A Trans Story - Growth, Oientation, Identity - forever changing

Growth, orientation, Identity – forever changing

 

So I have been pondering something lately. It started with orientation and jumped over to identity and growth and how we are always labeling ourselves and putting ourselves into boxes. Even those of us who have stepped out of the closet put ourselves back into a box.

Starting with orientation. Why are we limiting ourselves. For many years people were stuck in their closets, afraid to come out, scared of being themselves and then when they finally do, what happens, they label themselves, mostly Gay or Lesbian – why? I have come to realise that it might be fear, or a desire for special status.

We are told that orientation is fluid, so it does not need to stop at Gay, or Lesbian. It would continue across a spectrum, and should be based upon attraction. So then we need to ask the question – what is attraction? Well we know its chemically based. Pheromones play a large part in it, and yes physical features too. Many things depend upon what we find visually pleasing, but personality, and experiences play a tremendous role in attraction, but Gender has really nothing to do with it at all. So why do we feel the need to jump out of one role and keep ourselves locked into another.

In various LGBTQIA forums I have come across many comments regarding orientation and have noticed something. Those identifying as Bisexual are often given a hard time and constantly told to choose a side. Why?

Why do people want them to choose a side? Why should it be about choosing a side? Should it not be about choosing a person. Attraction should be about finding a person who can become part of your life, who can help you grow, challenge you and enhances your life. Its not about the parts. A person is not the sum of their parts. They are the sum of their experiences and that is where attraction begins. I now believe attraction changes with growth and experience.

We know that homophobia is actually fear of being homosexual. So perhaps biphobia is fear of that. The folks telling bisexuals to choose a side are telling me they are really afraid that they themselves are bisexual and so they feel the need to make others correspond to their labels.

I have been thinking this while contemplating my own journey and my own growth. In my younger years I was exclusively attracted to girls. Its through my journey and coming to know myself that I am now finding that attraction was kind of based on envy. I was envious of the girls. We often want what we don’t have. Growing up I didn’t have the outside shell that I felt I should have, and that formed a large part of my attraction. Oh don’t get me wrong, I am still attracted to women, but I have noticed an increased attraction to men. Granted its just any guy. I still find hairy faces to be particularly yucky, lol. But I can now see a man and think that he is handsome, or sexy, and attractive. Perhaps because my mind is more open. Perhaps because I have come to know myself and perhaps because I am finally becoming the person that I always longed to be and so therefore do not envy women as much. But also I think it is because attraction is the basis for so called orientation and I believe that both of those are fluid and change constantly. And as I mentioned earlier, attraction should be about finding the person who enhances your life, not the gender. None of these realisations will change my circumstances or my life much, since I have already found the person who enhances my life. I am simply acknowledging a change in my thinking, in my attitude and that I have grown enough to realise that we often leave one label, or role, only to jump into another and hold onto that one even more tightly than before.

When I first came out I was told by many how brave I was to step out and acknowledge and work towards being my true self. But in all honesty I didn’t. I stepped out of my closet and immediately identified as being Transgender, then further labeled myself a Trans woman and a lesbian. So in effect I stepped from a closet and jumped into a box, within a box, within a box. Why? Was it through fear? Or for some kind of special status? – it was both.

While I was in my closet, I was there because it felt safe. Was I happy there? No, but it felt safe and something I was familiar with. Eventually, like many others it became too confining and I had to admit to myself and others what and who I was. But when I did that, I immediately wrapped myself with another identity, another label. And that is the crazy part. I don’t believe in labels. I think society gives these labels because people need to categorize and are fearful of the unknown.

Stepping out of the closet was a new, and fearful thing to do. I had no comfort zone, nothing to cover me and make me feel safe. But then I saw the label of Transgender and I wrapped that around me. It made me feel safe, special even. I was part of a small segment of the population, rare even. I grabbed hold of that specialness and waved it around like a flag, pretty much throwing it in societies face. It made me feel strong, but once again I was actually just hiding. When I first came out, and up until recently, I identified as a Trans Woman Lesbian. I have explained this in the past as taking the label that society has given me and making it my own, for pride, for strength and basically to stick it to society for being so small minded. And while some of that is true, I now find that I was limiting myself just as much as I was when I was in my closet.

Am I a woman? Yes. Am I Trans? Yes. Am I a lesbian? Yes. But I am not limited to these. I am all of these and I am none of these.

I am not just a Trans Woman lesbian. I am more than that. I am me.

A Trans Story - Gender Marker

A Trans Story – Gender Marker

Its been a while, mostly since nothing significant has happened. During any journey there are times when nothing of import is going on and I don’t really find a need to report on nothing. But then there are other times, like yesterday, when something big happens. It may not mean much to other people, but its huge for me. I got my gender marker changed on my license.

When you look at a drivers license the gender marker seems so innocuous. Its so small, difficult to see and most people probably don’t even notice it. But to a Trans person it is huge, significant of overwhelming importance. Travelling around with a license that has an M on there, when I am presenting and feel female was one of the most frustrating things for me and it seemed to take forever to get anywhere.

So lets rewind to the beginning of the year, or a bit before. When the Trumpleton won I was worried that I would have difficulty changing some items that needed to be changed, so I decided to go ahead and start the processes. So jump ahead to February, I had a court date and legally changed my name. Got a court document regarding that and then started looking for the next steps. Those steps took a long time.

My next step was to update immigration and whoosh that office of bureaucratic nonsense is as slow as they come. The application for changing information on my immigration card was not done immediately, as I wished to change my gender marker at the same time, since they charge you hundreds of dollars for a new card. So there I had to find an MD to write a letter stating I was female. My medical provider at the time was not an MD which meant finding another one. Not something that bothered me too much. I was uncomfortable with my current provider anyway and figured it was time to change. But it being Nashville there are not a huge amount of options for an MD that will prescribe hormones to a Trans Woman and who will support their cause to change gender marker. Took me a couple of months, but I got all the required documentation and applied for my new card in April. Nearly 2 full months later I had my bio-metric appointment and then I waited 3 months before trying to update my social security card. Well come to find out that 3 months was not nearly enough time for immigration – sheesh, but I decided to forge ahead and try to get my Drivers License changed. I really wanted atleast one form of ID that matched who I really was.

Fast forward to October 23^rd about 9 months after starting the process to change my name and gender and I finally, finally have something completely updated. I was elated about it. My very first thought was that it was now safer for me to be pulled over when driving.

Now that’s not something most people think, lol. Nor does the average person even think about it. But I ask that you all take a moment to consider. I am a woman, I present as a woman every single day. I wear dresses, heels, makeup and I feel that I do not look in any way masculine and yet for the longest time my drivers license stated M – I was constantly worried about making a mistake while driving and being pulled over, particularly in Nashville. I drove with the constant concern of being pulled over by a right wing, Christian conservative cop who would hate me because my license said M while I looked female. Its not a good thing to be worried about. And that’s what really annoys me about these conservatives up and down the country that don’t want us to have protections, or want us to be able to update our personal documentation – they do not consider our safety at all. Those morons that want us to use the incorrect restroom. They don’t care that they are setting us up for violent reactions. Those idiots that want to prevent us from updated personal information – they don’t care what they are putting us through on a daily basis. And then the people that are not affected by it either way, sometimes don’t seem to care enough to be concerned about our safety. We need protections in place for daily life, for work, for health and just to be treated equally. We don’t need people to make things harder for us, or for people to shrug their shoulders about how difficult things are.

But finally I now have one item that has my true identity on there. Despite the Trumpleton and the right wing brigade I have been able to correct things on one ID. My license now bears the name that I have chosen. The name that I think best represents who I am. And more importantly it finally contains the most important letter of all – that blessed F that I have been searching for my entire life. It does show one positive thing. Trumpleton might be able to reverse policies enacted by Obama, but he cannot reverse the attitude inspired by the Obama administration, for its government employees. So we have some hope.

But there needs to be more. In some states, TN included, it is impossible to change, or correct your birth certificate. The most fundamental documentation you can have, the one you have to supply for almost everything from a passport to a marriage license and you are unable to change it. This is just wrong and is setting trans people of up for violent, hate filled reactions. I mean the birth certificate was drawn up when we were just born. At a time when no one could possibly conceive what the future would bring. Someone else chose the name and gender, possibly based upon what they saw in you and dreamt of for your future, but how could a parent, or doctor at that time possibly know what the future may bring. I say this for all people, not just Trans. I truly think that at some point, say 18 or 21, people should be able to take a look at their identity as it exists on their birth certificate and then they can determine if that still defines them. And if it doesn’t, then a correction should be issued. Oh I understand the need to maintain information and to know who began as what, but change should be encouraged if that identity is no longer relevant. The name and gender I was given at birth is not relevant for who I am today, so why should I need to keep it. Fortunately I will not, but so many others do not have that option. And is it really so much to ask that they be allowed to change documentation to match their identity?

I do understand the need for good record keeping, and when I was complaining, quite possibly whining about it yesterday, lol, my wife did raise a good argument for some care to be taken. She mentioned that authorities do need to be aware of these things. If something were to happen then they would need to know that I was female and if all our information could be changed easily, without keeping good records then yes the authorities would have difficulty if they needed to issue a description about me. So yes I do indeed understand that they need to make sure I am not changing to commit fraud, or escape some other kind of official notice. And for the sake of descriptions then yes they need to be aware of the change from M to F, so in regards to that, I fully understand, but do they need to make us jump through quite so many hoops? And do they need to make it take so long to get shit changed. Cause I mean for like 9 months now I have looked female every day, but my identification has said otherwise. So while its good for them to keep up to date information, for those 9 months they didn’t have up to date information. Things need to move more swiftly and be slightly easier.

But as of right now my license is up to date. Oh and I got my new social security card too, so that’s 2 out of 3 and I am so happy about that. Now I can start to get things changed at my bank, get some bank cards with the right name on it and I can finally start signing receipts with the signature I have been practicing for months, instead of the abbreviated one I adopted to avoid using my male name. And I can happily show my ID when asked for it when buying adult beverages, lol. I got to use it yesterday when buying Nyquil, he, he, he – and for the first time this year I was completely happy to show my license, because I know all the information on it matched how I looked.

A Trans Story - Losses

A Trans Story – Losses

Ok, well here I am at 3am in the morning and wide awake, with a very busy mind.

As I approach my 42^nd birthday I have been very contemplative, spending a great deal of time in the past with my regrets and my shame. Mostly I have been remembering my Dad. We weren’t exactly close, well I never felt that we were anyway. I kinda thought I was never quite masculine enough. That was just my perception, or the memory of my perception, but lets face it either one can be wrong. And memory by itself is not the most reliable thing in the world and then to add a child's perspective, well that can just mess things up.

Anyway mostly I remember my Dad around the age of 42. I wish I knew then what I know now, for at that time I only had 8 years left with him. He died when I was around 20. To be completely honest, I am not sure that I truly remember the age, or the year. I know that he was just about to reach 50 and that I was in my second year at college and that I was going to the Pub (although that’s no real indication, since I went there under age too) – but I do distinctly remember that I was finishing College that year, so I believe it was March of my 20^th year. The prior year, late on, he had been diagnosed with Pancreatitis, and I know he didn’t last too long after that.

I have not thought too much about it for some time, since I have always had a tendency to bottle up emotions, to ignore traumatic events and just not face them. That and to be completely honest I am ashamed of myself.

So to explain that last part. So if my memory is correct, it was late in 1994. My Mum and Dad when on holiday to Tunisia – it wasn’t the best holiday, they got sick, the hotel had listeria and all. When they got back my Dad had jaundice and shortly after was diagnosed with cancer. It was pretty much at that point when I really began to distance myself from him. At first I was available to take him to see some of his friends and all, but as it progressed and he needed more and more assistance, I found myself going out every night. It has taken me many years, but I can admit to being afraid. I was terrified that he would need my help with something I was simply not prepared to handle at the time. I was not used to seeing my Dad being anything less than a strong individual and couldn’t face it. I am ashamed to admit that I stayed away on purpose.

The night he died, I was at the Pub, as usual. I made it home and as soon as I stepped inside my Aunt told me that my Dad did not have long and asked if I wanted to go up and see him. Honestly I wasn’t sure if I did want to be in that room, but I went out of a sense of obligation and it is something I will never every forget. To this day I remember every single minute of it.

I remember stepping into the room. I remember seeing my Dad, once strong, now wasted away, lying in bed, my Mum by his side, my brother over to the left. And I remember that he opened his eyes, and looked at me with the first lucidity I had seen from him in months. I remember each and every breath he took. How he struggled for one more. Always one more breath. Each one I thought was going to be the last, but he would draw one more. And I will always remember his passing.

I have heard from many people (Christians mostly) how they felt a sense of peace enter a room of someone passing. Well I felt nothing. I never have. Perhaps I have always lacked faith, or perhaps that is where I completely lost it. But there was nothing, only silence and emptiness. And I could not bring myself to cry.

The next night my Mum wanted to make sure that I got out of the house, not wanting me to stay just for her, so she kinda made me go out – it didn’t take much persuasion, I was desperate to go. So I went to the Pub with my friends. It was awkward, as you might expect, no one knowing what to say to me. But even then I did not mourn. No I did what I have always done in difficult situations, I bottled it up and got rip roaring drunk.

That was how I lived my life back then. I avoided things. I got drunk and I bottled everything up, never ever wanting to say anything. Only now am I beginning to realize why I could never face anything. And I am beginning to realize why I could never mourn. Because I was too pissed off, at the world, my Dad, everyone.

I was angry that I never got the chance to be who I truly am with him. But then I also wonder, would he have accepted me. A big part of me thinks – NO he wouldn’t have. But it’s a chance I will never have now. So yes, I have spent my life being angry. I am angry at the lost opportunity, I am angry at myself for never being strong enough. I am angry for never being able to be myself. But I have also spent the last 22 years being ashamed because I was not there for my Dad when he needed people around. At that point he needed family, all his family, and I was too self-centered to be there for him.

I have discovered that Transgender have many losses in their lives. They have lost opportunities when they are not strong enough to speak up and be themselves. They lose family and friends when they find the strength and even if they do manage to keep those, the relationships are changed so much that they may as well be lost. And we face loss of rights because of blind, backward, conservative people that want to force us all to be the same as them. And all they can do is fall back on some religious beliefs, trying to limit me because of their own lack of understanding. But mostly my thoughts are about losing a parent who never really knew the true me.

I know that some find comfort in faith, religion and belief in God etc, but those are things that I have never had. Oh I have tried over the years, but never quite made it. My Dad was pretty much an atheist and my Mum was an occasional church goer and I was raised to question everything and simply be the best person I can be. I have never felt what people of faith describe. Never have I sensed anything, felt that anything was around me, close to me or helping me in any shape or form. And when I have read parts of the Bible, well the words just done appeal to me. Nor do some aspects of any other religion, and I have studied most of them over time. Even back in school there was a calls on religious education, not much on Christianity, since that was the dominant religion, but covered Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, even paganism. And I loved that class, but at the time I thought it would not be cool to take it into my 3^rd year. I was easily influenced by what I thought was cool back then. Perhaps another aspect of my trying to hide the real me.

So because of everything I have learned, I often find one religion to be too limiting and lacking a proper explanation for what life is and so I have never been able to believe in Christianity, or any other religion individually. I think that only together can they give you even a glimpse of what the divine is. But the problem is - where is faith in that belief? And does a creative being really give a toss about people? Sometimes it sucks to have so many questions and no faith and no one to help me find even a few answers. I have no answer for why I was born Transgender. I have no answer for why my Dad was taken without even knowing me. And I have no faith that there is a heaven, or any other place. I lean towards the idea that there must be something, but is that something any better than what this currently is? Sometimes it might be so easy to just have faith and let it all go, but that is not in my nature. I take things apart, I dig into them and look for my own truths, but again there is no faith, nothing to reassure me that I am doing what I am meant to be. Nothing to reassure me that there is a reason for life and challenge and that its not all just happenstance. Nothing to reassure me that the losses are worth it. And nothing to really help me move beyond my youth and the regrets and shame that I have. Now that I am no longer drowning my problems in drink, I need to process them. But how????

Well I am done rambling for now. I am going to see if I can get some sleep. I am hoping that my mind will be quiet now. I need to get up for work in a couple of hours. I will be posting this sometime later.

A Trans Story - Ups an Downs

A Trans Story – Ups and Downs

Recently I have been contemplating a lot of things. Thinking about the past, the present and the future, and wondering what path I am on. I have also been a bit of an emotional basket case. Granted another allergic reaction to medication hasn’t helped, all because my stupid insurance went and switched brand on me, very aggravating.

But its more than the meds, its pretty much life, and society in general. I am getting weary of fighting against the galactically stupid right wing conservatives. Now I do believe that everyone has the right to their own beliefs, that’s not my issue with the right. No my issue with them is that they feel the need to try and ram their beliefs down my throat. They don’t have to accept me or mine, they just have to accept that I have the right to be who I am. And they just need to stop legislating against me. All these thoughts keep bringing me back to the pointlessness of our society and my belief that we have lost our purpose.

So I will fill you in on what has led up to these thoughts and my emotional downturn.

Firstly as I approach my two year anniversary of coming to accept myself, I have been thinking a lot about how I got to where I am. Yes its been almost two years. It was around my birthday in 2015 when I seriously started to consider just how much longer I could keep living the lie that my life had been. My first appointment with my therapist was 8/14 – just two days after my 40^th birthday. At that time I had been questioning my job and was faced with the same questions that plague me today. I started looking for a career counselor, but ended up finally admitting that I was Trans – quite a leap, lol. While I didn’t get to answer any of my questions regarding employment, atleast I got started on this amazing path that I find myself on right now. Yes I have many doubts about every aspect in life, but I know for sure that I am and always was supposed to be a woman. Probably the reason behind my contemplative thoughts is because I have a therapist appointment on the 24^th – 10 days after my 2 year anniversary. Before any appointment, I usually become contemplative to see what I want to cover in my upcoming session. This thoughtful journey has taken on an interesting aspect this time.

I believe it all started when contemplating my job. My particular form of employment is something I have always struggled with. Oh don’t get me wrong, I am perfectly willing to work and I do work hard, but the field I am in is so beyond pointless to me. Lets face it what is Accounting but the moving around of numbers to show that businesses are making more and more money for their owners. There are aspects of it that can be challenging and when starting a new position and being able to learn then its interesting. However that interest never stays, particularly when I master what I am doing, which happens often. This time it only lasted 6 months. Six months after I started my new job I am wondering what else I can be doing and trying to convince myself that it’s a good job. Oh technically it is a good job. Its not difficult and I don’t have much in the way of stress anymore, but still it is completely and utterly pointless to me. Added to that they have taken a new direction and are now hiring a bunch of entry level Accountants, who are getting to learn every aspect of the office I work in, while those of us without degrees are not getting any opportunity. So now I am feeling like a second class citizen, simply because I do not have a degree, even though I have 12 years of actual on the job experience. And my experience is in Accounting, dealing with month end, journal entries and more. I would hold up my experience against any degree, but right now if you don’t have a degree you are getting kicked to the curb, or that is how it feels.

So it began with the job and me contemplating what I should be doing. My dream has always been to be a full time writer, but that’s going to take time, luck and perseverance and in the meantime I need a way to earn money – which is where my job comes in, but I also have a need for change, challenge and something different, which you don’t typically get in the Accounting field. Such was my dilemma that I even started having nostalgic feelings about my last employer (a place that had me so stressed out that I had an emotional meltdown) – it was a place where I was challenged, that’s for sure. Anyway the nostalgia was so much that I actually applied for a few positions, but that didn’t help me feel any better, the reverse actually. Now I feel guilty and like I am cheating on my current supervisor, lol.

Thoughts about my job, the purpose of it and the direction I should be going, always lead me to thoughts about society and how utterly pointless it really is. Society has always been confusing to me, and I have never really fit in. A large part of that is down to being Trans, but its also the lack of purpose I see in our society today. I mean, what is the purpose of it. What goals do we have as a society and how does our existence further creation? What good do we do? In the grand scheme of things, what use is the human race? Atleast several hundred to thousands of years ago, society had a purpose. Now we have lost it. Now our society is completely driven by commercialism. The driving need for people to gain more and more wealth before they die. And really what good will that do? No matter your beliefs of what comes after, accumulating wealth will do you no good when you die. Every aspect of our society has been given over to commercialism and a driving need that serves no real purpose whatsoever. And that leads me to wonder how I fit in here, since I don’t care about commercialism and I see it as being pointless. Most every job is designed to make companies more and more money.

I often think that I was born in the wrong millennium. Some aspects of our modern day are beneficial to me, such as the health care and the ability we have to aid the Transgender. I would have hated it back in the day when there were no alternatives for that. But other than the health I see no benefit to this society at all.

To me, the society of BC had more purpose than we do now. They were learning, living and growing. The world full of challenge and adversity. There was good and evil and the constant fight to strive for good and growth. That is purpose to me. What have we now? We have commerce. We have a group of people trying to diminish minorities by using their religion and their limited understanding of a divine being. People say we have progressed and are more advanced, but often I am forced to wonder. Are we really so advanced? We are so advanced that a religious cult tries to determine the rights of everyone and tries to force us all to be the same. Yes that is progress.

So now I find myself trying to determine my place in the grand scheme of things. Even were I to become a full time writer, I think I would still question my place in this society, and I would still be trying to figure out its purpose.

So there have been Ups and Downs on this journey so far. I am far more confident now (in a dress and heels at any rate) – which is an interesting side note – during this questioning phase I wore jeans and flats for two days in a row at work, and I discovered that I don’t feel nearly as confident in them as I once did. I think its because I wore those items pre-transition. But the long and short of it is that I now feel at my most confident when I am in a dress and heels. So aside from more overall confidence, I also have more overall happiness. But the downs – I am still questioning my place, my existence, my role and my purpose.

Adding to the confusion is my allergic reaction, which is making me wonder if someone is trying to tell me something. Oh I know that’s most likely not the case, and it’s a matter of finding the right medication for me, but a part of me, a deep, dark part of me was wondering if indeed I was being told something. Was I being told to stop and be miserable for the rest of my life? Mostly I think no, but there is always that sliver of doubt in there, doubt worsened by this pointless, stupid society that tries to judge everyone by the mistranslated words in one book.

So just what am I supposed to do? I need a job, but any job that I do gets old real fast, mostly because it is dull and monotonous with hardly any challenge whatsoever. Add to that and its all dealing with numbers – have I mentioned that I hated Math when I was at school, lol. So here we are. What I dream of is being a full time writer, but I know that will not come any time soon, unless I am lucky, and so I need to work at a pointless job, for a pointless company in a pointless society. Does it get much more pointless than that? How does one find their path in this life? How does one work toward their dreams? Can you have a work path that is tolerable while you strive to achieve your dreams?

From this you might infer that it has been a time of emotional turmoil and to a degree it has, but it hasn’t all been bad. Oh I have been a tad emotional lately and yes right now I am an emotional basket case, but that will pass. I still wake up happy and content in the knowledge that I am slowly progressing toward the person I have always dreamed to be. I still get to look fabulous in my dresses and shoes and I am in the middle of a wonderful adventure. Granted I have questions and doubts, but how doesn’t? What is life without questions? I am happy, atleast happy with myself if not my job. And I am excited to see whats going to happen next and excited to learn about myself as I continue down this path. One thing transitioning does is teach you about yourself. You learn how you are at your lowest and at your highest and you learn those peaks a lot, but no matter what happens its still a fascinating journey.

I realise that I still have so much to look forward to. Life can be wondrous if you but embrace it. I have my continued growth ahead of me. My future awaits and I have lots more to write and in the end, which I will consider my beginning, I will have my surgery and then I can be who I am truly meant to be. And then I will have so many other things to learn. I do have so much going for me, so much to learn and do and these incidental questions might be answered, or they might not, but atleast they give me something to ponder in the quiet moments.

Life is magical, embrace it. Be who you are meant to be.

A Trans Story - Are we more than our names?

A Trans Story – Who are we? Are we more than our names?

 

So its been a while since I wrote a blog. Not really been too much happening, just working and going home, working and going home – the usual stuff. Yup some might be surprised – us Trans folks do regular living too, lol.

Anyway I have been toying with a question recently. It started out with me wondering how long it takes you to get used to your new name? And then I began wondering who are we? And are we more than the names we choose?

I was asking that, because we get to choose our names, and most of us, I think, choose names that inspire us, or who we think we are.

Most people in the West don’t get to choose their names, oh some decide later in life that their given names are not who they really are, but I think that most people grow to accept those names. The names given by our parents. But I often wonder – how do they know what name will fit you best. And does it even really matter. Isnt a name, just a name?

Either way it goes, being Trans I grew up with a different name. Got used it being yelled at me for about 40 years, lol. Now I have changed it and I never expected it to take this long for me to get used to it. Oh I am fine at work and all, but then in my new job they have never known me as anything other than Gia. But I find that when family, or older friends address me by my chosen name then it sounds kinda odd. Sometimes I think its because I have not become Gia yet.

And then ofcourse I have to think. How do I become Gia? How long will it take? And then the inevitable question – Who is Gia?

So if its because I don’t feel I have become Gia, then what else do I need to do? It might indeed be that I don’t think I have become Gia. I am only about 2 years in and I am still learning and growing. Quite possibly a part of me feels I have not suffered enough yet and only when I have will I be ready to be Gia. Maybe I am thinking its because I have not completed all the steps that I feel the need to complete. But then I wonder how much longer will that take? and will I be in limbo until that point?

But then my thoughts go on to what makes a person? Its certainly not a name that’s for sure. I have never even considered that a person is limited to what their name suggests. A name is only a handle to their jug really. A way of remembering the person and identifying them. So why do I still feel slightly uncomfortable when some call me by my chosen name?

One of my larger concerns about transitioning was actually the name change. There was not ever a chance of me keeping my given name, and part of me hated to change it. I mean after all these years I had kinda gotten used to it, rubbed some of the rough edges off it. Maybe that’s my discomfort. Maybe Gia is just too new and maybe the still squeaks when I turn around too fast J - I haven’t really had a chance to, how shall we say, break it in. After all I have only carried the name, legally, for a few months and still haven’t gotten all my ID’s updated.

Oh, there is another possible reason for some discomfort. My Id’s do not match my legal name, nor how I present myself, so I am basically a big walking ball of incongruity. It is taking quite some time to get everything into alignment. I changed my name legally in February, but had to change my immigration card. However since its so dang costly I decided that I wanted to change my name and gender marker at the same time, but immigration requires a letter from an MD. My medical provider at the time was a nurse practitioner, and so there was another waiting game for me to get insurance so I could go see a doctor. But that didn’t take too terribly long – no the longest part has been waiting on Immigration to read a court document and a medical letter and approve my changes. It took them 2 months to set up my appointment and now I need to wait on my card being mailed to me. And all of this before I can even get my Divers license updated – sheesh so much hassle. So what ya think? Could this be some of my discomfort? Probably.

Then here is another idea. My given name. It was the one given me by my Mother and throughout most of my life I never ever considered changing it. I spent all those years dreaming about transitioning, but during that time never gave thought to my name. I guess my mind was on weightier matters, lol. Perhaps I am feeling a bit of guilt for changing that which my mother gave me. I know it must have had an emotional impact on her. I cant even imagine how a mother would feel about a son actually being a daughter. So yes there is a bit of guilt there.

But to be honest, growing up, I never really felt like Graham either. I am not sure who or what I felt like, but Graham just didn’t seem the best fit, but still I never considered changing it. And since moving to the States the name had actually become a big pain in the bloody ass, particularly with my accent and how I roll my R’s. Have you ever tried to get an American to understand your name when it has an R and you roll them – talk about an eye rolling experience, lol. So part of me was glad to get rid of that cumbersome name, which is probably adding to my guilt, lol.

And then I wonder. Why do I only feel this way with close friends and family? Is it perhaps because they have known me longer. They knew me as Graham, or what they thought was Graham, and part of me wonders what they are truly thinking now. Oh they have been wonderfully supportive, all but one, but that one don’t matter. And I am more than thankful for the support, but at a deeper level I do often wonder what they think and feel about me. Yes they support and accept me, but do they understand me? Do they understand the need I have become who I am meant to be? Do they understand the need to change my name? Do they understand what has been driving me all these years? Or are they just supporting me because we are family? Sometimes I wonder if people that have known me most of my life are just indulging me. I can never know if they truly understand. Maybe that’s why I feel some discomfort.

Or maybe it’s a bit of everything. Part of me does think that I have not become Gia yet. I feel that I have more steps to take, more things to go through before I fully become Gia. I have to figure out exactly who she is. I have always maintained that I am not changing, I am just accepting who I am and fixing the outside, but I have to admit there is a huge growth curve involved too and part of that growth is figuring out who Gia is. There might be some personality differences from Graham and those are things I am learning. And I am sure there is guilt for giving up on my given name, something else I need to learn to live with. And some part of me wondering who understands me, since I am not sure anyone can fully understand unless they are actually Trans.

But such is life. Its full of ups and downs, and new things to learn, new ways to figure out who I am, and who I want to become, but its never dull and there is always something new to discover on my path to becoming Gia.

A Trans Story - Identity

A Trans Story – Identity.

So recently this has been rattling around inside my head. I am wondering what is my identity? I am not sure why I just started thinking about it, but I was also remembering a comment I made on Facebook identifying myself as a Proud Trans Woman. A person asked about that and the answer I gave was that was my way of owning the label that society has given me. I also mentioned that it was for pride and to open up the floor for honest questions. Also said that the fact that I was born in a male body is part of who I am and I accept that and realise that accepting my former self is a defining part of my journey and quite possibly my way of dealing with the fact that I will never be 100% female. All are good and possibly valid reasons, but I am now wondering if that is the whole reason. I have been wondering why I choose to identify that way, and am perhaps thinking there is an element of fear within that reason too.

Recently I have been wondering if I identify as a Trans Woman, just in case I do not blend. I present female every day at work, but I am under no illusions that people are not aware of me being Trans. I automatically think that everyone is aware of it, and so my identifying as Trans is a defense to being found out. It’s possible that it’s not even a necessary defense, but quite often, I don’t think I can completely pass as female and I think people become aware of my identity early on, whether this is true or not, I don’t know, but it’s what I think, and so my defense is to be Proudly Trans right up front.

But then I have also been wondering if I am carrying my Trans label around like a wound for all to see. At times I wonder if I take out my Trans status and wave it around on purpose. Kind of to make people feel awkward, because I have spent my whole life feeling awkward and maybe think others should have a small taste of that.

Perhaps another reason is because I don’t feel completely female myself. At times, well quite often actually, I feel like I am stuck in limbo, or maybe even purgatory. I am caught in between what I was and what I want to be, and despite being happier and more confident than I have ever been, I still don’t feel completely female. Actually there are times when I feel like a fraud, and I can only link those feelings to knowing that I will never be 100% woman, and so I feel like I am working towards being a fake woman. Usually I don’t like to face these thoughts and feelings for fear it will undermine my path, but I have to acknowledge them at some point. I know completely that this is the right path for me, but I did not expect to meet doubts, and such odd feelings as being a fake on this path and I wonder where these emotions come from.

One source for this turmoil could be the fact that I am indeed stuck in limbo. I have started to transition and am moving along the path, albeit slowly, very very slowly. Being in the middle of a journey has never been my favourite place to be, less so now. I know what I want, what I need, but I also know it’s going to take a while to get there, mostly due to health insurance limitations, which is really annoying. To be stuck in this place simply because health insurance will not cover all the surgeries and such is really sucky. It is beyond frustrating to know that one of the few things holding me back is a bloody health insurance company, like they should be able to dictate what is right for me. It is actually almost soul destroying to know that an Insurance company can dictate to me regarding my health and even those few that do cover Trans services only cover the bare minimum of the surgery, which will still leave me with a massive out of pocket. It is that out of pocket that is really holding things up. There is no way right now to afford to cover the surgery and I cannot begin to describe how that makes me feel. Truthfully I don’t know if I will ever be in a place to afford it, and looking at a life struggling to come up with money for a necessary surgery is not one full of happiness. Right at this moment I am looking at going through the rest of my life in the limbo that I currently find myself in, and that is actually rather depressing. I can hope that my health insurance will improve and will then cover Trans services, but who is to say if or when that might happen. Until that even does happen, I am stuck. And being stuck is a terrible feeling. Trust me, I experienced it for 30 odd years. The hormones were the first part of my liberation, but they only get me so far. It’s like you are stuck down a deep hole and you can see the light, but cannot reach it. You start to climb and with assistance you get ¾ of the way up, but then you have no more hand holds above you. You can still see the light at the end of the tunnel, but as you look up you can see no way to reach it. Talk about devastating. Just think about being stuck ¾ of the way out of a deep hole for the rest of your life. So yes that might have an impact in defining my identity.

But I must admit there are a couple of other things too. I am not as far along on my electrolysis as I would like to be. I still have a lot of facial hair and I am now limited to just one per month, due to work commitment and my inability to go out with two days of growth on my face.

Another reason could be lack of acceptance from some family. Most have been wonderful, there are a couple that I have not heard from and so I don’t know how they feel and ofcourse there is one I know will never accept me. I tell myself and the world that her acceptance is immaterial, but I do wonder if I am actually pretending she means nothing to me. I wonder if lack of caring about her acceptance is really the pretense. Maybe, at some level, we all want acceptance from everyone, despite knowing how impossible that really is.

I try not to let lack of acceptance define my life, or who I am, but I am sure that it plays a part. We all want to be accepted, particularly by family. And in these circumstances I really don’t understand the lack of acceptance. For one thing, what I am doing in my life has very little impact on there’s. All they have to do is get used to calling me something different and to be honest about it, what I want to be called is entirely up to me and no other person should interfere or object to that in any way at all, but ofcourse they do. Some people insist on calling you by your given name, like they have some kind of right to do that. They insist on mis-gendering you, without realizing they have no more right to do that, than they do to call you by your given name. It’s not up to them, it has nothing to do with them, if they care about you, then they should bloody well do as you ask, end of story. So yes not being accepted by family can cause issues, and perhaps that also plays a part in my identity. So like I said, I have one family member who I am pretty sure will never accept me, and a few others who have not been in touch with me, and so I am not sure where I really stand with them. Lack of support from family can be one of more upsetting parts of this journey, but I am still lucky in that I have far more support than many other Trans out there.

So I have a few things affecting my identity

1 – I am in limbo due to health insurance and electrolysis

2 – I often don’t feel as feminine as I want to be

3 – I am fearful that I cannot pass on a consistent basis

4 – It is a matter of pride for me to be different

These are a few of the reasons why I claim the label Trans Woman. I know that is how I may always be viewed and I am trying to claim it, make it my own and be as proud of my identity as I can be, but there are other factors involved in it and I need to recognize them. And I don’t feel that I have quite become Gia just yet. I think it may be part of the identity issue, or some other factors. I am not sure what it will take to make me feel completely Gia, since I am not completely sure who she is just yet.

But I also wonder do I want to be claiming the label the rest of my life, or do I just want to be a woman? I guess at the end of the day only I can decide what my identity will be, but then I have to ask the question – Who am I?

A Trans story - Imagination

A Trans Story – Imagination

Well I just had a random thought, but what else is new, I am full of random thoughts. This one is on imagination. Where does it come from? Why is it so much more developed in some? Does anyone else remember getting lost in their imagination? I know it happened to me a lot when I was younger, and actually still does. In fact getting lost in my imagination got me through some hard times when I was younger. It allowed me to live my life vicariously as my feminine self, so I guess it served a purpose back then. But my imagination was so much more than that.

When I read a book I could completely lose myself in it. My favorites were fantasy. I loved reading about Magic, Dragons and battles and I lost myself in the pages. But it was more than that. Quite often I injected myself into the story. I became a character of it and in my mind I interacted with the characters, even coming up with new scenes involving me. It was my way of escaping reality I guess, and also of being the woman I always wanted to be.

My imagination led me to remake so many stories in my mind. I used it to idle away time during the day, either in class, at home, on the bus, or driving to and from college and work. It was also a favourite past time before going to sleep. I would imagine interacting with the characters of the current book I was reading. I always hoped that this would help me dream about it and ofcourse there was always the wish that my dream would become reality in the morning. It helped me escape my circumstances, but waking up to find I was still me was never fun.

Using my imagination I decided that the character I had created – the alternate me, the me I wanted to be deserved to have her own stories and so I began developing her saga. This ultimately led to my book the Chosen One, which got re-written into Deanna – The Chosen One and Deanna the beginning. The story is ever evolving and right now I am in the middle of tweaking both books a little. But essentially they are all about the me I have always longed to be, and my imagination is what helps me develop them.

I have had a couple of reviews over the years, not completely favourable, as there are aspects of my writing that are not brilliant. For one I am not too great at dialogue – it’s a work in progress, lol. But most people, including professional reviewers, do say that my action scenes are really good. I can agree with that, I love writing action. I can visualize it in my mind perfectly and know every single step of what is going to happen, before I write it. And basically all I do is describe what I see in my mind. Plus given that my character is essentially me, I can act out the scenes too, just so I don’t have her do anything too improbable, although for that I can always resort to my character using magic J - a very helpful mechanism.

But what I still don’t understand is where this thing called imagination comes from. Some people think it’s a waste of time. I have had friends past and present that just don’t understand imagination, see no point in it and cannot comprehend where all my ideas come from. That’s a question I have been asked from time to time – where do your ideas come from? Well the only answer I have is they come from my imagination. My imagination created my character, but in a sense it also created who I am today. It created my stories and it gives me my thirst for learning. You see I love abstract knowledge. I love reading about philosophy, religious beliefs, myths, legends and the sciences, particularly physics – although I don’t understand anything but the basics when it comes to things like particle physics, but I find it all fascinating and I have noticed that my imagination integrates all of that into who I am.

Imagination is not all I wonder about. I wonder about creation, where we come from, what, who made us, made the world and all the living things. And I wonder about the point of it all. Why does life exist? What did it form our particular shape, our world, why did it form the laws of nature. What made all the particles form everything around us? What is the point of our existence and does our society actually serve a purpose. I mean when you get right down to it, the human society is really silly and a waste of time. We build cities, destroy the environment, use up natural resources and for what. All to make money and accumulate stuff that is useless to us when we finally move on to whatever is next. So what is the point in this stage of life? And then I wonder about what comes next. I figure something has to, since this stage of life has no real meaning. And since our society and existence are almost meaningless what and why are there Transgender people? What is our purpose in life?

These questions and more plague me all the time, and they stem from my overly active imagination. I wish I could find some kind of answer to some of them. Oh I know I will never know all the why’s, but understanding some would be nice. I wouldn’t want to have the answer to all questions, cause then life would be really boring.

But I know that many people don’t care about these random questions and to be honest I cannot imagine a life where I am like that. I cannot imagine why some people don’t ask questions and wonder about things like this. I cannot imagine why some have closed minds, just like I cannot imagine why some people find one belief and grasp it to their chest, never letting go and closing their eyes and minds to everything else that is out there. Why do some people not want to know anything beyond their few beliefs? Why do they think their beliefs are the only correct ones? Why do they think they are right when it comes to gender? Why do people not wonder and ask questions all the time? And why am I constantly questioning everything?

It is possible that without advanced imaginations we would still be a hunter gatherer species. I believe that it’s the imagination of the human race that forces us forward, to change and grow. But right now it has also caused us to create a pointless existence. I mean, lets look at our daily lives. I go into work 5 days a week, helping to pay invoices for a large corporation – what purpose does that serve? It helps the company stay in business and it helps others stay working too, but to what end. Money is meaningless, beyond pointless, and everything else this society do has no overall impact on the Universe. Surely there must be more to life than our society. I see very little purpose in it at all. Oh don’t misunderstand, I am not in any way depressed or suicidal, I love life too much for either of those, but I am also looking for a purpose and a point to it all.

In some regards I am so very thankful for my imagination and my constant questioning, for it made me who I am. It set me on the path of realizing the true me. It gave me my desire to be a writer and it gave me my character. It gives me a thirst for knowledge, but in some ways my imagination drives me nuts, because I know I will never be satisfied with the answers, because if I find an answer, I know I will question it, lol – its who I am. My imagination helped me get through my teenage years. It still helps me get through things today. It is active all the time, in my dreams, when I am driving, when I am working, making dinner, or doing anything, and it does help me pass the time, particularly when time is moving slowly. But in a way it’s a curse, because I am always wondering what could have been different.

What would my life have been like if I was born a cis gender male? What would my life have been like if I was born a cis gender female? Both of these questions I ask myself all the time and I know I will never understand the answer, or understand why I was born Transgender.

But the other curse of my imagination is the character of my stories. Deanna is my salvation, but she is also the biggest curse I have created. She is the epitome of all that I desire to be (ok maybe not the magic, cause I’m on the fence on the existence of that, lol) but her bravery, her desire to live life to the fullest, to help people, to have a purpose in life, her being a genetic female – basically everything that I am not. She was my escape for so many years, but part of me hates her, because I know that I will always fall short of that dream. And that’s the biggest curse of an over active imagination – I dream HUGE, and I know that I will never ever reach the heights I set for myself.

A Trans Story - We are what we wear

A Trans Story – We are what we wear

 

So recently I have been thinking about clothing, makeup (what else is new, you might ask?) – lol – but this thought is going in a slightly different direction, mainly my love of being able to wear a dress, heels, makeup etc.

This thought was begun when I read the blog of a very good friend, when she was telling the story of her Hijab and how difficult it was for her to be authentic. I consider her to be a remarkably strong, brave and spiritual person and when I read her story, it me thinking about my trials in trying to be myself and wear what I felt I should.

Those trials were mostly in the past, more recently I have been thinking how strange society is and how odd that we tie so much value and identity into a piece of material. I find it confusing why we are defined by what we wear and why certain groups should only wear certain types of clothing.

Now on articles like the Hijab and other articles of faith, I can understand, as there is a great deal of spiritual faith and belief that goes behind the Hijab and recently I have been seeing just how difficult it is to wear on in public, and I have to say I am seriously impressed by the bravery and strength of those I consider true Muslims – i.e. those that follow the teachings of Islam and believe in the peace and love of that spiritual path. Every Muslim is faced with adversity these days, adversity caused by a minority of confused people and by the ignorance of right wing, conservative Christians who criticize what they do not understand.

Well now that I have finished my tangent, I will return to topic. Society and its clothing rules and what that means to some of us.

I am going to try to clarify and make sense of my thoughts, but I am not sure how successful I will be. Firstly let’s talk about society and its rules about Gender roles and what genders should wear. I think they are stupid. I think gender roles are a useless construct of a society that is incapable of understanding true gender. I think they are the result of a bunch of people scared of anything different and only comfortable when everything around them is the same, quantifiable and explainable. Utterly boring and a complete waste of our true potential if you ask me.

And yet I allowed myself to be constrained within those very rules that I think are foolish, and to an extent I still allow it. I grew up allowing society to dictate to me. I let it dictate what I wore, how I presented and even how people addressed me. I grew up being ashamed of wanting to wear a dress, and yes even makeup, since they were defined as feminine in nature, and externally I was defined male, so they just didn’t fit at all.

The true issue I have with that, is that it almost seems we are allowing our clothing to define who we are. I couldn’t wear a dress and so I was defined as male. If I did wear a dress I would have been defined as a transvestite or drag queen, or just a freak, depending upon who was talking at that moment. But its not like the dress makes a woman, or the trousers make a man – they are just bloody pieces of material stitched together and serve no purpose but to cover our modesty. So why does it affect us so much. And why does it affect me so much, given how I think and feel about Gender roles.

I really don’t know the answer to that. I only know that the first time I got to wear a dress outside the house and truly be myself was the most exhilarating experience of my life. And I can also tell you that the reason I wear dresses so often is because I felt I was denied them in the past, and so I take great joy in wearing dresses almost every single day. When I have a dress on, I feel complete. And so once again I am allowing society to define how I feel about myself, or is it because even I associate a dress with femininity. It is odd how our perceptions always color our attitudes and beliefs.

One thing I think is really sad is that we grow up being taught, by society, to be ashamed of somethings. We are shamed out of wearing certain items because they are not seen as decent. No person should be ashamed to present themselves as who they really are. Muslims should face no adversity, or fear in wearing the Hijab, and Trans, or any other person should not be ashamed to wear a dress, a skirt, trousers or anything – it should be a personal choice that is accepted by society as a whole.

But since I cannot magically change society, I must live in it, even if I reject their idea of gender roles and what people should and should not be wearing. So that being said, I still grew up feeling shame at my desire to wear dresses and other trappings that were considered the purview of women.

It’s a sad reflection upon society where we dictate what people can wear. I think we have far more serious problems to deal with than a man wanting to wear a dress. But no, if an obviously masculine man was to step outside in a dress he would draw many stares and ridicule. To wear a dress you have to look feminine, which for me was not a problem, since I knew I had to be a woman anyway. But for others who are fluid in their gender, or who just want to wear a dress, why is it such a big deal?

So I grew up keeping my desire behind closed doors, and even when I was an adult, I would only wear feminine clothing inside the house. When I first started to transition, I still felt that shame about clothing when outside. So you cannot possibly imagine the joy and liberation I felt when I wore my dress outside for the very first time. Finally I felt like I could breathe and I was no longer trapped.

Male clothing felt like a trap to me, it stifled me. Even to this day I detest ties, they are like a noose choking off my air. I hated wearing them when younger too. And we had school uniforms, where boys had to wear dress trousers, a shirt and a tie, it was horrendous. I went through primary school actively not wearing one, but when I got to High School I was forced to. Fortunately the girls had to wear ties too, misery loves company they say. But in most regards a neck tie is attributed to Men, and I hate, hate, hate ties. I see absolutely no purpose in them whatsoever and yet I can see the purpose in a pair of heels, lol.

This idea that we have clothes for males, and other clothes for females is just a silly preoccupation with trying to make everyone fit into a box that can be easily explained and understood. Well sorry to say the human race doesn’t fit too well into a box and its most certainly not easily understood.

But I am forced to wonder if we didn’t have those silly little rules would I have still felt such exhilaration when wearing my dress in public? Who knows? All I can say that for right now wearing a dress, for me, makes me feel vulnerable and empowered at the same time. It’s a wonderful mix of feelings.

People may find it amusing, or not understand my need to wear dresses and makeup before I leave home, no matter where we are going. Particularly given my disregard for Societies rules on gender conformity. But despite my feelings on conformity, I nevertheless grew up being denied what I thought I should be wearing. And despite my hating rules for gender conformity, I still seem to be trapped by them and to a degree have to live by them. For 30 and more years I was denied the right to wear dresses, makeup and other girly trappings. If I have to live by society’s gender rules, then I am going to be the best woman I can be. And being able to dress feminine now is so very liberating. Not only do I have a lot of time to make up for, but to force myself back into male clothing is one of the most difficult things I ever do. That’s one reason I hate electrolysis days, since I need to let facial hair grow, I look more masculine than feminine and I find the sight detestable. And putting on male clothing. That is just like putting a band around my neck, cutting off my oxygen. So yes when I am getting ready I need to go that extra step, to try and look my best, because the alternative, to my mind, is to look manly and that is unacceptable. I take great joy in my femininity, for its something I never truly had before. And that is why I feel so joyful when I step out wearing a dress. It’s me stepping out as ME.

A Trans Story - Hatred and Bigotry

A Trans Story – Hatred and Bigotry

You know I have never really understood hatred and bigotry directed toward people you don’t understand. I just don’t know what makes some people so arrogant that they believe they are better, more perfect, or just in the right. I mean I have been and still am a pretty arrogant person, lol – but I have never thought anyone was less than myself just because I either don’t agree with them, or don’t understand them. And I find it even more mystifying that in the 21^st century we seem to be retreating backward deeper and deeper into that hatred and bigotry.

This chain of thought started because I saw a post where people were complaining about the Students walking out on Pence, saying they were being disrespectful, or childish and stating they had no right to do that. Ofcourse I had to hop on that chain praising the students. For one I thought they showed their opposition in a very mature way. They made a point without resorting to mindless violence. Anyway as usual I was subjected to right wing bigotry about the LGBT community. I tried to tell the person that they would have to adapt as soon a new generation would be making the decisions for this country, namely the generation these people were currently disparaging. This older person declined to believe that, stating we will see, and my response was what is there to see about – it’s a fact of life, new generations arise with new ideas. Anyway he then decided to mention about snowflakes being in control and tossing the LGBT off of roofs. I mean really, are we resorting to that kind of thing now?

Granted there are times when I find it almost amusing that some people have no other recourse but to resort to violent threats when dealing with someone they do not accept, or when facing beliefs they cannot ever understand, because of their closed minds. And I will also admit that my responses are sometimes not tailored towards calming the situation, more like I provide them with a verbal bitch slap for what I see as their stupidity. This might not be the best approach and it usually takes me a few additional comments to reign that behavior in. Despite my initial response I don’t view these people as less than me, I don’t hate them, I don’t try to take away their rights despite their clinging to ideas best left in the past, beliefs from a bygone era they are eager to force on all the rest of us, because they cannot handle the world of change. That they cant handle change is their problem, and their bag to carry. I don’t want to force change upon them. I am happy to let them live in their little bubble of forgotten beliefs, if they would just let me and mine live my life.

And its not just toward the LGBT, but they target anyone not of the same beliefs as themselves. And ofcourse the majority of whom I speak about are right wing, conservative Christians – but they actually don’t even deserve the term Christians. I know that not all Christians are so full of hate, but so many of them are. They detest the LGBT, they detest Muslims, don’t like Jewish, or people with any other religious affiliation. Its completely ridiculous and incomprehensible to me. Why do they want everyone to be the same? Why do they feel this drive to make everyone follow their own narrow beliefs? And why do they resort to bullying tactics to get their way? Well that last one I know the answer to, its because they lack imagination and empathy and so all they know is bullying.

Oh I know that many Christians will claim violence from other parties etc, etc, and yes I do agree every sect of people results in fanatics. Almost every religion has radical extremists, but the problem is The right wing conservative Christians refuse to admit that they are also radical extremists. That is what you call it when you attempt to change peoples beliefs by force, or by denying them the same rights they enjoy. So I have to ask – when will this country, and the human race learn from the mistakes made throughout history. They continually make them over and over and over again.

And another thing, why is it now a problem for people to object to the leaders? This country was born in rebellion, its part of its character to disagree with those in charge. But when a Republican is the President, God Forbid any of us object.

There are many times when I like a good fight. Its inside me to fight back against people trying to force their beliefs upon me, or deny me rights. And its within me to fight back against bigotry and hatred. But there are also times when I am just so tired of it. I am tired of the stupidity. I am tired of right wing conservatives trying to make us all Christian, straight, cis Sheep. There is far more to the world than their narrow beliefs, but they insist upon trying to force that upon the world. And I am getting tired of it. I am tired of waking up every morning and seeing some other stupid bill has been passed by one house or another, another bill that removes rights from the LGBT or removes rights from non Christians. It is beyond foolish for this to be going on, particularly in this century. And I just wonder how much fight I have left in me, but then I see, what I think is, a stupid remark by a conservative and the fight wakes right back up. But a big part of my attitude is just out and out pride. I cannot let someone else win, particularly when I feel they are being bigoted and hateful. I am driven to prevent them from winning.

But still I just don’t understand. I don’t know why these people want us to be like everyone else. It would be such a boring world if we were all the same. Why do they object so much to what is different and unique? Being different and unique is a wonderful thing. The world needs more diversity, but more than that it needs acceptance of diversity. I accept backward beliefs. I completely accept that everyones thoughts and beliefs are equally valid, even if I don’t agree with them. What they believe is right for them and I am just fine with that, but why can’t they feel the same toward me. Why cant they accept that what I believe and what I am doing is right for me. Why do they have to object, make life harder and just be downright hateful? We are no harm to them. Our values and beliefs, our differences, what makes us unique harm them not at all. We take nothing away from them. Marriage equality does them no harm. My transition affects them not at all. People following true Islam cause them no harm, so why do they feel the need to bully us and try to force us to be just like them.

Radicals on every side would be so much better off if they would just take a moment, stop and realise that it is our differences that make us all wonderful.

A Trans story - Attractiveness

A Trans Story – Attractiveness.

 

Ok this may seem like I am going a wee bit off topic, but since its my topic I guess its allowed, lol. But I was wondering – what makes someone attractive? I mean physically attractive. Oh I know that its all about each to their own, but lets look at it from a point of view of self.

Growing up I never considered myself to be all that attractive, average at best, perhaps even homely. I wasn’t big, or skinny, mostly average build and size. I wasn’t brilliant at any kind of sporting event, or much of anything else for that matter. In no way did I stand out at all. And it seemed that they girls opinions of me bore out my own opinion – that there was nothing much physically attractive to myself. It took a number of years for me to have what I considered a real girlfriend and to be honest I still don’t know if she found me attractive.

I am not sure how much of my own self-worth and opinion were connected to my gender dysphoria, but whenever I looked in the mirror I was not impressed with what I saw, in fact I didn’t like it and I’m not just talking about the male aspects, but the overall package, physically did not appear good looking to my eyes at all.

The other issue was all the girls seemed to like the bad boys, that’s not changed too much I guess, but when I was young, they were absolutely into bad boys. I was always amazed at how girls were attracted to boys that would not treat them right. Oh I tried that approach, the whole treat them mean, keep them keen idea, and I was just terrible at it, lol. I could never bring myself to treat them mean, and that made me think of myself as a complete softy.

Despite my sunny disposition I did spend some time feeling sorry for myself in my youth, but I guess who doesn’t.

Anyway I did have a girlfriend when I was around 12 or so, it was definitely a childish thing, but that’s ok, cause I was very much a child, lol. The following year though, was when I actually asked someone to date me, well it was done through a friend, but nevertheless I was successful. But still I had no real idea how she felt about me.

I know that I was head over heels for her. I thought she was absolutely gorgeous – hell even my Dad was impressed when he saw her. But in what was to become a bit of a trend she did cheat on me and broke my heart several times. There then followed another couple of girlfriends who did the same thing and I just could not tell if they found me attractive at all, or if it was more like pity dating.

It was not for a couple of years before I met someone that I was actually sure about. What made me sure you might ask. Well we sort of fell in together. It was not planned, I didn’t ask, she didn’t ask, it was just one of those things. To be completely honest I cannot remember how it happened. But I was visiting another town maybe about a half hour away, or more by bus. I had a couple of friends over there and she happened to be one of their friends, and somehow we just ended up dating. Once again I fell head over heels, but atleast this time I felt sure she found me attractive. The only thing I couldn’t understand was why. I still couldn’t see any physically attractive qualities in myself.

Over the years there were a couple of others that I felt sure about. One at College and I was the one that screwed that up, but I was good at messing up by then, lol. The other two were ones I met at the Pub and to my shame I was the one that never treated them very good, but I knew they were attracted to me. Problem was, and something I am not proud of, is that I was not particularly attracted to them, but I continued to have one night stands with them, mostly because I felt they were a kind of safe bet. I was not very proud of many of my actions when I was 18. I spent too many weekends getting drunk and not treating those girls nicely. I do hope they have found happiness now. I do wish I knew for sure though, but I probably wont ever find out. But still I had no idea what drew them to me.

I could understand what drew other girls, atleast the ones I was friends with, because I did and still do make a pretty good friend. I am always there for friends, supporting them in whatever way I can and always willing to listen and talk. So I knew that I made a good friend and growing up I had many female friends, most of my friends were girls. But the few who became more than friends, I just could not understand what drew them to me. I often felt out of their league, not good enough and that I could not keep up with them.

Those feelings never really went away, until recently. Even when I turned 26, met my future wife and all I still have very low self-worth and still thought of myself as quite unattractive. Once again I could not quite fathom what was drawing this woman to me. What did she find attractive about me? It was really quite incomprehensible to me. Oh to be sure I could play it off like ofcourse she was into me, who wouldn’t be, I was awesome – but that was all an act. All my brashness over the years has always been an act, cause I have never ever figured out what makes attractive. And I still mean physically, cause once you get to know me and see that I am a pretty decent person, or that I have become one through all my mistakes, well to some that decency is attractive. But physically, what makes someone good looking? And why could I never see any of that in myself.

Like I said it wasn’t until recently that I got rid of those feelings, and that’s when I started to wonder if my lack of self-worth, my thought that I was unattractive was tied to my dysphoria.

It actually wasn’t until the hormones started to make some changes that I actually started to like what I was seeing in the mirror. Once I had more definition to my shape and had some fat redistribution I could find some appealing aspects to my physical appearance.

It came as some surprise to be honest. I was getting ready one morning. The usual, picking out a pair of skinny jeans, cut top and doing my make up. When I was done, I looked in the mirror to make sure I hadn’t messed up and low and behold I was almost stunned by the reflection that looked back. I took another look and for the very first time I actually liked what I was seeing. I was like dang, I didn’t know you were under there.

Anyway this was just a bit of a random thought that I was having and I was interested in taking it further. I found it interesting that my perception of my own attractiveness was tied so tightly with my self-worth, which was also tied directly to my gender dysphoria. That morning in the mirror it was almost like I was seeing myself for the first time in my life. And to an extent I was. I was seeing the real me. The one who had been buried all those years, hidden away from the world and ashamed to come out.

 And I guess one thing I have discovered. You can only be pleased with your own appearance, when you are finally comfortable with who you are as a person. When you try to hide who you are, you might not ever like what you see, perhaps all you see is the deception.

A Trans Story - Part 6

A Trans Story – Part 6

 

So where are we now. I have covered most of my back story, atleast what I remember of it anyways, plus my marriage. So where to go next. I think it will be with me accepting myself.

Accepting myself as Trans was particularly difficult for me. No one really knew and I figured it would be a huge surprise to everyone, and it was to quite a few, but to some not at all.

Every time I thought about it, wished for it and dreamed of it, I also saw the difficulty it would create. No one at work knew my secret and after 12 years in the one place I was fairly well known there. There would be difficulty with my family and my friends. There was only really one person who knew and that was my wife, although she was maybe not even aware how strong my dysphoria really was. I had only spoken about it a couple of times over the years.

I pretty much covered the time I accepted myself, so I wont bore you with going over that again. As you know, I finally accepted myself around August of 2015, atleast enough to go and see a therapist, but my true acceptance was October when I started on Hormones.

I cannot adequately describe how I felt when I first started Hormones. It was an illuminating moment for me. Finally I was at the beginning of a path that could lead me to what I had always desired and longed for. I was scared and excited. My fear came from thinking of the changes that would happen to my body and how long I would be able to disguise them. And my excitement came from those changes too. It was really interesting to feel so much excitement, fear, wonder and happiness all at once.

After deciding that Hormones were right for me it took me a week or so to schedule an appointment. I took a long lunch from work and went to see the Doctor and got the prescription quite easily. I really wanted to pick them up immediately, but I had to go back to work, and my local pharmacy was a good half hour away. So I had to wait until after work to pick up my Meds.

That afternoon at work was one of the longest of my life. No one knew and I could hardly concentrate on my job. All I could think about was that my journey was about to begin. I was going to discover who I truly was. I do remember I was almost giddy with excitement that afternoon and it was so difficult to keep my mouth shut. I so longed to tell my friends, but I still wanted to keep it quiet for just a bit longer.

Needless to say I picked up my meds as soon as I got off work. The drive home was torturous and so many idiots were between me and my medications. Seemingly more idiots than normal. But I got there. Picking them up was an experience to be sure. When you are Male and pick up Spironolactone, progesterone and Estradiol its fairly safe to assume that the person filling the prescription will know what they are for. And I did get the usual questions, like do you want to speak to a pharmacist, but it was asked awkwardly this time. As always I said no. There was no reason to, I knew what I wanted.

So I get home, and my excitement is bubbling over. My prescription was to take one of each pill, twice a day, morning and night. I suppose I could have waited to start in the morning, but no that was impossible. There was no way at all that those pills were going to sit there all night, without me taking my first dose.

My heart raced, I was short of breath as I looked at the tiny pill that was going to change my life. I was surprised by how small the Estradiol was, and the low dose that I was getting. I had such high hopes for it, and it was so small, surely this amount would do nothing for me, but I had to trust that my Doctor knew what he was doing and the dose would be right. I took the pills and it was like my life changed in that one instant. I swear I could almost feel them starting to work. Oh I know it was my imagination, but it felt good. I was so beyond excited to finally have feminine hormones within me, but still I was worried. I was concerned the dose was not right. I was worried about the adverse effects that could happen, and I was worried about the results. Like I said, I had high hopes. I knew what I wanted, but feared the results would be so much less than what I really longed for. How little I knew back then.

My first week flew by with me constantly hoping for results. By now you will be aware that I am rather impatient, lol, and this was no different. I really longed for instant results. That’s not ever going to happen ofcourse, but inside I can still hope. My impatience made it really tempting to take more than the recommended doses. But I had read up enough, and had enough common sense to know that was a bad idea and that these changes need to occur slowly – a very difficult situation for me.

And the allergic reaction which slowed things down made that first few weeks so much worse. Luckily we found out quickly enough that it was the progesterone, but it slowed things down more than I wanted, particularly since I didn’t want anything slowed down at all, lol. Recently some have suggested that it wasn’t the progesterone itself, but actually some other ingredient in the medication that I was allergic to. While that is possible, I tend to discount it, as I have never had an allergic reaction to any medication in my entire life, nor have I ever suffered from any side effects. So I personally don’t think it was another ingredient and perhaps think it was my body telling me I didn’t need it. Some would disagree I am sure, as there are proponents to Progesterone out there. I have spoken to a few that are in favour of it. But my own research indicated that they jury was still undecided on the benefits of it, with some saying it enhanced breast growth and others saying it made no difference at all. And since I am already taking more medication than I ever have, I see no reason to add another pill into the mix without there being a verified benefit.

Once I got back on track with my Meds I was beyond eager to take more, but once again I had enough common sense not to do that. One thing you really want to do in this situation is be very careful with your medications. I cannot stress this enough. You cannot take more than prescribed and you Must continue your check ups with your doctor. It is essential to spot any possible problem that might occur. But I continued to take one of each pill morning and night, waiting and waiting for some changes to happen.

It seemed, then, to take forever. But a couple of months after starting full time hormones I felt my first change. It was tenderness in my chest. The first time I noticed it was when I rolled over in the early hours of the morning, to lay on my front and I felt a dull ache in my chest and I knew that growth was beginning. I cannot tell you how my heart soared to feel that discomfort. Some might find it odd, that discomfort can bring me happiness, but for me it was a physical sign that something was finally happening. And I can say, more than a year later, my outlook has not changed at all. I still love the tenderness I sometimes feel in my breasts, cause it means more changes. And there are other discomforts that I have cherished. I loved my increased emotion, even though it took me time to learn to control it, I still loved it. I loved the occasional hot flash that I have gotten and anything else that it means to be a woman is cherished by me. Some cis gender women think I am not in my right mind, particularly when I mention that I am sad I will never experience a period. They look at me as if I am nuts and then tell me I am lucky. Actually no I am not. That missing experience is something else that sets me apart. Its something I will never feel and that lack will always make me feel like an “Other” It is just another sign that I was born weird, broken, or just messed up. Another sign that, in my mind, I will never be a full and complete woman. Despite my happiness and joy on this new path, I still carry that sadness with me. And all the aspects of womanhood that I missed out on, and will never get to experience add to that feeling and reinforce that I am something different. Oh how I would love to experience a period, and other aspects of womanhood that are denied me.

Still I am learning to deal with what is missing. I am learning to get by and accept that I am different for a reason. What that reason might be is beyond me, but I know that my journey is far from over and who knows what experiences await me. I look forward to all the changes with expectation and excitement. I am eager for whatever else might come my way.