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.