- I decided to mark this blog as "Adult content" because I wanted to be able to talk freely about sex in general if I wanted to. My intention is not to get into anything tasteless (or pornographic), but to openly discuss my feelings about body parts and how they relate to how I see myself. Gender is not sex, but often one is discussed within earshot of the other.
- Most of my posts here are likely to be on the "dark" side. This is not my intention, but more a product of the fact that most of the time that I have anything to write, I happen to be in a bit of a dour mood. I do have brighter days, though they seem to be few and far between. My last post found me at a particularly bad time. Although I sometimes think about suicide, I don't expect (nor do I plan) to carry those thoughts to their terrible end.
- The time span between posts here is not because I don't want to write. I do want to write, but I often don't have the opportunity to write what I want when something comes to mind, and when I do have the opportunity, I've completely forgotten what I wanted to write about. The times that I post are those (seemingly) rare times when I have time to write something and actually have something to write about. C'est la vie.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Just clearing a few things up
I feel like there are a couple points that are worth clearing up:
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Suicide and me
I was looking through the March 2008 edition of Ladies' Home Journal and came across an article about teen suicide. I haven't finished the article, because I lost heart about 2/3 through. I'm not sure I can finish it.
The article hasn't mentioned transgender issues so far, but anyone that is familiar with the transgender community at all knows that many of its members die through suicide. I don't have exact numbers, but given the social stigma attached to being transgendered, I can't say that it's surprising.
What does this have to do with me? Well, a lot, really. I can't count the number of times that the idea of hurting myself has crossed my mind, or the number of times that I got tired of living a "lie" just to make others happy at my expense and considered taking myself out of the equation.
I can't help how I feel. I can't help waking up every morning, feeling like there is something missing on one part of my body and something "extra" on another. I like it about as much as anyone else likes a physical deformity (which is how I see my predicament). Like most, I've just grown accustomed to it. Growing accustomed to my body does not mean that I've accepted it, only that I've decided it is inevitable.
Before I start talking in circles, please let me try to explain what I mean.
From where I sit, there are certain steps that have to be done before one transitions one's gender: therapy, endocrinologist visits, and various surgeries (facial feminization, vaginoplasty, etc). I can't afford any of that. The nearest therapist that I know of that is qualified to deal with (possible) GID cases is at least 45 minutes away from me. I don't go in her general direction very often, and with gas prices what they are, I can't afford to make side trips and pay co-pays for therapy (assuming, of course, that the therapy is covered by my health insurance). After a few years of visits, if I have been diagnosed with GID, I couldn't afford the lifetime of hormones that I would have to take (again, even assuming that it's covered by health insurance), and the surgeries are even further away.
I got married many years ago, hoping against hope that I might be distracted from how I felt about myself. I take marriage seriously, and I don't consider divorce an option. If my wife's feelings weren't enough, there are three children (all under 12 years old) to consider. I couldn't bear to hurt their feelings, one way or the other.
I don't have a lot of time to myself, and it would be completely out of the ordinary for me to decide to take off for an evening. Even if I were to try, local support groups (like TCNE) that have meetings of one sort or another don't have anything going on on evenings that I could get out. I write to some friends by email, but other than that, I'm often feeling alone in the world.
It doesn't help that I can't work out what suicide would actually solve. After life here on earth, what comes next? I'm Christian, and I believe I will be in Heaven one day. When I get there, will I be male, female, or neither? If I did manage to resolve my physical issues, would I get to the next life and find that it was a waste of my time? I don't have an answer to that, and I haven't seen anything close in Scripture yet.
That pretty well leaves me where I am now: I'm tired of being in the predicament I'm in, but I don't see suicide as a solution. Reading about how kids hurt, be they transgender or not, so that they feel they have to take their own lives only reminds me of how I feel much of the time.
I feel depressed and angry, but I don't see what good would come out of expressing my feelings. I'm writing about it, sure. But who reads my ramblings anyway? I know at least one friend does, and I'm thankful for that. It helps to know that there's someone who can read my ramblings without getting judgemental on me.
The article hasn't mentioned transgender issues so far, but anyone that is familiar with the transgender community at all knows that many of its members die through suicide. I don't have exact numbers, but given the social stigma attached to being transgendered, I can't say that it's surprising.
What does this have to do with me? Well, a lot, really. I can't count the number of times that the idea of hurting myself has crossed my mind, or the number of times that I got tired of living a "lie" just to make others happy at my expense and considered taking myself out of the equation.
I can't help how I feel. I can't help waking up every morning, feeling like there is something missing on one part of my body and something "extra" on another. I like it about as much as anyone else likes a physical deformity (which is how I see my predicament). Like most, I've just grown accustomed to it. Growing accustomed to my body does not mean that I've accepted it, only that I've decided it is inevitable.
Before I start talking in circles, please let me try to explain what I mean.
From where I sit, there are certain steps that have to be done before one transitions one's gender: therapy, endocrinologist visits, and various surgeries (facial feminization, vaginoplasty, etc). I can't afford any of that. The nearest therapist that I know of that is qualified to deal with (possible) GID cases is at least 45 minutes away from me. I don't go in her general direction very often, and with gas prices what they are, I can't afford to make side trips and pay co-pays for therapy (assuming, of course, that the therapy is covered by my health insurance). After a few years of visits, if I have been diagnosed with GID, I couldn't afford the lifetime of hormones that I would have to take (again, even assuming that it's covered by health insurance), and the surgeries are even further away.
I got married many years ago, hoping against hope that I might be distracted from how I felt about myself. I take marriage seriously, and I don't consider divorce an option. If my wife's feelings weren't enough, there are three children (all under 12 years old) to consider. I couldn't bear to hurt their feelings, one way or the other.
I don't have a lot of time to myself, and it would be completely out of the ordinary for me to decide to take off for an evening. Even if I were to try, local support groups (like TCNE) that have meetings of one sort or another don't have anything going on on evenings that I could get out. I write to some friends by email, but other than that, I'm often feeling alone in the world.
It doesn't help that I can't work out what suicide would actually solve. After life here on earth, what comes next? I'm Christian, and I believe I will be in Heaven one day. When I get there, will I be male, female, or neither? If I did manage to resolve my physical issues, would I get to the next life and find that it was a waste of my time? I don't have an answer to that, and I haven't seen anything close in Scripture yet.
That pretty well leaves me where I am now: I'm tired of being in the predicament I'm in, but I don't see suicide as a solution. Reading about how kids hurt, be they transgender or not, so that they feel they have to take their own lives only reminds me of how I feel much of the time.
I feel depressed and angry, but I don't see what good would come out of expressing my feelings. I'm writing about it, sure. But who reads my ramblings anyway? I know at least one friend does, and I'm thankful for that. It helps to know that there's someone who can read my ramblings without getting judgemental on me.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Self analysis
What makes me tick? What do I think about, when I am alone? What do I think about when I am around other people? Do I think?
Well, anyone that looks deep into their own soul knows before too long that the Human Being is a very complex creature. One can be many things to many people, often all at once. How does that apply to me and this blog? I think it's safe to answer that by explaining that this blog is mostly a means for me to voice things that cannot be said any other way, sometimes with the hope that others may be able to provide insight into the "why". I don't expect a barrage of commentary from people I know (or don't know), but it would be reassuring to know that someone is paying attention, that I'm not just screaming into the night with nobody listening.
So. The opening questions... Hrm. Where to begin?
For newcomers to this blog, I am a woman trapped in a man's body. I've felt like I was born with all the wrong equipment since I was little, somewhere between five and eight years of age. As a teenager, I felt horribly wronged because my sisters developed breasts and started their periods while I did not. Yes, I know about the pains and troubles associated with monthlies, and I'd accept them in a heartbeat if I could.
Every morning, I am reminded of the disparity afforded me. Bits move that my mind says shouldn't even be there and bits are missing where my mind says there should be something. In dealing with the world, I find myself wishing I could be more like many of the women I see, because in my mind, they have the unattainable: a life as a fully-functioning woman. My heart aches at those moments.
Feeling as I do, I am usually irritated at the assumption of the general public that transgendered people are "gay" or homosexual. Though it may be the case for some, I think that many transgendered people (MtF and FtM) simply yearn to correct what is felt to be a physical deformity, so they can get on with their lives.
I had a discussion once with a therapist. I started seeing her about all this, and stopped after only three sessions. Gas prices were beginning to soar and she was more than an hour's drive from where I live. (Sadly, she was the closest therapist of this sort to me. She's since relocated further away.) In the discussion, we were talking about general things, and I said something about how some people try to justify their actions. She said that she thought that was interesting, but because of the time, we didn't go into that further.
That got me to thinking: was I trying to justify a deeper feeling? was I trying to make myself feel better about some hidden desire by deciding my mind and body were of different genders?
Sexually, I am attracted to women. I don't know why. I've never looked at a man and thought about how "cute" or attractive he was. Any time sexual thoughts involving men enter my mind, the man is somewhat generic, with the concentration on his penis. My body, in these occasions, is completely female, with all the concerns that go with it: I think about getting pregnant, what the baby would be like, I think about how good it feels to have him inside of my vagina... The thought of anal sex is quite the turn-off, no matter what I think of myself.
Honestly, I don't see how the term "homosexual" could apply to me, unless one considered me as a woman in love with a woman. Men, to me, serve the purpose of procreation. After that, I don't see the attraction. Since I can't bear children, I don't have much use for them.
As far as appearances go, I doubt I would be much to look at if I went out in public as a woman, thanks to the years I've had of exposure to testosterone and its fellows. On the bright side of that, many genetic women aren't exactly "super models" either.
As far as my self-esteem goes, it's in the tank, and I'm finally coming to realize just how low it is. For the longest time, I thought that I didn't have (many) self-esteem issues, but like I mentioned before, the more I write, the more I see how wrong I was. I'm a mess, but I don't see much hope of getting out of my situation any time soon.
Since I was little, I've been afraid of the dark. I didn't start to shake that fear until I was in my mid-20s. Lately, my general reaction to the dark is more like "bring it on!"-- I don't care what happens, because I couldn't possibly feel worse than I do now. This, all by itself, makes me think that there is some sort of depression doing on.
I'm basically at the point in my life where I wish I had done things differently in my younger years, that I knew then what I know now. There's no point in thinking that way, but that doesn't help me feel any better. I feel like I'm stuck, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Even if I were able to fulfil my dreams and live as the woman I think I was meant to be, what would change? I don't know. I can't see myself wearing a lot of makeup, though given my appearance, I probably would need some. My style of dress would need to change, even though I am more comfortable in jeans and a tee. (Let's be honest here. How often does one see a woman made-up in jeans and a tee? *I* don't see many women around like that, at least none that are my age.)
There. I've written a good deal, bored you all to tears, and maybe even drove a few of you insane in the process. I think that's enough for one day...
Well, anyone that looks deep into their own soul knows before too long that the Human Being is a very complex creature. One can be many things to many people, often all at once. How does that apply to me and this blog? I think it's safe to answer that by explaining that this blog is mostly a means for me to voice things that cannot be said any other way, sometimes with the hope that others may be able to provide insight into the "why". I don't expect a barrage of commentary from people I know (or don't know), but it would be reassuring to know that someone is paying attention, that I'm not just screaming into the night with nobody listening.
So. The opening questions... Hrm. Where to begin?
For newcomers to this blog, I am a woman trapped in a man's body. I've felt like I was born with all the wrong equipment since I was little, somewhere between five and eight years of age. As a teenager, I felt horribly wronged because my sisters developed breasts and started their periods while I did not. Yes, I know about the pains and troubles associated with monthlies, and I'd accept them in a heartbeat if I could.
Every morning, I am reminded of the disparity afforded me. Bits move that my mind says shouldn't even be there and bits are missing where my mind says there should be something. In dealing with the world, I find myself wishing I could be more like many of the women I see, because in my mind, they have the unattainable: a life as a fully-functioning woman. My heart aches at those moments.
Feeling as I do, I am usually irritated at the assumption of the general public that transgendered people are "gay" or homosexual. Though it may be the case for some, I think that many transgendered people (MtF and FtM) simply yearn to correct what is felt to be a physical deformity, so they can get on with their lives.
I had a discussion once with a therapist. I started seeing her about all this, and stopped after only three sessions. Gas prices were beginning to soar and she was more than an hour's drive from where I live. (Sadly, she was the closest therapist of this sort to me. She's since relocated further away.) In the discussion, we were talking about general things, and I said something about how some people try to justify their actions. She said that she thought that was interesting, but because of the time, we didn't go into that further.
That got me to thinking: was I trying to justify a deeper feeling? was I trying to make myself feel better about some hidden desire by deciding my mind and body were of different genders?
Sexually, I am attracted to women. I don't know why. I've never looked at a man and thought about how "cute" or attractive he was. Any time sexual thoughts involving men enter my mind, the man is somewhat generic, with the concentration on his penis. My body, in these occasions, is completely female, with all the concerns that go with it: I think about getting pregnant, what the baby would be like, I think about how good it feels to have him inside of my vagina... The thought of anal sex is quite the turn-off, no matter what I think of myself.
Honestly, I don't see how the term "homosexual" could apply to me, unless one considered me as a woman in love with a woman. Men, to me, serve the purpose of procreation. After that, I don't see the attraction. Since I can't bear children, I don't have much use for them.
As far as appearances go, I doubt I would be much to look at if I went out in public as a woman, thanks to the years I've had of exposure to testosterone and its fellows. On the bright side of that, many genetic women aren't exactly "super models" either.
As far as my self-esteem goes, it's in the tank, and I'm finally coming to realize just how low it is. For the longest time, I thought that I didn't have (many) self-esteem issues, but like I mentioned before, the more I write, the more I see how wrong I was. I'm a mess, but I don't see much hope of getting out of my situation any time soon.
Since I was little, I've been afraid of the dark. I didn't start to shake that fear until I was in my mid-20s. Lately, my general reaction to the dark is more like "bring it on!"-- I don't care what happens, because I couldn't possibly feel worse than I do now. This, all by itself, makes me think that there is some sort of depression doing on.
I'm basically at the point in my life where I wish I had done things differently in my younger years, that I knew then what I know now. There's no point in thinking that way, but that doesn't help me feel any better. I feel like I'm stuck, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Even if I were able to fulfil my dreams and live as the woman I think I was meant to be, what would change? I don't know. I can't see myself wearing a lot of makeup, though given my appearance, I probably would need some. My style of dress would need to change, even though I am more comfortable in jeans and a tee. (Let's be honest here. How often does one see a woman made-up in jeans and a tee? *I* don't see many women around like that, at least none that are my age.)
There. I've written a good deal, bored you all to tears, and maybe even drove a few of you insane in the process. I think that's enough for one day...
Sunday, March 30, 2008
The return of the prodigal daughter
I started trying to get something going on WordPress on a server elsewhere (a friend of mine has a server that is online 24/7 and was gracious enough to work on setting it up for me), but after a bit of thinking, I decided it would be better to continue to post here.
I am afraid I can't promise a change from the regular "dark" attitude I've had in writing here, because that's just the way I am. Apparently things are worse-off in my mind than I would otherwise care to admit, and this is a better place to vent than getting all gussied-up and finding a biker bar... (Here, I will survive. All bets are off at the biker bar...)
I still have the old posts that I took down, and I may try to put them back. I don't know if I will or not... That remains to be seen.
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