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  • Transgender Bloggers Wanted: Share Your Journey

    By Lori

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

    Chapter 2, the teen years

    By Erika Nicole West

         As I got into my teen years, my body changed from a big chubby fat kid to a lean muscular kid. This was attributed to playing intramural basketball in 5th and 6th grades. I sucked as a player but I was one of the taller kids and big, so I got in the way a lot. I remember running lots of stairs getting into shape and it literally ran the pounds right off of me. I can remember looking at my 7th grade class picture and I was actually skinny, which I had never been before in my life. I don’t recall doing much cross dressing in 7th grade, I was just beginning to become interested in girls and I was sure they wouldn’t understand. After 7th grade, my parents sold their house and we moved to an older home in a little town. They had bought the house my mother had grown up in and it was in poor shape and in need of remodeling. We moved into a rental, 2 doors up the street. This was the point in my life where I changed from a fairly lazy kid into a lean working machine. My older brother had broken his foot and was in a cast and my younger brother was too young to be much help, so the burden of moving the household was on my dad and I. Of course the women in the family helped with the smaller items but moving the furniture and appliances and what have you, well, I got a crash course on moving heavy stuff. Anyway, once the move was complete and we were nestled into the rental house, the cross dressing began again.

     One outfit I recall of my sisters that I found particularly sexy was what was popular at the time, 1973 I believe, a black body suit couple with a knit pair of very pink slacks. You could lightly see the outline of the black body suit under the pink, just loved that contrast. I was thin in those days, so I actually looked pretty good in it, so I thought anyway. What I wouldn’t give to be that thin today!

      So 8th grade was an epic year for me, I learned work ethic, I was cross dressing again and I had learned to masturbate.  When I say masturbate, I mean masturbate. It wasn’t easy either as I shared a room in the rental house with my younger brother. We had metal cabinets that we hung our clothes in that separated our beds. I remember one time he asked me “What are you doing over there?” as I was feverishly pounding my new found toy. Of course he could hear the heavy breathing, dead give- away, but him being younger, not sure he caught on. Once I mastered the technique, I practiced it often, every day for sure, sometimes 2-3 times a day. I would wear open sores on my schlong at times and have to switch hands so as not to irritate it more until it healed. I speculate I masturbated 360 out of the 365 days a year all through high school.

        My masturbation material was thoughts in my head of images I had either actually seen or pretended to have seen. My most erotic thing growing up was again and still, my panty fetish. Nothing aroused me more than seeing the bikini outline through a girls dress or pants or the holy grail of fetishes, the rare but ultra-hot view of catching a view of a girls panty via a crotch shot. I loved catching a peek whenever I could, either by accident or selectively positioning myself where I could. I used to long seeing girls wearing pretty dresses, wishing, hoping I could catch a glimpse, much less have a chance to wear the dress!

        My high school years were spent mostly chasing girls and being a jock. I had become a decent 3 sport athlete by this time, football, basketball and baseball, with football being my priority. I actually had set the school record for rushing yards for a freshman with 1,100 some odd yards in 7 games. Not too bad for someone who wanted to be a woman, this was in 1974.

      On instance I remember my junior year on the varsity football team, we were playing away. The visiting team always used the girls locker room, so when we entered, I noticed a pair of mint green satin bikini panties laying on the floor. So me being the opportunist that I was, I positioned myself in proximity of the panties and devised a plan. When the game was over and I was showered and changed my close, I was going to scoop my stuff up and snatch the panties in with my gear and take home with me. I had plans for these! I would have many ultimate and erotic masturbation fests at the expense of these panties. I liked to rub myself with them until I ejaculated. Anyway, just as I was about to put my plan into action, some jackass grabs them up and starts prancing around the locker room with them horsing around. I was devastated! My whole plan was up in smoke! My world was shattered! I had never had a pair of panties other than my moms, or sister’s, this was a whole new world for me! I was heartbroken, but lived for another day.

      My first sexual experience with another person was when I was 15.  One of my non-jock friends who lived in the same town I did called me up and asked me if I wanted to stay over that night. His parents were out of town and he didn’t want to be there alone. I said sure so I went over there and watched some TV until bedtime. Now, for some reason that escapes me, that particular day I was off of my normal masturbation schedule, it had been a couple of days since I had unloaded me sweet concoction of my loins. So we headed to bed and he suggested we sleep in his parents room, since it was a king bed and was lots of room. I said “sure, sounds fine to me” in my still naïve’ way. So went to sleep and sometime in the middle of the night I woke up with a raging boner and my friend was rubbing it! OMG I thought, at first I was mortified, but then I succumbed to the pleasure as it’s not like I hadn’t thought of this sort of thing before. To be fair, of course, I started rubbing him as well and we both were enjoying it. I finally pulled his head down on me and exploded with the most massive orgasm I had ever had at the time. Seemed like it last for several minutes. I was too shy to return the favor, after all, I was a jock on the football team, so I went to the bathroom to clean up. After washing, I noticed his mother’s light blue satin nightie hanging on the door. It had thin white lace around the edges of the sleeves. Of course I couldn’t resist but to try it on! So on it went and I pranced about the bathroom a bit then the thought occurred to me,” should I go out into the bedroom with it on? I could be a woman for him and he could take me from behind!” Oh, the temptation was so great but I gave way to my jock senses and took it off and hung it back on the door. I went back to bed and he proceed to go down on me again and worked me up to another orgasm, granted less dramatic, but still a fine one just the same. I still couldn’t bring myself to return the favor.

      The next few days after that, I couldn’t get it off my mind. I was so mad at myself for not being a better participant. So, to make things right, I went over to his house one day after school about a week later, went into his bedroom, blocked the door with a hair, un buckled his pants and proceeded to give him the blow job I had always dreamed about giving. It only lasted about a minute and he blew his load in my mouth and down my throat and I knew at that point that was something I wanted to do again and again and again!

     While I was in high school, I started working on Saturdays for an older, single man that lived in town. I had gotten the job via my older brother as he had worked for him for a bit and then moved on to something else. He was working on fixing his house up and I was becoming very handy at doing things from working with my dad on the fixer upper house they had bought earlier. So anyway, I would go over on Saturday mornings and do whatever it was he wanted to do, put ceiling tile in, or paint or what have you. Some days all I would do was drive him to the grocery and bring him home and he would cook us food. He always paid me $20 for the 4 hours I would spend with him. He had an attractive niece that would come around on occasion and I mentioned how I would like to do naughty things to her. He said we could fix the upstairs bedroom up and maybe I could get her up there sometime. So, we had the bedroom almost completed and were walking up the enclosed narrow staircase on day and all of a sudden he grabs ahold of my manhood. I’m in shock! It suddenly dawned on me that the nice, new bedroom wasn’t for me and his niece, it was for me and him! He told me that he had lube and that it would slide in easy and all. With me already being a little partial to that by this time, the only thing that saved me was the fact that he wanted me to do him, vs. him doing me. Well, no way that was happening as that wasn’t and isn’t my thing. In this life, I firmly believe that things happen for a reason, good and bad. I quit my job there that day and it was only a couple years later, he died of some mysterious disease that no one knew what it was at the time. The year was 1976 and he had died of what we now know is AIDS.

      That was about the extent of my memorable events in high school. After all, I was a jock, no jock wears sissy clothes or touch other guys junk, that is just queer!

     

  1. Latest Entry

    Why is everyone that is not my doc (family that is ) worried about what is or not between my legs or if i have GRS .  it is really  not any of their concern .......ugh   , i came out to you to let you know who am not to try and control my life or my journey ............

  2. Latest Entry

    I have always had abandonment issues. I guess I always knew that things will eventually get to this point in my life where not only everyone I love and hold dear no longer have the inclination or strength to stand by me but I, myself have to abandon my own life which has been built on a lie.
     
    It this point I feel helpless against the current pulling me towards my transition. I tried to stem the tide and pretend it is not so but, I lost the battle and like before have no otherway but forward. 
     
    People say I am selfish but, from where I stand the selfish thing to do is suiside which again seems quite attractive as apposed to faking another 30 years of my life.
     
    No I will move forward and live my life by embracing myself and the people who have the courage, like me, to live life against the ods.

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    i would like peoples opinion on me being able to pass. i think i would if i started hrt but not with out.any advice would be great thank you

  3. I set pondering upon the time I have spent here , so many questions so many answers , what to hold onto what to let slip away , I know that I cant take all this information with me because it slips away like the sands held within my grasp , am I mistaken , do I reatain the guideance I have learned from so many here , I would like to think that some where within this cluttered mind within my skull it is all their waiting for the moment it is needed but I grasp to remember and nothing comes forth , am I simply growing to old to draw on it or has it been dumped for some thing newer and more relevant to the time I am currently passing through , The next shinny piece of information I know holds the answer to my question , oh how badly I feel when I cant recall every thing I have learned , I poke I prod but nothing dribbles out .... So sorry I have drawn a blank what was I talking about .. LOL , oh yeah My mind is to full time to organize this stuff any one know how to dewy decimal this stuff I failed Library in grade school , LOL . I know just another bit of rambling but hopefully it took your minds off of a days worth of information over load like it has for me .

    Love ya All .

    Steph

  4. Chantel

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    I would like to dress as a female, but can not because I live in a all male shelter. But I do wear female panties under my male underwear all the time every day.

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    I was always a shy person growing up in a religous family adopted by my grand parents but when my parents died i made new friend in new places one was a gay couple of lesbians i helped raise their kids as though they were my own and they in turn ask me to just be myself note i grew up in a small town in the 70's and 80,s so i always crossdressed in private I'm a trans fem. well one day i went out side without thinking and took a walk while in full drag by the time it hit me i also realized not many were paying me any mind so i slowly came out by the time i told my family they acted supportive but i havent heard from them since but while on the internet i met this person i thought was a friend from school and reunited the more we talk the more i realize it's my birth mother and i also come to find there are 4 other gay relatives on that side of the family. The moral of this story is for every bad thing that happens something good happens in return and for every hater there is a new friend in return.

    p.s. read my book forbidden life of dainna it is about the bad in my life and how we over come those diversities i really need the feed back and thanks for reading this my thought.

  5. Dizzy

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    I was reading a blog on google+ today and it was about george michaels to how i was a big fan and had a very big crush on. any ways he's in the hospital with severe pneumonia were as a group of christians were praying for his passing on while he was in recovery. i thought to myself what has this world come to they wanted him to die because his belief was differnt than theirs no i sent him a message on the internet "please get better michael we need your music in this world " as a christian i think we need to pray for a persons health and well being not their demise that aint no way for a christian to act and i wanted to let each and all know this.

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    rules of the trangendered is not the same as the rule's of the rest for instincts if a transfem dresses fem he still has to use the mens restroom because he has both a male lisence and male orgains but why cant there be a unisex restroom every where for our kind there's a handycap restroom every where. If we get pulled over we have to give a given name rather than a name given to our sexuallity, I also know there are those who would take an unlawful advantage if it were so but if a diagnoses were given it should be aloud regardles of the actual sex tell me you're thoughts on the subject.

    a. sex should be law.

    b. sex should adjust by sexuallity.

    c. who cares?

  6. Tr{Anndy}

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    {A Word to the Wise: the last time I wrote a blog was for a class about the Social Net in which we read Gregory Ulmer and were introduced to his "puncept;" therefore, I apologize in advance for my frequent use of puncepts in my writing. And while we're on that topic, I apologize for my terrible writing, period.}

    I suppose this is my introduction, and despite my ability to write a mean essay (present thesis excluded), I'm really rather horrible at writing about myself. Anyway, I imagine that my story isn't unlike most of your stories... although I tend to imagine that most of you are much further along your trans* journey (my therapist calls this projection, I believe). The first time I remember thinking I was boy rather than a girl was in kindergarten when all the boys got to be loud and fun and the girls were expected to jumprope or whatever it was that girls were supposed to do. I never did it.

    But this story really starts a number of years later, when I was 14 (15? the years are blurred thanks to PTSD, but that's another subject all together). I spent a lot of my younger years on dial-up AOL pretending to be a guy: first a straight guy, then a gay guy. For a while there I was extremely obsessed with gay guys, and my "bff" at the time, Ro, was a gay guy (unfortunately he was/is in deep denial about this). He was the first person I came out to. "I want to be a gay guy." (I probably confessed this to him during one of our makeout sessions on my grandfather's golf cart--I was a wild child *insert sarcasm here*.) Being the kind of friend he was (and the kind of mom I had, who thought all my friends were hers as well), he told her my secret. I grew up in an ultraconservative part of South Carolina and my mother, of course, was slightly disturbed at this new information. Give her some credit, it was 2001, and even though I have these fantasies about going back and coming out at a younger age, the truth is, it was a totally different time then. So, she swept me off to a therapist.

    Depression.

    Social Anxiety.

    And the biggie...

    Borderline Personality Disorder.

    My life from then on was defined by this diagnosis. I got away with dressing like a guy for a long time because I was goth in high school, which, oddly enough, my mom loved. Things changed when she died in 2006. My mother never knew me as the daughter she always wanted (in fact, she lost 2 daughters: a miscarriage before I was born, and me... the odd, in-between daughter). To cope with her death, I became the person I thought she wanted me to be. Ultra girly. Happy to go shopping, polish my nails, play with babies, or whatever it was that I thought defined the feminine.

    I still played boy online. It was my only escape.

    It used to be that you only ever heard of MTF trans*people. In the months after my mother died (I remember this clearly because I was living with my dad) I ordered a copy of "The Big Gay Book of Erotica" or something. The last story was about a transman. What? (I'm imagining Jack Skellington singing "What is This?!") So there it was. I was a FTM. It took me 5 years to accept that. And here I am.

    And I will leave you with some lyrics from Jack's Lament. Because I can.

    Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones

    An emptiness began to grow

    There's something out there, far from my home

    A longing that I've never known.

    And finally... I'm Anndy.

  7. First of all, I would like to invite you to visit my blogsite. Do not worry, this site is a non-money-maker site. It will not bombard you with different advertisement. My site has become my tool in order to express myself so that I could survive our difficult situation in our society today for the reason of being different. This has become my political statement and vandalism as I resist the position I stand vis-a-vis my community. http://www.ladyboymirror.com is the link to my website. 

     

    The blog entry I am posting today has been already posted recently on http://ladyboymirror.com. Thank you so much and I hope to be able to get in touch with you. 

     

    Thanks for your time. 

     

     

    <a href="http://ladyboymirror.com/2012/05/08/securitas-necesitas-22/scan-14/" rel="attachment wp-att-1354"><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1354" title="Scan 14" src="http://ricasantos.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/scan-14.jpeg" alt="" width="490" height="342" /></a>
     
    Today is the 4th of September. It is a very special day. The moment I opened my eyes as I wake up this morning, the first thing in my thought is this: <em>"Today is my father's birthday."</em>
     
    My relationship with my father is the most sensitive aspect of my life. For that reason, I will not discuss the details here.
     
    I was named after my fathers name. I am Raymond Jr. my father the Sr. Bearing the same name would not mean being actually the same. My father and I have a lot of differences. At least that is what I thought. Now that I am old,old enough to understand the complexity of life, I realized another irony and contradictions in our lives. I thought, that those differences I have with my father did actually made the two of us almost identitcal. Yes, I am Raymond Jr. and I am my FOTHER'S SON.
     
    My father is one of the most intelligent person I have known in my entire life. His ideas and views in life is diffrerent than the main stream, His ideas are indipendent. He is the first one I have heard who challenged THE BIBLE after reading it from cover to cover. His courage is unmovable that even that proclaimed to be the man of God was confronted with the questions my father seeks answer.
     
    He is different than the people of his surroundings. These people around him misunderstood and judged him. Even me, his own first born son, misunderstood and judged him specially during my puber years.
     
    However, as I see things from different perspectives, very different from what the society has induced on us, I saw a totally different angle. As I stop basing my reasons and ideas on the moral code of what is good vis-a-vis what is right (things happen for a reason naturally, it is just the way things happen) I am starting to understand and also impressed with my father.
     
    Raymond Sr., my beloved father, HAPPY BIRTH DAY.
     
    Love,
     
    Raymond Jr.
     
    From my Father's Youth:
     
     

    <iframe width="480" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/usEcJwrNHAg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
    [/CODE]

  8. 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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    Would like to say making Davina a smooth sissy was easy, it was not.

    Wax strips worked to a degree but it was a slow process so we resorted to a razor in the bath and just concentrated on a smooth chest and stomach and legs.

    After lots of messing around the result felt good and enpowering and hopefully a more complete hair removal session will happen soon but as they say live and learn.

    The photo taking that followed was great fun and hopefully you like some of the results shown below.

    Davina

    twitter @davinadiva

    blogentry-22387-0-22426500-1337156879_thblogentry-22387-0-20097700-1337157033_thblogentry-22387-0-86217400-1337157180_thblogentry-22387-0-08884600-1337157379_thblogentry-22387-0-56288600-1337157517_th

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    Hi there,

    I so suck at writing but here goes. I am biologically a male in my early 30s at this point. I wanted to create this blog to be able to write wherever I am about the truth of what goes on in my mind and heart. Truth is I mostly hide from the world in real life and stay away from many people that do not know the real me. I will explain more as I write more here. I used to have another personal diary online years ago where I opened up about things but I got locked out of that one through changing emails and such and then couldn’t recover my password, etc. I tried to start a new one over at this other unnamed site but the format and everything has changed so much and it looks to complicated. Hopefully this one works better. I do have a hand written journal but I am better actually typing things out instead of hand writing them.

    So, I don’t want to babble on about that. I will open up more personally about me (pictures and such along my journey) but not really going to be sharing details such location, etc while I am coming out here and starting my journey. Mainly to prevent any privacy issues with family members and such finding this and reading about what really goes on in my brain, in my heart and behind closed doors. Also, there have been some hate crimes where I live. More on that another time. I am sure one of my closest friends will be reading this blog but I trust them with my life so. Though I am not positive they will.

    A short and not so sweet bio of me is this: I suffered from mental and physical abuse from childhood up through my teen years and the main consequence of this was developing what is called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Most would know it more as having split or multiple personalities. I have now suffered from this since the early 1990s and it is not fun though it has improved greatly to where I can function in society. I have male and female personalities. The most prominent one being female. She is the alter who is in control the most. Sometimes I think even more than me. Her being female and the most prominent alter I know she is a part of who I am deep in my being but being free and happy as a female. I have always related to girls more than guys since I was a kid. I always played with girls in school more than boys and always flocked to my girl cousins as well. I even was more interested in “girl” toys, books, movies, etc while I was alone. Heck, I even wanted to play Barbies, My Little Pony more than the action figure stuff growing up. I remember adopting my Aunt’s baby doll that she still have from when she was a child when I was 7 years old and loved it and wanted it with me always until my parents got rid of it out of embarrassment. My grandmother even hand made me a Cabbage Patch Doll after I insisted on having one like my 3 girl cousins had their own. (they were one of the most popular girl toys in the 80s). That disappeared after a few years as well. I was biologically a boy after all and according to my parents I needed to act like one. Mainly I think because of my father. He was and still is a “man’s man” and yes even a “homophobe” I realise now. My father even forced me to stop referring to him as “Daddy” when I was 8 years old as this was not boyish to him. AS a teenager hearing words like “I wont have my boys being cocksuckers. You have never ever bring home any boys.” So classy. He will never change. Most of his family is the same way. Even my younger brother now.

    To this day as an adult I find myself fitting in with women more than men and wishing I was one physically. Yes, it is also not a strange thing for someone to question my sexual orientation. My main sexual history has been with women though. I have enjoyed sex with women sometimes, though it was less of a “sexual attraction” and more of enjoying having physical love from someone. Experiencing them as the people they are, sharing love and admiring and wishing I had the same biological body as they did. That was always the true me in my mind and in my heart. Then of course there was my female alter fully living female life quietly, though not in a sexual way. There have been some “connections” I have had with males physically but I may talk about that in other posts. Obviously I just spoke about my family, that would have really made the shit hit the fan. I guess officially I can say I am bisexual as I do find myself attracted to guys as well however and if I at this point I can see myself in a relationship with a guy and not have an issues with it. I am open to either gender. At times though I am just not very “sexual” at all. Many times I can see myself also just not having that type of relationship with someone and just living life with out sex I guess. Though I would love to have that strong connection with someone through everything of my being and to share my journey, life and everything with. No matter what gender.

    I would and I and am working towards the possibility of physically transitioning into who I am inside. I do have a friend who is a pre op transgendered female to male. I identify with him a lot and I know my female alter, does a lot being completely female in every way without any confusion or fear, taking that fact and running with it but stuck in my biologically male body. I can say without question if I had a choice to magically change my gender I would make myself female without thinking twice and be thrilled about it. That being said, I havent been out in public in “female” clothes and makeup (except on Halloween). I am in the early stages of transitioning so not decided on, nor do I have the financial resources to go having surgeries or taking female hormones at this point or see myself doing it at any point in the future until I get myself financially secure and living in a more comfortable area. The extent of that so far has been having long hair or my female alter wearing a wig, painting nails, wearing make up, etc when in private or around my closest friends and as I said Halloween where I was in my glory. I do shave what body hair I do have as I have never liked it. That never caused much of a problem as I have never been a super hairy person. Even for a male body. I know that might sound weird to most. I dress mostly covered a lot of the time. As I said in so many ways I am forced to be male but I am starting to take this journey as I need to be happy.

    I have never been really close with my parents, my one and only brother, or any of my extended family as an adult. In many ways it is for the best as I have to pretend to be “manly” around them. I see my brother and grandparents maybe once or twice a year and even then it is not for very long and my mother maybe once every six weeks for a few minutes. My father lives on the other side of the country so it is maybe once a year as well. I smile when my father and brother make a comment “That’s so gay.” about what I am watching, saying, listening to, etc. If only they knew the true me.

    I have been out of work at this point for almost a year due to “health reasons” which have a lot to do with what I have just been talking about. More the DID and depression though my condition with that is improving a lot.I will have to go back to work here soon though. More pretending to get used to but I am feeling very positive about my future and hoping to be able to fully come out sooner than later to everyone and be the happy true female me. So I know this turned into an extremely long post but I wanted to tell a bit about me. I doubt anyone will really be reading this crap anyway. Anyone, who does I think you very, very much as I need all the support really right now.

    Until next time. I hope to post lots more to share what is on my mind.

    Sam xo ♥

  9.    Who doesn't love a hand full of skittles every now and then? No, I'm not going to go into any commentary on candy at this time, though. My subject is actually about love in diversity, namely the LGBT community and more specifically the pride flag. Although this site is geared more toward Trans...(fill in the blank) and our flag is a flag of different colors my intention isn't really about colors. The rainbow has been used as a significant symbol throughout our world's history. In the 16th century, during the German Peasant's War the rainbow flag was used to symbolize a new era, hope and social change. The rainbow flag represent the city of Cusco in Peru. It represents Buddhism, In the 1920's it represented the International cooperative Movement, which stood Unity in diversity and in 2001 it became a logo for the I.C.M., placed in the middle of white background. Each color representing different meanings: 

    • Red - Courage
    • Orange- visions of Possibilities
    • Yellow - The challenge that Green has kindled..
    • Green - A challenge to strive for growth
    • Sky Blue - A goal to achieve global unity 
    • Dark blue - Helping those less fortunate
    • Violet - Warmth, beauty and friendship  

    In 1961 the rainbow flag stood for Peace. Then in 1978 Gay Pride!

         Yup the good ol' rainbow flag in unity and love. The colors have traveled around the world to arrive in this day and time as a symbol of hope and an expression of courage . It has been told that in various countries that gay men signaled others by the wearing of a specific color. In England they wore green carnation, in Australia the color was yellow, usually in the form of socks. At one time, somewhere, the color was purple, as in "Purple Power". During the holocaust a pink (gay) or black (lesbian) triangle was used for the prisoners. Now brought together in the form of a flag that not only represents rights but also pride. 

         As the story goes that the original rainbow was created by the Hebrew/Christian God as symbol of a promise with love. Now please don't take me as a hater when I say that it should be returned to be just that, a promise with love or in love. I don't mean in love with your partner, but in love with each other as a whole. This world needs to learn to love one another. Across the oceans and across the land. The rainbow flag needs to be spread over the globe not only in the homosexual community, but in all community, all cultures,(or sub cultures) in all society. Remove all labels and just as the colors of the flag came from around the world let it now fly around the world in love and unity in diversity.  

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    I wrote this some time back as a letter to many of my friends on Facebook to clue them in on who I am. I also wrote it as an encouragement to anyone else that may be traveling the same road I am. We all have issues, problems or obstacles that keep us from moving forward in our lives. It is only by the grace and mercy God has shown me that I have gotten as far as I have. No matter what journey you find yourself on, I hope I can lend some encouragement along your way.

    You might have seen some of the videos from some famous athletes, politicians or other celebrities. Well, I thought it would be important to add my voice. I’m nobody famous. I’m just someone who understands that your teenage years can seem to be some of the most difficult times of your life. It took a life time to come to the point of accepting myself. Don't make the same mistake I did.

    ALL through high school and for many years after, I denied the world to see who I really was. As a good friend once told me, it wasn’t so much as I 'came out', but I finally let the world in. I finally summoned the courage to let the world know the really me. You see, I wasn’t born Meggan Renee, I was born Mark Thomas.

    Growing up, I truly feared what people might say or even do if they found out the real me, I did my best to hide that I wanted to be a girl. Feeling different kept me somewhat isolated from the other kids – don’t get me wrong – I had my friends and those are the people that have stuck with me for over 30 years, even when I told them I was transitioning.

    All through elementary school, I was the smallest in my class. That alone made me target of bullies from kindergarten all through my senior year of high school. There were times I faked being sick and went home from school just to avoid the bullies waiting for me between classes. In high school, my Christian faith was also a source of ridicule. With all of that going on, I never had the courage to speak up and let people know I felt different – I didn’t want the bullying to get worse.

    Trust me when I tell you that depression and the thought of suicide was a constant in my life. I felt many times that if I just walked off and disappeared, no one would miss me. In my adult years, I dealt with Anorexia and Bulimia, just to feel I had some control in my life. But I have just now started to truly learn that it is not the good and easy times in our life that strengthens us. It is the storms in our lives that help us learn to live. God gives us strength to endure and over come the obstacles on the road of our lives. Many times, that strength God provides us comes in the way of family, friends, teachers, pastors, and even professional councilors.

    I want to tell you, You are NOT alone!! There are so many people around you that want to help if you are feeling isolated, different, or alone. There are three words I want you to remember - It gets better!

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    I have sat here wondering, "should I write this story, and, will anyone actually believe it?" Well, here I am making a start, and hopefully, a finish at some later date. And, if you believe it or not, is not something that I can control. All I can say is, its true, every word. No matter how dramatic, or, how much like an Hollywood movie it may seem like. This is a true story, written as it actually happened. And this blog, is by no means, the whole story. But maybe I will get around to that later, if you enjoy this little snippet.

    Oh, and please forgive my bad grammar etc. I have dyslexia.

    So allow me to begin at the beginning, the beginning of the end! I went on a six month contract, However, 18 years later, I was still there. I worked in Saint Peters burg and Moscow, the two disputed capitals of Russia. I was a croupier by profession and went to work in one of its many grand casino's that had sprung up, after the wall had fallen down. However, that is another story. My story, for this entry, starts 10 years later, in the very polluted, industrial city of Zaporozhye, in Ukraine.

    I was married to a beautiful Ukrainian girl, her name is Olea. I never lied to her about who I was, in fact, I told her on our second date. She was fine about it, and not only that, she went out and bought me a dress. A black velvet cocktail dress that must have cost her a whole months salary, at least! We were happy together, very happy. She became my best friend, soul mate and, after a year, my wife. I thought it would never end, as I suppose, everyone does.

    So, here and now, I will hold my hands up and take the blame. Why? Because the reason I went to Russia in the first place was to save enough money to pay for my Gender reassignment. But instead of saving, I had lived the high life, spent the lot on Drink, girls, guys, fancy hotels and big cars. So, I decided to move to the Ukraine, start again, and save for my Gender reassignment. So, allowing myself to be distracted again, was absolutely crazy, Especially when my gender identity was beginning to drive me out of my mind, as it does us all, eventually! And the problem is, no matter how hard people try to understand what it i to be transsexual, unless you are transsexual, you simply cannot.

    Olea tried to understand, she did her best and gave it her all. However, I was getting worse by the day, my fem me side was becoming more and more demanding, and as a result, I was falling into depression. I was angry and my mood swings were beginning to drive us apart. I was giving up on life as a whole, and began to spend hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month and now year after year, with my head buried in World of War Craft. From being a means of escape, Azeroth, had become my whole world, my reality, my home. My female character had become more than a character, she was me! For 3 years or more, I don't remember exactly how long it was, I lived my every waking moment in Azeroth, my life had become a cartoon character in cyberspace!

    In all honest I had become completely oblivious to the real world.

    It was a warm August evening when I finally dragged myself out of Azeroth and checked my e-mails. There must have been 30 or 40 unread mails, mostly junk mail. I started to go down the list, ticking the junk as I went, for deleting. Until one e-mail caught my eye, "Hi Roxy, do you really know your wife?" It was strange because only a hand full of close friends knew my fem me name, and I had never used it online, anywhere. I re-read the title again, then clicked the link to open it.

    It simply read, follow the links below if you want to know the truth! My curiosity was pricked.

    There were 5 links in total, all containing the words, sex, naughty, even school girl and Daddy's Girl. But the most striking word of all was my wife's name. I sat back and gazed over the links, again and again. Studying them, not wanting to open them in case I did find a truth that I didn't want to know. Casually, I scrolled the mouse over the first link and double clicked. The page opened, and the page content appeared. In the top right hand corner of the screen was a picture of my wife, she was kneeling on a bed with her legs open. She was dressed on a school girls uniform, she had pig tails in her hair and she was sucking on a lollipop.

    There was a description of herself, and what she enjoyed doing in bed. And what she was willing to do, and how much it would cost. There was pages of reviews, all good reviews and a page full of pictures. All the other links took me to similar sites, showing my wife naked, half naked and wearing school uniforms. My stomach began to turn, I felt sick. Rage was building up inside me, it was a good thing she wasn't there at the time I exploded. I picked up the monitor and slammed it down onto the desk again and again until it was smashed to pieces, then I kicked the processor repeatedly until I had smashed all the plastic off it, then I pulled the drawers out of the cupboards and thew them at the walls. I pulled cupboards over and smashed pictures on the walls. I lashed out at everything, until I fell down in the middle of the wreckage and cried. I lay their, crying and sobbing like a baby, until I couldn't cry any more. That was the first time in my life that I had considered suicide, and seriously wanted to die. It was also the first time in my life that I had seriously considered killing someone. And she was due back, at any time.

    M.T. F Soon!!!!! Watch this space.

  10. Sooooooo.......

    The weekend is almost over here, it's been a strange kind of weekend. Went to see the new Mission Impossible, which I would say is worth seeing if only because the other option is Fantastic Four. If you have ever seen James Bond, Casino Royale (the latest version) or have seen anything with Tom Cruise in it before, it's probably worth just going down to your local video store or online provider and just watch one of those instead.

    There doesn't seem to be a great deal of options in terms of new material movies around. They are either reboots or recent movies or just nothing which is breaking the ground. Even the Stonewall movie is getting bad press for being historically inaccurate (wait! Hollywood re-writing history.....I am shocked).

    On the smaller screen I am just about to sit down and watch the second installment of I am Cait which has had mixed reviews. Will stick with it and see how things go, but I am not really a committed TV programme watcher. I tend to wait for it to come out on box set or just lose interest.

    Whilst we are on about Caitlyn, somebody sent a 'funny' joke on Facebook earlier.......not that funny to be honest. But probably typifies why there will always be issues with being seen as 'different'.

    Anyway, as promised, have uploaded a few pics I have taken around the city the past week or so. If you like them I'll try and add some more as i take them.

    Have a good week

    Take care

    c.xoxo

     

     

     

     

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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.