hrt, male to female, transgender

MTF HRT 2 month+ update

TRIGGER WARNING AND DISCLAIMER– Depression, Suicide, Sexual Function.

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My transition has been unremarkable thus far.  Hormones work in a similarly unremarkable way.  However, over time one realises that things have changed, and it’s not a case of missing the alterations, it’s just that they are each so miniscule and consistent that it takes up too much energy to record or even stay aware of each little thing.

It’s not a bad thing, focusing on thinking too much about gender can create a tangled mess of dysphoria.  Rather, feel it:  Breathe in – feel the turmoil inside, all the words, possibilities, permutations.  Breathe out – Let as much of it as you can go.  Focus on the important things, not all the little things, they’ll take care of themselves as products of appreciation borne from a simple, guided, determined intention.

I cannot dismiss HRT as an interminably important force in transition, but as expected, I’ve found it is more difficult to wait for them with shining desperate eyes than to deal with the reality of the tectonic pace of change.  Unless one is prepared to stare into the mirror all day every day with a magnifying glass scouting for changes, hormonal transition actually makes up for very little of the day.

Mentally however, the flux of completely replacing one set of sex hormones for another can be a massive tumult.  My experiences seem indicative of puberty: my moods are very fragile and subject to change; I’m incredibly insecure sometimes; I like sitting in my room listening to loud music in the dark writing about how I hate everything; lamenting how no-one understands me; being obviously upset but when asked how I am, replying ‘I’m fine.’  However settled I may feel at times, there’s no telling when the next uncontrollable emotional episode is on its way.  Sometimes I can wake up and know that it’s going to be a hormonal day, but even then the malaise can be sneaky, trying to turn physical symptoms into mental wars.

According to my therapist, many transfolk on the Testosterone blocking injection of Leuprorelin (Prostap SR) suffer from listlessness and therefore an increased incidence in depression.  I understand this well, having fallen into a deeply anxious self-imposed hate cycle without any reason to feel that way, isolating myself at home, my transition fading, my hopes dwindling.

It all came to a head on Hallowe’en.  It was to be my one year celebration since my first proper public outing as trans, and it was a disaster.

I had regained enough resource in my spirit to attempt presenting truly again, making my plans and readying them for action.  On the day of Hallowe’en I was to meet my Mum and Nan in town, giving my Nan a first chance to see how little I think I’ve changed.  Instead of getting up early to get appropriately dressed and put on my make up, I opted for a sleep in, put on the dude jeans and t-shirt basics and left the house.

I’d never felt so bad, this wasn’t me.  I couldn’t cope with being seen simply as some cis-male.  My mood plummeted to new depths and the afternoon was deeply troubling.

Later, I was to go out clubbing with a whole bunch of friends.  Instead of embracing this opportunity, I sat in my room, in the dark, bawling, and my friends were freaked out.  At one point I left the house to stand by the road wondering how fast a bus or a van would have to be going for me to step in front of it.  Later I was found by a friend sitting in an alley sobbing.

I assured everyone I was fine and they went out to party.  Then I made this video:

TRIGGER WARNING – Depression, Suicide

Soon after this, I was made aware that there would be a house party in a few hours and that I was invited.  Something clicked; I told myself that there was still a chance to make tonight work.  So, I pulled out of my slump, I ate, I washed and I got ready the way I should expect myself to get ready.  I didn’t want to be a stereotype, I didn’t want to be a statistic – I know my experience is very average but I wanted to inspire and be inspired so I decided I would make this happen.

I made this video soon after the first, to show that there is always a way back from the brink, there is always a silver lining.  Sometimes, the best yielded seeds are sewn in the aftermath of a disaster:

It wasn’t the best party ever, it didn’t need to be, it was an opportunity and I took it.  I decided afterwards that I could embrace my identity again and I’ve been feeling stronger everyday since.  We can all make this happen, what opportunity will you grasp that you thought you would let slide by?


As far as physical changes…it is so hard to describe sensing that maybe something might maybe maybe possibly almost maybe be changing, trying to decide if it’s real or a trick of the eye.  However, I know things are changing.

I know how interested I was about the effects of HRT before I even thought they were a possibility, so I share my personal log of changes.  There is no real pattern of regularity as to the frequency and qualitative properties of noticed differences, but each one raises a special smile only for me.  Or mostly manic laughter, it’s so strange!:

Day 42 – Leg hair seems to be growing in more slowly and sparsely.

Day 44 – I felt a little lump under my left nipple.

Day 45 – The lump feels hard under my areola.

Day 49 – Lump now visible at top of areola. Still no feeling on the right side.

Day 55 – Veins seem less prominent on my hands at rest.  I haven’t had a release in a while, nor a single erection I haven’t coaxed as a weekly necessity.  Ejaculation doesn’t necessarily equate to orgasm, and I’m pretty sure I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to that department anymore.

Day 56 – Left nipple much harder, the lump has moved past my areola.  It has been nearly two weeks and no feeling in the right.  It feels odd, but in the grand scheme this is no time at all.

Day 61 – I look decidedly less male.  The crying thing isn’t an issue so much anymore but the depression is harsh.  Right nipple where the left was about three weeks ago.  I seem to be getting more back fat than hip fat.

I actually noticed a few days ago that my handwriting has changed a little.  There are more diagrams, more colours, whilst even some of my lettering has changed, the sharp stabbing lines of a ‘w’ now more often a curved ‘uu.’  This isn’t contrived, I just sometimes feel like maybe brightening up the drab walls of black text.  Which I know I should work on with this blog too.


I haven’t been out in the world too much this month, it has been very difficult.  I am cheating a bit because I’m closer to 3 months but just including notes up to the two month mark.

The hormones really did a number on me, that was a tough tough month, but I’ve been feeling better.  Can’t let those bad times define you.  The night out on Hallowe’en helped.  Writing to myself afterwards, I decided to write as if I was having a conversation with my own sense of hope, if it still existed (it always does because hope never dies).  When you listen to your heart through a depression it can be a powerful moment.  It takes a long time to push back through, trying to have a sense of holding on long enough until the next chance to beat it comes along.

Next blog we’ll have lots of positive fun, ok?!

Thank you for reading 🙂

Amy Xx

 

 

 

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Estrogen makes you calm and crazy

I am sitting on an emotional swing.  Each day it gets more intense.  Genetic females have had a lot longer than me to come to terms with the rollercoaster of moods but everyone who experiences it has to start somewhere.  I can’t ‘man it out’ anymore, 40 days and 40 nights of HRT and I’m already losing subjective cognition of my testronic existence; slowly the maleness falls from grasp.

I’ve had to ask friends to remind me sometimes that I’m just going through the side effects.  Again, I don’t know if it is because I started hormones, or their actual effects, but doors are unlocking in my mind.  I’ve really learned about friendships I’ve needlessly strived for that are beyond their sell by date – I visited one of the old friends I’m having to let go of and noticed for the first time in a long friendship the light behind her eyes that process any way to avoid talking about either of our real issues.  A year after the fact I finally recognized the emotional abuse that is still a large cause of suffering from my last relationship – I told those close to me and they say they knew for a long time, they tried to tell me.

There are other revelations now that force me into a new life.  A cornucopia of general life issues coupled with constant hormonality combine into painful birth squeezes of a new life; the water broke, the contractions are more frequent, powerful – there’s no stopping it, it is coming.

My aesthetic transition is really suffering now, not just because of facial hair but because of the emotional pressure.  I spoke to a woman who apparently had GRS but lives satisfactorily as a male without heavy dysphoria, content in the knowledge she is female.  Hearing this struck a chord and she said there were only a few in many years she had met who are like this.  Again, when I was a young child I wasn’t thinking about sneaking into my mother’s room for clothes and make up, I was trying to get rid of my penis, not as a Skoptic, but because I was female.

I don’t really care often enough who knows I am female so long as I do, and the people I care about do.  It still hurts to be called by masculine terms, but I feel I’m constantly facing off between constant counterbalancing weights of dysphoria.  It’s less urgent, but I’m still thinking about and I wonder if I can ever come to peace.

After some diligent sleuthing by Mia, we found that this woman had in fact de-transitioned because she had passing issues and other issues that are her business.  I myself am not trying to cop out of transition, although it really is taking time finding my way.  There is much more to the story with this woman for another time.

The point I want to make here is that it is important to be gentle with yourself.  On top of everything going on in life, there are also the unquenchable effects of cross sex hormone therapy and trying to figure out how to transition and do it in a world that isn’t always happy to let you live your life.  Even without external grief, the internal experience is such a battle that I can understand putting oneself at risk.

I feel the level of personal risk is the same, but different in nature.  I’m just as on edge, I’m crying like crazy, freaking out, hating the world.  I was so wrong about the crying; cries feel different, more frequent, because as before I cried when I was desperate, now I cry because I need to cry.  It needs to come out just as I need to talk more about stuff – if I don’t vent, I break down.  I’m notoriously bad for talking about my issues with people, now I have to.  Afterwards, I don’t feel as bad as I would before, sometimes I just switch and I feel good again for a while.

I have less violent urges, lower sex drive, lower sexual functioning.  After a week without an erection or a real desire for release I decided to try and force it.  After a long time of distraction and confusion about what I was doing with what I was touching I got there and it was as arbitrary as expected from something so forced.  Straight afterwards I grabbed a toffee crisp from the fridge and bit into it.  The chocolate made my senses explode!  I loved chocolate and was iffy about sex anyway but the gulf widened considerably and that’s just what happens sometimes. Now I don’t have ‘morning wood’ so much as I have ‘morning tofu.’

I was naive in not listening to other women way ahead on HRT, I thought I was special, aware enough, emotionally centred enough to beat back the waves of hormonal change.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s only like that sometimes, often enough I feel as good as I ever have.

I was really worried about how much my emotions would intensify and whether it would put me in more danger, and it is hard, it is very hard.

My mind is working overtime absorbing all this new emotional information.  Sometimes I panic, other times I am just a sponge for information and beautifully contemplative thoughts that will take a long time to unravel.

Tough as it is, I rejoice in the new challenge, the new lease of life.  This is a perfect time for realisations that lead to effecting positive personal change that will fuel hopefully the release of a lifetime of untapped potential for the rest of my lifetime’s emotional strength.

This is only the beginning, it has to hurt to get better, this is how we heal.  We show ourselves now in survival so we can prosper when we come to truly thrive.

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Waning of the Honey’d Moon

A thousand words for your silent thoughts.  All the things you wanted to say but didn’t and forgot, written on an invisible page.

Red moons’ eclipse shines dark, a trillion stars within the tear of a galaxy.  A thousand tears for your silent thoughts; you are Mars as a girl.

A moment not to think, so precious and unaware of it.  A thousand scars for your silent thoughts, etched into those forgotten memories.

Planets do not decide to shift or spin, invisible forces do not act on whim.  A thousand truths for your silent thoughts; you are Mars as a girl.


Let’s get straight into the good stuff my appreciated readers! (Disclaimer – Talk of sexual functioning)

HRT Update

Day 21 – Sexual thoughts could be nice.  Masturbation could be fun but I can’t actually be bothered.  The last push to erotic drive isn’t there; no flying mast exists to pitch my flag.  My sex drive feels like how it did during the terror of my revelation – almost non-existent.  I would have to force it. Use it or lose it they say, otherwise atrophy over the years is an actual concern.  Gross, but those are the physical propensities.  In coaxing an orgasm (how beautifully sentimental ;P) it felt different again, more layered rather than pointed, but to only a small degree of difference.

Another slight example of weepiness, where tears fall without becoming fully fledged crying.

Day 22 – My pubic hair seems furrier, the only hair that seems to have been effected so far.

Day 23 – My tear ducts looked drier and more deeply set.  My eyeballs seemed a different shape and didn’t look as though they fit as correctly within the socket, not in a good way.  Eye changes are documented on HRT, so I will keep, er…an eye on it and consider eye drops if it gets any worse.

Day 29 – I did some heavy exercise 4 days ago and am still suffering muscle fatigue.  I literally only tapped my shin with a tennis racquet by accident and have this massive bruise to show for it (which stayed longer than any bruise I’ve ever had) – I’ve done this loads of times and never got anything other than a tiny red cut.  My upper arms look smaller when not flexed but still defined, whilst my forearm is still as big, which looks weird.

Had a few cries.  It’s around that time of the month for me anyway, although there were a few sobbing, weeping tears that were new to me.

Day 31 – My face looks much softer.  My mum says the angles of my face seem less harsh.  I can look at my face and kind of see it, even with facial hair, but only looking straight on.

Day 32 – Definitely got some back fat growing. I’ll embrace this until I get to the point where I hate it like any other bodily insecure woman…Embrace the back fat my curvy beauties!

I realise I haven’t had morning wood in a while, sexual thoughts are much less frequent, and more appropriately sensual for me personally, which I think is just an individual trait.

Day 34 – I wasn’t exactly crying when I woke up, but the feelings towards crying were new.  I felt morning sexual desire but it’s easier to turn off without having an incessant erection tripodding all round the place.  It’s slightly frustrating but it works for me because it no longer demands I take action.

Day 35 – I feel my emotional repertoire growing.  Emotional statements and events seem more powerful in how they affect me.  I was wrong about the tears.  As much as I cried and nearly cried often before HRT, now, during even simple emotional moments, I have to fight if I want to hold back the tears.

Just the pressure of putting a kettlebell against my arm when working out now leaves me with bruises.

It took a friend to remind me of the hunger HRT brings; I’ve been munching constantly without knowing why. Losing fat is much more difficult on HRT, in fact, the female body needs a lot more fat than the male body in general so it makes sense that my body wants me to eat. Now I know why women must be so disciplined and obsessive about diet and exercise to have a body they can be comfortable in.

Here is the video version of my One Month HRT update:


I have been told that the effects come in waves, and I’ve certainly noticed that in between the long periods of imperceptible change that there are moments when I know something is happening.  Living in one’s own mind and body for so long, these changes, however slight are very recognisable and welcome.  Dysphoria has become more of a physical issue rather than a mental one.

I have been spoiled by the laser sessions I paid for because I know what it feels like to have a hair-free face.  My first NHS laser appointment was only a patch test, with an IPL laser and an alexandrite laser like I’d been getting privately.  It was much more impersonal than the private treatment and they didn’t mess around.  I was told each session would be for 20 minutes every 6-8 weeks, whereas the previous sessions took about 45 minutes.  They told me it would hurt more on HRT……they were very right, it was almost unbearable.  My skin was singed for a couple of days afterwards requiring much more stringent aftercare with SPF 30 moisturizer and Vaseline rather than the pure Aloe Vera I’d been using.  Thankfully I was prescribed EMLA cream which is a topical anaesthetic, but I’ve been advised it’s still going to hurt.

The horrible thing is, whilst general dysphoria may lesson over time, incidents of dysphoria can become more severe.  Having to deal with facial hair the past two months has basically kept me at home, I hate it.  I don’t want to attempt to cover it with make up because I don’t think I can, although my trans friends say this is silly.  I haven’t presented fully nor worn makeup once since starting HRT because I hate my face hair so much and it is really putting me back.

Things have been tough recently – I almost gave up being public about my transition as I feel I’ve lost so much support in the year since I’ve come out.  These are problems relating to the relationships I have with people rather than specific trans stuff, but being trans does play its part.  Going through what is the biggest change in my life, I want to share my experiences because objectively I think they are pretty fascinating.

However, people have their own stuff to deal with, sometimes they don’t want to talk about it, often enough they don’t know what to say.  Some people have never brought the topic up, maybe because they feel it is disrespectful, that it’s none of their business, or that they simply don’t care. After a while of bringing my issues up without any response I have given up, although there may come a time when I start blurting it out again and people can deal with it, or not.

As much as I try to make my trans experience as low key as possible, I still need to talk about it with people, I need to bounce ideas off people, so I’m learning that aside my closest friends who even no amount of education my information could prepare them for, having trans friends is absolutely necessary.  Throughout these very difficult times I want to thank Mia and Faith on WordPress for their friendly ears, empathy and support, along with the other fantastic women I’ve been sharing experiences with all over the world.

If you haven’t reached out yet, do so – knowing other people are going through almost identical experiences at points is entirely heart-warming and refreshing and plenty of us want to share it, even in very intimate details only transfolk could truly appreciate. Many exciting and unique secrets are shared when the transfolk get together.

Whilst I am it, can I ask if anyone reading this knows where Rimonim is? His blogs are beautiful but he has just fallen off the map since July and I can’t get in touch with him.  Rim, if you are reading this let us know you are ok!


Myself, I have had to give up entirely on my hometown.  Trust can be a tough sell for me at the best of times, and I’ve learned the hard way the difference between mere acceptance, vocal support, and actual help.  Being trans is not a pitiable situation, I do not feel humbled by the fact someone would accept me and use appropriate pronouns etc; to do so would make me less of a person in others eyes’.  Respect for my situation is a standard that does not need to be earned – I used to think trans activists were being aggressive when they said this but now I understand.  As much as our new trans friends help us, those who have been with us on our life journey so far need to step up and play an active role because that’s what good friends do. And good families.

Being trans seems to not only be a detector for unpalatable strangers, it is also an indicator of who is really going to stick up for you in this life; it’s seeing which people would visit you in hospital without actually having to go to hospital.  It has taken a year and a serious breakdown to realise just who is there for me.

There are big losses, but it made sense to spread my net wide to give myself a better chance of reeling in the keepers, so although I am sad, I don’t regret my courage in trusting more people than I could expect to be trusted in the long run.  I am lucky to have a couple of lifelong friends at my side, so I can say that anything else is trimming fat, even in losing friends I’ve had since I was a teenager.

I decided I would not be forced back into the closet, that I would trust others to live up to their own nature and announced my medical transition to the world.  What I decide to share is not because others ask, but because my freedom cannot be bound.

What I have learned is that transition is such a personal journey that the best resource we have by far is ourselves.  In understanding and loving ourselves we can appreciate the changes much more, we can celebrate the goals we have worked so hard for even if no-one else knows how much we sacrifice.  We can ground and connect ourselves so much more to the world around us and get a deeper meaning about what out experience on this earth is.

If there were ever a time in life to seek out those most solid and enlightening mental, spiritual and emotional resources that will help carry me through the rest of my life, this is it.

I have learned that I can stick to a task as I have been practising my voice at least twice a day, EVERY day, for the past six months.  It is very slowly getting there, I’d say I’m at about a 5 out of 10 now – my voice is gender neutral, or sometimes like a fake whiney female.  I still smoked through this process and made some ok progress but when I’m not smoking it sounds so much better.

It is a gruelling process, listening back every time to a voice that just isn’t right, but just keep going anyway.  I have ONE recording out of hundreds over the past six months where I heard MY voice;  not a glimpse of what I might sounds like, but what I intend to sound like as my ‘genuine self’.  I cannot replicate it yet but it is the single most encouraging thing so far.  Recording each session makes a real difference, because although my voice still sounds wrong I can hear the tiny little bits of progress over weeks and months.  I’ll have a new blog with lots of voice tips as soon as I can get to it.


I thought the honeymoon was over, that the initial euphoria I experienced starting HRT was forever over after having a major emotional slip.  I almost gave up on everything and everyone. I almost deleted this blog.  Instead I feel myself growing stronger, more resolute.  I am finding solutions within myself for my problems and growing closer to those who help me.  My mind isn’t necessarily clearer, but I am gaining a truer understanding of myself by hormonally being the person I was always supposed to be.  I won’t give up, because this is just the beginning of a new life, and the hormones haven’t even truly begun to work their magic yet!

Starting HRT is a brave step – it is a lifelong commitment, it is a sacrifice of all that I have been and never should, it is saying to myself with clarity and passion that I know who I am and that I will do whatever it takes to get there.

Hopefully got some real good blogs coming up soon on voice, sexuality, and all that I have learned on my first year of transition, so stay tuned. A massive thank you to everyone who has shared in my story this past year, and everyone who has let me share in theirs.

Peace and love,

Amy Xx

P.S. Here’s something a little extra I recorded, hopefully a little uplifting and affirming….or just weird and stupid 😛

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Altering Energies, Shifting Waves

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I must be the most dour transwoman on the planet.  Please forgive me for not being excited about the new swirl of poisonous sex hormone energy coursing through my body.  Please forgive me for not being excited about finally being free and finally taking steps towards female physiology.  Please forgive me for not being very feminine, masculine, or non-binary.  I saw it the same way I did at the start, I’m an individual trying to deal with gender dysphoria, trying to not think so much about gender, trying to take out some of the sting that transition entails.  I am learning the general lessons that many who came before, and many who will come after, learn.

I’m not trying to be a downer, I’m just expressing my (fatalistic, privileged) experience. Take your own excitement and embrace it, live it, and make the world better by living your truth!

Hormone Replacement Therapy has helped me a lot, and quickly.  Nearly 3 weeks in, after the initial wave of foggy contentment and slight change things have calmed down considerably.  It’s like watching the most beautiful paint in the world dry.  In ways, keeping tabs on changes is a bit of an energy drain, checking the mirror every morning for the slightest sign that something is happening physically.  At the same time, every morning I get up and take my 2mg blue pill with gratefulness that my mental state is improving.


Recent Changes: (Disclaimer – Talk of sexual functioning)

Day 9 – Nothing.  The first phase is complete; I expect no further changes for weeks, probably months.

Day 10 – I rubbed my belly as I woke up, it is definitely softer.  Feeling the first signs of potential overwhelmingness leading to the big cry I so seem to look forward to.  Slight impatience.

Day 11 – I think I had a slightly different kind of orgasm.  It built up more and exuded itself in a more convulsive manner, which was difficult to not vocally express, although it was less physically powerful.  My brain fuzzes at points during the day where I feel more ‘female’ in thought.  It cannot be described; it is like thinking on another plane.  Males and females being so similar these changes are slight and possibly only distinguishable by subjective self-awareness. I can just tell that in ways different information comes into my mind sometimes, yet I deal with them using the exact same identified consciousness.

My skin still feels softer; it feels good but creates an awareness of physical vulnerability.  After so long being rough with my cards in the man game, I feel the slight worries beginning about my physical strength.  Socks, belts and other things leave heavier, more long lasting imprints in my skin.

I went to see a hypnotist to help with tobacco cravings, which may have impacted the affects of the next day as described below.

Day 12 – I tried to summon testosterone after waking, in the way that I know how.  It wasn’t there, the same angers and frustrations were there, but I didn’t feel that swelling call to violence and sex.  Instead of feeling properly angry, I felt disgusted.  I also felt incredibly liberated.  Some trans folks talk about the ‘veil lifting’, about ‘seeing the world in colour for the first time.’  I believe that’s what happened today.  As I looked around contemplating what felt like a pin prick of light into my sub-conscious, I noted that surfaces were brighter, physicality seemed surreal for a brief moment.

Something clicked in my brain, and I noticed I gave that look, my voice had that tone.  In my relationships with females, many times was I chastised by an exasperating look and tone that caused me to swell with male anger, I hated it, I hated how I automatically reacted to it.  Now I understand it; without the remit to generalised testosterone based internal imagery, all I’m left with is exasperation.  I put my arms somewhat to the side, squint my eyes, part my lips and with a slightly condescending, slightly sarcastic voice I say to myself, ‘What are you doing?  What are you even doing?’  I feel a minute surge of the self-respect that has been missing, and actual feeling of caring for myself.  When I went out into public, I could still summon the same cocky arrogance I like to carry at times.

I felt slightly bitchy towards the people I feel have let me down recently.  I felt like I part way understood why those harlots on ‘Real Housewives of….Blah blah blah’ are all dissing on their friends, always falling out.  Part of it is because they are emotionally and socially underwhelming, but also part of it is ‘What are you even doing?  Seriously?’  When people, especially close people start becoming emotionally or socially vampiric, being forced to call someone out for it could easily lead to fireworks, fall outs and drama. Disengage.

No testosterone but still with just as strong a sex drive.  It is less urgent, but no less desired.  I keep now a dirty unwashed top from before starting HRT with my unhindered man scent after reading a blog about how different the smell is now.  It certainly didn’t smell the same way as it did before, in fact it was a more pleasant smell.  I don’t fancy myself but it’s an interesting experiment.

I made some videos for this day: Please excuse any offense caused.  I intend only to belittle my own experiences, not those of anyone else’s.

Day 14 – Is my butt changing already?  The dimples at the sides of my cheeks seem to be filling out.  Maybe.  I don’t make a point of touching my bum that often so it’s hard to tell.

Day 15 – Again, not that I make a point of touching them, but my testicles certainly seem noticeably smaller.

Day 19 (Today) – Sex drive is still there, but sexual functioning is taking more effort.  I’m not particularly enamoured to encourage whatever strange sexuality I now possess, but the option to not act (or be able to act) upon urges is welcome against the punitive demands of my hitherto male sexuality.

I woke up in a mood I haven’t felt for…ooohhhhh, 19 days.  It felt like testosterone was trying to worm its way back into my body and it felt horrible.  The testosterone blocking injection may be wearing off, I’ve heard before that the last week before a shot can be difficult in this regard.  Perhaps in a way this will help me understand more clearly the benefits of HRT; by being reminded of how horrible it feels when the effects begin to wear off.


Over-analysis is probably a hallmark of the experience at this point.  Experiences and decisions become more weighted.

A few days ago, I decided I finally had the confidence to meet a transwoman who lived close by that I had been talking to online.  I should have used my gut instinct and stayed away, but the prospect of meeting someone a little older, a lot further ahead was too tempting an opportunity to seek advice and support.  We met at a cafe, then decided to get a beer as it was an unexpectedly sunny day.  It was pretty much fine, we chatted, nothing unusual.  She invited me round to her place later in the evening to play computer games, which I thought would be fun, you know, a new friend.

I went round to her house after dinner and she was stociously drunk.  She regaled me with much too personal stories and uncomfortably loud music, asking odd questions and for some reason affirming that she definitely thought I was transgender and asking about my sexuality, frequently mentioning that I’m so different from the other transgender women she knows in her more extensive network.  I let all this slide.  After a while she tried to get a little bit more touchy, admitted that she found me attractive and so on, then cried when I turned her down.  I hugged her because she was crying but she inappropriately started rubbing my back and touching my hair.

She insisted repeatedly that I stay over and ‘cuddle.’  I tried to explain in many terms that I wasn’t going to do that, politely expressing my own issues and concerns.  She tried all sorts of tricks, telling me about my trust issues, how I just need to ‘let go’, how I need to express myself and find out about my sexuality….but to not worry because if I wanted all we had to do was cuddle.  On a first meeting, who does that?  I made my excuses and left as soon as diplomatic opportunity arose. It felt like with a wink and a nudge she was saying ‘We’re all girls here, right?’

I’m already in a place with trust issues so this really affected me.  My real life experiences with transwomen so far have been overwhelmingly negative – from sneers, ignorance, mental incapability, emotional unavailability, unsupportiveness, to now virgin seduction I feel more isolated from the community than before I even knew there was such a thing.  It’s strange because the folks I’ve met online and through this blog have been amazing and generally very well screwed on!

In real life though, it isolates me.  My friends ask little about my transition and I have taken to offering little as I realise what I say isn’t taken on board.  There are only a few people I trust to talk about my transition with now.  The way I figure is, that if people aren’t interested in my general emotional state, then I am not going to subvert the few avenues of friendship I have with a running curiosity about medical effects.

I feel like I’m back in the closet, so few people know that I have started HRT, and it takes a lot of energy not to come clean about it, although I painfully feel that for now it is a better option to not bring it up.  Coupled with the negative experiences with real life transwomen I feel incredibly distant from what it means to be trans.  In all honesty, I would prefer right now to sweep it all under the rug, to go ‘stealth’ if the option existed.  I am sickened, because transparency was a goal when I started all this yet I feel now it would work against maintaining any emotional security I have left outside my own skin.

My energies are changing, my life is changing.  I need new avenues for my emotional well-being.  Unfortunately my general emotional and mental states are irreducible from the experience of being trans.  Unfortunately I live in a binary world where the issue of being trans is going to come up.  There is no escape from being trans, ever.  So, I have to find other ways, because I will not allow a draining rot, nor abandonment of my principles.

Now that I’m on HRT, the transitional pressures have become less urgent as dysphoria has declined.  Being a new chapter, some of the worries can fall away.  I still don’t care about aesthetics aside from the basic dysphoric effect, but now I care even less about maintaining the obviousness of my transition, aside my voice and facial hair.  I don’t need to prove to anyone that I’m female, not even myself; all I need is to find the most balanced formula to keep dysphoria at bay.

I’m not going to be going on a date anytime soon, so how I look from day to day is of little concern. In fact, it may help me blend in. Confidence and not giving a fudge seems to go a long way.

I have to move on, some of the lessons I’ve learned up until now in my transition are becoming irrelevant.  Having my gender struggles at the forefront of my life and thoughts is becoming a hindrance rather than an emancipation.  As much as being trans for a transperson is part of simply being alive, any opportunity to take away some of the pain is worth consideration.

Certain trans issues need to be dealt with as specifically trans issues (preferably with the help of medical professionals, trusted transfriends and those closest to the heart) but other issues I feel need to come back to being more a case of the general gamut of life problems.  What I mean is, I intend to try to express myself in the same terms as any cis person would, rather than making being transgender the focal point of my shown identity. My identity is already trans, I don’t really need to do anything else to confirm it, so why mention it unless it is important.

I feel as agenderly asexual as I feel pangenderly pansexual.  I feel non-binary to the non-binaries.  Thinking about gender conflict is simply a pain, the less I can think about it, and the less it affects my life interactions, the closer I feel to accomplishing my goal of living a life where gender dysphoria has abated enough that it no longer has the crippling impact it does now.

With that it means eventually disengaging from trans issues, and even from trans people.  This sounds dangerous, disingenuous, fallacious and depressingly isolating.  There must be another way, if anything to help protect those dealing with the same problems but without the same privileges I have been fortunate to be blessed with.  I have it so damn easy, yet I neither appreciate nor utilise it.

Learning never ceases.

Amy Xx

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