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Operation day was 7 March 2017.
Well, no more Estrogen and no more Testosterone development for me, as no more testicles or ovaries for me.
Which was brought on 11 months prior when I developed, make that discovered growth, got admitted to hospital for chemotherapy which made me so sick that I lost 12kgs (+-26Lbs), and the 7 months ago removing the growths as the original doctor decided to be a hostile transphobic fool, and the younger surgeon with a newer practice was trans-friendly. Because I know the likelihood of growths return every few years.
Well, today I am feeling better then what I felt in the first week where I developed a hematoma, and the 2nd Saturday I woke up early and thought I needed the bathroom, but when I got there it was to find that I was bleeding.
Preemptively I bought sanitary towels for the bleeding. And it saved me from having bloody underwear, clothes or bedding. I just had that Saturday where the bleeding overflowed the pads. And with the first overflow I uttered profanity and a friend that slept over jumped up and ran to me to check on me. Told him, everything is fine, and seeing that it was 02:00am as I got back into bed told him that I'm bleeding excessively, but not enough for me to warrant me to go to hospital. For the rest of that day I was cursing as the blood kept on overflowing and smudging and staining my underwear with blood.
I was so drugged on pain medication most of the first 2 weeks that I the 2 nights I went to bed unprepared with a lack of pain meds in my system I woke up crying in pain, and that was all duing the first week. I learnt that my hot water bottle was my best friend as it helped subdue the pain as it was mostly abdominal pain.
Currently I'm doing better and had a doctors appointment on Thursday where I was told the hematoma looks like it will take another 2 months to recover and I requested a medical letter putting me on light duties when returning to work the duration the hematoma for recovery.
The statement made at the last doctors appointment for the checkup. Michele you know you can't have any biological children anymore, the procedure was irreversible. I looked at him asking. What would you have done. A growth once means I'll be plagued with growth every few years, and I dont want to go through that again. And the Testosterone blocker Spiranolactine that I was using and at the dosage required by my body to stop the development of Testosterone in my body would put my kidneys and liver at risk of failure in the next year to three, by which time I would love to have done te GRS but in the unlikely event that I will struggle to get the GRS done then I safe myself the heartache of my organs failing. He looked at me saying, you one of the few patients a doctor gets that know the pros and the cons of the procedures done. And I wsh you all the luck. We ended our discussion and I gave him te statistics of the quality of medical expertise versus the cost in South Africa versus Thailand. 3 to 5 times less experience and the quality but the expenses are 3 almost 4 times more expensive.
So have the best intentions of doctors that I personally selected. I like their service with a smile and knowing that each patient is an individual.
Love life. Respect all.
Unfortunately due to some issues I won't be able to host my content here anymore. I have many reasons. But thank you gentle folk for your love and support. I wish you all the best. If you want to be in contact:
Hear me screaming at the clouds on twitter: @charllandsberg or my Twitter Profile
Come have a look at my weird and wonderful art on Tumblr
Have a look at my cooking and everyday photography on Instagram
I'm all over the place. Be good. Take care of yourselves.
All my love
So. The neighbors. Again. Yes. One of the many reasons I'm not sad that Nikki pushed the moving idea.
I have a trick for large item trash to avoid paying fees. I put the times out the day AFTER trash pick up, so they have roughly a week until the next one. And only once has it failed me and the item did not 'just wander off on it's own!". So we found out that Yuriko had been peeing behind the filing cabinet I had for years to organize. She died of brain cancer, but no one knew she had it until the day we had to put her to sleep, but in the last six months or so of her life she had developed some strange behaviors as the cancer was changing her little brain. My poor kitty. But anyway, she had taken to peeing behind the metal filing cabinet, and apparently on this ancient pressboard bookshelf I've had since I was 16. That is 1988 for those who really wanna know the age of this thing, and no, I have ZERO idea how it lasted that long, it's the kind where they sorta glued sawdust together and called it wood but this thing really didn't wanna die. So pretty much unsalvageable, so I put both out on a Friday afternoon and resolved not to think about it unless they were still there by Wednesday, in which case I would call the trash company and arrange for the Thursday pickup to take them.
Saturday morning I am started out of my bed, at FIVE IN THE MORNING. By the sound of grown men arguing LOUDLY just under our bedroom window. I am exceedingly confused why it seems two random strangers chose to have some sort of what sounded like a deeply emotional conflict on my yard at that hour, so I hauled myself out of bed and reached for the curtain, and pulled it aside just a wee bit to see. And yup, it's the neighbor son, fighting with some random dude who was loading the filing cabinet into his pickup. Which I suspected would go easily, it's metal and metal salvage is big here among the poor now . But the neighbor is yelling at him his mom saw it first and it was theirs. Dude was finally like then you should have taken it, finished loading, and left. Yes, there were two people who argued for nearly a half hour over my TRASH. We have reached the point where people are actually fighting over peed on, trashed furniture that really isn't usable anymore.
So I figure that's the end of it, the bookshelf will sit, and I'll have to pay a coupla bucks to get rid of it. Or Nikki can take the hatchet to it and we can burn it in the fire pit out back. Whatever. I got back to sleep, and we get up a few hours later and go out to run a few errands. As I'm standing by the car, something is bugging me for a minute, and I can't figure out what... and then I realize, yup. The creepy neighbors actually took the ancient bookshelf that had finally begun to disintegrate and was so soaked in cat urine that no amount of the enzyme cleaner I tried to use to salvage it made a difference into their house. Where they have cats, who are going to take that as a challenge and pee all over my cats pee.
Some days the crazy just won't let me not look at it and contemplate how we got to this point on this street. Here's hoping future battles over my trash occur at reasonable hours at least. Do you think it would be taken amiss if I put out a sign that reads "All battles over our trash must occur in this corner of the yard, and only between the hours of 1pm and 6pm". LOL
Somewhere around here, I've shared the fact that my mother is NOT accepting of my transgender being. She was. At first. But then something changed, and she wanted to hear no more about it. She let me know she bore only ONE son [and that wasn't me]. She's also gone so far as to say that there is "nothing 'wrong'" with me, I was just adversely influenced and affected by my work environment and the people I worked around and with - all men. She refuses to accept that I wanted to be in job where I felt comfortable, and felt more myself - that being, with other men.
I already knew that my mother was a "girly girl." She was the kind of girl growing up that laid across her bed, looking at fashion mags and dreaming of a big wedding, a husband, children and a family. In fact, my mother did not leave home until she was married. My mother also used to draw and water colour. What did she draw? Women in all the top fashions of the day. She could have been one of those people that illustrates the envelopes that women's sewing patterns come in.
A few years ago, I learned that my mother is perhaps (I hate to admit it), a bit on the vain side. In a rant one day, the rant that pretty much shut down all future conversation about me being a transgender man (and despite that the topic really was irrelavent to a degree about me being trans), she talked about how any man she had ever dated had to be physically fit (no pot bellies, for example), had to be a good dresser (that didn't include jeans, or as they were most often called back then - dungarees), had to have neat [appropriately short] hair, and be the quintessentially perfect gentleman. She went on to let me know that my father was a very nice dresser and a gentleman.
Now, yeah, nothing wrong in dressing nice when the occasion calls for it. And nothing wrong in a man being a gentleman. But my mother was the type of woman that expected and demanded those qualities to the Nth degree. Of course on the flip side of that coin, she expected that women should dress a certain way with strict attention to whatever the occasion was, AND there were things she felt that only [bio]men should do, be able to do, know how to do, and that unless you are a [bio]man, you don't know jack about those things. In those things, she would and still does defer to men and take only the word of a [bio]man.
Example: cars. Doesn't matter what I know... if I try to tell her something, suggest something, advise her of a problem, give an opinion, offer to repair something...she will invariably ask me what do I know about it, how do I know it, who told me or how did I learn it. If it's something very minor, she may accept what I suggest or recommend. But anything more than minor, she will wave me off saying, "I don't know." Later, she will make it a point to ask a man about it whether that man is a mechanic, burger flipper, surgeon or pencil pusher.
In fact, I have learned since my dad died that there are things my mother does not know how to do. Doesn't have a clue. Things that, if she'll let me, I do for her 'cause... she doesn't have a clue. She will let me know, "you father always took care of that - I didn't have to do those kinds of things." It's not that my father didn't let her do these things, it's that in my mother's world, those things were his job to do, and she expected him to do them. My father, being the quintessentially perfect gentleman, acquiesced.
And so now, we come to the present. Over breakfast the other day, mother was telling me that she had stayed up a little too late the night before - she had been watching a movie that "had Madea in it." She couldn't remember the title of the movie and was describing some of the characters. When it came to Madea, she stumbled over what to call the character choosing instead to say "Tyler Perry." I said, "Madea." She said [paraphrasing], "he, Tyler Perry, he plays Madea." Then she went on trying to describe a scene, referring to Madea as "he." I retorted with, "she. Madea is a woman." My mother came back with, "but Madea is played by a man." This was supposed to justify her referring to Madea as "he" and "him."
My mother is so steeped in a strict male/female society, that she can't even refer to Madea as a woman, like most people apparently seem able to do, though I'm sure for many it's only because it's entertainment. It hit me then -- how will I ever expect that my mother will see and accept me as a man, when she can't even use the proper pronouns for a fictional character in a movie?
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This is the story of my transformation and my life as a crossdresser and how I was and who I was a girl or woman.It all started with a fight with a school bully who challenge to a fight at the park near my house and I lost the fight for he was on top on me and had me to being a sissy. I didn’t know what that meant at that time so I look it up and found it what it meant. That began my quest to find out what it felt like to be the opposite sex/gender. I started with my mother’s panties and then I got my own and then on out I started to get my own wardrobe. I have purged quite a few times and the third time being the last time and I got rid of my entire wardrobe in all. But I had all the right stuff, panties, bras and pantyhose and skirts and blouses and high heels and pocketbook and lipstick and makeup. I have wondered it felt to be a woman or the opposite sex gender and got into fantasy and Mistresses and got to services and have called phone sex services quite a few times during my time as Judy. Even written a script for the ladies on the phone out.
I have to gone to Lady Ellen’s Transformation Service to do my pictures two times. Back in the early 2000’s and it was all together I had a few girlfriends and have met a couple times with one or two of them. But have been able to connect with any of them as being mates or partners. Everyone since I have posted my pictures online has told me how good I have looked. Yes it comes quite naturally to me.Why do I crossdress? Well, it began like I said in a effort to understand the opposite sex/gender,
Then I started to feel good about my feminine self aka Judy, which then lead to aspire to be like a good secretary. I prefer blouses and skirts and heels and slips (full) under dresses and heels to anything else. Judy likes to dress up a secretary or a business woman. Even getting out of male clothing is somewhat relaxing to me. Judy is nothing like my male mode of Jay. Judy is my second self and she likes to relax with a blouse and skirt and heels and lipstick and makeup on.
That is about it.
I've been coming out to professionals, friends, and family, over the past few months, and yesterday evening I decided to send an email to a male friend. I've been apprehensive about telling him I'm transgender because I have sensed that he may be less understanding than others and might say something hurtful. Nevertheless I sent the email that covered all the bases: my gender-related desires and feelings since preschool, my shame and depression, and how it all adds up to the fact that I am transgender. I felt it was comprehensive but not too long and I hoped that as a friend I've seen for a dinner every month for more than ten years he'd understand and express sincere support.
Here's what I received:
"Well, I hope that there was nothing that I said or did over the years that made you think that I would be hostile or unaccepting or anything like. I try to be tolerant and I hope that I seem tolerant too.
Anyway, none of what you wrote is offputting or means that you're stuck from the "friend" list. I don't want to say something that will be misinterpreted, but the sexual proclivity or gender choice (I realize that these are two different things) of my friends just doesn't matter any more than their height or color or whatever. (Now, if you came out and said that you voted for Trump, that might be a problem.) "
Maybe I'm being too sensitive - it wouldn't be the first time - but I needed to clear at least one thing up, so here's what I wrote back to him:
"No, there was nothing you ever said or did that particularly worried me. Sharing my secret is tough, that's all. It's like finally admitting to a lie.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but let me say that it's not a proclivity or a choice. I agree that it's like hair color or height, or being gay for that matter; modern science agrees that it's biological. I was just born this way. It's a tough row to hoe."
Although I know that emails and written "conversations" are fraught with misunderstanding I wanted to be clear that being transgender is certainly not a choice. He hasn't responded yet but as I think about it this morning I think all will be okay.
That said, overnight I mulled his use of the word "tolerant" as if hey, he's tolerant so isn't that good or righteous? It came to me this morning that it is not: I tolerate a spider on the ceiling, a few dust bunnies in the corner, and dirty dishes in the sink after dinner. But eventually I grab the stepstool and a tissue to nab the spider, vacuum the room, and wash the dishes. So yes, tolerance is better than hate or rejection, but it's not enough.
I don't know exactly what is enough but tolerance isn't it. In an ideal world being transgender would be like having blue eyes or blond hair - not even thought about by most, perhaps appreciated by some. But we don't live in an ideal world so I feel that I have to come up with a compromise. Maybe and especially from friends and family I'd like to hear that, regardless of my being transgender, they love and support me. I don't think that's too much to ask.
It's been an extremely long time...but yeah, I'm still here. Nothing much has changed and I lost the ambition to blog because it was an endless parade of the same thing every day. It felt like a waste of time to keep repeating myself. Not sure why I'm here again, but I think maybe on the rare chance that anyone was wondering where I went or, by chance, was worried; I wanted to let everyone know that I'm alright.
Whats New: Just over a year at my job in Security, and nothing has changed too drastically. We had a conflict during my shift between a civilian and a staff member and I clicked back into my pre-training when I wanted to be a State Trooper and handled the situation the only way I knew how. I got in the middle of it. I was able to defuse the situation safely and separate the two individuals, writing a detailed report on time, location, involved parties and descriptions of the would-be assailant. I didnt think anything of it. It's my job, it's what I do.
Well, apparently the higher-ups of the company I work for didnt think it was just "what you do". They called a meeting, held a conference, and low and behold...I was upgraded. I'm now full-time, with benefits (soon, not yet. Paperwork is awaiting) and I was given huge praise from both the Town Police Officers and the Academy I work for. Not only that, but the situation forced them to realize that we, as Security, are vastly ill-equipped for our jobs and finally have decided to listen to our needs and provide us with new supplies. A newer, larger vehicle that we can safely transport clients and students in (we are using a little P.O.S. hand-me-down Ford Ranger right now which is horribly cramped all the time and I hate driving it.). I'm still in work-mode so my typing is kinda professional still Anyway, we're each getting water-proof, theft-proof, USB charging Dock equipped backpacks that will have flashlights, mace, first aid, notebook&pen, a security monitoring computer and etc. We're also all getting new uniforms and much-needed spotlights and gear that we SHOULD have had months ago. It took my situation with an aggressive individual for them to realize "hey, these guys COULD get hurt while protecting these kids...we should gear them up." FINALLY.
So that's work.
(Plus I was at the Post office today ((with my security jacket on....because it's basically the only winter coat I own.)) and one of the postal workers stopped me and said his son goes to our Academy and asked about a drug raid he'd heard about. I explained that one particular student who will remain nameless had supposedly had prescription painkillers in his possession that were not his, and we confiscated them. I assured him that we do frequent and random sweeps of dorm rooms and dorm buildings for anything they should not have, and he seemed happy with that. The last part that got me was just before he walked away, he said "Thank you for protecting our kids. You guys do a great job." Finally....recognition.)
YOUTUBE: Yes, I am still recording YouTube videos! I am HORRIBLY behind on posting them, unfortunately, but life's been a bit hectic atm.
FACEBOOK: I now have TWO pages up on facebook for my Youtube channel so you can stay up to date. One page is specifically for my channel videos, while the other is dedicated to my craft hobby (which just started so its very very slow) where I am selling crafts that 100% go towards my top surgery.
(Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatYoutube & Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatCreations)
Oi vey....where to start....So I still havent had my surgery, obviously since I have my creations page to pay for said surgery....I have been fighting continuously with Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield on getting them to pay for my surgery, even if just a portion. They refuse. The reason is this: My LEGAL gender is MALE. My Birth certificate says FEMALE. I cannot change that without GRS which I will not do. Anyway...My ID says Male on it. So when they filed for my surgery, they initially filed it under FEMALE BREAST REDUCTION. Well, since my ID says Male on it, they cannot do that. Because I am legally male. So it would go under Gynocomastia, which I do not have. Which..frankly doesnt matter because they dont cover it anyway.
I've spent a minimum of 4 hours on the phone every time I call, explaining over and over and OVER again that I am Transgender, I am legally male but physically female, and that this is a breast reduction not because I'm transgender but because of spinal damage, pain, interferance with work, and a damaged trapezius muscle. All of which has been noted by my doctor FOUR TIMES, including all the necessary paperwork (and more...) sent to them REPEATEDLY. They either claim that A: they never got the paperwork, B:It lacked a piece of info they wanted, C: They have it and are reviewing it OR......D: They cant find my account at all. I spent TWO HOURS on hold just for them to tell me that the line I HAD BEEN TRANSFERRED TO...doesnt handle what I'm looking for so they transferred me BACK to the people I ORIGINALLY WERE TALKING TO. Absolute, complete, utter flipping NIGHTMARE!!!
With my anxiety & Depression issues, it came to the point where I would completely avoid calling them because it would completely destroy me for days afterwards. I've had people offer to help with with the call or figure things out, but either they offered once and never followed through or they simply werent understanding that everything they wanted to try...I've already done it. No one....GOT what I was trying to say. It started to feel like no one cared anymore either.
I called GLADD FIVE TIMES. I only ever got ONE response, which was "we'll call you as soon as we have more info for you.". That was months ago....nothing.
I called the State of New Hampshire's Offices for Insurance to figure out what to do. "We'll call you back." They never did. Not only did they not return my calls, but every time I called them back and demanded to talk to someone, they'd just keep saying "Ma'am, someone will call you." Misgendered AND ignored. Thanks for that.
I called SIX...ADVOCATES...FOR TRANSGENDER PEOPLE IN MY STATE. Again, either they didnt know how to help, didnt call me back, or simply said "keep trying". For someone with severe Anxiety, the phrase "just keep trying" is like saying "Haha, well that sucks."
I cant keep trying. It causes me such dysphoria, severe depression, anxiety and physical illness that I have to call out of work, take days to recooperate and fight of the HORRIBLE sensation of the NEEEEEEEEEED to self harm. I'd been able to stay sober of it thus far, except for one episode involving a fight with my homophobic, trump loving, transphobic, Democratic-hating sister&mother-in-laws...(Long story short, I had just worked 14 hours, was tired and exhausted; and was accused of abusing her animals. Not by the mother, but by the sister-in-law. Who is basically the princess of the castle. I lost it.) So the insurance company locked me out of my online account conveniently a week before my due date to switch insurances, so I couldnt even access my account to change insurance companies before the due date ran out and....low and behold...I was renewed with Anthem BCBS for another year. I dont have enough swear words and foul language names to throw at them to express how I feel...
I also, by the way, emailed Anthem personally either through Twitter's Anthem Help page or their main help page, which ran in circles up to the point of them calling and leaving a message ON THE ONE PHONE I SPECIFICALLY ASKED THEM NOT TO CALL BECAUSE I WONT GET THE DAMN MESSAGE, then when I called them back, I got nothing. Just an answering machine. FOR THREE WEEKS.
When I mentioned this to them, they shrugged it off. Yeah.....F You too.
(BEFORE YOU OFFER TO HELP ME WITH THE INSURANCE THING:::::::No, I do not need the help right now. Thank you for thinking of me anyway. But with my job title changing, I'm getting new insurance and there is absolutely no reason I can think of to try and pursue Anthem BCBS's jerkoffs when I'm leaving them really soon. Thanks anyway.)
So, anyway....thats life right now. As you can see, not much has changed. New promotion and same insurance b.s.
Oh, and apparently I have dissociation with my chest. Which doesnt surprise me. I found out because I was in the shower, washing like I usually do with my eyes squeezed shut and my heart breaking at the sensation of having to wash those stupid boulders on my REAL chest underneath, and....what's this? I look down and I apparently had a pimple or something that had developed on the underside of my left breast, but had gone unattended to for god-knows-how-long, so it festered and became raw and infected. Did I notice? No....I didnt even feel it. I've always had next to no feeling or sensation in my chest since I was cursed with them, but I didnt think much of it. This made me really realize...I have no feeling in them whatsoever. So I experimented. I ran my hands along the sides, fronts, top and bottom....but nothing. If it werent for feeling it through my fingertips, I wouldnt feel it at all. Absolutely nothing. It's like...I feel the pressure of my hands but that's it. Not a tickle or a whisp of sensation. I have completely, entirely, absolutely dissociated with my chest so much that I no longer feel it. It's no longer 'mine'. Its just...there. That's what kills me even more.
Theyre there, theyre attached to me...but if I dont even have feeling in them, they feel even more alien to me. I'm not supposed to even have them and this just proves it even more. It didnt hit me as hard as it did at the doctors when I casually mentioned it and she was confused. Apparently ciswomen are SUPPOSED to have feeling in them. Like...everywhere.
It's weird. It's like a feeling of abandonment. That I've hated them so much and for so long that theyve finally given up and just died, but I still gotta carry the corpses around. Now, more than ever, I just want them gone...It's almost too much to stomach. I choke up thinking about it. I feel like a part of me has just died, staring me in the face and flipping me the bird before being just completely gone. But instead of leaving, it lingers in the doorway and stares me down, laughing at me and mocking me because they wont go away.
It sound stupid but I feel like theyre taunting me. Like "We know you dont want us, so we're gonna take away any sensation of being here, except you'll still have to carry our dead weight. You cant get rid of us, you will still have a huge lump in your shirt and we will NEVER allow you to touch your real chest underneath. You hate us, and we hate you. So live with it."
I even opted out of my nipple grafts so that the surgery would be cheaper. Not just for a cheaper price, but because I've always had issues with those parts anyway so there's no point in hoping they'll heal and stay where they put them when a huge part of me knows they wont. They dont heal well, never have. I get pockets in them where sweat and crap lingers and I have to clean the areas like pimples. I dont want them anymore. I dont want anything to do with any of them.
But I still have to bind them.
I still have to readjust them in my binder.
I still have to wash them.
I still have to toss and turn to find a comfortable position between suffocation, smothering, pinches or unending sweat.
I still have to put lotion on the extremely dry and chapped skin from binding.
I still have to carry them around on my aching shoulders.
I still have to nearly suffocate with them just to tie my shoes.
I still have to feel them jerk and yank on my sore back when I try to use a treadmill.
I still have to make sure there's no sores because they dont bother to tell me when something hurts anymore.
I still have to try and save up 8000$ to get rid of them because insurance doesnt give a flip.
I still have them.
And they taunt me.
My relentless bully...is my own body.
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Today is St. Distaff's Day. Compitalia, celebrating the household Gods. Today we honor Frigg and her followers, the "Freefolk". "Partly work, and partly play Ye must on Saint Distaff's Dayu" the old adage goes. It is also time for me to "shield in place". I need to take a break from the constant ups and downs regarding "my" dysphoria. My affliction. Tired of facing inward and trying to fix something that in the scope of my life? A lot less of an "issue" than it needs to be, considering. What? Well, let's throw out some things shall we? I have recieved some excellent "counseling" from someone who says my dysphoria is NOT my biggest concern. OK. Good to know. My counselor is a pretty decent person. Specializies in helping people who's professional lives expose them to some very traumatic stuff. I was amazed at how good this person was at getting me to talk. Good to find someone I can be comfortable with. A person that is familiar with the "problems" people who work in compartmented "projects" all they're lives can develop. I thought I was lossing it to Paranoid schizophrenia! The counselor just laughed at me and said "No, that's called self preservation. Johnathan Pollard actually existed. That actually happened. Your pretty much screwed for the rest of your life, just stay frosty and relax". Showed me this picture and said if you can balance these? Your mental health issues will be skosh. When I broached "dysphoria"? Push me over with a feather, the counselor replied "You'd be astounded to know just how many people I deal with could use a little clarity on THAT subject". Love them Doc's that don't beat around the bush!
How is your 2017 going to go? I have a good idea of how mine is going to go. Lots and lots of time in medical facilities. Lots of appointments. Lots of testing. I am VERY HAPPY about that. This flurry of medical activity surrounds my Soulmate and not me. She is FINALLY going to get the medical assistance and screening that she deserves. She is. not me. I am working on my "blackouts" and my manic depression issues, but for now, I am good. I have a mea culpa. I have NOT been a good spouse for a while. My prediliction with my tripartite self. I have been selfish. So, there you go. "Ronnie" is a steady state for me. 50/50. MODLOC. I have a lot of "new" things to deal with. I can NEVER drive a car on public roads EVER again, unless it is the most dire of emergencies. I can't get on an airliner. I wouldn't be able to fly a plane. I'm not even supposed to operate power tools without supervision anymore! But that doesn't mean I have to stop living or caring about the awesome folks I've met here.
I was going to leave this site and then I thought, why? It can help me. Hopefully, I can be of help to someone else. I have 41 and in a less than a month, 42 Y E A R S invested in the person that I DO love most. Violet pretty much is my Universe and she deserves better from me. Sure, some will say that I may be "disengenious" with regard to the "community". That I am not being "true" to myself. Really? I exist in a different "plane" than most people. The person who is my betrothed is also a Petty Officer in the US NAVY, like I am. She saved my life. That's what she does. She can make a towering Marine break out in a sweat by snapping a rubber band, holding a syringe and saying "Need to draw some labs". The only things that can make the USMC hesitate? Godzilla and Hospital Corpsman. Oops, my bad. Hospital Corpsman THEN Godzilla. Got to preserve the natural order of things as the Creator has made them. Nope, for me? This fight isn't about a community. It's about my sanity and I am the ONLY one that can fight it and that means being in it to win it. I may never be "complete", but I promise, I will try NOT to be boring. But I'm not that salty so having a wingman? PRICELESS. I know she always has my back. BRAVO ZULU Doc!
So for this new blog, I chose "Scutum" because I need a shield right now. Something that will insulate me from the Demon I have just gotten to go back to sleep. Scutum is called "Sobieski's Shield" in some places in Europe. Jan III Sobieski was a bad ass. Your writings here and how you look at the World and what you are doing to cope and just the minutiae of our everyday existence can be the exact thing I need to stabilize when I start to get wiggy! 2 anchors are better than one. I have Violet and I have you all. I am blessed. Monsters from the id. They're real.
A New Line Drawn In The Sand
So here we are, yet another year. 2016 was to say the least not a year that brought much happiness or progress in my life. It’s funny to think just how life works out; at the start of 2016 I was in such a good place. I felt I had done the right things and had done what people had told me to do to succeed in life: however the thing is no matter what you do in life, no matter how much you plan, pray, achieve or succeed, the world, life and maybe even destiny has a completely different road for you in store that will end up leaving you clueless, scratching your head wondering why?
My journey has not been a straight line and I know it sounds cheesy but quite often has been up and down, zig zags, twist, speed bumps and sometimes even at time complete 360’s. As of this time last year exactly I wrote in my (what is a very expensive diary) by Demi Lovato is this following entry
‘Dear Diary… First things first I can’t believe I'm actually writing in the 35 dollar book. TBH it is a big rip off. Are the pages made out of the most exquisite paper? Anyways what’s going on with me? I kind of love this busy period of my life. It makes me feel that I have a grasp on life. Work is going good and I am little excited to see where this will leave me. Summer school tomorrow. Hope I can continue the motivation and complete everything I need. Frightened yet excited…”
This is compared to a diary entry I wrote in late august 2016 of some lyrics I quoted of a song that represented everything I felt to the core of inside me.
‘Your memory is breaking my heart. Ill pretend I'm okay with it all. Act like there’s nothing wrong. Is it over yet, can I open my eyes? Is this as hard as it gets? Is this what it feels like to really cry? “
My 2016 self was to be very correct in her concerns and she sure should have been frightened for what would soon come. Who knew the person writing this would have left school only 2 months later, on a bender of drugs and crime that never ended.
It’s a very hard thing move on after you've had so much pain, loss and suffering followed with making bad choice after bad choice and crossing that line so many times, that you’re so far distanced past that line you begin to barley remember it exists, why it was there to even begin with. I’ve been travelling over that line since I was 13 and sometimes I do have to wonder if I’ve travelled so far past it and stamped so many times across it, that my own line doesn't exist or it is so far dusted out that if not at all gone, barely visible where I'm far beyond ever getting back to that little girl I left behind that line. Maybe it’s time to take my own advice and acknowledge that little girl, the pain and damage I and others have inflicted and draw a new line in the sand with a hope of a better tomorrow'
This is 2017 though I remind myself, let’s try and reflect as much as we need to in order to learn, process and move forward with our lives however not dwelling on the past and finding that balance between reflection and then moving forward. A lot of my previous blog post since deciding to get clean have been about self-reflection and about the bad times throughout 2016 and telling some of the impacts of those bad times and choices throughout 2016 had on me from physically throughout to socially, emotionally etc. I admit to you that I do write those blog posts in order to try and help others on their journeys, bringing some awareness and doing whatever I can by speaking out. I also admit I get more out of writing it for my readers then my readers get reading it. I thank all my readers who read my stuff whether it be friends, family or someone from around the globe. You all help me get to a place where I am now, I can’t even express in words what I get out of writing this.
This moves me onto my next thing I wish to talk about in my new year, a new chapter. Being in my second detox stay. Being herein such difficult times such as being in here throughout new years and being in here with such strong incredible people and hearing their stories has washed over a me a sense of gratitude and appreciation for the life that I lead and all the gifted things I have been blessed with and not just from now but since I was brought into this earth. So many young people out there have been dealt such a shit hand in life since the beginning whether it is from physical abuse, being in foster care, being kicked out of home or even left homeless. I hear such sad Stories and even remarks...
Wait scratch that, NOT SAD stories BUT courageous, strong and inspiring stories of such young courageous lionhearted beautiful people. These stories and remark s make me so grateful for all that I have been given, such as loving and kind parents and family, a roof over my head with heat and food plus filled with privileges of nurture and celebration. I think it is so important to have a grateful heart. I have written before in a previous post about the importance of gratitude and appreciation but I feel each day I learn just how much this is true.
I am thankful for my second chances, the ability to be able to live in a world filled with services and places that are graciously there to help you along your journey, my second chance at VCE and like above my loved ones followed with finally my sobriety.
Thank you so much for reading this, like I've said I've gotten so much out of this and I appreciate all the kind and supportive comment and messages. Please if you think my blog can help anyone out there please put them on to it. I am always free for a chat if anyone wishes to talk.
‘Dare to be something more’
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So my recovery seems to be going well. I had my follow-up with the surgeon and they removed the packing and tubes. That felt so much better! They showed me how to dilate - wasn't too bad.
Yesterday I came home - I've never been so happy to be home! Recovery is easier in my own place with my own stuff.
For 4 weeks I have to dilate 4x a day for 20 minutes each. I'm still working on my positioning, it gets a little uncomfortable and tedious, but I'll survive :-)
Otherwise for now it's a lot of TV and reading. Barring complications I should be able to go back to school and my internship the week of the 23rd.
At a more fundamental level - as swelling starts to recede it's easier to see what I have now, and it's pretty awesome 👯
In my opinion, there are three kinds of people when it comes to celebrating the holidays.
The first group of people had wonderful memories of the holidays. Even if they came from dysfunctional families, sometimes all the dysfunction stops during the holiday, and, however so briefly, everything is "normal," or even idealistic during the holiday, before returning to the dysfunction of everyday life. Often, as adults, they strive to recreate these idealistic holidays they enjoyed as children, which is often unrealistic and leads to frustration.
The second group of people had nightmarish holidays as children, usually caused by dysfunctional and addictive behavior by the adults in the family, which the now-grown children strive to "put right" for their children, only they often have no vision of what a healthy family celebration should look like. If they are lucky, they may have functional/healthy neighbors and friends to show them what a healthy holiday celebration/tradition looks like.
The third group, by far the smallest, were lucky to have a functional (although not perfect - no one's perfect!) family life and holiday celebration. Often they are able to replicate it as adults, but not always.
Here are some alternatives to celebrating the holidays:
- Volunteer during the holidays, ie, helping out at a soup kitchen or at an apartment complex for seniors, nursing home or Adult Congregate Living Facility. Also consider helping out at a hospital, preferably a children's hospital.
- Contact a LGB/T - friendly travel agency, and ask about cruises and vacations during the holidays. If you are single, ask about Christmas vacations that are geared for singles. Often, holiday excursions are deeply discounted.
- Go out to a restaurant (especially one with beautiful holiday decorations) with a friend or relative that has no one to celebrate the holidays with.
- Instead of gifts, make donations in honor of friends and family to charity. This is most important when it comes to well - to - do people, who are often very difficult to shop for.
- Shop year 'round for the holidays, if you can, instead of the last minute.
- Celebrate the holidays year 'round, such as treating friends and relatives to lunch or giving surprise gifts, and then on the holiday itself, call them or send them a holiday greeting card.
- Cut back on sending greeting cards.
- If you are artistic, make greeting cards. There are often free or low cost classes on how to do this, as well as ideas on the Internet.
- Explore a hobby during the holidays, such as creating artwork, writing or making music.
- Look at http://www.meetup.com to find holiday alternatives in your locality.
- Some churches and organizations put on holiday parties on the date or near the date of the holiday.
- Contact your nearest LGB/T Center for any holidays they may be celebrating or parties they may be giving. Many have these occasions on the actual date of the holiday.
- Seek out others who may be alone for the holidays, and celebrate with them.
You are not alone. Remember almost all people experience stress during the holidays and for a variety of reasons.
You can, reduce holiday stress by taking the time to finding your way of celebrating the holidays, instead of following how your family celebrates the holidays or copying how others celebrate the holidays.
Reflecting back on the year 2016 I've very pleased with the decisions I've made and new friendships made. Now it's time to see what happens as hormones progress changes to my physical and mental attributes as most know as years go by hormones tend to incrementally change one's behaviorism and I have noticed in the past several months a noticeable change not per-say in moods but how I react to things and events that several years ago I would had reacted totally different than today.
Thinking about assimilation into a female role where many leave the trans world behind at my point in my journey I'm still going to mentor and assist those less unfortunate then me in regards to being able to transition with virtually no issues while the majority are on the opposite end of the spectrum. When not with transgender people I never bring up the topic unless someone else starts a conversation e.g. "I've noticed a surge with transgender people..." and is not directed at me but with a group of people.
Had a conversation with a cross dresser recently who heads up a cross dresser group indicated 99 percent of those who transition in her group leave the group and want nothing to do with them anymore. I said, can you blame them? Personally I rather see them do that but hopefully some will mentor others who's goal is to transition and need someone to assist them.
That brings up an interesting thing, while out with a cross dresser group last weekend one of the girls said her future son-in-law was coming and that he is also a cross dresser and his future wife knows about this, wow, times are changing. I'm learning that many couples are accepting of their cross dressing partners but a few I talked to said if they even consider transitioning they were done with them, in short they married a male and need a male yet accepting of their partner showing their female side.
It's a brave new world emerging.
As much as I am a women, I remain a man inside
I am living as girl on 24/7 basis, and I enjoy every minute of the wonderful experiences I receive from my bipolar transgenderism personality.
As much as I live as a girl, I also live myself in his shoes and carry on the responsibility of being a man. The importance of being a 2 nation theory personality is key in having dual characteristics of attributes.
As I wonder about my long term goals, for surgery, I am unable to transition due to Family purposes. Now ask yourself if you are to go to surgery, you have on back of your mind, a lingering thoughts of your own financial burden, well the question answers itself automatically.
I love living as her by receiving positive gestures all day long
but I need to do my job as himself in order to sustain a paycheck to paycheck at end of every month, which is important.
For instance the job where I work for, I couldn't have done it without being him! That's why I have dual genders for purpose of attaining employment.
I have said it before but without negative impact, if I were to get a real job as transgenders person in a straight man's world's, I would have it by now, but I don't, as I wasn't so lucky in my endeavors!
At least that are my experiences I have to share with.
Well in conclusion, I have to keep my job, as far as surgery is concerned, it will be after 10 or 15 years depending on financial support I get.
Well it's season of greetings and hope and togetherness! I hope everyone has a great Merry Christmas and wish happy new year 2017 !
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and check out http://outcast-all.com for all those living abroad individuals feeling homesick, or Misfit students anywhere, and don't forget to see (A to Z list section) there is something for everyone !
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I have some positives since my absence. I think my therapy had been coming along nicely. I've been becoming a lot more comfortable with being transgender and a lot less intimidated by what people are thinking. At times, I feel like I've given too much of myself away and the rest I have just locked away. I've been trying to find a way to reintegrate myself into society. I've met a handful of people who have been helpful, most are not. I feel like I'm stuck in a loop at times, trying to find the one key that's going to open the door to the good life.
In some ways I feel betrayed by life, like I don't want to be this. No matter how I view it, I feel like I am going to always be viewed as less. Thinking on these things just leads me to darker places.
My therapist has been suggesting to me to attend at least one transgender event so I can connect on some physical level with others who are going through this. I've been considering it a lot.
I've started switching my wardrobe around, wearing makeup at home, focusing more on who I want to be. I feel going slow through this has allowed me to better experience this in a positive way. Knowing that this will be completed at some point is my light. Theres also the whole what do I want to do then? I have a few ideas in mind but the best so far aside from my hobbies is to help other people get where they need to go. A possibility would be social work.
Update - 12/6/2016
To say that a lot has happened since I last posted is an understatement. I will post more later.
I am currently recovering from FFS surgery on Dec 2nd. I had a brow reduction & lift. Upper eyelid surgery, rhinoplasty, fat transfer to the cheeks. Chin reduction and shaping and tracheal shave. Tomorrow I have an appointment to hopefully take some of the stitches out and splint on my nose..
I have been off from work since Dec 1st and will be returning to work as Lisa on Dec 19th. I changed my name with the court and my name and gender marker on my SS card. In a few days, I will be going to the DMV and later the passport office to change my name and gender marker there as well.
I've been seeing a psychotherapist for a few weeks. It was a recommended course of action by the psychiatrist at the GIC and so I signed up.
AI couple of weeks ago, I had a moment of clarity in one of our sessions. Yesterday I had another one.
I have to give myself more time to grow into myself. Into the 'new' me.
I've spent so much time and energy in the past year trying to speed things along, with GPs and the medical profession; trying to prove to others that I need treatment and I need to transition; trying to convince everyone that I am what I say I am, that I haven't given myself time to experience it.
To feel it.
I am changing - and I have refused to acknowledge or even recognise those changes. I've been so wrapped up in trying to get from A to B that I haven't stopped to admire the scenery or enjoy the ride.
So I am slowing down. I'm not going to get anxious about the T not affecting my body as rapidly as I'd hoped. Because, it IS affecting my body. And it's affecting my mind. My personality and my disposition.
Last month, my prescription was late. The delivery of the hormone was late. I went five days without it. At first, I was annoyed and anxious. By the time it arrived, I had realised that I was actually calmer and less aggressive than I'd been for a few months.
That was a surprise at the time. I hadn't noticed how much it had bumped up my aggressive tendencies until it was gone. I explained to the therapist that I had noticed this about myself. Guess what she said?
"That's why the RLE is so important. It's not just about proving you mean what you say to the medical professionals. It's about giving yourself time to experience and understand the changes you're making. To your personality as well as to your body. You're becoming a different person even if you've always thought of yourself as that person."
That was a bit of a light bulb moment for me. Sounds silly, but I really hadn't thought in those terms before.
I'm a little embarrassed to admit that.
I had always thought that I knew who and what I was. I thought the RLE was a step I had to take to prove who I was to others.
Now I know it's more important to me to view it as a step to take to learn and accept who I'm becoming.
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 ............
Hi this is Ace. I am looking for FTM or MTF friends in Rochester NY. Many of my friends have dumped me or moved west (the dumping due to my FTM status. I need friends in Rochester NY who will understand me and be good friends. I am alone alot although I am married long story). Please check me out. Thanks
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.
So I have to move out my apartment due to breaking up with my ex. Which is great! it's great because though we get along and we will always be friends, we need different things from our partners that neither of us are going to get. I am packing all my junk, and realizing I have way too much. As I pack though I found tons of pictures of me from what I call the dark ages. The Dark ages were the period of time after high school but before college, a whole six years for me, in which I went back into the closet and suffered a period of self harm and also a mental break down. I survived through a period of sever depression that I didn't even realize I was going though until I was lying on my bed with a butcher knife. I realized how dark I'd gotten I vowed to never ever let it get that bad ever again.
I feel like if I don't share this part of my life than I'm not being straight with people when I say life gets better. This part of my life that led me to who I am today. This time of my life that made me realize that nothing matters if you can't find that happiness in yourself. That there is nothing selfish in transitioning, but its wicked selfish to kill yourself. I say that because of the potential each of us has that is wasted when cut short. I know the insanity of fear and the desperation that comes along with it. I also know that taking your own life in your hands can be the most powerful and freeing feeling in the world and there has never been any grater feeling in my life than that gift. It was a gift I earned by staying alive despite the pain along the way.
As I Sit in my bedroom packing all of my belongings, trying to breathe as this cold ravages me, I cannot help but be excited for the road ahead of me. I am terrified and yet so emboldened by the fear that I have this duplicitous euphoria. Today is May 27, 2016 and I am Benjamin Crowley twenty five nearly twenty six year old black transgender man living in the United States at time feels terrifying and electric at the same time.
Terrifying because as I grow older race, which had never been a problem for me and mine, is becoming an odd affront to society. Actions that others take for granted I never previously would have thought were racially motivated have become a stark raw truth to be being black in America. I feel nervous as I transition that people will interpret me differently because of the projection of my identity into a public spotlight. This however is at the back of my mind as I sort through my things.
At the fore front is the power held in the words, “I am enough.”
I am enough. Similar words blazed though my head four years ago nearly to this day as I worked a warehouse job slaving into the night earning more money than I knew what to do with. I had no kids no titles and no self-worth. I had let others dictate to me what my future held and in the stagnant space between their idolization of the hardworking young black woman whom earned her keep I found myself in a great state of melancholy.
What does it mean when you have everything you could materialistically want and are still unhappy?
I weighed 150 lbs. and had kinky over processed blond hair, a nice body and a sad smile. I hated myself. The person they all knew, who wore punk make up and listened to green day… she was a lie. She was only happy when it rained, hated bras and wore heels in a defiant streak of masochism. It wasn’t until she faced self-demolition did she realize that what everyone though she was wasn’t her at all.
In fact she wasn’t even a she. Never in her head did she see herself as a ‘She’. In her head her self-reference was always ‘I’ and when it ventured to the dangerous gendered lands of pronouns she, realized, had always been a he. So where was she now? Hiding in conformity because she was scared of losing everything she had. But she was already loosing…
This path she was one would never make her happy. So he cut off all his hair. Stopped wearing make-up and heels. Stopped bleaching his hair. Stopped starving himself to be pretty and started loving himself a bit more every day.
Started college. Manically picked out masculine clothes. Introduced himself as Ben. Learned self-love and proudly thinks, “I am enough.”
Thank you everyone again for you viewership.
It's been 8 months since I have been on HRT, and I am feeling great. It's amazing how smooth my process has been. I am a senior in high school and I already have my name and gender marker changed legally and I am living my life authentically, I am extremely proud of how far I have come in just 2 years. I have opened so many people's minds about my community and I have been given so many opportunities so represent my community. I can't wait to experience more!
So yeah there's been some interesting things going on. Once i really accepted my true self i decided that i would try to start acting, in small doses, as my true gender.
I started by joking around at work telling everyone to call me Tina which was quite funny. Im quite loud usually and very energetic so everyone just laughed it off. Thats not the big happeningbs though.
I've always been pretty sensitive, very intuitive with my femine side which is one thing that attracted my girlfriend. Lately as i said i've been acting a bit more feminine, i'm not sure if my girlfriends picked up on this but my favourite of her comments was, 'i wouldnt be surprised if one day when you're 50 you told me you wanted to be a woman' to which she added 'and i would accept that and stay withyou'.
This is of course in 26 years and i dont see myself waiting that long. I suppose that would have been a good time to tell her but we've got a big presentation next week for uni so dont want to distract from that.
I wonder if she would be as accepting of me if i told her now. I guess thats my biggest worry, acceptance. Most of my friends and family i think will be cool.
So yeah just keeping up to date with everyone
p.s. I got some excellent flowery bedsheets :D
Haven't felt like doing much of anything and really have been just going through the motions. My cat, the cat that Bree got when I was way down from my bout with cancer back in the early aughts, had her own bout with cancer and lost. Initially they thought it was lung cancer and gave us steroids to help her fight it, but it turns out that was just the secondary cancer. She stopped eating, started having seizures almost every hour and was falling apart. When we took her into the vet that's when they found the brain tumor just by looking in her left eye. The tumor hadn't been visible the last visit at all and it was pressing in on her brain causing the seizures, loss of appetite and all that. At fourteen years old and with no real options left I had to say goodbye to her. Our son was there, Bree was there, everyone that was close to her was there, but it was still hard as hell. I'm tearing up now writing about it and it's been a week. I imagine this is going to last a while.
I miss my cat.
I did start getting somewhere with my therapy. My therapist does like that I'm trying to keep a written journal which I write in when I'm feeling things and what thoughts are driving them since most of the time I feel numb and can't really feel anything at all except an overwhelming case of meh. Ultimately what she has tentatively diagnosed me with is Persistent Depressive Disorder, also known as Dysthymia. It's a possibly ongoing depression, not necessarily major, but it can cause most of what I've got going on in my head most of the time. She and I discussed my abuse as a child, we touched on my gender identity confusion, some of my emotional triggers and she did suggest that a combination of treatments would be good for me, so it looks like I'll be getting some medication to take some of the edge off while I try and work with her to figure out what I can do with or without the medication to deal with this, so I guess that's good. I don't necessarily feel good or bad about the diagnosis. I mean I figured I had something going on in there, only now it has a name.
I have been a bit mean to Bree and it's not been fair. I did apologize for it and I've been trying to be more mindful of my mood and what's coming out of my mouth or going on the keyboard. She doesn't deserve any ire I might be feeling. I've had a few really down days which hasn't been helping and I'm weening myself off of caffeine bit by bit. I'm drinking almost none at home and although I've been bad a few days here with lunch and dinner, it's mostly been water or tea. I'm drinking more water at work and less coffee. There is still a bit of soda but not much there. I'm sure that's been a bit of the issue, but being down makes me a bit of a jerk to be around, especially when I can't seem to bring myself to do or want to do anything and that's on me, not Bree. Ugh.
I did touch on my gender confusion with my therapist and we talked about why I've gone down the crossdressing route instead of pursuing transition and she did question if I'm doing it to please everyone else and not myself, and no, this is as much about what I need and want as everyone around me. While it was tempting to look at transitioning as this magic pill that would fix everything, that's not going to do it for me. The underlying problems I'm having that led to the depression will still be there and a whole host of new ones. I'd still have to deal with my childhood abuse, my procrastination, self-loathing, laziness and problems being social with people I want to be social with. That isn't going to just vanish with transitioning and right now I'm really doing the crossdressing to feel better and elevate my mood from being low or to raise it a bit so I feel happier, it's not so that I feel normal like I'd originally thought. I was doing it to feel and while I do feel more like my old self, I also get that when I settle in and have some fun at things I'm supposed to be having fun at. A few different road trips with Bree to our favorite restaurant and to the zoo and just being with her in general and engaging on the same level that we used to when we first started dating really opened my eyes to that.
Working some of this out has helped, but right now I'm kind of still grieving even while I'm trying to feel better and it's just kind of putting me in this spot where I don't want to do much of anything. Being a bit more creative has helped a bit, but I have to prod myself into doing that. Once I'm in that head space I have a lot of fun with it until things go sideways and then I just kind of shut down. I'm definitely a work in progress at this point. I have a whole host of problems to work through, but I have a great wife and life with Bree who's been nothing but supportive through all of this. I have a diagnosis now and at the very least a hope that I can get to feeling more like I used to with a big ole smile on my face.
Right now though, I'm still missing my cat.
Joined this site a few days ago after many years of fantasizing wondering what it would be like to explore what i was really feeling inside. Did some deep soul searching and realized that to feel complete, i have to explore and sort through my emotions. I have been supressing and fighting my true feelings. I am on a fact finding mission. This is the first i am expressing any of these feelings. It feels good talking about this.