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This is basically part 2 of my previous entry about work issues.
I totally agree with everyone who followed-up suggesting holding out until surgeries are done, I can't imagine starting a new job and then telling them I'm going to be out for X weeks, so better to do it now, which also lets me get more experience.
The problem is that that's an "exit strategy," but it doesn't address how to cope on a daily basis with a job situation that I find basically humiliating. I don't like the idea of trying to just see it as a job, but that might be the only way.
The other important piece that I came across recently involves performing - and doing something that I feel passion about. As some may know I have done some performing during a friend's drag show (earlier I would say that I was doing drag, but that isn't accurate anymore). A couple of weeks ago I did this and after I was done thought I had decided that it was time to give it up. The issue was that while I kind of enjoyed doing it, I didn't feel like I was bringing enough to it to warrant it (I don't sing, I can't dance...what else?). But then last week I was at her show - not performing just to see it - she had another guest so at one point she says "I'm going to do one more song and then bring up my guest." I had a strange feeling of excitement. I knew it wasn't me, I wasn't performing, but I still for a second reacted like I was. That's when I realized that I do still want to do it - I just have to find my angle. So yesterday I signed up for a beginner's jazz dance class :-)
Passion is definitely something that I'm missing, so I'm excited to pursue this possible venue!
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To start off I take a break every hour at work, walk down three stories, head outside for a few minutes then back to work. Although we have three elevators many uses the stairs and with that I pass several people that I don't know (we have over 1,000 employees). This one lady stopped me several weeks ago whom I have never spoken to before were the conversation was everyday stuff.
This morning she stopped me again and at one point said she never said anything before to me when I was male was because I appeared unapproachable, distant and never smiled. She then said since I transitioned she noticed no male traits and that I am always the complete opposite from when I was male. In the conversation I told her about me being wrapped up in doing executive security and teach self-defense may very well have contributed to my demeanor coupled with being unhappy as a male. She told me that I was handsome as a male and pretty as a female. So I pulled out my current and former driver license. She stared at them and said "you know you look so much younger now" and I said I believe it's the hormones plus good genes.
So I walked away from this I believe with a new friend who spoke frankly to me.
While writing the above it reminded me of last Friday when I had a first time voice lesson. During the introduction she observed all feminine traits I had and actually pointed them all out which made me happy as I make no conscious effort to do so. I have to say my first impression after our hour was up was, she is perfect for me and there was so forward motion too. Now with that I can see where I want to be and there is indeed work ahead but she said compared to other trans clients I was doing much better than others but stressed in the beginning it will be mentally difficult working with the various aspects of "the voice".
I like many others, some not even in the UK, face changes of responsibility, although in my case not of demotion. Public sector employment in the UK is being decimated by the Conservative (tory) government, they are giving public service jobs to their private contractor mates, so far my job hasn't been privatised, but the implication of privatisation is that I have less to look after, due to whole sections leaving local government employment, thus making the Council that I work for smaller. I'm just hanging on for my pension, which when it's large enough I'll retire. My partner also has very similar problems being a consultant paediatrician in the NHS, which isn't really National anymore, it's been so fragmented that the left hand doesn't know what the right hand's doing. The media is mostly anti EU and wants the UK to leave, the media is mostly pro tory, not much that is derogatory to right wing views and ideals gets published in the majority of the press or aired on the BBC. I have said before that the public are mostly sheep the press are the wolves who feed on the sheep and the tory politicians are the perverted shepherds who should be looking after the sheep. It's a really cosy relationship, a very subtle sort of corruption really. But there's a new dimension now with corporatism creeping - uh?, no, leaping in with Corporations pulling the strings of the idiot politician puppets, and it seems aided by the media.
It's funny but I don't feel very free anymore, we used to pity the communist countries in Eastern Europe a few decades ago, thinking that they didn't have any freedom. To think that we have much freedom of speech, is quite laughable with a media so biased toward the new regime, who will take much notice of whatever I say whether or not it's on social media or printed in the fringe press?
Don't think that I'm anti free-enterprise though, I'm all for it, but I'm very much against giving public services on a plate to private contractors.
I want to leave the UK and live in Europe somewhere, and not be bothered with the antics of right wing idiots.
So one beautiful thing about being openly female is all the ways i get to express myself. The really amazing thing is shifting from fear of "omg what if they find out" to "omg they are okay with this... omg its gonna be okay." I know that this is not everyone's experience and it breaks my heart. I know I am super privilaged to live and work in western mass USA where lgbtq respect is one of the best in the country. I just am so grateful that this is not just where I came to but also where i grew up. That a lot of these people have been friends for a while some for a long time. I am privilaged that my family accepts me and that some family is also affirming and supportive. I am so glad to be able to be who I am. My heart is flooded with emotions at this time and I just want to tell anyone / everyone going through the process of coming out. What ever letter of alphabet soup you fall into, that I love you and I respect you and I honor you for being you. If you are not feeling comfortable or safe coming out... I want to tell you that I accept you, that I am here for you. It is a privilage to feel safe coming out to the world. It is an honor to come out to myself.
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I am having chest surgery in four weeks. I am super excited, and a little terrified.
Nobody in my family knows.
They're not supportive, and I don't want any passive-aggressive comments to bring me down.
I'm sad that I feel I can't share this milestone with them.
I'm really excited to be playing around with a new microphone. Recorded a new song: HERE and here: https://soundcloud.com/charllandsberg/charl-landsberg-i-touch-myself-divinyls-cover . It's fantastic to have proper working equipment and I got this microphone for a real bargain too. I traded some old stuff for it. Unfortunately you can also hear how out of practice my voice is. Time to do proper warmups before actually recording a song.
I realize I post way too much. In so many ways I'm still that young child who takes their art for approval. I actually wrote about this tendency of mine way back in 2009:
From and Empty Page to...
I write my poetry here
It’s an empty page
Well, not any more
Now it’s full of letters and words
Like a glass filling up far too slowly
The patron begging the waiter to fill their glass
Just a little bit more
Just a little bit more wine
Just a little bit more self-indulgence
Just a little bit more fat and grease
This is where I write my poetry
Or rather slather it on the page
As I spit out the chewed bones
And somehow feel fed
Now the page looks like a used napkin
Stained with the remnants of myself indulgence
And I hand it to be read by people
Like a child expecting praise after having wiped their face
(Source: http://aplaceformypoetry.blogspot.co.za/2009/12/from-and-empty-page-to.html )
Anyways, I'm off to bed.
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"You're too sensitive."
I've heard that so many times in my life. Worse, I believe it.
I should not be hurt by rude people at work. I seem to be the only one who gets hurt. So no, I shouldn't be affected.
I should not like how I feel when I wear my dresses. After all, it's just cloth. A fabric of threads. And I'm not supposed to like them.
I should not be scared. Scared that people will discover how scared I am. Of being hurt.
I should not even write this here. After all, I'm a mod; mods don't cry.
"It's always all about you."
That hurts too. A lot. So if I didn't feel then it wouldn't hurt snd it would not have to be about me.
I should be happy, not sad. What have I got to be sad about? "I'll give you something to be sad about."
Shoulds suck. I should forget that word, delete it from my vocabulary. I like it when I feel my truegender. Inside and out. But it's just a feeling and I don't know if it's okay to feel. Is it? It doesn't seem like it.
My cursor gently blinks as I ponder clicking the Submit button. Maybe this is what blogs can be for. Sometimes to pour out my heart. Show the world that I feel. I don't like it and I don't know what to do with it but there it is.
Things that make me smile…
Seeing the leaves appearing on the trees in spring. Watching winter give way to spring always makes me happy. The leaves are bright and vibrant and fresh. It seems that, suddenly, everywhere appears to be more alive. People smile more and I guess it’s because they are more hopeful and filled with expectation now that the darkness and cold of winter is becoming a memory.
Blue sky. Don’t get me wrong, I love clouds (I’m even a paid-up member of the Cloud Appreciation Society) - but you can’t beat a blue sky. There’s something basic and primeval about the way humans react to certain colours - and the blue of the sky is one of those colours that homo sapiens have reacted to for millennia. It’s ingrained in our DNA, I believe.
Seeing Valentino Rossi win a race. Go Vale!!! You’ll always be my hero. #46
Jumping on one of my bikes when the sky is blue and heading through the countryside never fails to put a smile on my face. If you’ve never ridden a bike, you’re missing out on what could well be one of the best experiences of your life.
Watching children jump into puddles left by the rain. Or watching them play in the leaves when it’s autumn. Reminds me of when I was a kid.
The smell of good coffee. Heavenly. Also the smell of nutmeg or cinnamon.
Talking of smells... There’s this aftershave (cologne) that I fell in love (or lust) with when I was a teenager. It is called Aramis. One of my teachers wore it every day at school. If I ever catch a whiff of Aramis, I grin like a fool.
Music. Music always calms me. Or it invigorates me. I’ll listen to many types; there aren’t many genres I don’t like. The only exceptions are musicals and country music - I’ve never managed to get into them. But most other types of music will make me relax and smile.
Writing. That’s another thing that calms my mind and makes me happy. Except when I have a block.
I havent blogged in a little bit...Mostly due to being sick, really. I took on several extra shifts for my boss because she came down with a flu-like sickness (which is sadly going around.) and now it seems like I got it. Thankfully it's gotten better over the past few days with some help from bedrest and Ginger Ale. And of course, binge watching Supernatural. Almost 2 seasons in the course of 3 days
But with the new year starting out and my new insurance starting in Feburary, on comes a new(er) anxiety that's been bugging me like a mad dog in the back room. Surgery. I want it done this year. I need it done this year. At this point, I cant even tie my own shoes without nearly passing out from suffocation. It's just so damn hard to do daily life things with these......unbarable bags of yuck on my chest. I feel like my chest is under there, under the disgusting lumps--I just cant touch or see it. So now I have to go through the anxiety all over again of applying to have it approved and covered....or potentially declined. Again.
Plus putting up a post about being sick and someone told me to "go P on a stick lol" I know she wasnt trying to be mean, but you DONT say that to a transguy. That is legit the worst case scenario that instantly put me into an anxiety attack and made me feel sick. I dont think I'd be able to handle it if it was true...I think I'd rather die than have kids.
And honestly....I'm really sick of people telling me not to get my hopes too high, because it only makes me feel worse and less optimistic. Like I'm legit applying and the only possible outcome is denial. I'm starting to feel that overwhelming sense of depression all over again just thinking about being denied once more. Shoved aside and told to "deal with it" And then to add insult to injury, my GoFundMe page.
I was shown a page (to laugh at) of a girl who has a gofundme page to remove a damn 420 (marijuana reference) tattoo from her damn forehead. She's been given over 1k$ in THREE DAYS!!!!!!!! And the comments below expose the fact that she's done this three times for the same cause, used all the money and never got the tattoo removed and starting all over again afterwards! Like----WHAT?! I've had my gofundme for a year with only 150$ and it's for a legit problem, and this scamming twit has over 1k$ just HANDED to her!? Ridiculous......
I cant go another year like this...I really cant. I feel like it's legit killing me. I cant breathe. I cant function. I cant work out, I cant go for walks because I cant breathe---I cant keep living like this. I'm to that mindset that if they dont do it for me, I'll mutilate myself to the point where they wont have a choice but help. I cant keep this up...I really cant. At this point I would have normally turned to cutting already, but I've so far only had one episode and I instantly regretted it and didnt do nearly as much damage as I normally would have....
Then I have the added problem of friendship issues. Alex has become really good friends with her, and I've gotten further away. I knew she was going to ask me to roleplay. And I just....dont want to anymore. I dont want to roleplay with anyone. I just cant keep trying to put myself in a fantasy land when I have way too much stuff going on in real life. I just dont have the imagination for it anymore. But she asked anyway when we barely started to talking again. Hardly gave me time to get used to talking again before she popped the question. Kind of ruined my want to talk to anyone. All my RP friends do the same thing. As if the only interesting thing about me was my roleplay, and since I dont RP now, they dont know what to do with me. Geez...thanks...I know she didnt do it to be mean but geez....let me breathe for a few weeks before trying to pull me back into normality....But I let Alex and whoever talk to her whenever they want. I've NEVER told them no. But she asks about me which I understand, and I had the opportunity to come and say hi while I was out, so I did.
I got the "Warren" instead of "Ren" again. And it's not the first time. She's been doing it a lot, calling me Warren instead of Ren. To me, coming from her, that just feels extremely non-personal. She keeps trying to call me "storbror" which was sort of our thing when I was "normal" but I'm not comfortable with it anymore and I told her I wont be doing pet names anymore. But she still does it Anyway, I said "You know you can call me Ren right?" and she just replies with "Yes, I know."....Uh...ok? So I asked if that was a desensitizing thing. That every time I say hi, it's Warren not Ren an it felt like she's trying to unfamiliarize herself with me. And she just....blows up.
"Um, no. First off, I talk to Alex, Milo and Abby (So?). You've been quiet today and I've been talking to alex all day. I was just making sure it was you (so there's others named Ren? Dont think so....) And you're such a liar. Whenever I talk to you its Storbror or babe. So dont even start with me."
Then it goes to the whole "you always jump own my throat when I'm wrong, even if I'm not, but somehow you're a saint" type thing. Wow. Thanks. I ask a question and I'm automatically the bad guy....TOTALLY makes me want to say Hi more often...I'm just..I'm so done trying to---I dont know, try. Every time I do, she gets pissy about something I said or did. I'm just tired of being the bad guy. Alex or whoever wants to stay friends with her, fine. Whatever. But why is it that every time I walk away and say I'm done, I somehow always go back? I dont like fighting with her all the time and I legit do. And either she admits it or not, it is NOT always brought on by me. I dont know, I guess I'm just ranting. It's nice knowing someone here is actually listening to what I'm saying, even if there arent comments. I'm just tired of talking to walls...
It feels like I have no one to talk to anymore.
Most (if not all) my friends know I exist but dont acknowledge it. Plus any friends I did have, Alex or Abby now has, an I've been forgotten. Theyre more interesting or more talented or something and I get pushed to the side. Always do...I've considered just letting one of them out full time an saying [the heck with it], I'm out. Abby can do whatever the hell she wants, grow out my hair and be the chick my boyfriend wants. I just cant deal with it much longer...I cant even commit suicide because I'd be taking them out with me. Why would I deprive everyone else of their friends? I honestly have no 'want' left in me....
-The less interesting brother
Morning everyone! A very brief and quick update (Please excuse me of Ds are missing. The key seems to be dying!).
Not too much to report, aside from more mandalas have been done by both myself an Milo. He insisted! Apparently the others have been observing my own Mandala coloring an have gotten rather jealous of such fun, haha! So Ren an I decided to allow each of them to take a pick of a few of the pages. Abby, Mathias and Milo all chose a few pages as their own an marked them so that none other would color them first. It was interesting to pause, switch, let them place a signing, and switch once more. I do believe that it has drained me of all available energy, despite the fact that we have been awake all night since getting off work rather early (Shift changes to help a coworker with training off campus).
Photos are as followed:
On another note, during a rather unforgiving storm yestereve, the roads we drove on throughout working our shift was plagued with such a horrid layer of black ice. It was everywhere! Hardly avoidable. We somehow managed to survive the night with only a few minor fishtailing of the vehicle, and I credit it greatly to Ren's experience with winter driving. With about twenty minutes left to our shift, on our way back to campus from checking an off-campus dorm; we came up to a stopsign through a veil of snow and barely glimpsed ahead to see brake lights where we knew there was no road.
Immediatly putting on our caution lights, we parked next to the stop sign to warn others of the thick black ice there at four in the morning, an got out of the vehicle. The man was pacing his vehicle, a small Dodge Neon, surged up over the top of an icy snowback opposite of the stop sign. We promptly asked if he were alright, and he was, but he was stuck so drastically that his rear passenger tire did not even touch the ground. Luckily a lady in a small voltswagon also stopped when she saw what we were walking for, and we assessed the situation. The man said he could not call police or a tow due to no insurance, and we understood immediatly. They asked if we could use the suburban (work vehicle) to pull him out but declined, sure to not have a very happy boss if we did that and broke something! The lady who stopped to help was very well prepared though!
She promptly took out a bucket of sand, bag of kitty litter, two shovels; a tow cable and a pair of mittens for the gentleman; and we got to work. I were on the clock anyway with nothing left to do, might as well lend a hand! With passing cars warned by my caution lights ahead of our activities, we were easily avoided as we worked. The lady hitched his car to her own an while she pulled with the power of her Voltswagon, I opted to using good old elbow grease at the front. It took several tries and a lot of tire squeeling (and my prosuation to a Town Crew that we did NOT need a wrecker, not revealing that the car was uninsured) the car crunched up over the snowbank and back onto the roadway.
Light cracked damage to the front bumper and what looked like a plastic shield off the bottom came loose, but otherwise the car was in very good condition. The three of us shook hands and were quickly on our way, the gentleman and lady off to work and me to clock out. I had presently been in a bitter mood throughout the night for a rather complicated reason of grief, but the three of us strangers rolling up our sleeves to help eachother out really touched me. It made me smile knowing that humanity might, afterall, not be hopeless. He never asked for our help, and we did not feel inclined to ask. Human nature to help the pack took over and we did what needed to be done to help one another, without expectation or request of reward.
The only sad part was that the lady voiced her hopes of a "Big, strong guy to stop with a plow truck and give us a hand!" to which Ren laughed, mentioning a comment of "Yeah, that'd be nice. I'm just a little guy!" and the woman immediatly stared at him as if to say "Dont you mean girl?". That was rather saddening, but I encouraged him to not overthink it and to just get back to pushing because my toes were cold! Regardless, it was not a bad experience. And I mentioned it to our boss and she agreed. Had we used the truck like he'd asked, we probably would have lost our jobs. Yikes!
Anyhow, I am far overdue for some sleep. I had planned to go to sleep at a ripe time of 5;30am or perhaps 6:00am at the latest. Presently...it is 8:35am. Far overdue! Perhaps we'll save the bank and postal visits for tomorrow...
Have a warm and comfortable Eve,
As the saying goes, "As one transitions, those around them transition as well." I am reminded of this fairly frequently, but more-so this week. My mom and sister have been struggling with my transition.
My mother and sister still live in the Northwest Ohio area. I told them of my transition and being transgender at different times. I came out to my sister back in April 2014. I came out to my mom later that year. I have struggled with my gender identity my whole life. My mom was vaguely aware of this struggle in my early years. Eventually, I was put in therapy when I was 14 years old to address what was going on with me. My parents really did not know why I was dressing and going out in public. They thought I was acting out. That I was engaging in risky behavior. But they did not understand or know what it was. I did not know what it was either.
After a year or so of therapy, my therapy ended and was considered "successful". Successful in helping me repress my true gender identity and successful in fooling everyone that I was "normal". Whatever "normal" is. So fast forward 30 years. My father passed away a year and a half ago. My mom is struggling with his death and all of the ramifications of that. And she is struggling with my transition. Not just coming to terms with it. But also trying to understand how this could happen. Naturally as a concerned parent, she is looking back trying to understand how she missed this. She is also trying to fill in her history with the story of my experience.
This past week, she has struggled with the coming "death" of my male gender and what that means to her. Getting used to having a new daughter and no longer a son. Does she call me by my female name? Or my male name? I told her to call me whatever she felt comfortable calling me. That it was okay and natural and that she needed time to get used to this. My hope is that eventually it will be difficult to call me her son. But I understand that to her, I am her only boy. She was concerned that I would demand that she refer to me as a daughter and that it was going to take her time getting used to it. I told her that as long as someone's intentions were not malicious that I wouldn't be upset if someone misgendered me or forgot to call me by my female name.
My sister is having the same difficulty with having a sister versus brother. The sense of loss is very real. Even though I am the same person, in this very bigendered world, we wrap our identities in our gender roles. Those around us interact based on how we present ourselves and are perceived. This is more-so the case in a close knit family. And when we no longer act or present in a way that represents our gender roles since birth, this is considered an act of rebellion, an affront to "normal" people who consider this "abnormal". How people deal with this, depends partly on them and their relationship with me.
Regardless, my expectations are the same. I expect to be treated with respect and expect to be accepted without understanding. My word taken at face value. Yet, I will cut everyone some slack. My transition will take time for people to adjust to. Some more than others. I have been struggling with my gender identity for 40 years. If it takes people some time to adjust and get used to it, not having that experience, it is totally understandable.
Everyone take care. I hope that everyone has had a wonderful week.
How ever one satisfies as transgender people we strive to further improve your inner core! We all know about online dating since my article will focus on dating & sensual pleasures of tranz folk. Let's begin without further wasting, we know online dating doesn't work for most. For me a male to female transition to on & off straight orientation to bi sexual orientation. I find many pleasures of dressing up as her, with all kinky things attached being & living as girl without sex. Well sexual pleasure are good either way, but its the small things to turning into big things with being her that matter the most. The other day I went dressed casually to cinema as her with a couple of girly friend's and their friends. I had the most amazing time sitting between model personality if not babes. Everything was unplanned, I've learned the more you plan better you fail. So spontaneous is my answer. Maybe I am living as a girl too much. Today the most amazing thing happen to me at the ladies gym in changing room. I am not on harmones, or had any surgery thus far. I am 1 happy cross dresser as of today. Imagination goes bonkers wildly when I go for harmones in future or breast pills etc!! As a cross dresser I admire feet or having a feet fetish, I spend on average in a month $200 for pedi`s! I wear silicon breasts to show off bust. I am totally passable to average Joe. I can't think of what more I can do beside beautification facial surgeries(without GRS, SRS surgery god forbid)? I haven't done electrolysis yet prefer every 2nd day shaving my body & facial hair!!! Remember the Chewbacca syndrome that's me from mid east typical dude. I luv dating with men on 1 particular website, where I have been picked up 4 times in last year alone!!! Will not get into that. I am trying to date a girl who is super model. My family supports me all the way, which I wouldn't be anywhere without them. I am going at the rate of washroom of VIP clubs of turning down glances of babes feeling the urge. My all close girl friends want to date me 1 by 1. But I don't drive
my Volvo S40 for over speeding. I drive a moterbike with my heels yet strap on rubber long boots every now or than. My fetishes can start from a stick to all the way to beauty of feet, legs or breasts. I don't know which way to go yet being spontaneous guides my surges in right path. I look like average girl but there is wild boy waiting to leash or be pleased. Visit on YouTube Shazy Jeo or outcast-all.com
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[TRIGGER WARNINGS; INCEST, CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE, SUICIDE, VERBAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE.]
Basically the gist of this is never casually joke about suicide and incest, ever.
I've found that support for myself as a transgender person among other transgender people is almost non-existent. So the gloves are off. I'm coming right out with my worst secret and wanting it public.
This post isn't a fancy infographic and it hasn't any gifs of gyrating bodies. It has no pictures or selfies or cats. It has no links to news stories or articles. This post is a news story all its own. It's one of the worst things you will ever read. All of it is true. God knows I can't put hours into one of my other posts and exist. My posts require you to read. So here goes: no setup, no build, no background. No one's reading this far anyway.
My Mom knew I was a girl. But, she also had a thing for teenage boys and everyone including my friends knew it. When I was 11 or 12 she stripped naked in front of me and showed me how women masturbated. At some other point, we had intercourse. She was attracted to me. She needed her fix of teenage boys through me. We kept this a secret because we knew how violently my biological father would react.
Later on, we knew we couldn't live with ourselves. I was suffering from an eating disorder, bipolar disorder and gender dysphoria. I was vulnerable. At some point, we made a suicide pact. We would at least die on the same day, if we couldn't die together.
On March 17, 2009, the suicide pact was finally enacted. She died, I tried but didn't. Why I am still alive is a story for another time. Recently, I tried to tell my biological father that my anorexia had relapsed and I wanted to get some help getting something to eat. He chose to humiliate me in a public place instead.
I went home and stared at a suicide note I had written a while ago, thinking they would be my last words. My biological father has permanently surrendered his right to talk or look at me again.
It is a miracle I am still alive and I get no credit for my strength of character to avoid suicide. I am not the rich spoiled brat transgender woman that tv news and daily newspapers favour. My pain is much, much deeper than getting bullied at school. But I am invisible.
I do not hate my Mom. Her illness was not unknown and she clearly overcame it when my sister and youngest brother were most vulnerable. No physical damage or consequences came of it, like pregnancy or an STD. I love my Mom and I think in penitence she has become my guardian angel. She is a very good guardian angel. I also had a vision of her as The Shepherdess of the Garden of Twilight, the title of one of my novels. But her role as such a Shepherdess is for another post.
No, it is my other family I hate because of this. They should be taking care of me and helping me heal. Instead, they think I am better off never hearing from them, and if I never contacted them, I could accurately say I have no family at all.
I have been through 23 years of therapy for my damaged childhood, and my family. I will not be polite about it amymore. It has ruined my ability to enjoy sex with partners. But I said to my biological father "my anorexia has relapsed" and he chose to humiliate me anyway. My anorexia relapsed because trauma about my sex with my Mom had been released. My therapist thinks I'm cured just by saying I was sexually abused. I don't think any other therapist will help, please have empathy and do not suggest any.
I confessed these things because no one is reading. This is a long-form entry like my others and because it requires reading skills that high school students are no longer required to have, this blog entry is as invisible as I am.
My name is Debora Simon. My email is firstname.lastname@example.org | My twitter handle is @areaeightyfour | My facebook page is easy to find under Debora Margaux Simon | Please DM me on twitter or PM me on facebook or email me to contact me.
Today, Friday, 20th. November, 2015, is the Annual; International; Transgender Day Of Remembrance - ( TDOR ) . Let's Wear Something Purple, in Support Of The Rainbow Flag. If We Can't make it to A Comemorative Event, then We Can still show Our Support, for those Less Fortunate, than Ourselves, Who have lost Their Lives, at the Hands of Other's, or Have Taken Their Own Lives. Here in the UK, We should remember the Transgender Lady, Who had been put into an All-Male Prison, at Leeds, in West Yorkshire. Sadly, She took Her Own Life, in the Last Few Day's ! I WILL Wear Something Purple Today, as I Am a 53 Year-Old; Transitioning Male-to-Female Transsexual, Myself. Please, join Me, and Other's around the World, in showing Our Support Today, this Transgender Day Of Remembrance - ( TDOR ) . Thank You Very Much. Regards, Stephanie.
I never thought of it like this...
Okay, we all probably never thought of it, okay make that the persons who never gave the world a chance to influence and change your gender. I've always been trapped in a body with a body part belonging to someone else. And even as a child I would ask everyone, "WHERE DO YOU SEE A BOY, BECAUSE IF YOU TALKING TO ME, I'M NOT LISTENING AS I AM NOT A BOY!!!"
So did I give my parents the chance to grieve the loss of a son they never had, or is my mother just trying to be a royal pain in my ass. Okay, my dad never used the right pronounce, and he treated me as softly as he could. But I never wanted to be a soft girly girl. I needed to know how to kick the boys into submission and how to shoot at a target with a proficiency that most grown up would cry over getting. And how to handle a car and still look like a model on a catwalk. Yes I am, and I obviously want to stay my daddy's little girl. And somehow I was treated like all the other girls in the area, because I know he knew that he wouldn't ever get a boy in life from me, unless I come home with a guy.
So I came to the conclusion that my mother will never let go of the gender assigned to my birth certificate which I will and can't ever respond, because that will and can't ever be me. I'm looking down at my lilac nails as I type this and think. Okay, so she (my mother) is trying to cultivate another interaction like that of my brother with her. But it will never happen, I would become her last born and the girl she can run to if she could accept me for who I am, but till this happens, I am not going to give me anymore heartaches at trying to convince her that this is for me to be at my best.
Hormones is another sore issue with us, as she would like me to stop, and the only time that I actually hear that she sort of cares for me is when I told her that without it I will probably kill myself and not think twice about it, because I can't live as the person that she wants me to be.
Okay, this statement will make most people jump at their phone books to call and tell me it's not the end of the world. Well, let's see how long did it take you to realize that you need to do the changes. How many suicides are there in the world because of persons not allowed to transition. I wouldn't kill myself, but I might do something that will still result in me dying (running into a gang fight with no bullet proof vest and get shot, but making certain that I took out as many of them before they could shoot me, and if they can't shoot, I would probably shoot myself through the crotch). Okay, that is one of the thoughts I have in my head. But seeing that I know I am the last line of defense for my oldest sister, and I don't want her to be injured or anyone to attack her. I wouldn't want to leave her behind as I wouldn't be there for her.
I have also learned that for every argument I have that I can die, I have an argument to stay alive, because if I don't do the fight that others are afraid of to do, who will do it and how will the nation I live in ever decide to change the way they treat us as human beings.
Yes, I am not going to do anything to me, because I need to keep on with a fight in the world. First South Africa and later, move into other nations because, equality is the way forward, not the way people want to change everyone.
Cheers, stay safe and love life.
Sometimes things are happening in a rush, like when the river hits the rapids. All you can do is try to hold on and keep your head above water. . . and just hope you miss the rocks. There have been at lot of those rapids during this 6 month trip. In fact the flow has been mostly rapid. what a ride. And amazingly I look up and see that familiar face, The one I've been looking at for 11 years, 10 of which she really had little clue about the girl that was stuffed deep inside me. When Annette met Andrea.we both felt this bond, hard to understand and I won't attempt to explain, but the emergence of a previously unknown woman, who brought with her many unknown things, didn't seem to really be significant, the bond was mysteriously very strong. As I first stepped onto my road to transition, she stepped with me. And I look up while swirling thru the rapids and there she is, her face showing a web of emotions, that look that shows exactly how I feel. What a totally exciting, scary, thrilling, mind bending trip. . . for 2!
The crashing wave of this last rapid is called 'delay' forces beyond our control add 7 more days to the countdown. We have been on a schedule these 6 months, we can do this by turkey day and we can get back to work before all the money disappears, After 67 years I have a 6 month window to make Andrea Jean's dream come true. This is really my first opportunity, ever, but it is a limited time offer
I had a moment yesterday morning, the thought that it might not happen, I might be this close, but never able to make the 'cross-over'. I thought I may be sentenced to a life of unacceptable gender bending form. I felt the weight of real depression overwhelm me.I cried, and became amazed at the strength of my feelings, I had never felt it as powerful as I did then. I was just so driven to get my body right, I was numb.
I woke up this morning and set out to make sure this gets done, a mind set and a course of action, be sure it happens ON THAT DAY, anything else is unacceptable. My fear, that moment of absolute clarity, and absolute depression has inspired me, I am going to do what it takes, no surrender, no prisoners, no failure. With a touch of logic, I believe I can do this. . .I see the surgeon on Tuesday, the moment of truth.
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Today I was wondering what a good haircut for my face shape would be.
I daydreamed a bit about how nice it would be to have a list of celebrities with my facial shape. Then I could just look at their best looks. OK I was being lazy....
Anyway that led me to this site http://www.pictriev.com/ which it just so happens does not require an account or social media login.
I just uploaded a "casual" pic wearing light makeup and a cheap wig.
Apparently I need to step up my game. The cruel and unforgiving masculinity meter tipped to 53%. It did however offer me 3 cis female celebs that I resemble to varying degrees of fidelity. A quick googling later and i had some hairstyle ideas!
Now its off to Amazon to looks at wigs. Wheeee
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.
I haven't posted anything here in a long time. The last time I posted the reality had just started to set in about what life was going to be like going forward. I have been on HRT for almost 4 months now and life has gotten a lot easier. Hiring a lawyer made me feel a lot better about the upcoming divorce. I'm full time in public which is still really nerve racking but I'm forcing myself outside of my comfort zone. Doing my own makeup is now a thing too. Its a lot easier than I expected except I have trouble with eyeliner. Things have started to develop up top as well.
Overall I'm in a much better place despite the fact that not everything , including the divorce, has been handled yet. I was emotional a lot during the first couple of months of HRT but that may have been due to all the stress in my life.
I just wanted to come in here and vent in a blog to other transgender people who may know how I feel or what I'm going through.
So, while I am at the beginning of my journey, I'm trying to think of everything. Right now I'm focuses on appearances and finding out how I might look.
At some point I will try and test the waters outside, maybe go to the shop at first then venture out further. Before that I need to really know what to wear, make up, all that great stuff.
So I guess my question is this, to anyone else out there that has already transitioned or anyone going through the journey too: What did you wear? How did you wear it? How did you know you were ready to go out?
I look forward to talking to all of you
Edit: Just wondering, if there are any cross dressers, drag queens or trans folk out there who have worn bras as a male? If so what did you stuff them with, I know you can get like fake breasts but just thinking of right now... Socks? I have tried socks I'm just curious...
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!
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