves more like a floating log than a shark. Suddenly the film that had had me hiding behind my hands had me grinning. In my final year of university, that was my liberating moment. Why the hell had I been so scared of this? I'd turned a simple fact of my life into some unknowable nightmare by simply not seeing it. After a year of learning and practicing I passed better, and suddenly being trans was just something I was.
Jaws being concidered a classic is a cheat by my movie standards, because what scares you isn't what is on the screen at all. It's what's in your head. Like that, the fears associated with being trans aren't a terror of the deep, their just a badly made prop that's floating half upside down with no real movement.
Of course now that I think about it, I suppose trying to get on hormone therapy is a little bit like 'Jaws: The Revenge' too......
one of the things that happened to me right off when i came out was bulimia. i was performing online and was superconcious of my body. i succeeded in losing pounds but it was difficult. its easier now in some ways. i gain and i lose and thank goodness i'm not performing online anymore. but as a woman i am taking steps for health and looks. interestingly i ran across a bulimia check sheet from the UK as i was researching social anxiety. i'm into databases and quickly applied the form to a database and began taking notes. i noticed over time that binge eating was the real problem with weight gain. so i began tactics that would eliminate binge eating. the other thing that came out of the study was timing. i knew about this already; that the evening is horrendously bad for binging, but had not been able to do much about it. in fact i binged on purpose in the evening for awhile as i couldn't fight it. my tactics now are to reduce swelling in my abdominal region. while i really am fit and there isn't that much swelling, i want a killer body and so am trying for that. exercise, brushing teeth and drinking liquids also help strategically timed to stop binging. i was impressed that one form could have this effect on me. but i as ready for it. i had spent years struggling with binging and it laid the basis for success with the form. also of note is that there are levels of binging. snacks, meals and three levels of binge. this knowledge helps greatly over the period of a day. i space out my meals and snacks in such a way as to avoid binges and keep on the edge of weight loss if necessary. i am eating about 4 times a day now and its rather comfortable. when i do feel like binging its rather obvious its a mental thing and not really hunger.
bulimia can be very serious. its not just vomiting, but obsession with weight gain and loss. i still have that obsession, but have managed to calm things down quite a bit.
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Today I have realized that people of transgender experience need to quite being hateful to each other. How can we be taken serious if we can't get a long with one another? I am starting to believe that before people transition they should educate themselves on what it means to be transgender and think hard about if that is the reason they want to go through the transition.
From the time I was 21 until I was 27, I did my research and because I did so as well as some soul searching, I came to two conclusions. One, the gay lifestyle didn't even fill the void. I knew I was attracted to men but I didn't feel like a guy. And two, I realized that all my life I felt I was born in the wrong body. I knew this at a very young age but didn't know what it ment. I didn't tell a soul. Instead I kept it to myself and acted like I was expected to act.
So I went to New York City and transformed myself to who I am today. I consider myself a hetrosexual female and only date men that consider themselves straight because they do not find gus attractive.
My creator didn't make a mistake. I was born to be a strong person and my mom was able to raise who she needed to have a complete family.
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Ok, I'm going to make a quick list of pros and cons of being Trans* in high school and as a teenager... Even though there really isn't anything good about being trans*
- You get to educate people and make a difference.
- You can pick your own name.
- GSA for support.
- Guidance counselors to talk to.
-Getting the wrong pronouns.
- Not being old enough for HRT.
- Being called by your birth name on the first day of school...
-Un-supportive parents? Nothing you can do about it.
-People still using your birth name either because they always have or they are assholes.
-Friends that know your trans* but STILL use wrong pronouns.
-trans* phobic people >.<
-Can't get Top Surgery yet.
-The feeling of being alone...
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You either love or hate me.You call me ‘tranny’ ladyboy, shemale to mention just a few.
I am one of those people who have risked and lost all by answering a call so deep perhaps even primeval certainly genetic, that it has confused even me. But I have embraced it with a conviction so solid, so passionate that not even the most wilting, derogatory ridicule and physical assaults on and against my person my every waking minute, from people of every strata and age in our society has not and will not quench. It is likely that many of my persecutors will neither read nor hear of this letter.
You insist I do not have a right to live in your communal paradigm of who should be living in it. Your concept of society and its mores condones and espouses some of the most extreme sexual expression yet you shrink from a topic still cloistered in a shroud of taboo and ignorance. In your unmitigated prejudice that is your moral bench mark you have concluded that I am a blight on society, nature’s freak and that I should be spat at, slapped, ridiculed, insulted.
You may have been in that group of 13 year old school boys who, after passing me suddenly felt that surge of indomitable courage and cast insult at my back reassuring yourself that your dad will be well pleased with your effort to denigrate these obvious social misfits.
Perhaps it was you in that group of young people who sniggered, jeered, mocked and insulted me. I wonder if you would have the same courage if you were alone. And why is it that when finally i decide to confront you that suddenly it is some else that you are shouting at.
Where are you my attacker, who ran up behind me whilst I was window shopping and pulled my legs out from beneath me and ran off jeering in unison. And those of you who walk past me or deliberately change your direction so that you can pretend to heave and vomit as you pass me.
Or, perhaps it was your exclusive fashion boutique that I visited, and whose select clientele do not include anything like me. You didn’t have to say anything to reveal your impression of me, your demeanor alone did that and your contempt of my effort to try on a garment expressed in comment to me whilst I was changing that the item was delicate was enough to tell me that I wasn’t welcome and even when you accepted my cash custom with an attitude that belies your desire that is you’d would have preferred to see such an expensive dress on someone more appropriate, your disgust and contempt of me is still so apparent.
You could very well be that security officer who as a self appointed guardian of our morals you wage a private war against the scourge of society who attempt to enter a place of recreation and entertainment by telling me that I cannot enter because I am too drunk. And even when I tell you that I suffer with advanced Parkinson’s you deny me entry. Or maybe you are a little less subtle and all you feel you have to do to send us scurrying is to turn your face away and point to some indeterminate point - I guess your conviction that we are freaks of nature that deserve no more than a dismissive gesture to convey the hatred and contempt you have for me.Besides your attitude for these despicable people must be justified because you are so fair and perform your duties so well. And my manager will always look back me because he told me, albeit in the alley next to the club, to - “keep these wierdos out”
You could have been out on a night of fun who decided to jointly mock and ridicule me using derogatory terms because I look in your eyes an idiot certainly worth a good rollicking or you snigger because everyone else is doing it and the cloistered anonymity allows you to just do enough because you were not taught to mock others and you’re really not sure about all of this.
Was it you that walked past as I sat on a bench and had this irresistible urge to call me a filthy trannny and continuing to say it until you reached a point that you were out of sight. You reminded yourself to tell your pub mates about your brave deed.
Were you that policeman on duty that night who when “I reported the abuse I had endured that evening simply sniggered and walked away or perhaps the officer in uniform standing next to the security officer that denied me entry and refused to even look at the proof of my illness I had purposely brought with me.
Maybe you prefer to just give me an accusing stare hoping that I see your disapproving expression, because your pastor says I am an abomination before God. Jesus also said ‘let he who has not sinned cast the first stone.’
Look across now at that person who has committed his or her life to you in matrimony and whom you love dearly. Are you sure he/she is not trying to make sense of the conflict within that calls to their spirit to question his/her gender identity,
It is not a midlife crisis, a flight of sexual fantasy, a spin-off or side effect of my medication or a mental health issue that fuels me to now live as a woman and walk into a barrage of scorn, ridicule, hatred and contempt every-time I leave my home. Neither is it - a ‘gay thing’.
Perhaps you are son or daughter or relative or brother or sister or mother or father of who has disowned that wayward member of your family at a time when they needed you the most. When they cried out for acceptance and love and received rejection instead.
Nothing will turn me back except my death but then I will have died being the person I have always wanted to be. You may kill and injure my body but you will never quench my spirit and desire to become the woman I want to be.
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Hello to you dear reader and, I hope, after reading my blog you will consider me a friend or at the very least a fellow traveller. Let me begin by telling you why I decided to call my blog 'The Soft Side' I suppose it seems self evident that the soft side I am talking about is the feminine part of my personality which needs to be expressed, and to an extent you would be correct, the soft side is certainly that part which I cherish because I can associate it with the inner woman however, it is also masculine. This my seem confusing but let me try to explain. For many years I believed I was a woman trapped in a mans body and it seemed logical that to correct this biological mistake I should move towards transforming my body to that of a female.
I embarked on my journey with hormones and quickly became aware of the ways I was being transformed, the physical softening and shaping was wonderful but the mental changes I found more profound. By suppressing my testosterone levels and flooding my body with female hormones I found I had to deal with a confusion of emotions, the fact that tears came easier, that rather than aggression I found I acted in a more introverted, contemplative way. Ultimately I think I began to question my actions rather than stride toward my goals with masculine indifference to the consequences of what I did. I became aware of the feelings of other people.I learnt how influential hormones were on my feelings and my actions. For the first time in my life I could genuinely understand what it is to be a woman.
I won't be going into all the background here. You can find that in my previous entry, "Why I Told Mom"
I'd been advised by my therapist that I should just wait for Mom to contact me. I'd followed that advice until this week. The day after Christmas, I called her to wish her happy holidays. That wasn't all we talked about.
Near the end of the referenced entry, I described call the woman I thought was her best friend in the area. At the beginning of the new conversation, I asked Mom how she felt about that. She'd been shocked that I had told Judy at all. I told her I'd done it only because I'd been concerned that she would be behaving as I would, taking on all the guilt, no matter how undeserved, and beating herself up emotionally. I repeated that I'd called Judy for her, not for me.
I next asked how she and Judy had gotten along. Mom said they've become even closer. I'm pleased. I think I did something right this time.
After that, I explained why I'm estranged from my brother. It's because he is just another bully. Throughout our adult lives, at every opportunity I've given him, he's told me what I should do and how I should live. When we were facing eviction several years ago, my wife made me call him and ask for his help. He didn't agree. Instead, he went behind my back and made an arrangement with the apartment complex. Each month for 4 months, I had no way of believing that we wouldn't be evicted and the stress was incredible. They had also agreed that I was not to be told anything at all and the manager lived up to that.
Eventually, I found a contract and was able to pay the rent myself. Unfortunately, that contract too ended too soon and we were unable to save for the future. Once again, my wife made me call my brother to ask for help. I also checked if he had been the rent fairy before and he admitted he had. This time, he agreed to lend me more money. Thankfully, I needed only one month's rent that time.
Another contract, another job search, another time unable to pay the rent. Another call to him. One too many trips to that well, though. Instead of the help we needed, he was angry at me and yelled that he wanted his money back right then. He pulled a complete 180 degrees from telling me to "pay it forward" to "pay me back!" That was the last time I've spoken with him.
I didn't give Mom all the details I've described here but I made it clear that I feel he is a bully and has been since high school, that I won't put up with that kind of treatment anymore.
She told me that she was going to stay out of what happens between us. Apparently, she figured out that it could do no good. And I'm good with that.
I'm still employed only on short-term contracts, there will come a day when I will need help again, but there will never come a day I will turn to either of them for financial help.
"Somedays aren't yours at all. They come and go as if they're someone else's days. They come and leave you behind someone else's face." -Regina Spektor
9 months ago, I began exploring my gender on a public scale. I'd always been interested in it, and had explored it, but for a combination of factors, never explored it publicly. Long story short, I went to a GenderFuK back in March and since then have embraced that there is another side to me, and that it's ok to let it out. I did some writing on it a while back. Recently, I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago at a Halloween party and he asked a lot about this side of me, stating that I'd never formally come out as being genderfluid. Since that first GenderFuk party, I've been slowly revamping my image. I figured it'd take people a while to get used to this idea that I'm not a boy sometimes. I go out regularly to events as a girl. At least half of my male pictures on here are "friends only", even my twitter is a blend of both m and f. I'm not transexual. I'm not in a period of permanent transition. While I'd like to start hormones I think to call myself transexual would disrespect those who have put in the time and effort of transitioning. Sure, I fall under the trans umbrella. Right now, I live between the lines. I'm genderfluid and this is who I am.
Sentimental Boy is my nom de plume" -Panic! At the Disco
Even through this period of change I've put it out there, that no matter what, I'm still me. Despite what I look like, I'm still the same person. While it's new to you, this honestly isn't new to me. If you look at my pictures and go down to the pictures I put up when I joined fetlife there are pictures of me doing the rubberdoll/femme thing from 2007. I was always afraid of being judged, not look good enough, that nobody around Colorado really wore hoods, or that I'd be put into this box that is called "sissy" when I've tried to portray my femme self as strong, confident, and a role model. Not some societal stereotype of what a female is "supposed to be". There is no definition of what it means to be a girl, there isn't one body type, or way to act. That's not me. I don't "get off" on this like many "sissies" do. Gender is not the same as sexuality. For example, assuming that all transgendered people like men sexually is no different than assuming the only people who are attracted to women sexually are men. In the real world, thing aren't so black and white.
The more I delve into this world, the more I see things that bug me. It takes a strong person to walk out of the house as a "chosen" gender as opposed to a "birth" gender. You see things more and more that you take for granted as a cisgender individual. I've been asked if this is one big act of trolling. I'm not doing this to mess with people. It's not for attention. It's not! If I was trolling why would I for the sake of being myself, open myself up to discrimination? At parties, or out and about around people I don't know, sometimes I become an introvert. I get quiet and feel like if I look like a girl, but open my mouth and sound like a boy that I'm somehow outing myself and going to be judged.
I remember coming home from the Spanktrum Halloween party last month. I wore my Snow White outfit out for the first time that night. It was a good party. I came back to my apartment at 2am. We parked to drop me off at the door and there was a group of guys outside. My heels were a little big, and when I got out of the car I stumbled a bit, before saying f it and taking them off. It was 2 am, I didn't care what people thought of me. I opened the gate to my complex and suddenly the group began following me giggling. They got in the elevator with me snickering. We all rode up in complete silence. All I could think was that these people were going to follow me to where I live, I felt threatened and afraid that I was going to get my ass kicked for just being myself. Eventually they got off the elevator on the third floor when I lived on the fourth. As they left and my elevator I could hear laughing. That's something nobody should have to deal with. I don't care who you are. Nobody should be afraid or feel threatened for just being themselves. I don't care who you are, it's not acceptable. I get that these were vanilla people and I was no longer in the safe space of the party, but the point is vanilla or kinky you should educate yourself that transphobia isn't cool. You should never spread hate to somebody for just being themselves, and being brave enough to show the world who they are. It's definitely not something to joke at.
"High heels in her hands, swayin' in the wind while she starts to cry, mascara runnin' down her little Bambi eyes" -Lana Del Ray
I was at a different party a few weeks later in the same outfit at a friends house. It had a white skirt liner, and when I got up from a chair a friend said, not knowing what it was, "there's something hanging from your dress." At that moment another party goer standing nearby said, "yeah probably his dick." Seriously, what makes anyone think that's right so say things like that? Is there no filter in the brain that says, "this may be really hurtful." I put in so much effort to go out. I have spent hours learning to do make up. When I hear things like, "wow, you're pretty passable." I get that it's supposed to be a compliment, but there's no definition of what being a woman is. The idea of passable doesn't exist. You make it sound like I'm Loki trying to put on a dress and trick the masses. To me, calling somebody "passable" implies that one must pass by societies standards otherwise they fail as a person. It's an offensive cis word. Being seen and accepted as yourself is not "passability". It is acceptance. It is people actually being decent to you
"I don't want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel. The world is just illusion always trying to change you." -VNV Nation
Honestly, some days I love who I am as a guy. It's awesome. Some days I don't feel like a boy very much at all regardless of how I'm dressed. It gets confusing trying to walk both lines. You get frustrated, depressed, anxious. I try my best to just show the world who I am. There's been an out pour of support over the last few months. People within my circle of friends seem to embrace who I am, and appreciate it. People I didn't expect to have my back have had my back. Words can't sum up how much I appreciate each and every one of you. This exploration has burned a few bridges with people, and I know that I can't please everyone. That's life, and I accept that.
When you see me out and about, I get asked all the time what I want to be referred to as. What do we introduce you as? If you want to get specific, when I'm out and about as a woman you can call me Britney. I have been for a while. Some of you reading this have used this name regularly at this point. I do ask that out of respect for the use of female pronouns. I put all this effort into getting dressed up for events whether it's in latex, hoods, dresses, or everyday girl clothes. I use the women's restroom. I try and present myself socially more femme. It's the least you can do. To do the opposite almost invalidates all of the work I've put in for myself. If the person standing in front of you looks like a woman or is trying to look like a woman, address that person as a woman. If the person looks like a man, then consider that person a man. Worst case scenario, if you see me out and have questions, ask.
"Ask me, ask me, ask me, If it's not love than it's the bomb that will bring us together." -The Smiths
This is who I am. My name is Brian. This is the name I was born with. My name is Britney. This is the name I've chosen. I am the same person I've always been no matter the name. I'm multifaceted. Kinky, movie addicted, karaoke enthusiast, model, porn star, friend, human. I'm not some box you can put me in. This is who I am.
"When it comes to being true, atleast true to me, one thing I found is that I'll never let me down." -Kanye West
I am so tired I can't even get my thoughts together to blog today, so this might be pretty short.. Anyways, check out the funny picture I attached to this blog entry...terrible grammar, but you get the idea.
I tried listening to that hypno stuff last night. It's OK at some parts, but most of it is just so dumb. It has to be just a gimmick, but there is so much out there on the forums and blogs about it, so I thought it had some merit. I laugh when they say something like, "You are a woman." I am like, "Yeah, no kidding, and..." I am not wasting my time anymore....it was entertaining, though.
I have to say that the transgendered lifestyle is way too over-sexualized. It really isn't a sexual thing for me, but rather me just trying to be who I am. There is just so much garbage out there that brings you down and makes you feel like a freak or something. There is a part for sexuality, but we can't allow ourselves to be defined that way. That's just me....
For the past week, I have been totally out of touch with the news, which from what I hear has been a good thing because of all the media coverage of the shooting in CT. It's sad but those things are going to keep happening until we change our culture....and that will never happen. I don't mean more gun control, because that won't do anything, especially when you think of how many guns are out there right now. My personal feeling is that we need to do more to encourage people to carry a weapon and possibly start training children on weapons at a younger age so that they have more of a respect for them. I know it sounds crazy but you are not going to get all the guns off of the street, so what do you do?
Is it 2013 yet??
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After almost a lifetime of hating it I finally got the nerve to start removing my facial hair on a permanent basis.
I have always wanted to get rid of my facial hair, but like many others, I guess, it always seemed like a bigger step than getting my legs, chest, etc waxed. After all that grows back after a while and if you discover that you are not as trans* as you thought then no permanent changes are apparent.
Of course getting rid of a few hairs is not as big a deal as GRS but it is a visible change!
Ever since puberty I have heard about electrolysis and been fascinated as to where you get it done and how do you even find someone who has had it done for advice (I have spent most of my life pre-internet). Also as a child I don't think my parents would have signed the consent form or stumped up the cash!
Even as a young teenager I would shave my body hair, I come from the Planet of the Apes it seems, but I have never been able to get my face clean shaven.
So roll forward a few decades and I find myself living in Edinburgh, Scotland.
I now have the internet and after years of uncertainty as to why I have always been drawn to wearing what society calls 'women's clothes' I have now learned about words like transgender and dysphoria, so I realized that to have any level of inner happiness I would have to be true to myself and admit that I am a trans* woman. Whenever I say that I feel so happy, and also a little sad that I didn't come out years ago.
Anyhow, I was fed up with shaving my legs and getting razor rash on my chest so I looked online and found a trans* friendly waxing salon not ten minutes drive from my apartment.
I had had a couple of waxing's, when I asked Sam, the therapist, what the machine in the corner was for. She explained that it was a Intense Pulse Light machine, a kind of laser for removing hair.
When I asked if it worked on facial hair I was expecting to be told that It only worked on genetic female hair, I was half expecting disbelief that I would want it done. Instead Sam just told me to go away and think about it for a few days.
When I went for my first appointment I must admit I was having second thoughts, and very nearly didn't ring the doorbell. But I knew that if I didn't do it now I never would and would always regret it!
I had to have a skin test the day before so I knew what to expect, but the real thing is painful.
It is like touching your skin with a hot wire. Luckily the pain only lasts a second while the 'gun' is touching your skin, but I couldn't help jumping a little bit each time. It was the anticipation as much as anything.
I am now waiting for the results to start to become visible. Apparently the hair will start to fall out after ten to twenty days, then when it starts to grow again I will get the next session. It takes about six in all, maybe a couple more if the hair is stubborn!
What I am looking forward to most is not having a semi permanent red face from having to shave twice a day, and of course looking that little bit more feminine.
(For younger readers when I was a teenager we called the police the Fuzz, I consider my facial hair to be a gender policeman, trying to keep me in my prison cell)