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Today I received a call from a trans center; the person on the phone invited me to a group meeting at 4:00pm to 6:00pm. I called them about a month and a half ago, and didnot here a thing till today, 2/6/2012. So I got ready<as best I could> and I drove over to the adderess I was given.
I arrived a little before 4:00pm, about 10min early; So I desided to sit in my truck and see if I saw any other transfolkes. The reason I did this is, because I learned to be cautious as a serpent, yet mild as a dove.I also, know this area very well, and know it is a known hood for gang members; I grew up there.
So I sat there ......I didnot see one Transperson; I said to myself, "if I see one of them I go in the building." I waited till the clock read 15 min past 4:00pm; all I did see was a family come out of the place, and many gang members go in; not one of them looked to be trans/nada!!
So I left then I decided to right this experience down....Be Careful!!
When you look for a center on line.
Thats where I found this one, I didnot like the area...Call me a chicken, but I'm a live one!!
This was nothing like the LGBT Center I belong to!! So in short I just don't want to read in the news paper about another transgender person getting hurt, or worse. I don't like anyone taking advantage of one of us. In my eyes if one of us gets hurt we all get hurt!! I really mean this; it's how I feel.
Peace Out!!...>^.^<..and be smart & safe!!
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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!
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Yesterday while standing outside on break at work I hear someone say “hey you”, turned, looked around and here is a trans person whom I’ve known but have not seen in ages standing there. I said hi, she comes over and we hug. She is around 30 years old and when she (from what I remember) doing well (on her meds) very passable other than her voice. Well I could tell she was not well shaven facial wise and was very loud when chatting with her.
There was a couple about 50 feet away that could not take their eyes off her and know full well that it was from her appearance, partly female, partly male. It was not one or two glances over in our direction but many over say (I was not keeping time) ten minutes. I felt like saying something but decided not too as it could very well have gone in a direction that I did not care for and was on break at work while if not at work would had said something.
The take-a-way from this is if you are looking to present as one gender than make an effort while if your are fluid it doesn’t matter yet this person is looking to be totally female and have surgery. Also, people say in general they are accepting of trans but we all know there are some who are not and need to be cognitive to this as some do mean us harm.
From the day I first presented myself (after surgery) as female clothing, mannerism and voice needed to be there and made sure it was. This is not to say it’s wrong to go against the grain but if so be prepared for blowback be it people staring, saying nasty things or physical, be aware is the bottom line
So, you see after Forever I am adding a new blob giggles.
Yeah a big pile of blob, why eh I suppose because here is a place just to dribble out some thoughts without disturbing the flow of a thread, or a means to vent without disturbing the flow of the forum.
I know that not everyone appreciates my opinions or views on life, wether or not if it has anything to do with transition or not, not everyone will, I respect that, I do.
That being said, some times you just want to reach thru the screen and grab the other person and give em a bit of a shaking lol.
Ahhhh you twat giggle
Smile everyday even when some self absorbed thumb sucking twat struggles through life and wishes to drag you along for the shitty ride. Oops PG nah you know better coming here, yup you do don't you, that's why you read my posts because in the end of it all I will never lie to you why should I I don't expect you to lie to me, if you think I am a blow hard big mouthed deisel dyke who prattles on tell me that because I will tell you your a twat. Smiles and laughs.
Thanks Mom and Aunts for my understanding no one wants needs or deserves to be Molly coddled.
You know it's been a hell of a trip but in general transition is fine, yeah I wish I had done a few things differently but for the most part, it's exactly what I knew it would be, life in a different pair of pants.
Just go live your lives free from the delusion transition will change everything, because it won't, you will change what you see needs to be changed, you will feel it's over when you feel it, no one can control you unless you allow them to. Grow up be an adult and live the last bit of this life you have to it's fullest.
And yeah life can beat the hell out of you just drag your butt up and say is that the best you can do well here you go I can take it.
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It’s an odd feeling, hoping that there is something wrong with you. Really hoping that you’re sick, and that you can use that to explain what’s happening. I’m loathe to book the blood tests though, not only because they’re a nuisance that involves me taking time off of work but because I fully expect them to reveal nothing.
The phlebotomist will take the samples, I like her; she’s a friend of a friend and always asks after him and what he’s been up to. Then the samples will disappear for a couple of weeks. Finally the surgery will send me a letter.
It’ll look something like this:
“We’ve had the results of your blood test. We can confirm that your cholesterol levels are very high, putting you at risk of serious health conditions, including stroke and heart attack. You’ll be pleased to know, however, that we found no other abnormal readings. Please make an appointment as soon as possible so we can discuss the results and your options.”
My symptoms are weight gain, which I don’t mind as I like being heavier, depression, high cholesterol and very high fatigue. It’s the fatigue that’s ruining my life, it feels like every other day I have to ask to work from home because I can barely keep my eyes open.
The cholesterol is also worrying, mostly because I know I’m fat but I’m happy as I am. I’m already a vegetarian, I don’t eat dairy (apart from chocolate and cheese) so that actually cuts out most sources of dietary cholesterol.
In essence, I don’t want a formal confirmation of something that I can already hear in my head (naturally, in my father’s patronising, sanctimonious, calculating voice):
“You’re depressed and have cholesterol problems because you don’t go to the gym and don’t eat like a nutritionist. If you got off your fat backside you would probably feel less tired, too.”
My symptoms have all the hallmarks of an underachieve thyroid, which my maternal grandmother also has. The fact it’s such a perfect fit seems to make it all the more likely that it won’t be the culprit.
I’d love an easy answer, for once. Something that explains why it’s damned hard to even get out of bed. Why my eyes are stingy and dry. Why just housework tires me out. Why I have such acute bouts of depression. Why my cholesterol is high enough to actually make the doctor raise their eyebrows (which is not a fun feeling).
So, I’m on the sofa. I’m remoted in to work. The telephone is nearby. My coffee is slowly going cold. It’s nearly noon. I can’t bring myself to book the blood test. The coffee feels like it’s in another room. I’m too bleary-eyed to start work; I almost expect to be fired for working from home too much. The telephone feels like it’s in another country.
Just like Gwen. I wish she were here. I wish Cloud was here too, my best friend in all the world. My girlfriend is in the Netherlands, and has gone radio-silent again. Cloud is in France visiting his family. It’s okay: Cloud will be back tomorrow, and I’ve learnt that Gwen being quiet doesn’t ‘mean’ anything (much as my neuroses try to twist it into one). She’ll be back soon enough.
Work isn’t going anywhere. Not really. They need me, and my working from home is only just an inconvenience. In my defence, I also remoted in over the weekend and did a load of extra work for them just because I felt like it.
I’ll start small. Coffee first. Everything else in time.
As I write this post, I wonder how many different directions it can go.
You know I don't often jump into the cat fight between the transsexual and transgendered camps. I don't have time for the bitterness.
Speaking of bitterness I surfed across a blog that one of you may have seen. Of course I can't seem to back track to where I saw or read it. The main point of the transgendered woman's post was disagreeing with a "gold star" transsexual view of basically the rest of us poor transgendered "wanna be" women.
The definition of a "gold star" transsexual is a person who assumes the female gender and is absolutely gorgeous. (basically)
Since I fall into the category of the poor downtrodden transgender "wanna be", I started to think of how I really felt about the situation.
I know no matter how long I try and how many hormones I take I will never achieve the "gold star" status. I feel so very fortunate to be able just to interact in the world as a female as much as I do.
Also, when I read or hear a "gold star" put herself up on a lofty pedestal, I always believe somewhere in their male past they always wanted to be really good at something. That something just happened to be a beautiful looking female. Maybe they are just are the best looking guy in the room. (I've told you in the past I knew someone like that.)
That is just me playing in both sides mud hole and I'm moving on. Life is too short for their petty arguments.
The discussion does raise other personal questions however.
As I have posted in the past, I really wonder where my "internal transition" fits with either group. In response I asked my therapist what she thought. What did she think about my recent subconscious feminine reactions to movies, music. language etc. Obviously without hormones.
My psychologist brought up the "gender cube". Basically, the cube lists nearly 30 different sexual/gender combinations from "straight hetero male" to whatever. When I bypassed the transgendered categories altogether and identified with a masculine feminine female; she simply said I had been burying my true self. My inside self just had never had the need to transition. Just being open to who I really am (I realized) was transitioning without hormones.
By now, you are wondering what point am I trying to make.
Since I am not planning on any radical surgery, will the "gold stars" ever accept me as much of a woman as they are? (Even though I am feeling more and more as one?)
How many of them are still really just guys who became enamored with the pretty girl in the mirror and simply went for more?
Better yet...who cares? I guess sometimes I do!
It's been an extremely long time...but yeah, I'm still here. Nothing much has changed and I lost the ambition to blog because it was an endless parade of the same thing every day. It felt like a waste of time to keep repeating myself. Not sure why I'm here again, but I think maybe on the rare chance that anyone was wondering where I went or, by chance, was worried; I wanted to let everyone know that I'm alright.
Whats New: Just over a year at my job in Security, and nothing has changed too drastically. We had a conflict during my shift between a civilian and a staff member and I clicked back into my pre-training when I wanted to be a State Trooper and handled the situation the only way I knew how. I got in the middle of it. I was able to defuse the situation safely and separate the two individuals, writing a detailed report on time, location, involved parties and descriptions of the would-be assailant. I didnt think anything of it. It's my job, it's what I do.
Well, apparently the higher-ups of the company I work for didnt think it was just "what you do". They called a meeting, held a conference, and low and behold...I was upgraded. I'm now full-time, with benefits (soon, not yet. Paperwork is awaiting) and I was given huge praise from both the Town Police Officers and the Academy I work for. Not only that, but the situation forced them to realize that we, as Security, are vastly ill-equipped for our jobs and finally have decided to listen to our needs and provide us with new supplies. A newer, larger vehicle that we can safely transport clients and students in (we are using a little P.O.S. hand-me-down Ford Ranger right now which is horribly cramped all the time and I hate driving it.). I'm still in work-mode so my typing is kinda professional still Anyway, we're each getting water-proof, theft-proof, USB charging Dock equipped backpacks that will have flashlights, mace, first aid, notebook&pen, a security monitoring computer and etc. We're also all getting new uniforms and much-needed spotlights and gear that we SHOULD have had months ago. It took my situation with an aggressive individual for them to realize "hey, these guys COULD get hurt while protecting these kids...we should gear them up." FINALLY.
So that's work.
(Plus I was at the Post office today ((with my security jacket on....because it's basically the only winter coat I own.)) and one of the postal workers stopped me and said his son goes to our Academy and asked about a drug raid he'd heard about. I explained that one particular student who will remain nameless had supposedly had prescription painkillers in his possession that were not his, and we confiscated them. I assured him that we do frequent and random sweeps of dorm rooms and dorm buildings for anything they should not have, and he seemed happy with that. The last part that got me was just before he walked away, he said "Thank you for protecting our kids. You guys do a great job." Finally....recognition.)
YOUTUBE: Yes, I am still recording YouTube videos! I am HORRIBLY behind on posting them, unfortunately, but life's been a bit hectic atm.
FACEBOOK: I now have TWO pages up on facebook for my Youtube channel so you can stay up to date. One page is specifically for my channel videos, while the other is dedicated to my craft hobby (which just started so its very very slow) where I am selling crafts that 100% go towards my top surgery.
(Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatYoutube & Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatCreations)
Oi vey....where to start....So I still havent had my surgery, obviously since I have my creations page to pay for said surgery....I have been fighting continuously with Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield on getting them to pay for my surgery, even if just a portion. They refuse. The reason is this: My LEGAL gender is MALE. My Birth certificate says FEMALE. I cannot change that without GRS which I will not do. Anyway...My ID says Male on it. So when they filed for my surgery, they initially filed it under FEMALE BREAST REDUCTION. Well, since my ID says Male on it, they cannot do that. Because I am legally male. So it would go under Gynocomastia, which I do not have. Which..frankly doesnt matter because they dont cover it anyway.
I've spent a minimum of 4 hours on the phone every time I call, explaining over and over and OVER again that I am Transgender, I am legally male but physically female, and that this is a breast reduction not because I'm transgender but because of spinal damage, pain, interferance with work, and a damaged trapezius muscle. All of which has been noted by my doctor FOUR TIMES, including all the necessary paperwork (and more...) sent to them REPEATEDLY. They either claim that A: they never got the paperwork, B:It lacked a piece of info they wanted, C: They have it and are reviewing it OR......D: They cant find my account at all. I spent TWO HOURS on hold just for them to tell me that the line I HAD BEEN TRANSFERRED TO...doesnt handle what I'm looking for so they transferred me BACK to the people I ORIGINALLY WERE TALKING TO. Absolute, complete, utter flipping NIGHTMARE!!!
With my anxiety & Depression issues, it came to the point where I would completely avoid calling them because it would completely destroy me for days afterwards. I've had people offer to help with with the call or figure things out, but either they offered once and never followed through or they simply werent understanding that everything they wanted to try...I've already done it. No one....GOT what I was trying to say. It started to feel like no one cared anymore either.
I called GLADD FIVE TIMES. I only ever got ONE response, which was "we'll call you as soon as we have more info for you.". That was months ago....nothing.
I called the State of New Hampshire's Offices for Insurance to figure out what to do. "We'll call you back." They never did. Not only did they not return my calls, but every time I called them back and demanded to talk to someone, they'd just keep saying "Ma'am, someone will call you." Misgendered AND ignored. Thanks for that.
I called SIX...ADVOCATES...FOR TRANSGENDER PEOPLE IN MY STATE. Again, either they didnt know how to help, didnt call me back, or simply said "keep trying". For someone with severe Anxiety, the phrase "just keep trying" is like saying "Haha, well that sucks."
I cant keep trying. It causes me such dysphoria, severe depression, anxiety and physical illness that I have to call out of work, take days to recooperate and fight of the HORRIBLE sensation of the NEEEEEEEEEED to self harm. I'd been able to stay sober of it thus far, except for one episode involving a fight with my homophobic, trump loving, transphobic, Democratic-hating sister&mother-in-laws...(Long story short, I had just worked 14 hours, was tired and exhausted; and was accused of abusing her animals. Not by the mother, but by the sister-in-law. Who is basically the princess of the castle. I lost it.) So the insurance company locked me out of my online account conveniently a week before my due date to switch insurances, so I couldnt even access my account to change insurance companies before the due date ran out and....low and behold...I was renewed with Anthem BCBS for another year. I dont have enough swear words and foul language names to throw at them to express how I feel...
I also, by the way, emailed Anthem personally either through Twitter's Anthem Help page or their main help page, which ran in circles up to the point of them calling and leaving a message ON THE ONE PHONE I SPECIFICALLY ASKED THEM NOT TO CALL BECAUSE I WONT GET THE DAMN MESSAGE, then when I called them back, I got nothing. Just an answering machine. FOR THREE WEEKS.
When I mentioned this to them, they shrugged it off. Yeah.....F You too.
(BEFORE YOU OFFER TO HELP ME WITH THE INSURANCE THING:::::::No, I do not need the help right now. Thank you for thinking of me anyway. But with my job title changing, I'm getting new insurance and there is absolutely no reason I can think of to try and pursue Anthem BCBS's jerkoffs when I'm leaving them really soon. Thanks anyway.)
So, anyway....thats life right now. As you can see, not much has changed. New promotion and same insurance b.s.
Oh, and apparently I have dissociation with my chest. Which doesnt surprise me. I found out because I was in the shower, washing like I usually do with my eyes squeezed shut and my heart breaking at the sensation of having to wash those stupid boulders on my REAL chest underneath, and....what's this? I look down and I apparently had a pimple or something that had developed on the underside of my left breast, but had gone unattended to for god-knows-how-long, so it festered and became raw and infected. Did I notice? No....I didnt even feel it. I've always had next to no feeling or sensation in my chest since I was cursed with them, but I didnt think much of it. This made me really realize...I have no feeling in them whatsoever. So I experimented. I ran my hands along the sides, fronts, top and bottom....but nothing. If it werent for feeling it through my fingertips, I wouldnt feel it at all. Absolutely nothing. It's like...I feel the pressure of my hands but that's it. Not a tickle or a whisp of sensation. I have completely, entirely, absolutely dissociated with my chest so much that I no longer feel it. It's no longer 'mine'. Its just...there. That's what kills me even more.
Theyre there, theyre attached to me...but if I dont even have feeling in them, they feel even more alien to me. I'm not supposed to even have them and this just proves it even more. It didnt hit me as hard as it did at the doctors when I casually mentioned it and she was confused. Apparently ciswomen are SUPPOSED to have feeling in them. Like...everywhere.
It's weird. It's like a feeling of abandonment. That I've hated them so much and for so long that theyve finally given up and just died, but I still gotta carry the corpses around. Now, more than ever, I just want them gone...It's almost too much to stomach. I choke up thinking about it. I feel like a part of me has just died, staring me in the face and flipping me the bird before being just completely gone. But instead of leaving, it lingers in the doorway and stares me down, laughing at me and mocking me because they wont go away.
It sound stupid but I feel like theyre taunting me. Like "We know you dont want us, so we're gonna take away any sensation of being here, except you'll still have to carry our dead weight. You cant get rid of us, you will still have a huge lump in your shirt and we will NEVER allow you to touch your real chest underneath. You hate us, and we hate you. So live with it."
I even opted out of my nipple grafts so that the surgery would be cheaper. Not just for a cheaper price, but because I've always had issues with those parts anyway so there's no point in hoping they'll heal and stay where they put them when a huge part of me knows they wont. They dont heal well, never have. I get pockets in them where sweat and crap lingers and I have to clean the areas like pimples. I dont want them anymore. I dont want anything to do with any of them.
But I still have to bind them.
I still have to readjust them in my binder.
I still have to wash them.
I still have to toss and turn to find a comfortable position between suffocation, smothering, pinches or unending sweat.
I still have to put lotion on the extremely dry and chapped skin from binding.
I still have to carry them around on my aching shoulders.
I still have to nearly suffocate with them just to tie my shoes.
I still have to feel them jerk and yank on my sore back when I try to use a treadmill.
I still have to make sure there's no sores because they dont bother to tell me when something hurts anymore.
I still have to try and save up 8000$ to get rid of them because insurance doesnt give a flip.
I still have them.
And they taunt me.
My relentless bully...is my own body.
The "Pink Fog" (aka, Gender Euphoria) is something many of us experience as we come into our transgender selves. It feels great, similar to the infatuation of a new love interest. For me I've wondered at times if I'm chasing it which brings up worries that I'm following something akin to the path of an addict instead of my true nature.
This came up for me yesterday morning when I read a story in a friend's blog of a 20-something AMAB person who got so caught up in his being a somewhat effeminate gay man that, with encouragement and advice, he transitioned socially. After some period of living as a woman (a year?) he decided to detransition. Thankfully he'd not embarked on only permanent changes. He now lives comfortably as a somewhat effeminate gay man.
Later in the morning I was working on my house, finishing doors, installing shelving, that sort of thing, wearing of course my old Levi's 501's (no point in staining my skinny jeans!) and a sweatshirt, my hair in a ponytail. My gender was nowhere on my mind but I contemplated that story. I was comfortable doing my work. Dara Hoffman-Fox has made the point (which I agree with) that just because we like "masculine" activities such as motorcyling, woodworking, etc., that's perfectly okay for women. I reassured myself while doing the work.
In the early afternoon I changed my clothes to go out for some errands, including a run to the lumber store. I dressed in my skinny jeans, a form-fitting REI top, earrings, and a little lipstick. I felt good about myself as I drove to the stores. In Trader Joe's I ran into a woman checker that I've gotten to know a little in one of the aisles. She'd just gotten off work. We talked for ten minutes, she's lesbian and about to be married, I'm trans, we share worries about Trump/Pence/Pompeo/Sessions, that sort of thing. She accepts me, we connected and reminded each of other of our names. At the lumber store a man who often helps me assisted me in selecting moldings and as he was ringing me up a woman checker (who happens to be lesbian) I've also worked with there came over to join our chat. I showed them a photo of closet doors I've built out of spruce.
Still later I made a spur of the moment decision to walk to a local restaurant for one of my favorite things: reading my book while enjoying a hot chocolate with brandy. The manager's a woman I've gotten to know a little who's very friendly and appreciates the small amount of business I bring to them.
Every day is my "transgender day of visibility." I don't think I look bad, and sure I'd like to pass much better. I stopped wearing foundation several weeks ago. I wore it before almost like a badge to add clarity that I was presenting as a woman. I guess it worked but of late I don't think it's necessary and is a hassle to remove. Like a pretty dress I save it for special occasions. (I'm such a sucker for pretty dresses. I can't resist!)
At the end of the day it remained clear to me that transitioning to female was absolutely the right thing for me to do. I feel good in my own skin and I think I have a joy that encourages people to connect with me. I feel a thrill when I get gussied up and that's perfectly normal. I also feel good when just going out and about.
And that's the whole point, right?
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.
I recently received an e-mail notice from here that someone had wanted to start a personal message. The e-mail stated that the individual wanted me to use their hotmail account to do so. Under some circumstances I would not mind. Under some I would.
The person used a screen name and the hotmail address gave no indication who they were. The names did not appear familiar.
I do not blame people for using screen names. Safety, workplace discretion and families all may play a part when one is transgender. I can understand that.
I typically do what may not appear to be the brightest thing in the world. I use my real name and tell the truth about myself. I personally do not care what anyone thinks. I have my reasons for what I do and if that offends some so be it. When I am offended I tend to forgive as I would hope others would forgive me.
I do not try to hide the fact that I am a heterosexual cisgender male minister. That alone causes some to have preconceived notions about me. Some may even hate before knowing anything about me. Sort of how people treat some of you as transgenders.
Neither do I hide the fact that in accordance with the word of God I do not agree with transgender views.
You will note that I never openly use the word of God to slam any transgender posts. Neither would I do so in private.
Some may wonder why I am here then. Not only the transgenders here but people who may know me in real life both in workplace and ministry.
The truth is that even though I am in disagreement with transgender views I still know that I would want people to treat me right. That means that if I was not sure about anything and questioning I would hope someone just might be around that could help and have the guts to go where some may not.
That is part of the basics of Christianity. While I may not agree with the views here there may be that babe in Christ that is wondering about some things about what the word of God says. In such a case I would hope that I could give the right answer.
Not to agree with everyone. Not to disagree with everyone. Just to be honest and tell the truth.
There are those however on any site that would just love to ask a question so they can set someone up. Run back and tell all that guy is a trans basher or whatever when it isn't the truth.
I have gay friends and co-workers. I also have some co-workers that I suspect to be transgender but not out.
I would never out any of them nor embarrass any of them. I merely try to treat them like anyone else. What they are or how they feel about straight, gay, cisgender and transgender issues means nothing at work. If they wish to reveal they are such and such to me at work they will. If not they won't. I'm there for a job and not to please people or gossip.
The reason I say all of this is because naturally I won't answer e-mails if I do not recognize the person in one way or another.
If people realize that I am here and open about who I am they should be open about who they are to me in private.
Anyone in ministry has their life a rather open book to the world. Many watch just to see if they can find fault. Sadly some try to find fault so they think they have an excuse at the judgment seat of Christ. "Well he did this or that" or "Well he said this or that" or "Well he was on such and such a site."
The truth is that we all give account of what we do and say in this world on that day. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. If someone sees me here let it be known that it is in the hope that should there be a babe in Christ and that individual wants to ask someone that is willing to be here about scripture that I am willing to help.
I am not seminary educated but then neither were Peter and John. They took note they were ignorant and unlearned men but they were with Jesus.
I guess in conclusion what I am saying is that if a person ever wants to send an e-mail be honest about who you are.
I probably have enough enemies and people wanting to either set me up or gossip about me just like you all.
I don't have any ill will towards whoever sent the e-mail. They evidently joined and sent it and then left. A search of members revealed nobody by either names. The link on the e-mail showed it could not be found here even though it brought me to this site.
As I said, even though I do not agree with transgender views I hope that the vast majority of my blog posts show I do not judge you all. How you live and what you believe is between you and God. I only drop in from time to time as on other sites I have had people send pm's asking questions about scripture and such.
To me the most important thing in this world isn't whether or not I am liked. It isn't what I possess or what the Lord gives me.
The most important thing to me is that even though the Lord shared all glory with his Father before this world was created he chose to come into it and die for the sins of people like me and you who could never repay him.
He lived a life of poverty and being hated by all men for what he spake and what he did. When he told the truth and rebuked those that were wrong they wanted to kill him. He knew that when he returned and drove the moneychangers out of the temple they would want to kill him. Yet today nobody wants to believe that he will get angry when people insist on doing that which he hates.
He was so poor that it took a miracle for him to pay his and Peter's taxes. Two hundred pennyworth is not a great wealth. I'd like to see some of the rich ones try to live on $2.00 today. It's a far cry from a mansion or jet.
He was blindfolded and beaten and his beard was pulled out and yet he stood there silent for those he would soon be butchered alive for.
They debate if he was white or black when scripture shows him to be the olive tree in the garden of the Lord God. A scourge removed much of that skin and I wonder as they pulled his beard out how much flesh came off with it.
All fled and nobody was there to even give a word of encouragement as the all this happened and he went to the cross.
Still he spake forgiveness and forgave the one thief that repented.
He finished the building of the house of God and gave up the ghost. He never once railed out against those who mocked, beat, scourged and crucified him.
He was the perfect witness of what Christians should be.
He was honest and it caused him to live in poverty and being hated of all men.
I would hope that more would try to be honest.
Even in a worst case scenario it would never be as bad as what he went through.
Having said such should anyone lurk and know me or be a member and want to send an e-mail all I ask is that they be honest about who they are.
It should be clear that would not out nor hurt anyone.
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Update - 12/6/2016
To say that a lot has happened since I last posted is an understatement. I will post more later.
I am currently recovering from FFS surgery on Dec 2nd. I had a brow reduction & lift. Upper eyelid surgery, rhinoplasty, fat transfer to the cheeks. Chin reduction and shaping and tracheal shave. Tomorrow I have an appointment to hopefully take some of the stitches out and splint on my nose..
I have been off from work since Dec 1st and will be returning to work as Lisa on Dec 19th. I changed my name with the court and my name and gender marker on my SS card. In a few days, I will be going to the DMV and later the passport office to change my name and gender marker there as well.
Long time no chat. Yeah I been up to a few things in my year absence from the site. Just a little busy. But I wanted to drop in see how things are going do a quick shout out and in the next few weeks (when I find the time I will do a more filling fill in on what has been going on in my life. Much good and some bad. So here is what my last year has had me up to.
A new comic series
A new novel
A new Novelette series
and returning yet altering Path of the Butterflies from just a pdf guide to a intended monthly topic discussion blog.
Please drop on by the blog share ether publicly or if you want to share your opinions privately or just chew me out you can email me from the blog.
I promise next post will be sooner and less self promotional based.
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As much as I am a women, I remain a man inside
I am living as girl on 24/7 basis, and I enjoy every minute of the wonderful experiences I receive from my bipolar transgenderism personality.
As much as I live as a girl, I also live myself in his shoes and carry on the responsibility of being a man. The importance of being a 2 nation theory personality is key in having dual characteristics of attributes.
As I wonder about my long term goals, for surgery, I am unable to transition due to Family purposes. Now ask yourself if you are to go to surgery, you have on back of your mind, a lingering thoughts of your own financial burden, well the question answers itself automatically.
I love living as her by receiving positive gestures all day long
but I need to do my job as himself in order to sustain a paycheck to paycheck at end of every month, which is important.
For instance the job where I work for, I couldn't have done it without being him! That's why I have dual genders for purpose of attaining employment.
I have said it before but without negative impact, if I were to get a real job as transgenders person in a straight man's world's, I would have it by now, but I don't, as I wasn't so lucky in my endeavors!
At least that are my experiences I have to share with.
Well in conclusion, I have to keep my job, as far as surgery is concerned, it will be after 10 or 15 years depending on financial support I get.
Well it's season of greetings and hope and togetherness! I hope everyone has a great Merry Christmas and wish happy new year 2017 !
Visit Shazy Jeo on YouTube channel videos
and check out http://outcast-all.com for all those living abroad individuals feeling homesick, or Misfit students anywhere, and don't forget to see (A to Z list section) there is something for everyone !
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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.
So I have to move out my apartment due to breaking up with my ex. Which is great! it's great because though we get along and we will always be friends, we need different things from our partners that neither of us are going to get. I am packing all my junk, and realizing I have way too much. As I pack though I found tons of pictures of me from what I call the dark ages. The Dark ages were the period of time after high school but before college, a whole six years for me, in which I went back into the closet and suffered a period of self harm and also a mental break down. I survived through a period of sever depression that I didn't even realize I was going though until I was lying on my bed with a butcher knife. I realized how dark I'd gotten I vowed to never ever let it get that bad ever again.
I feel like if I don't share this part of my life than I'm not being straight with people when I say life gets better. This part of my life that led me to who I am today. This time of my life that made me realize that nothing matters if you can't find that happiness in yourself. That there is nothing selfish in transitioning, but its wicked selfish to kill yourself. I say that because of the potential each of us has that is wasted when cut short. I know the insanity of fear and the desperation that comes along with it. I also know that taking your own life in your hands can be the most powerful and freeing feeling in the world and there has never been any grater feeling in my life than that gift. It was a gift I earned by staying alive despite the pain along the way.
As I Sit in my bedroom packing all of my belongings, trying to breathe as this cold ravages me, I cannot help but be excited for the road ahead of me. I am terrified and yet so emboldened by the fear that I have this duplicitous euphoria. Today is May 27, 2016 and I am Benjamin Crowley twenty five nearly twenty six year old black transgender man living in the United States at time feels terrifying and electric at the same time.
Terrifying because as I grow older race, which had never been a problem for me and mine, is becoming an odd affront to society. Actions that others take for granted I never previously would have thought were racially motivated have become a stark raw truth to be being black in America. I feel nervous as I transition that people will interpret me differently because of the projection of my identity into a public spotlight. This however is at the back of my mind as I sort through my things.
At the fore front is the power held in the words, “I am enough.”
I am enough. Similar words blazed though my head four years ago nearly to this day as I worked a warehouse job slaving into the night earning more money than I knew what to do with. I had no kids no titles and no self-worth. I had let others dictate to me what my future held and in the stagnant space between their idolization of the hardworking young black woman whom earned her keep I found myself in a great state of melancholy.
What does it mean when you have everything you could materialistically want and are still unhappy?
I weighed 150 lbs. and had kinky over processed blond hair, a nice body and a sad smile. I hated myself. The person they all knew, who wore punk make up and listened to green day… she was a lie. She was only happy when it rained, hated bras and wore heels in a defiant streak of masochism. It wasn’t until she faced self-demolition did she realize that what everyone though she was wasn’t her at all.
In fact she wasn’t even a she. Never in her head did she see herself as a ‘She’. In her head her self-reference was always ‘I’ and when it ventured to the dangerous gendered lands of pronouns she, realized, had always been a he. So where was she now? Hiding in conformity because she was scared of losing everything she had. But she was already loosing…
This path she was one would never make her happy. So he cut off all his hair. Stopped wearing make-up and heels. Stopped bleaching his hair. Stopped starving himself to be pretty and started loving himself a bit more every day.
Started college. Manically picked out masculine clothes. Introduced himself as Ben. Learned self-love and proudly thinks, “I am enough.”
Thank you everyone again for you viewership.
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???
Unfortunately due to some issues I won't be able to host my content here anymore. I have many reasons. But thank you gentle folk for your love and support. I wish you all the best. If you want to be in contact:
Hear me screaming at the clouds on twitter: @charllandsberg or my Twitter Profile
Come have a look at my weird and wonderful art on Tumblr
Have a look at my cooking and everyday photography on Instagram
I'm all over the place. Be good. Take care of yourselves.
All my love
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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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Last weekend, my spouse went to a city about 3 hours away from where we live, to break the story of my transition to her mother. Her mum is 90 plus years old. We had delayed the announcement for several moths since the poor lady is so old that she may have perished before the announcement became necessary.
My spouse, lovingly, calls her every Sunday to speak with her and cheer her up. It was getting a bit old referring to me in my former gender. After facial feminization surgery, there's no going back. That was in January.
My spouse's visit went very well. Her sister, who is a big supporter of mine was there with her, and helped their mum to "get it". And the ancient lady did get it, and in a kind and loving way. She was the last relative to get the message, and I'm so glad that that has been done.
I consider that fortune has blessed me greatly. I still have the same job. The relatives that cared for me before transition - still love me. and I am with a person who chose me years ago, and has chosen me again.
If you are entering transition, know that you must be prepared to lose everything, but you may be surprised - let love be your guide and remember that it will be more difficult for your loved ones to understand where you are going that it is for you. I know that I never found a reason or justification for being transsexual. I just know that it is something that I must do, or die. Retain and enhance your fine qualities, and your will be valued. Life may be kinder than you expect.
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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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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.
So I wanted to throw this out for discussion - I've been thinking recently about the term "transition" as it relates to the trans community. For starters, I hope nothing that I say here will suggest that I think everyone needs to use the same terminology, particularly for their own experience and journey - it's our story, it's our terminology!
But in a broader perspective, I have some concerns about the term "transition." Transition is defined as "the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another." Put simply, my fear of it's general use, with respect to trans-identified people, is that it perpetuates the narrative of being born X and "transitioning" to Y. In my view, I was NOT a man who transitioned to a woman, I was born a woman with some wrong parts. My "transition" therefore was essentially a medical correction along with a change in my personal presentation.
And of course that does reflect a transition, so the word works. The problem is that there is an entrenched history of believing that we were born one gender and changed to the other - and I think that the term transition is linked to that narrative. Perhaps it's time to look for a new word, or stop using the word entirely? I think back over my process and wonder if I could have gone without it - in what circumstances did I need the word? For people who knew, I could say that yes, I'm getting some medical support to correct some things, and I'm working towards living my authentic self.
The "trigger" in this case was discovering that my field placement location uses the initials "CGHT" (cross-gender hormone therapy) for HRT that is being prescribed to trans-identified clients. I'm working on that issue, but I realized the big problem I had with it is that it reaffirms that same narrative with staff who see and use that terminology - I DO NOT take "cross-gender" hormones.
I am by no means sold on all of this, it's a thought I've been having and wanted to share and see what others in the community think
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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