hrt, transgender

3.5 months of the same life but with HRT update

Over 3 months on hormones.  The promised land.

What now?

Dysphoria is no longer a constant edginess, instead it is a process of random stabs by strangers and mirrors.  Strangers and mirrors are what remind me I am trans, otherwise it wouldn’t be a common topic.

On the cusp of nearly passing some of the time.  Not enough to convince an employer or a partner, not enough to convince myself.  However, plenty of opportunities to express with a lot less fear.

The last few months have been a series of downs and downs, I have literally lost myself, and it’s ok.  All the new connections in my brain will take time, like it or not, who I am as a person is changing.  This is a reactive change to the new internal information coming to me rather than a change in the self, more of an adaptation than a transformation.  Embrace this time of teenage chaos.

Face changes, breasts grow, hips grow, skin softens, some hair grows slower and more sparsely.  All a little bit.  Remembering the limitations, merely these few physical factors continuing for a little while longer before they settle.

Laser appointments, voice appointments, therapy appointments, counselling appointments, nurses appointments.  Other appointments.  All of which are painful either physically or mentally and cannot be missed once.  Each one bringing me closer to ever more invasive and dangerous procedures.

Then some operations.  Then what?

Transitioning and being transgender only topped my list of concerns from the brief period last year when I had my realisation until recently when HRT started taking effect.  There are other problems, just as big; life goals, relationship goals, career goals.  The transition process ends, more rapidly and more silently than the excitement of initial anticipation quixotically dreams, after that, you are left with whatever your transition didn’t distract or frustrate you from.

Dysphoria doesn’t put food on the table, neither does changing gender, but transition in a way that is right for an individual can provide an almost means to an almost end to allow a life as far away from gender as one wants to be.  It will always be there though; if trans, always trans.

It is a strange double world when some people treat you as male and others as female, the dynamic has changed more for others than it has for me.  Many people see transfolk as weirdoes, but when you see the world from this multi-faceted view you can learn a lot about how individuals and groups work, how they perceive.  Think of it as an added bonus filter that could get you killed.

Leaving the house can be difficult when hair starts to resprout from the face, when the drugged listlessness strikes, when I look so stupid or unpassable that it’s not worth it.  Yet still, those times when I can go out are liberating – cafes, bars, clubs, gigs, restaurants, etc etc, just even walking down the street provides comfort, awareness, glee, fear and so many complex emotions.  Always looking around, gauging presentation based on stares or lack thereof, constantly aware.  And then at times, letting go, smiling gently, dancing, conversing, feeling as close to the earth as anyone else, yet rising closer to the sky.

Personally, I still feel at ground zero, not as trans as the other trans transing at the same time as me.  My voice is ghastly, and my spirit is low for other reasons.  This transition in terms of truly embracing it has not even begun; the affects as well as the effects progress and accelerate at a rate faster than my understanding but slower than my comprehension.

This will all start working out once I build a life to have a place in, a purpose, a reason, someone to share it with.  My body screams for affection not received which I feel I need, wasted opportunities to share and understand my changing body. I am advised by my gender therapist to give that love to myself, to feel the changes on my body. For instance, in the shower, I would tend to wash myself as quickly as possible and get out, but to spend an extra couple of minutes just considering my body for what it is now can bring me much closer to myself.

I still try to label my gender at times, but thinking about it just causes confusion.  My sexuality is coming back slowly but it is very different in terms of expression; orientation, still no idea, and I’m not particularly interested.

My sexuality is no longer located in my groin. The energy that was located in that one place has now spread through the entirety of my skin, it is lustless electricity that cannot be immediately joined with yet must be given attention. It is new and confusing, but it takes time to get to grips with, there’s no rush. Learning to let go of old habits and procedures is nothing to be afraid of, becoming vulnerable is not a weakness, it is an expression of truth.

Regardless, all that matters is how you feel.  I feel like I’m evening out a little recently, although friends say it takes usually around 6 months before things settle in a way.  Take advantage of every opportunity.  I’m back in therapy again and I will keep going back until I deal with issues that have plagued me since before I knew I was trans.  This is no time to be ashamed, but to relinquish control and find new ways of dealing with this most unique morphing of sensory inputs.

My past is almost gone, aside from dealing with these two problems, my old life has unexpectedly almost shed its’ skin entirely.  I don’t remember whether I can recall what it was like before, but it doesn’t make sense who I was, a phantom, simply my same self under a different set of hormonal attributes, pushing against the new boundaries attempted to be set upon me because of my identified gender.


Onto Amy’s lovely journal of changes, which are mostly boob centric:

Day 64 – Waist certainly seems slimmer, apparently lost an inch in two months and added over an inch to my hips, amplifying the effect.

Day 65 – Lumps in left nipple formed a hard, circular but unnoticeable mound.

Day 66 – Have my breasts grown more than I was aware?  The flesh around there seems fattier, though imperceptibly so to anyone else.

Day 67 – Did some star jumps with my top off.  I saw in the mirror that my nipples are no longer firmly attached to my chest.  They bounced, moved and jiggled.  It didn’t look good, but it was funny.

Day 74 – Feeling ‘breast’ more often now, most noticeably when lying on my side or bending over.  They aren’t man boobs, but they aren’t female either.  They point out, are very painful to touch and are shaped around my male pectoral muscle.

Day 77 – My nipples popped back out to normal, the whole area is now undeniably protruding from my chest.

Day 81 – My breasts have already grown more than I ever expected they could.  As the most observably changing part of me right now I find myself growing somewhat obsessed.

Day 82 – I was told I ‘definitely’ have a woman’s bottom.

Day 85

– I feel as though my eye colour has changed, from an almost black brown to a lighter brown.  My eyelash hair is also darker and thicker.  Objectively I think they look softer, more naturally beautiful.

– My body shape is no longer a complete rectangle; I nip in just a little at the waist and out a little more at the hips.  Did I mention back fat?  My bum has grown and changed pretty quickly, I just haven’t noticed it happening.  The fat displacement certainly is more ‘feminine.’

Day 92

– I look reasonably feminine in the face even with my hair up.  Somehow spending even more time looking in the mirror but now I look with awe sometimes, and I can say to myself, ‘I’m a woman, I’m actually a woman.’ Silly, but hopeful.

– The buds are becoming closer to a female type breast shape.

Day 94 – Been having sex dreams, slowly my sexuality is beginning to awaken again but in an entirely new way.  My sexual energy is located all over my body than just in my groin, and my desires are no longer lustfully hungry.  However, the desire for physical affection is very strong.  I had my first ‘female’ orgasm, which is detailed in a video below.

Day 100 – Here is what 100 days of 2mg estrogen has done to my face (be aware of the face shaping effects of laser and better kept eyebrows):

100daysHRT

Day 104 – Some friends noticed they can see the outline of my breasts through my clothes, and that my bum is very womanly bending over, hahaha.

I have also recorded a very badly put together video of my general experiences over the last month and a half:

I am honestly still in a bit of a daze, like my head is in the clouds and I cannot explain what is happening as well as I would like to, although it is so difficult to attach qualifiable data in any state.  There are still many seeming contradictions.  Also, I’m trying to keep being trans in the background as much as possible as I sort out other areas of my life.

Still, it is important to remember that even in the background, being trans and transitioning is centre stage in my life right now.  That means acknowledging my body, indulging in little treats to boost my morale like cheap accessories, baths, coffee dates.  I try to take the opportunity of as many experiences as possible, to keep learning about who I am in differing situations.

Gender isn’t all that is changing, my flower grows, ever sturdier, ever more colourful, ever more reaching for the sun.

I realise as often as I can how lucky I am, some doors have closed in my life, but many more are opening.  I have the pleasure and honour of having met some amazing and beautiful transfolks on my journey, as well as revelling in the momentous support that is freely offered from family and friends.

We will find our place wherever we go, if not, we will make one.

Thanks for reading, and thank you all so much for the continued support that keeps me going.  I’m sending out big waves of love to you all!

Amy Xx


Here is a fun video about some interesting orgasms I’ve been having.  Don’t worry, it’s not dirty, although I have to apologise for the quality.

 

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gender, identity, transgender

My Prejudice

I’m only consciously realising that I’m writing this to the world.  I don’t like talking solely about myself, but at the minute I have to focus or I will lose myself.  I’m rolling the die, every side is painted one.  When a force arises, an opposition comes to meet it.  One day when the global corporate mega-tyranny strikes the Endgame, we can’t have neglected our preparation, or we will become slaves.  If we wait, it’s too late.  On my personal level, a rise is building to either a meltdown or a revelation.  I must win.

I’ve had two counselling sessions in as many days.  One pointed out feminine mannerisms at particular times, we discussed identity, and tried to look at my denial and my egregious need to eat and take stock.  The guy today I had been seeing for general maintenance, so I threw him the curveball.  Not a flinch.  The understanding of decent people has never been short of legendary to me.  What he got me with was that it seemed from all the people I have told so far, the only person not to accept it is myself.

I’ve been struggling to come up with a term to describe it.  I’ve said condition, but it is rejected because it’s wrong, so what is it?  It it just…a thing?  Is it neurological, biological?  I can read about it all day but I still have to draw my own conclusions, I feel like my philosophical conviction is leaving me.  There is a reason:

I am prejudiced.

I doubt I’m the first to do it, but in building a repressed personality within a male ego, I made myself dislike the idea of transgenderism.  Not because of intolerance, but because it contradicts the idea of having to change anything about yourself…but then I’ve changed myself for the benefit of ‘fitting in’ this whole time.  Layers dude!  Life peels away like giant onions.

At work, the amount of grief I get for having a bobble with a flower is unreal.  My mother at a restaurant this evening commented on how a man was carrying his bag. “Queer”, she tittered.  Even as an out and out guy, what is the problem?  It’s cool, it’s fun, it’s not BLAND.  I guess other people get caught up in the wave of saying intolerant things without actually meaning them.  I have been one of those people at times, loving of all, but happy to poke fun for the sake of irony.  Many of these horrible faults are graciously falling away in a wave of shame.

Thankfully the nasty people of the world are brutish regardless, so it makes no difference.  However, does this now mean that I can’t speak for being and ‘out and out guy’, because I have never been one, merely an emotional actor?

I told another friend, and I’ve decided on the small circle of trust I’m going to build to help each other through until I time where this is either resolved (repression!), or things start to change.  He had to be told, and to be honest the feeling of him not knowing was unbearable.  He didn’t freak out either, why am I the only one freaking out!  Well, not freaking out, my mindset has plenty of automatic defence systems, and I know how incredibly lucky I am to have such awesome friends.  A few other guys came over then and I couldn’t deal with it.  So I had to go.

I’m going to tell two more male friends and my mum.  Maybe.  It’s a closely regular social circle and I need to be sure because it could spill.  I’d probably admit it freely if challenged, but then, I haven’t changed enough about my presentation yet to have it matter, so it is dangerous.  A risk.

They hug me now.  They hug me because they can see that I want a hug, if they don’t, I ask for it. Hugging for all from me, ok?  Eugh.

It’s all leading up to a monumental cry.  This intolerance I have created, the last vestiges of maleness that wants to hang on is doing all it can so stop me from crying, because it knows it is the end.  It also protects me in a way, because I need to be ready first.  I’ve admitted it vocally to people at the speed of emotion, before thoughts can niggle their way in, that the ‘Clif’ part of me is pretty much gone already, and I didn’t get to say goodbye.  Same person, but that awesome male now is mostly…I can’t describe it without sounding like I’m disassociating.

I really have to thank everyone who has talked to me thus far, it is so very nice.  I’ve always thought it one of the greatest gifts, to be able to make someone feel good about themselves even just a little.  Being a rockstar is cool and brings wonderful art, but when someone just makes you feel good for being you?  There is little better.  And I share this unto the world.

Ah….a beaming smile.  When I beat depression this happened, get all the negative out, make room for that good stuff, make it automatic, know through all the horrible crap you may think about yourself that you are just as good and deserving of love as anyone else.  Love for yourself!  You are allowed to love yourself!!!  Even if there is all that stuff going on, it’s ok!  Just allow yourself to go “You know what?  I’m actually pretty damn cool in a way!”

Mwahahahaha, goodbye dysphoria, hello denial!  Ohhhhh, but I will get there.  It is supremely important to realise that with the whole transgender thing, is that no matter if you do change, all the other problems in life will still be there.  In fact, I imagine there is a whole lot more.  Maybe that’s where the gravity of the situation exists, for me right now, this is only one issue in life, but what I really have to realise and accept is the weight of this issue against being able to live the rest of my life trying to repress it.  The strength of my own mentality has become almost an enemy, when it could be converted to a great ally.

I’ll figure it out soon enough!  I hope!  Too busy with everyday life stuff to process it really.

Message to the future – Do you get it yet?  Do you know what you are?  Or have you stayed still?  Are you comfortable in your skin?

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gender, transgender

My First Video….going badly!


Like I said, I watch video’s of folks starting transition and I get a cold dread, cold sweats, knowing what I want, and seeing how much work goes in, and how many messed up aspects of it that go against all the testosterone stands for.  As such I has decided to document my own journey.

My accent is awful I know (it’s been inconsistent lately), and my video skills, well they are just sublime.  Not.  Last video I was in was a VHS recoding of a metal gig i did in 2004!

Apologies for all the posts today.  I’m starting a new notebook journal, so I won’t be flooding anymore, apparently that’s annoying, so, sorry!

Cliiiifffyyyyy.  Aaammmmmyyyyyy.  Jaaammmiiiieeee

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gender, identity, transgender

Be Honest, seek advice.

[EDIT – For obvious reasons, I’ve decided stop smoking cigarettes, so please excuse the irrational outbursts.  I’ll probably learn a lot about which is harder, changing gender, or quitting smoking, haha!]

You know what, if I’m going to be honest, I have to go the whole way.

I spoke with a private gender support counsellor last week, and the appointment is a painful 4 weeks away, for one appointment then she is on holiday for three weeks.  She said if I go to my GP and get referred to the gender identity clinic that I wouldn’t be able to work with her.  Like I said before, it’s the nuclear option….it’s the eventual option, my question is with timing.

But damn, I can’t handle it?  Surely I need to go to my doctor?  What in blue heck is Real Life Experience?!  I have to act in a gender specific way before I can be more gender specific?!  Do I have to be a crazy dude in stubble and a dress and a false squeaky voice before they’ll believe me?  If I decided I was the kind of girl who wore the exact same clothes…..and had a beard and a penis and a deep voice then who can tell me what I am?

I have to think about things like freezing my sperm.  I’m literally the last in my family line and I’m essentially consigning it to the dustbin, where the fudge do I get the money to pay an annual rate for a technology not guaranteed to work!  I guess it calls for a fertility test to begin with.

I really don’t know what is the best choice to make, I’ll have to wait either way, but I don’t want to have to wait six months to even get started on something I’m trying to do now.

Please advise lovely humans 😦

Where do you start with all this?!  What am I doing?!?!?! Why!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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coming out, gender, transgender

Gender Fluidity and Androgeny

It’s one of those days where you wake up and you just want the problem to go away. And another day of watching Friends, even though I have to admit I’ve seen them all before >_<

So I look at this word, genderfluid, if I don’t perceive myself as my body sex, then does it have to be one or the other? Well no, but it’s a confusing spectrum, and I have to understand my place on it, without jumping to the conclusions I impulsively think and then repress.

Perhaps I do need medication (not really), definitely some serious counselling. I don’t know if it’s an enforced male ego, or the truth of who I am, but I’m just not that much into girly things…I think. It’s a serious paradox, to think strange thoughts like I’d be a female crossdresser or something equally messed up. Yet when Rachel gets pregnant I’m close to tears, when Pheobe puts on a wedding veil I feel uncomfortable.

I just went to the shop with my hair in a ‘feminine’ part, and a flower on the bobble. When I open my mouth to speak, I hear horror. A young scallybag gives me a laugh, so what?  People have laughed at my long hair for years, jealous of my ultimate heavy metal awesome. Men have had long hair as standard for a lot more of human history than they’ve had it short. Forgive the generalisations.

So, I guess today is a repression day. When I dress up as supposedly female, it’s not the way I would want to dress, it seems like it’s simply for the reassurance that this is me that I have to go that far. I don’t know what I want.. I’m aware, rational, just thoroughly confused, and I should be, you can’t face over twenty years of repression in two weeks, it’s a process.

Now I just have to prevent myself going out looking overly androgynous…but…..why? What does it have anything to do with?! Does it have to do with the way I look like a guy or dress like a guy that I must be a guy?!?! Aaarrgghh!

I have so much better to do with my time, money and body. Life, career, adventures, all the good stuff, and yet stuck on such old stupid crap! No offence to anyone, I’m still not getting why I would have to be something I’m……ah dammit. Says the person whom with baited breath watches the experiences of transgender women, and feels that cold, cold, dread of repression and fear.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

I want my life back!

I’m off to a small gathering at a friends in a few minutes, the parting in my hair is the same, I have this lovely girls coat, my flower bobble, a layer of foundation and some concealer.  Funny how I’m more worried about wearing glasses with no lenses, gee, think I could maybe look silly?

manlyhaha

Androgenesis

Oh, no, I am totally masculine, really.

Oh, no, I am totally masculine, really.

Off I go, to throw sand into the eyes of my own life. No regrets! (Until the regret sinks in).  Arrrggghhhh!!

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Hallowe’en comes early

Again, disclaimer – I’m not pulling any punches here, this whole I’m a transgendered person thing is frankly as hilarious as it is terrifying.  So if you don’t like hearing about blunt experiences and talk of sex, or are easily triggered, then read on anyway, because….absolutely no reason.

This train just keeps moving.  Woke up to erotic thoughts for the first time in a while, but going anywhere near the dead zone was a struggle.  I have to admit to myself that in sexual fantasies, I haven’t been the guy for yeaaaaarrrsss (if ever?), there is no other way.  And I had a girlfriend, so I suppose I misled her in ways as I couldn’t have the image of reality and sex in my head, so I became ‘her’.

So, maybe actually I am gay?  I like girls?  But then what am I?  Well, from maybe twenty feet away right now I could fool you that I am a girl, any closer and you would see that stubble that won’t go away or be concealed.  And if you are that close, you’ll see I don’t have a flipping clue about make up.  Oh yes, it’s hallowe’en all round.  I look at myself dressed up and think, yeah…I could go to Hallowe’en as a cross-dresser, with disturbing commitment.

Right now, I would say there are plenty of girls with more body hair than me, because I shaved my arms too.  Don’t know why but I did, someone is going to notice, soon.  It’s difficult not to be more obvious… Ok, I shaved it because I hate the hair!  Happy?!  I’m not erratic, this is an infowar of the mind, disparity abounds.

Two things I feel separate me from going out and either pretending or being.  Make-up [longevity], and voice.  I don’t like how I sound at all, all horrible and gravel, any pitch I raise is too high and whiny, so now it is time to learn about that as well.  And obviously the horrible man body that will always be.

Maybe I’m just a crossdresser having a breakdown? Again, no. This stuff has existed for way too long, and only been about the clothes etc in an aesthetic sense.  Maybe the counsellors will tell me different, maybe they’ll listen and accept whatever I say.  I just don’t know.

I’m tempted to go out late dressed up, they only come out at night, right?  Haha, I’ve told people, but I just want to be caught by the world, bring the stigma, I’ll drive spikes and heels into undefended knees.

Defender heels.

Defender heels.

Bah, a hundred photo’s and barely a passable one.

If I’m going to do Hallowe’en, I have to start getting ready now, for what I dunno, but I guess it’s just an experiment to see how much trauma I may be in for.

Low res is good res.

Low res is good res.

I’ll show my face in a day or two, to keep pushing, because I want to be found out.  If I get found out I can drop the charade and just be who I feel I…..something…..to be.  It would be even better if I ‘passed’ and people didn’t know, but let’s be realistic here.

Counselling is too far away!  So stay tuned for more breakdown meltdown gender bending drama!

In the meantime, go read ‘Boku Girl’, a new manga about a feminine boy who gets turned into a girl by Loki and all the cute, confusing fun that can come of it ^.^

Boku girl.  Yikes.

Boku girl. Yikes.

Any kind words or experiences are kindly appreciated, thanks for taking an interest in my journey 😀  I’m trying to be more sociable online at the moment, so hope to exchange conversations soon!

Much love in a paradoxical spiral,

Cl…Amyyy.y…iii.ii….Jamie.  That will do. For now.

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gender, transgender

The first repressive ramblings of a human in disguise

Disclaimer – Please understand my topic covers a blunt and ignorant perspective on my own experiences with blurred gender lines.  It is not meant to offend or provoke in any way, it is simply my own exploration, an attempt to seek and receive empathy and understanding.

It has been many days of impulse, fighting against the repression and denial of over 20 years, that I have a gender identity problem.  The pain of the repression has gotten to the point that it has become more dangerous to hold it in than let it out.  I look in the mirror and say to myself ‘I’m transgender.  I’m transgender.’, whilst I smile a mans’ smile, nodding and agreeing.  Sure you are.

And how would I know?  I don’t know any transgender people, I don’t even know any gay guys.  Oh, so maybe I’m gay right?  Nope, never had to repress that, so why the hell have I had to repress for so long that I might be a…….something else other than a male.

It’s great, I’m 28, but for those kinds of feelings coupled with gender atypical Western society, many others have undoubtedly had to go through the same thing, whether they wanted it or needed it or not.  However, I can sparsely begin to imagine the courage of those who do, through the stigma and the turmoil.  I don’t know enough about it, so I’m just trying to understand with words, maybe it can help someone empathize and feel better.

Background?  Short term, a recent break up with my first love, a two and a half year relationship with it’s own separate reasons for ending.  So maybe life situations have made me insane?  No, I felt it coming close before the relationship, and long before that.  If I thought I was insane, I would have had to check into the local mental health unit.

Still waaaaaaaaayyyy too seemingly rational, and it fuels the denial, because what is rational about thinking you are transgendered? The scary answer in realisation is that it doesn’t matter.

Being overly concerned with the concept of gender for a long time, I came to a conclusion that in a fair and just world, people could express themselves in whatever way they wanted without shame, without needing to resort to measures to screw around with an otherwise hopefully healthy body.  I was wrong, it still matters.  But why?!  My philosophical and political convictions are falling apart, so what are they and who am I?

The result over the last week has been to allow myself to really explore this whole deal so much as I can in private.  I haven’t been integrated with what it is to be female (to whatever extent), and again I still question that gender can be defined, so I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.  I have to admit, my first attempt at body hair removal was exhilarating, nice smooth legs 😀 [How my mind tries to reject it…] As is the subsequent razor burn, exfoliation and moisturising routine, ahem.

This reinforces what I think I am rather than diminishing it.  I don’t know about clothes and make up, I don’t know about cars or football either.  None of that stuff matters, so long as I can express myself for who I am, whatever I may be?  Nope, still it’s not enough!  Aaarrgghhh!

I’m sure it’s a real picnic, opening yourself to so much prejudice.  I mean, what a load of fun, I’m sure trans-whatever people all over the world just love having to go through what I imagine is a lot of crap when it would seem much simpler to not have had the condition at all.  Regardless it is there, you wanna know what the other option is…if you are really there and going through the same thing?  In my mind, it’s another twenty years of repression, and then what?  If it’s not going to go away then…we must make our choices.

I guess for me the time was late, having other issues in life to work through and not seeing this as a priority (Honestly, I have thought of it as some sort of compulsive perversion, but I’ve been this way since a young boy, and it doesn’t feel like a perversion), trying to push it away to just get on with life, but I can’t.

The pressure built so much over the past week that I had to let it out, I had to tell someone.  Dun dun dunnnn!

Ohhhh the terrors, a five day panic attack and basically no food, trying not to go nuclear and just walk out of the house like a dude in a dress.  I never thought I would tell anyone, but then before I never thought I’d have to.  I saw my best friend, anxiously tried to avoid it, and be who I was seemingly to be, until it became too obvious to ignore.  I went as conservative as possible, I told him that I have been having strong gender identity issues, and that I have done most of my life, and that’s what it is.

Of course he was shocked, not in a bad way though, it’s just unbelievable, staring now at my veiny, hairish man hands it is unbelievable to me! And if someone told me that?  Hell if I would know what to say.  We had a tolerant chat about it, in a nervous jostly boy way, as I spoke about how I’m not so much a boy.  It’s still surreal, still a lot of anxiety, but being able to tell someone?  That lets off some steam, big time.

Not being one to wait around, I already have a counsellor for the break up issue, booked one with an independent counsellor with experience for the short term, and an appointment with a specifically gender based counsellor in a month.  I was going to go to the doctor, but it was intimated on the phone that this was perhaps a nuclear option, that even with the wait for a referral to an identity clinic, it may be too fast for me.  That’s how long repression can damage a person, about practically everything.

I should listen to my gut, although I can’t hear it right now.  Also, it’s probably just the anxiety, but everything south of my heart seems to be a dead zone, specifically my crotch.  Yeah, that guy.

Speaking to the gender counsellor on the phone was strange, I laughed manically at points as she was able to back up my perceptions and be spot on about the kinds of experiences I was having, and could possibly have.

Tonight I told my best friends’ sister, who is also a good friend.  She was shocked but didn’t over react.  We only talked about it briefly but then we talked about other things and for the first time in a while I felt distracted.  These are the only two people I know I’m going to tell for now, I’ve been wisely advised to keep it slow, as others won’t be quite so understanding.

My best friend is starting to freak out a bit now though, scared of losing his buddy boy of the last ten years, of not seeing through me to have noticed it.  I had to tell him it’s ok, I have not seen it truly until recently, and I still don’t know what it means or where it might lead.  I accept that I am bringing turmoil into their lives, and while they commit to whatever I can achieve, it will probably get very strange.

So long as I stay committed.  The pressure is high and steam is starting to vent.  I don’t care about looks…..yet I care about my looks!  I’m a decent looking guy, but now that I’m convinced it’s not what I truly am, it begins to repel me.  This makes me incredibly sad, actually creating insecurity out of nothing, and wishing decimation of a healthy body.  Yes there is denial, but can it not be a legitimate reason to be angry?

Here is where I must face my own perceived intolerance.  I have been angry at trans people for not accepting who they are, angry at them changing themselves in any way to express who they are.  Why do you have to change to be who you are?!  This makes my head spin trying to answer it.  I am who I am, gender role shouldn’t be important, but yet it is!

Maybe I’m insane, maybe it’s even the Bisphenol A and other feminizing hormones flooding the world, maybe it’s just who I really am, and what I really want is not only a fair, just, tolerant society to accept how I express myself and what pronouns I may come to prefer, but for myself and the world to realise that I’m a damn girl.

Aaaarrggghhh, I get the same cold dread saying that as I get from reading stories or watching videos of unflattering men becoming wonderful women.

As slow as I need to go, it’s still not fast enough.  I have the benefit or being totally heavy metal, and I just want to make my long hair look nice.  Eugh, I don’t know what the words are, I want to do things that make me look more appealing, I don’t understand it, so I can understand why I think I’m nuts or why anyone else would!

It’s quite likely to be a simple deviation within the convention of gender being in line with two strict biological patterns.  Not enough is understood, the words between the lines are not understood, and the gaps between the words are long.

So, rather than screwing about and turning my brain into eternal future mush, I’m going to meet this head on.  I learned after counselling for depression many years ago, that if something is bothering you that much, you have to talk about it, even if it doesn’t necessarily change anything.

It doesn’t feel real that I’ve actually told people, but it is reassuring in a way that they will be able to talk about it to each other and we can help each other, because they will need my support too.  Even if all that repression means it doesn’t feel real, this is something that now exists outside my head.  As petrified as I am, this is real now.

Who knows, maybe it won’t change anything, maybe I want to be the same guy, with a dick and beard, and just to be called a girl.

Oh you poor human in denial.

Go do it again before you sleep, look in the mirror and say it to yourself, ‘I’m transgender.  I’m transgender.’

….this is going to take a while.

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