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So today was my first day of therapy EVER, and it goes without saying that I were a nervous wreck. I got up much earlier than I even needed to, and wandered around the house like a bored lunatic. When I finally decided to leave and went as slowly as I were comfortable, just killing time and cruising along, I still showed up at the office a little more than half hour early. Signed in, no problem. So I was sitting there for a while and the secretary comes over and sits next to me. "I overlooked your paperwork." she said. Overlooked my paperwork? "I just now realized your dysphoria part of the paperwork. Do you mind if I switch your doctor last minute? I think you'd be more comfortable with a different one". Uh...sure? How the hell should I know, I havent met any of them So, they switched my therapist. No worries. The woman was actually very nice, and somehow I found it very easy to talk to her. She actually GREATLY resembles an elderly (though shes younger lol) woman I used to care for. It's almost incredible how much they look alike, though several years apart. Before I even realized what was going on, she had gotten me talking, and it was actually pretty easy to spill my guts a bit. She then told me "I'm not really supposed to reveal my own personal life with you, but my daughter is actually one of the leaders of a LGTB community". Awesome! EUREKA, someone who knows a little of what I'm tryin' to talk about!! So, you guys were right and I feel dumb for stressing about it so much, but it wasnt THAT bad. I actually like her, and was surprised that I actually felt a little better when I left today. Lighter. Stronger. Getting that tiny bit off my chest felt so much better... She wants to see me every week, and hopefully I can financially do it. I'm not sure if I'll get an after-bill from my insurance company since I have to do a 20$ copay. Hopefully not, because I wouldnt be able to afford to do it very often. Fingers crossed! I'm thinking of talking to her about maybe getting a little piece of paper for her to just scribble her name on so I can give it to my mom, to prove to her that I'm seeing someone for my "issues" and ITS NOT A DAMN PHASE!!!!! Even the woman (I feel horrible for not knowing her name! I forgot already!) said it doesnt sound like just a phase to her. Thank god, I'm not crazy!! LATER TONIGHT: I decided in celebration of not losing my mind, I would go buy a 6-pack of my favorite drink, Mike's Hard Blood Orange. Usually one, and I'm done anyway. I dont go all out on it, BUT the drinks are seasonal unfortunatly, so I have to wait all year to get them (Half thought of maybe buying a few 6packs and storing them over winter for me to enjoy until they come out again! Will write the company about keeping them year round.) Anyway, I got my merchandise and some tonic water for the bf, and headed to the check out. Things were going good, I werent really paying attention because I simply just wanted to go home and play some Minecraft with my booooze (lol) and the girl asked for my I.D. No big deal, I know I'm twenty two, I'm allowed to buy it. So I handed it over. She looked at it, and arched an eyebrow....and didnt hand it back. She kept looking at it, and looked confused. "This is your I.D. or a sibling?" she asked of me. Uh....huh? The girl claimed I looked nothing like the girl on the I.D. and didnt believe that it were mine. So she called the manager, withheld my I.D., and waited for him to show up. WHAT!? Manager shows up, and agrees with her So I had to hand over two other forms of I.D. with my name on it so that they could make sure it was a legit I.D., and I was on my way with the suggestion that I should get a new photo done. Actually his words are "If you're going to change genders, change photos. It's inconvienant for both you and us." >.> Granted, the picture really is a bit different from me right now. But still.....that was rude. So I took my damn drinks and booked it. I just finished my second one and you know what? Life is pretty peachy at the moment. I'm not drunk, thats for sure. These are only like 5% alcohol. But its nice to finally relax. I dont feel so alone on this, because I know that on tuesday, I can go and drop some more of my boulder-sized worries on my therapist. Thanks for all the support, you guys make me smile when I'm frowning and pick me up when I'm tripping on my own two feet. I'm so glad I found Transgender Guide, it's made life so much more tollerable. I dare say enjoyable. Warren

So glad to hear that everything went well for you at therapy today, Warren! :)

WTG Warren... I'm glad the therapy session went well. I'm glad that the receptionist realized you needed to see a different therapist than the one you were slated for. That could also have made all the difference in the world. It almost sounds like you were to see a [general] therapist (or some other), and they realized you would be better off seeing someone experienced with gender issues. -Michael

Warren's not been signed in since yesterday (17 Nov). I hope he went to his appointment. I hope he survived his appointment. Maybe all went well and he's out celebrating! -Mike

11/17/2014 So out of the last two months, Monday had to be the worst gender - identity day for me. It was a crisis. Very distracting at work. I was sick to my stomach all day. Did not sleep well. All and all, not a good day to be a guy for me. I did ride the metro in. I am a big people watcher, so looking at all of the girls dressed to go to work made me think that I should be them. So, for me (just to let you know) this is no fantasy. I am extremely realistic about what I will encounter the first time I would ever go to work as a woman. However, it is to the point that I just can't take it anymore. My skin was crawling. I called a therapist that another girl had used when she transitioned, but they did not get back to me. Score: Female 1 Male 0 11/18/2014 Today went much better. I was not so obsessed about it being a guy as I was on Monday. However, the feelings definitely persisted. I am a fighter. I am sure that I will continue to fight this (mind over matter). However, today I had no fight left after yesterday. However, I had a more productive day at work. And that is really another reason why transition is something that has to be on-the-table for me. Because these last two months it has been so bad, I have been in a daze. And even when, I don't have gender-identity issues, guess what? I still have a part of my day where I think about dressing and presenting as female. If I transitioned to female, I might have a ton of regrets. But I know I wouldn't dream about dressing or being a guy. That for me, has been wasted effort and bandwidth all of these years. Not having to think about being a different gender (though I am still me after all!), would not be a weight off of my shoulders but at least I wouldn't think about it all of the time. However, I have been dressing for years. Can do makeup and get read pretty quick. But it still is a pain in the ass. The expectations for women and how they dress are so high. I can't stand it. Anyways, that's the tradeoff. The therapist that I called on Monday did get back to me. Turns out she had just closed her practice but referred me to two other therapists. I was hoping to maybe get in this week, because I will be out next week visiting my mom. Needless to say, I was a little disappointed. But it has been how many years. I am super patient! Score: Female 2 Male 0 --Lisa

“You are just uncomfortable with your body.” She said as if her words could solve all my problems. As if my dysfunctions could be solved by her petty words of wisdom. “You’re going be in that body for the rest of your life, lady. You have to learn to love it girl.” She says. As if my imagined self-loathing could be cured by a campy nineties feel good seminar created by femi-nazis to create militaristic men hating clones. Like a lobbyist levying her private greed as my public need she says, “Who would want to be a boy anyway?” Her tone is condescending and cold, she’s a killer queen. She knows all without doubt. Men are miscreants. Boys are bothersome. Transgendered people got too confused playing dress up. “But, I am not a girl.” I interject. My voice is small, meek, more of a grumble in gravelly whisper than an actual voice. “Well, you certainly aren’t a boy.” Like she knows me better than I know myself. Like she’s the world’s foremost expert on Gender. As if she knows all future advances in medical science. As if she knows everything. Her words echo across my mind and against every grain in my body like sand paper on glass. “How do you know?” I say louder. I’m confident now and angry. “Oh I know.” With a haughty confidence. She is stubborn arrogance that knows no bounds. She is society, and I am just a confused silly little man.

Went great in new blog >>>> :P

I live in Virginia, so I have to use either the shared bathrooms or the men's room. Needless to say, I don't hold it and get interesting looks from the guys. So, the guys that I know would care less if there was someone that they thought was a woman in their bathroom. But a guy in women's clothing in the men's room using the urinal is a totally different story. I get looks, which is putting it mildly. No one has said anything (or done anything yet). They must think I have something to "back it up". The funny thing is, in northern virginia it is very multicultural. So, usually when I am in the mens room, the guy is hispanic, indian, chinese. And the look I get is pure bewilderment and then anger. But what the hell am I supposed to do. Pee out front? Everyone acts like I'm the @sshole, when all I am doing is wearing a dress, trying to live my life. Anyways, I have many bathroom shots as momentos!

Introduction Hello my name is Lisa. I am a transgendered mtf. I've wanted to be female since I was 4 years old which was long time ago. I literally started dressing at 4 years old in preschool. They had womens dress up clothes. Their were no issues when I was the only one that wanted to dress up. But when I convinced all of the boys in the class to do it, those girly clothes just vanished. Later in first grade I wanted to be in Brownies but was soundly rejected in front of class, which was embarrassing. That's when I started to realize that there may be an issue with dressing, being one of the girls or female. I continued to dress at home. So the strange thing is for awhile there was always a dress and tights in my closet to wear. Had to be my mom. Anyways, I continued to dress in her stuff until I was in 8th grade and that is when I started to get my own stuff. Freshman year in high school, I continued to build my stash of clothing and go out in public on Saturdays or Sundays. Often I would leave the house and not come back for hours, go to Kmart or the mall. Until I was caught at the end of my freshman year during summer break. I had to give it all up and go to therapy. It was a trust thing. My parents had no idea I was going to the mall which was 16 miles from our house. Anyways, I stopped dressing until my senior year, I started again. But it was off and on until my junior year, when I started dating a girl. It did not work out. And after my third purge I was dressing again after college until I met my future wife. Meanwhile, my strong feelings of being in the wrong body subsided and I liked being me. I was very career oriented and driven. However, after about three years and being married for about a year, I started to dress again. I attributed it to job stress, but I started in a big way. That was around 2001. And it continued for all my business trips. I switched jobs in 2002 and it continued through two kids. A business that lasted for about 8.5 years. But then the business failed. I had to start a new less glamourous job in a bad economy after taking it in the shorts financially. The job was terrible. I was unhappy. I found out my dad was dying. That my mom maybe as well. Feelings started to return. I started not only questioning myself and my decisions but also my gender. I finally told my wife the truth that I had been living with being transgendered for a while, that it had subsided but that the feelings have come back. She understood but was very upset. We talked about it off and on for a couple months. At the time, I was ok. It wasn't a crisis and I was extremely thankful for everything that I had, even the job I did not like. My wife told me that if I was going to transition, that I needed to tell her because she did not want me to do it when I was 50 or 60 and put her life on hold in the process. I promised her that I would. So fast forward a year and a half. I'm doing well at the job, they are really happy. I make a two major milestones. My dad passes away. My mom appears to be ok. But I am no longer career oriented. And so for the last two months I started to have a crisis about my gender and gender identity. And for a while, I could not understand, why now? I last Friday 11/14/2014, I think that I figured it out. I am no longer career oriented on the treadmill to the top. My dad passed away. I don't have any major milestones in my life at the moment, which has given me time to step back subconsciously and start to question what I questioned when I was four. Why am I male? Why did God make me this way? So, once I had that epiphany, I sat down and talked with my wife again. She was upset but supportive. She thinks that I am lying to myself and that I need to transition now. I still love her and am attracted to her, but she has left no doubt that she will not stay with me if I do. Purpose of this Blog So, what I suggested to my wife is that I seek a therapist who specializes in transgender issues and transition. My first goal is to see if this is temporary and if there are techniques to cope with this. I will give it a minimum of 3 months and a maximum of 6 months if there is anything that the therapist suggests that is worth trying. Including just going to therapy and working through all of the issues. The purpose of this blog is for me to document this and share. But also, it will force me to sit down each day and document how the day went, etc. And really it is to keep score of how I feel each day. What I hope to gain from this is not just support but a sense of self-awareness that I have been lacking all of these years because I have been so driven to be successful (whatever that is or means). Also, during this period I am going to consistently seek outlets for being "me". So that, even though I am part-time, I can experience things that I would if I transitioned, etc. That part doesn't worry me too much and I think that it will help. At the end of the 6 months (if it lasts that long) I will have a record of how I feel, my progress that I can look back on. It will help me make a decision on where I need to go and need to be. I'm about 50/50 at this point (which is saying a lot) I only though about transition very infrequently in the past. Anyways, thank you for this venue and blog. I hope that there are others that get something out of this, like me. --Lisa

Good luck today, Warren! I'm thinking of you and wishing you well. Emma

Dear Warren, What a fantastic day for you! I'm very happy for you and your experience. As for the documentation for your mother, your insurance company will be sending you (at least) a statement that shows what was charged, their benefit, etc. You could send this to your mother. And how about that on your ID! Sure, they didn't treat you very well about it, but in some ways it's a step in the right direction, is it not? Take care, Emma

Have you ever had to do something, but had to wait to do it? And in that time of waiting, it seems like time ticks by fast when you need it to slow down, and not fast enough when you want it gone? I suppose everyone has. But tuesday is really dragging on my mind. I mean, yeah, I need to see a therapist. I know I do, and I cant deny that. But in the same sense....I dont want to. I dread it. I dont want to open up. I dont want to sit down and talk to someone about my broken, ignored childhood. I dont want to talk about how losing my Dad literally destroyed me. And I do NOT want to talk about being the wrong gender. I guess there's that little part of me that's just scared of what he/she will say. I've had so....soooo many people come up to me and say "Maybe its just a phase and you dont know it yet" or "Maybe you started the thought out of the blue, and kept it in mind so much that now you believe it" or my favorite one...."Maybe its just for the attention". If it were for attention....wouldnt I want everyone to know about it? Wouldnt I go to work and just blabber about it to every coworker and customer I see? Why would it make me break down in tears from depression, knowing I'm alone in it in so many ways? I dont want the attention from it. I dont need the attention. I just want....I dont know....acceptance. From myself. To wake up and look in the mirror and smile instead of cringe. To not have to tug on several compression shirts just to keep myself from breaking down. To not have to wear a sweater to bed because I cant stand to see or feel "them" near me. I just want to be happy. This past week has been my own personal version of hell. And I'm seriously...seriously sad to say this..but I broke my resistence. My one and a half month of harm-freedom had been destroyed. My world came crashing down, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, or tell myself that it would be okay, and believe it. I've added six little scars to my book of memories, and I'm ashamed of it. I cant tell what's worse though. The fact that I did it..or the fact that no one notices? It took my boyfriend a good two months to realize that my left arm was littered. And thats with us sleeping together every night, WITHOUT a long sleeve shirt. At times it feels like no matter what I do or what I pretend to be...I'm still invisable. A twenty two year old depressed young man, trapped in the body of a scarred, scared, ashamed girl with next to no career, a failing sense of worth, and a hopeless depth of numb agony. I know looking up is always the best bet. That no matter how deep the hole gets, I can always look up and try to find that bright blue sky. But lately it seems like that blue sky does nothing but rain on me. And instead of getting an umbrella, all I can find is a lightning rod. So, yes. I'm nervous to have a therapist. I'm nervous as hell to have all this put out in the air, while physically being in front of someone. Online is one thing. I can hide behind me screen. Shed any tears I need to without anyone noticing. Hide my face away in my hood. But in front of someone....I cant. I've broken apart so many times, I'm afraid I'm running out of glue to fix it. I'm almost giving up on it. Almost digging out that dress he wants me to wear. Almost putting on that hat til my hair grows back. Almost dressing up like his mother nags at me to do. I'm just so tired of the agony I have to go through, just to be me. We dont ask to be transgendered. But it happens regardless. No matter what your religious views are, since I have none, it's unfair. If its God testing me, I cant help but why? Why test someone in such a cruel way? Test me for what? Well I fail. I chose to fail. No, I dont have the patience for the crap. No, I'm not compassionate towards those who strike me down. And no, I will not turn the other cheek. For now, I'll fight with what I have left. And hopefully leave the therapists office on tuesday with some sense of purpose. Its all I can hope for. Warren

So glad I'm not alone on this subject I've actually considered buying one of those "stand'n'relieve" things from walmart's camping section XD hope that's not weird of me lol

Hi Lisa, I sure have my crisis days too. Like a couple of weeks ago when I went to dinner with my wife and two other couples to a nice restaurant. The women were all so poised and beautiful. Just being themselves. I had fun with the friends but all along I was aware that I doubt I could ever be as natural as these women, which was depressing. I too wonder about regrets. These days I'm more comfortable with my being transgender and the regrets I think about are if I do nothing about it. I'm in good health and so forth but we never know for how long. I don't want to be one of those that wakes up one day and realizes she lost her chance to be herself. Emma

I agree with you completely, Michael. I can't imagine a therapist today suggesting Warren's going through a phase, but if that happens, he needs to get the heck out of there and find a new one. Emma

If you express to a therapist how long you have felt like you belong in the boys camp, and s/he tries to suggest, at your age (and before s/he even gets to know you a little), that it is just a phase, I would say that therapist is a left-over from the old school, and that you need to find another one. No doubt going to a therapist for the first time is scarey. Or at least enough to make one slightly nervous, but I think you are anticipating a nightmare where there is no reason to believe there will be one. You've named every reason in the world to keep that appointment. -Michael

I've had my fair share of nervous smiles, glares, stares, frowns, and gasps of exasperation or indignation. I've endured the indiscernible twitterings of which I am the topic, obvious by the unapproving sideways glances in my direction. I've watched some step back in horror as we meet in the doorway. It's clear in that fleeting moment that they believe one of us is entering or leaving the wrong place. I love those incidents... funnier than hell... I came out of a multi-stall bathroom once (I was the only one in there at the time), only to find a woman waiting outside. She briefly made eye contact then breezed past me and into the bathroom as I cleared the doorway. Interaction between this woman, her companion and the wait staff indicated she was a regular, so she knew the bathroom had several stalls, and the main door did not have a lock on it. So I wondered, why was she waiting for me to come out of the bathroom before she went in? Quite often, the bathroom is the last stop before I walk out my door in hopes that I will not have to pee again before returning home. I look for single-use restrooms. If there are none, I note the times when the bathrooms appear to be less likely crammed with women, and I will go to a stall that is as far back as possible. Or I will go to a bathroom that is somewhat out of the way - the ones that no one wants to walk so far to. When travelling alone... because my STP is "always ready," I usually just find an out of the way place to pull over, and water the grass.

Dear Warren, Thanks, and I mean this, for your writing. Your fears, worries, and all, are real and valid. Don't let anyone tell you they're not. And yeah, getting started with a therapist is weird and awkward. No one wants to do it. We all just want to be happy. But therapists can definitely help. They're not all of them great, but you won't know until you invest the time and open your heart to them. It's risky and it takes time to build the necessary trust, too. I think it's wonderful you're going to see someone and I wish you the very best. And I'm sorry to hear you cut yourself again. Here's a book that may (or may not, I don't know): All That Is Red. Check it out on Amazon. By Anna Caltibiano. It's fiction and it's about cutting, but more metaphorically. It might help give you thoughts or perspective. Take care, Emma

Glad Introductions are over. Let’s talk about Genital Fixation. I’m a student. The awkwardness never ends there. Every few months I have to introduce myself to new people. I used to love that kind of life event. Now I forever despise it. Mostly I’m sure because it means coming out to new people, and while I don’t regret for a moment coming out I sometimes find doing so over and over a rather tiresome event. I frequently refer to my life as the picture perfect awkwardness that comes from a society that assumes it knows everything. I think that being honest about who I really am is awkward for other people. I feel sorry for them. I also feel sorry for the lack of education on Trans-matters. I look to the news for some kind of…help on this. Nothing positive there. There seems to be a rather…unexplainable Genital fixation that no one addresses. What about how we feel? I feel good today, my binder isn't itchy yet, and my bobs* are still in place. I feel free. Why, Ben? Why do you feel free? I feel free because I know no matter what happens today I’m not lying to the new people about who I am. Well I feel free for like two minutes. Then the questions come. I was raised to always tell the truth. Always. I feel like if they ask, I've got to answer. Some people say the best thing to do is tell them to Google their questions. I tried googling it myself. Some information out there is flat out wrong. Some information is out dated. I don’t think telling people to Google it is at all a good idea. The internet is not always a friendly place. Still I don’t like to be asked, “So how big is it gonna be?” ( It meaning my Penis….) Or “Is it gonna be the right color?” So before it gets to that I answer the first genital related question with, “It’s like expecting a baby. I’ve no Idea how it’s going to turn out, or how expensive it will be, but it will be worth it. So no I can’t tell you anything about that, and even if I could don’t ask.” It came as a shock to me the amount of things people don’t realize about someone else’s lifestyle. My mom assumed that since I’m now a man I don’t care what I look like as long as I look like a man. She’s wrong. She thought because I’m a man I’d want to go out and ride dirt bikes instead of decorate cakes. She’s wrong. The oversaturation of a clearly dictated gender binary sometimes overwhelms me. I think the hardest thing for people to understand is that we aren’t trying to be different people. We were always these people, we’re just getting better at expressing it now. So it was with utter lack of grace that my internet campaign was started…. Rome was not built in a day, I know, but maybe by the time my nieces and nephews are my age they won’t have to pity other people’s awkward genital focused attitudes. Or if it isn’t about my genitals it’s about my bobs1. I’m a trans-man. I don’t ever want to talk about boobs. I don’t care if you’re jealous of mine…Take them! Take them, PLEASE! It grates against every fiber of my being to talk with people whom think I’m just uncomfortable with my body. I’m not a fan of plastic surgery. I’m not vain. Okay… maybe just a little. I like to look nice, doesn't everyone? To me looking nice is not about the perfection of your body and how your clothes fit. But rather the way you feel inside your body and how you feel about yourself. My bobs are too big. I’m on no supermodel in any sense of the words, but they feel wrong. Convexly the nakedness downstairs also presents a confidence issue. When people tell me I’m a pretty girl, I want to kick bite and scream. “I’m a Man!” There is more to a woman than being pretty and more to being a man than having a penis, but I digress. Instead of biting I simply state my disagreement. It's difficult to resist the urge to not be quite as polite. Frequently I must remind myself that I'm not alone. Frequently I tell myself attitudes will change, and will myself to be nice. First impressions are important especially when you may be someone's first impression of a group they know very little about. I tell myself for every Cisgender person I educate, I save the next Transgender person the irritation. Maybe just maybe someday I'll just be some guy who used to look like a girl. Next topic: Support. (Not so much of a rant.) Bobs is what this transman calls his large saggy man boobs. It’s boobs minus an "o", because they’re on a man.

Ben, years ago I was advocating for a Genetic Man who had a deformity of his penis. I went to a medical library and men walked behind me, aghast, as I visited two medical websites about men's penises. They were talking about men's penises "within normal limits." Was amazed at the different sizes, colors, etc. In short, Ben, and although I am a GG Lesbian, most Straight GGs, transwomen and Gaymales will agree, it is not the size but WHAT A MAN DOES WITH IT. In my opinion, I think it could be too large, and a man could experience prejudice because of it. This is what concerns me when people have too many romantic partners - - - they may be overly concerned with the physical and not enough concerned about their partner's character and values. Oh, by the way, the man I was trying to help those many years ago, I recommended that he see a doctor experienced in male urology. Felt there was something organically wrong with his penis. Sadly, he had to approach me as his friend, as a grown man, and his parents MUST have known, and were in denial! For that, I thank God, you have good relations with your parents and a supportive relationship with them. Also, you have many caring friends here on this website. Ben, you are an excellent asset here, too.

:) I have one of my mom's pictures from when I had short hair as a child.She's holding me. I like keeping the pictures she shares with me. and recipes. I still like to cook and all that. Still the same person, just better at expressing myself. I think people focus so much on the outer change they don't realize that the person who is transitioning is becoming a better more honest and beautiful person and the physical part of transitioning is just and actualization of that process.

"It came as a shock to me the amount of things people don’t realize about someone else’s lifestyle. My mom assumed that since I’m now a man I don’t care what I look like as long as I look like a man. She’s wrong. She thought because I’m a man I’d want to go out and ride dirt bikes instead of decorate cakes. She’s wrong." This reminded me of shortly after coming out to my mum, she lamented that now she had no one to whom to pass down her things, because men wouldn't want those things. I guess it never occurred to her that most any child will treasure nearly anything a parent leaves to them simply because it was something that belonged to their parent - male or female quite often doesn't matter. Of course I don't want her favourite big floppy Red Hat Society hat, or her entire collection of stuffed bears...but a figurine that she treasured, or some special dish, maybe one tiny bear... why wouldn't a guy wanna keep something like that just to say, "this was my momma's?" I didn't say anything. I just left it at that. I think way too many people are under the mistaken impression that most men do not hold dear the belongings of loved ones.