Tuesday, September 10, 2013
9 Months
Yesterday marked 9 months on hormones. I came very close to throwing it all away. I've come so far, but have so much farther to go. And with being so depressed lately, I have no energy or will to celebrate 9 months. So to all my followers for being such a downer lately. I promise to try to sum up some strength to make it through this and be back to posting happier things. Just bear with me.
30 Day Trans Challenge - Day 2
2) How did you choose your name, and what names were you thinking about using and why?
This one is easy. I'm not changing my name. My name can be used by males and females. It was a predominately male name, but that is changing and more females have my name.
This one is easy. I'm not changing my name. My name can be used by males and females. It was a predominately male name, but that is changing and more females have my name.
Monday, September 9, 2013
30 Day Trans Challenge - Day 1
With today being 9 months on hormones, I thought it might be good to do the 30 Day Trans Challenge.
1) When did you realize the term transgender referred to you?
From a young age (5 or 6), I never really felt comfortable being a boy. At 13 I had started a nightly ritual of wishing I was a girl. I didn't realize the term transgender referred to me until around January 2012. My life seemed to be spiraling out of control... at least internally. I had for the longest time, worn certain feminine clothing, like girls jeans, girls underwear, and occasionally a bra. I had always rationalized them as just being more comfortable to wear than men's clothes. But it got to the point where I knew I was lying to myself and others. Every night I turned the wish into begging and pleading with the gods or whomever might be listening to be a woman. I was losing it. I disliked seeing my male self in the mirror. As I was trying to find myself and stop the spiral, I discovered Gender Dysphoria. After reading the description, I knew that is what I had, but I had not yet accepted that I was transgender. Then as I began writing my emotions down and doing major soul searching I realized then that I was transgender. I am a transgender woman. But realizing and accepting don't always go hand in hand. I knew who I was, but it wasn't until May 2012 that I began to accept that I am a transgender woman. By the end of 2012 I fully accepted who I was. It still is hard. Even after 9 months into my transition. 9 months on hormones, it's still a battle. Internally and externally. I know this is the right path, no matter how hard it is and will always be. I will have my doubts when I am weak and beaten down. I will threaten to stop the transition when I fear my world collapsing around me. But each time, I scrape up the strength to stay the course. It is a tough balancing act, to stay happy and keep those in my life happy. But we will make it through. Just got to remind myself that. We will only be stronger from this journey.
1) When did you realize the term transgender referred to you?
From a young age (5 or 6), I never really felt comfortable being a boy. At 13 I had started a nightly ritual of wishing I was a girl. I didn't realize the term transgender referred to me until around January 2012. My life seemed to be spiraling out of control... at least internally. I had for the longest time, worn certain feminine clothing, like girls jeans, girls underwear, and occasionally a bra. I had always rationalized them as just being more comfortable to wear than men's clothes. But it got to the point where I knew I was lying to myself and others. Every night I turned the wish into begging and pleading with the gods or whomever might be listening to be a woman. I was losing it. I disliked seeing my male self in the mirror. As I was trying to find myself and stop the spiral, I discovered Gender Dysphoria. After reading the description, I knew that is what I had, but I had not yet accepted that I was transgender. Then as I began writing my emotions down and doing major soul searching I realized then that I was transgender. I am a transgender woman. But realizing and accepting don't always go hand in hand. I knew who I was, but it wasn't until May 2012 that I began to accept that I am a transgender woman. By the end of 2012 I fully accepted who I was. It still is hard. Even after 9 months into my transition. 9 months on hormones, it's still a battle. Internally and externally. I know this is the right path, no matter how hard it is and will always be. I will have my doubts when I am weak and beaten down. I will threaten to stop the transition when I fear my world collapsing around me. But each time, I scrape up the strength to stay the course. It is a tough balancing act, to stay happy and keep those in my life happy. But we will make it through. Just got to remind myself that. We will only be stronger from this journey.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Darkness
Last night I had another great therapy session. Near the end of the session we discussed a part of my past that I have very rarely shared. The result of the, what seemed endless, bullying in school. Something I was able to hide from almost everyone. Along with hiding the constant bullying from family and friends, I hid my nightly ritual. This is not easy to write about. When my world seemed to be collapsing around me starting in 6th grade: losing all my friends and the start of the bullying, I started to contemplate suicide and I self harmed. Almost every night I would sit up in my bed with either a knife or a bottle of pills. Almost every night I thought it would be easier to just end it than deal with the pain any longer.
As I am still here, I never fully followed through. Maybe deep down I knew that things would eventually get better, even though it seemed impossible. I had felt so alone. I felt I had no one who really cared about me. It started with just holding the knife in my hand. Trying to bring it to my wrist. Then a bottle of pills in my hand, trying to bring it to my mouth. I was very hesitant at first, even though I really wanted my pain to end. Over a matter of weeks, the hesitation eased. That is when I began cutting. I started light. Barely breaking the skin. I pressed down just hard enough to cut through the top layer of skin. It only looked like scratches. Fearing what my parents would say with what my wrist was starting to look like, I moved to my inner thighs. Each night I'd go a bit deeper. Soon drawing blood. I would just watch as the blood came to the surface and run down the cut. I can't explain how it made me feel.... just maybe having the physical pain made the emotional pain subside, just for a moment.
I hit my apex in my junior year of high school. One night I finally got the nerve to take the pills. I had no idea what pills to take. So I downed a full bottle of Aleve and prayed I would not wake up the next morning. Apparently I couldn't die from taking a full bottle of Aleve. I started thinking of other ways to end my life. A girl in my class J.W. saw the signs. Over a couple of weeks she convinced me not to kill myself. I still cut, but not as deep as I used to. The pain was still there, but having someone see the signs and care gave me hope. I tried so hard to hide it from everyone in my life. Why I let my guard down to show her what I was feeling maybe was a subconscious cry for help.
Soon after that is when I began smoking. I made the conscious effort to replace my nightly ritual of cutting with a nightly cigarette. Over the next year or so I had completely stopped cutting as long as I had that nightly cigarette. If I skipped the cigarette, I would have that knife back in my hand. Smoking became my vice. A bad habit, yes, but I was no longer suicidal. I found something that made me feel good. Each drag just made the pain easier to deal with. By then also my life was getting better. I found myself surrounded by great friends, especially B, N, H, & M. How I hid this from them, I don't know. I put on such a good act I guess.
A few years later in college, things seemed to get bad again. I was far away from my friends. Getting bullied again. I was trying losing it, so I started cutting again. I picked up the knife with such ease. I still remember that night crystal clear. I can still feel how the blade felt going across my wrist. I, as usual, didn't not cut deep. Just enough for a little blood. I cut for the next few weeks or so. I finally stopped when I started dating my ex. After dating for a while, I felt it was time to put away the knife for good. I decided to get a celtic tattoo on my wrist to remind me not to cut. The reason I chose celtic was because I was part scottish and in my mind every time I look at the tattoo it will remind me of all those that came before me and they endured, so I should be able to endure to.
Since getting the tattoo, I have not cut. I've thought about it, but I have too much to live for now. No matter how bad I feel, I just need to look at my wife and feel her love. She is my reason for being. And I would never want to hurt her. When things get bad, instead of cutting I may pick a scab or pick the skin by my nails. That's the extent of my self harm now. Since quitting smoking cigarettes, it has been a little difficult not having that ritual, but thankfully I am smoking pipe tobacco once a day. That has given me my nightly ritual back. It's a close substitute.
I like to think that maybe way back when I started cutting, the deep down reason I didn't take my life is because the fates knew what I'd have now: a loving wife, 3 wonderful kitties, 3 best friends, and an amazing famylie.
As I am still here, I never fully followed through. Maybe deep down I knew that things would eventually get better, even though it seemed impossible. I had felt so alone. I felt I had no one who really cared about me. It started with just holding the knife in my hand. Trying to bring it to my wrist. Then a bottle of pills in my hand, trying to bring it to my mouth. I was very hesitant at first, even though I really wanted my pain to end. Over a matter of weeks, the hesitation eased. That is when I began cutting. I started light. Barely breaking the skin. I pressed down just hard enough to cut through the top layer of skin. It only looked like scratches. Fearing what my parents would say with what my wrist was starting to look like, I moved to my inner thighs. Each night I'd go a bit deeper. Soon drawing blood. I would just watch as the blood came to the surface and run down the cut. I can't explain how it made me feel.... just maybe having the physical pain made the emotional pain subside, just for a moment.
I hit my apex in my junior year of high school. One night I finally got the nerve to take the pills. I had no idea what pills to take. So I downed a full bottle of Aleve and prayed I would not wake up the next morning. Apparently I couldn't die from taking a full bottle of Aleve. I started thinking of other ways to end my life. A girl in my class J.W. saw the signs. Over a couple of weeks she convinced me not to kill myself. I still cut, but not as deep as I used to. The pain was still there, but having someone see the signs and care gave me hope. I tried so hard to hide it from everyone in my life. Why I let my guard down to show her what I was feeling maybe was a subconscious cry for help.
Soon after that is when I began smoking. I made the conscious effort to replace my nightly ritual of cutting with a nightly cigarette. Over the next year or so I had completely stopped cutting as long as I had that nightly cigarette. If I skipped the cigarette, I would have that knife back in my hand. Smoking became my vice. A bad habit, yes, but I was no longer suicidal. I found something that made me feel good. Each drag just made the pain easier to deal with. By then also my life was getting better. I found myself surrounded by great friends, especially B, N, H, & M. How I hid this from them, I don't know. I put on such a good act I guess.
A few years later in college, things seemed to get bad again. I was far away from my friends. Getting bullied again. I was trying losing it, so I started cutting again. I picked up the knife with such ease. I still remember that night crystal clear. I can still feel how the blade felt going across my wrist. I, as usual, didn't not cut deep. Just enough for a little blood. I cut for the next few weeks or so. I finally stopped when I started dating my ex. After dating for a while, I felt it was time to put away the knife for good. I decided to get a celtic tattoo on my wrist to remind me not to cut. The reason I chose celtic was because I was part scottish and in my mind every time I look at the tattoo it will remind me of all those that came before me and they endured, so I should be able to endure to.
Since getting the tattoo, I have not cut. I've thought about it, but I have too much to live for now. No matter how bad I feel, I just need to look at my wife and feel her love. She is my reason for being. And I would never want to hurt her. When things get bad, instead of cutting I may pick a scab or pick the skin by my nails. That's the extent of my self harm now. Since quitting smoking cigarettes, it has been a little difficult not having that ritual, but thankfully I am smoking pipe tobacco once a day. That has given me my nightly ritual back. It's a close substitute.
I like to think that maybe way back when I started cutting, the deep down reason I didn't take my life is because the fates knew what I'd have now: a loving wife, 3 wonderful kitties, 3 best friends, and an amazing famylie.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Taboo
So there is a topic that I've noticed is rarely discussed. What if a transgender woman decides to keep her penis. It could be for various reasons: can't afford surgery, scared of the surgery, or they have a significant other whom they love and they like that body part. Whatever the reason, one thing that is hardly talked about is performance after starting hormones. Don't let any porn fool you, it is not that easy to get an erection if you have been on hormones for a while. Yes you expect the morning hard on to go away, but what about if you want to have sex? And use your penis? It's not as easy as one would think. With lack of testosterone in your body, you suffer erectile dysfunction. It will take a lot of work to get an erection, and even more work to keep it. Is this the same for everyone? No. Each person can experience varying degrees. Also, think of your penis as a muscle. If you don't use it, you are going to lose it. As much as most of us do not like our penises, we tend to not touch it. The blood vessels constrict and forget how to stretch and bring in blood flow. It will also become painful if you try. Trust me. Ow ow ow.
And if you really love your significant other, like I do, you do not want to disappoint in the bedroom. Mostly they will understand it takes a bit more work to get the penis up. But not always can you hold the erection and it may not be as big as it was pre-hormones as again, if you don't use it, you lose it.
So if you want to keep your significant other happy in bed, I suggest every so often, a few times a week, exercise that muscle. I know it can get dysphoric, but it gets easier. And for that extra push, you could always go the route of Viagra. Which my doctor just prescribed to me yesterday. I have not tried it yet, as I won't be able to afford to pick up the prescription until next weekend. They are expensive. 10 pills for $50 (if you have insurance). No insurance 10 pills will run you about $167. But again, if you love your significant other with all your heart, it is worth it.
And if you really love your significant other, like I do, you do not want to disappoint in the bedroom. Mostly they will understand it takes a bit more work to get the penis up. But not always can you hold the erection and it may not be as big as it was pre-hormones as again, if you don't use it, you lose it.
So if you want to keep your significant other happy in bed, I suggest every so often, a few times a week, exercise that muscle. I know it can get dysphoric, but it gets easier. And for that extra push, you could always go the route of Viagra. Which my doctor just prescribed to me yesterday. I have not tried it yet, as I won't be able to afford to pick up the prescription until next weekend. They are expensive. 10 pills for $50 (if you have insurance). No insurance 10 pills will run you about $167. But again, if you love your significant other with all your heart, it is worth it.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
My Reach
I have 106 followers on Tumblr and over 3200 page view on my blogger site. When I started writing, I hoped to reach a few people with my transition story. I can't get over how many people I have reached. I hope that some of what I am sharing is helping people. Making them feel like they aren't alone.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Fear
I remember when I was younger, like very young, I had no fear. I was out going, energetic, very extroverted. But that fearless kid vanished and has been replaced with an adult full of fear. Over the years, series of events kept adding on the fear. I acknowledge that I have fear, but I can't keep it from running my life. I know how I got some of my fears:
- Fear of heights: I fell off a ladder and a genie lift I was in tipped and fall over with me hanging on to pipes above me. Now heights terrify me.
- Fear of public speaking: In sixth grade I had one of the male leads in Anne of Greene Gables the musical. Kids whom I thought were my friends made fun of me constantly for singing and being in a play. Since then I hate being in the spot light. I hate speaking in front of groups, no matter the size. I start shaking and stuttering. It terrifies me to the bone.
However, I'm not sure where my other fears come from:
- Atelophobia= the fear of not being good enough
- Social fear
- Enochlophobia - fear of crowds
- Clautrophobia=the fear of enclosed spaces
I know I have been bullied my whole life. Well not my whole whole life, but since sixth grade. I don't know what happened in middle school, but I lost all my friends. Most of them were into sports and since I wasn't, I was no longer good enough to hang out with them. They started making fun of me for no reason. Most of my middle school life, I had no friends. No one to hang out with, no one to eat lunch with, no one to talk in class with. I was so alone. The only attention I got was being bullied and picked on by kids that used to be my friends. I had hoped the bullying would have ended in high school, but no. The same kids and some new ones continued the bullying and picking on and name calling. When I found the drama club, I finally had a refuge, but even there I didn't feel like I totally belonged. With so much bullying, I thought no one liked me. I started to fear letting people in because I thought they would eventually turn and hate me and become another bully. It got so bad that most nights I would lie in bed with either a bottle of pills or a knife wanting to stop the pain. I was never able to take the pills, but I had learned to cut, just to feel something. Never deep enough to kill myself. I just could never bring myself that far, even though I had thought about it so much. I kept thinking the world would be better off without me.
I did develop three really strong friendships in high school, but I always felt like I had to buy their friendship. I know that wasn't the case and they wanted to be around me for who I was and not what I did for them, but I couldn't let myself believe that. As I am older, I know so much better and I consider two of them my sisters and one my brother. To think back of what I thought I had to do for their friendship... I was a fool.
I went away to college in hopes to leave the bullying behind me and start fresh. Instead I found a new group of bullies. Never physical bullying, but constant verbal abuse. Even after joining a fraternity in hopes to have a group to protect me, the bullying continued. You know the phrase "I wouldn't pick on you if I didn't like you"? Those who say that are still bullying you and don't realize how much their teasing and picking on really hurts. I can take a joke, just not when I'm constantly attacked. I've had bullies around me for a very long time. I think the longer I heard their words, the more I believed them. They destroyed my self esteem. I feel so little of myself. I always have this sense of worthlessness. I never feel good enough. I feel I don't deserve the wonderful wife I have, or the amazing friends I have. I think people just put up with me instead of actually wanting me around. This has all crippled me socially. I get such social anxiety. I hate going to parties. I feel so alone. I'm always afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting made fun of, or doing the wrong thing to get made fun of. It gets so bad that I fear even spending time with my friends. There are people I would love to go see and spend time with, but the fear takes over and I never do it. One of my best friends, she lives down the street from me.... literally down the street and I let fear keep me from seeing her. Another best friend lives just in the next town over, and I let fear keep me from seeing him. I don't want to impose on any of them. I don't want to feel like I'm putting them out. It's destroying me. I let the fear twist everything in my head. I just can't stop it. And most of this, I kept bottled up. This is the first time letting this all out. I just bottle up and make excuses like I'm busy with plans, when I am really just too scared to go out. And god forbid anyone come over. I never have people over because it just scares the crap out of me. What if the house is a mess? What if I missed some cat fur and they are allergic? What if the house smells? What if I don't have food to feed them or drink to offer them? What if we have nothing to talk about? What if I say the wrong thing? It just overwhelms me. Deep down I would love to have my friends over to our house, but I can't get over the fear to do it.
I hate feeling this way. I hope my therapist can help me with this. It is not healthy and I can't keep living like this. And being transgender just adds more fear of bullying and people not liking me. I hope to one day over come all of this. One day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)