Dreamt about sister and the little ones.
Dreamt about him. WHY MUST HE PLAGUE MY DREAMS?
Imma go clean now.
Dreamt about sister and the little ones.
Dreamt about him. WHY MUST HE PLAGUE MY DREAMS?
Imma go clean now.
I love my new tshirt so much omg
// Dat t-shirt.
*need to point out, t-shirt auto corrected to t-shot……
#ftm #doctorwho #myfavouritetimelord #raggedyman
Its been ages since I last posted, so I thought at this perfect moment in my life, I should post something heartfelt and meaningful.
I am now two and half years into social/legal transition. I am seven and half months into testosterone therapy and am less than three months (hopefully) away from chest surgery.
Surgery. There is a big scary word. I keep using the workd surgery as opposed to what actually be said about it. THEY ARE GOING TO CUT ME OPEN AND CUT MY BOOBS OFF. This is the truth, its a life threatening procedure, there is so much that could go wrong, so much that could not work. I think that there is something about surgery that trans people assume its the be all and end all. Its a magical ride where (im paraphrasing from a friend at this point) the surgeons cover you in sparkles and rainbows. You go in a beautiful buxom woman and come out this hunky great beefcake, with rippling muscles and a cock that would make Ron Jeremy jealous. What people don’t see is the years of binding, packing, hiding between the social lines.
Im quite fortunate in the sense that I pass remarkably well now, the T has helped immensely with the voice, the facial hair, the body hair, the sex drive, the fat redistribution, the mental health issues, the social interactions, the drinking, taking care of myself…..etc…..etc…..
What it hasnt done is stopped the emotional heartache I go through. I have (as mentioned before) have cyclothymia and as a result struggle with some situations. However, I have never had the time or the ability to truly come to terms with the abuse I suffered growing up. The constant secrecy of the family, like some grotesque 2 point four children Illuminati, for the family. The rest of the world need not know why there is someone in the world that still to this very day cannot touch steel wool, why there is someone who still flinches when their neck is touched and cannot tolerate silence. Years of therapy failed, suicide bids (thankfully now) failed and I now rely on medication to keep me on an even keel.
Even to this day, my parents staunchly deny that there is anything wrong with me.
One of the things that I will never forget growing up was a conversation I had with my Dad about when I was first diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder.
"Why are you taking those? What have you got to be depressed about?"
"What have I got to be happy about?"
They then made a point of hiding my medication, often leading to worse drops in my depression and left me again with a lifelong fear of taking pills. But I still miss them terribly. I long to have a beer with the old man and (dont laugh) go down the bingo with my mum. I miss my brother, of whom I spent so much time, my sister who has two children who will probably never be allowed to spend more than ten minutes alone with me unsupervised. Their father firmly believer that that I am some sort of weirdo that is gonna convert them to my cause.
The truth? My mum still calls me that. She wont acknowledge me in public, unless its to abjectly humiliate me. My dad mocks me and still thinks this is a fucking phase when….when…..there are no words. My sister tries bless her, but she is straddling the fence, when I know when push comes to shove, she’ll always fall on their side. I just want their love. I need to get that out of my head……
This isnt a parental rant. There isnt enough time in the world for me to get all that out.
This is me summing up things.
Im scared. Im absolutely terrified. But equally, I am going to be happy. Even if I die on that operating table, I am still happy.
I wont say I have spent “23 years living a lie” coz I havent. I have spent 23 years finding a part of me that I never thought possible. I have found a part of me that is confident, brave, cock-sure, and soon? Complete.
Bring on the world. Never be afraid to be you. Never let anyone tell you to be someone else. Run into the world like a kid high on on sweets at a disco. The bottom line is folks, you cant get to the end of life and expect to find a save file from the beginning. Play each level of life like its one step closer to Game Over. Because it is.
Its been ages since I actually posted…..
We are now nearly 7 weeks into T and I had my second shot last week.
Things have been moving so fast for me, the voice has started breaking noticeably now, the hair has begun and the depression has well and truly set in.
My brain is not coping with the dysphoria at all, most times I’m not feeling male, but almost like a simulacra. Its horrible because I know that I pass, but its when I start to think about the latter part of my transition that things get harder. Its always harder when I know the longer I leave talking to people, the deeper the voice is going to get and the harder its going to be. Also it doesnt help when I realise that I cannot keep wearing my binder, (you are only supposed to wear it for 6 hours at a time and I am racking up 16 hours at a time). Im going as far as sometimes due to exhaustion, I am falling asleep in it.
Trying to be satisfied sexually is a total nightmare as well. I have no idea what I want anymore, but I know that I can split this into three categories.
- Alone time.
- Want to be fucked.
- Want to fuck.
The first one makes me feel alone and unwanted physically but seems to be the only way I can relieve the feelings of arousal. The second makes me feel like a failed man, a freak, something that has no need to be here and shouldn’t be transitioning. The third one makes me want to stab my self down there with a scalpel repeatedly until there is nothing there at all. I cant do anything about that until surgery and that is so far off again its just painful.
It also doesnt help that I desperately need to see a gynaecologist but everytime I go I get unhelpful questions like “are you seeing a psychiatrist for the gender problem….” and my alltime favourite while sat in a treatment room after an issue with a cyst “Are you aware you have a vagina but your details say male?”
Right now, I am sat in my front room bundled up in t-shirts and my blanket because I cannot physically bear the thought of feeling my breasts….also I cannot keep wearing my binder for upwards of twelve hours a day…..Im also wearing my packer because I cannot again bear the thought of moving and feeling nothing down there. I want to cry but I cant, T isnt letting me. I have tried to so hard to just cry and scream out how I am feeling but I just cant.
This isn’t a cry for surgery or a desperate need for medical intervention, this is a case of I am human. My gender comes second. I dont need people telling me that this is a phase or that I will grow out of it. I also dont need people telling me that I wrong, or that I have labels.
I do all the same things that you do. I go out, I drink, I wander around town drunk looking for food, I play xbox, I have a girlfriend, I work hard, I pay my taxes….etc etc. Just because for now my birth cert has a F on it doesnt make me any less of a man.
People tell me it gets better. I have yet to see it.
You know what sucks?
So many people shove that word into sentences, “oh he’s feeling a bit depressed.” “Depressing isnt it?” “Avoid him, he is just depressed….”
Well, today my depression got to such a point it triggered a cluster migraine. It triggered nausea, dizziness and intense anger. I currently want to rip the bollocks off anything that comes near me. I hate myself, who I am, what I am doing, my identity, everything that is wrong.
Im tired of thinking that its gonna get better, you know what?
IT NEVER FUCKING DOES. Everything will always suck, nothing will ever make me 100% male, nothing will ever make people stop misgendering me, nothing will ever make my life anything other than a permanent uphill struggle.
I cannot physically cope with this anymore and cannot lie to myself anymore. There really isnt much keeping me from popping all the zolpidem in the house and sleeping forever. No one would miss me, no one would care. This isn’t an emo moment, this is not me wanting to die, this is me not wanting to be awake.
I actually said this afternoon that I wish I had been born a girl in mind as well as in body. Then I wouldnt have to deal with being trans and gay all on top of everything else.
Someone tell me something different. I am supposed to be at work doing overtime, I am supposed to be functioning as a human being, however I cant even deal with getting out of the bed. How the fuck am I supposed to explain this one to my TL?
FUCK MY LIFE. FUCK ALL OF IT.
Well its morning time!
Im sat on a bus winging it to work, contemplating many things. Mainly what shops are going to be open so I can improve on my already varied breakfast of super-charged energy drink.
Work on a Sunday is cool. Its normally all of us on the one floor having a laugh. However we have been really busy recently… … . .so chances are once I log in, its gonna be back to back calls until I log out again! However, its ok because Im off out on a date tonight with Becky. Just down the pub for a mixed grill and a couple of well deserved beers after all this arse stabbing business.
Just again now on the count down to my next CHX appointment. Im hoping this one means that I’ll get some clarification on what I need to do to get the ball rolling on my upper. Upper for me is the most important. I have my lil packer for most social passing, my bigger packer is getting ordered for when I go out and need a little more cough cough bulge in the trouserial department.
Looking forward to next weekend, got some serious business to get down to. Out on the jars with the work fam Friday, helping someone move house Saturday and then drinking some more beer, then meeting up with my merry men for some MOAR beer. Happy times.
Anyway enough of this mindless trouser banter.
So Im nearly nine days post injection and 6 days into my Testim gel.
How do I feel? I cant describe it anymore, I tried doing daily FB updates, but I cant describe it. Its like my entire body has switched from black and white to HD. I sense new things, I feel new emotions, I can feel my body changing. My voice has started to break to the point where it is noticeably different by people other than me. My acne is actually improving which is surprising given I was told by many that it would get worse!
Sexually I have changed as well. I dont normally pour my heart out online, but I have noticed that my original attraction to men (from a M2M perspective) is still there. I love Rebecca dearly and thankfully the polyamory would mean that I have the option to explore. The only problem I ever have is that the majority of men dont really dig the trans thing. My experience of gay men is that without the correct genitalia, they are unwilling to even consider looking in your direction. My only real hope is to find someone with an extremely open mind and is possibly bi-sexual. Again, the other problem I face is the body dysphoria. Since starting T, I have become even more disenfranchised with the pathetic body I have at the moment. The chest, the vagina, the hips, the arse…..its almost like its taunting me. The chest is deal-with-able, with upper surgery and lots of gym time, I should look fine, but I know that the lower surgery is going to be hard. (please excuse the pun there!) (There is another post coming for the surgical aspect of my transition)
I just wish that on top of this, I didnt have to deal with all the mental stress as well. Having bi-polar and crippling depression really doesnt help, the only reason I pull myself out of bed every morning is because I know if I give up now, all of this would of been for nothing. I know that sounds corny, but there are certain parts of my life now that I wouldnt change, the people I have met, the experiences and T has done so much to heighten that.
So to conclude, Im gonna divide this into two little lists.
List One: Positive Aspects:
- Voice is breaking.
- Noticeable darkening of hair.
- Face / skin is becoming rougher.
- Depression is easing.
- Call of Duty abilities have dramatically increased.
- Pain threshold has reached a point where I can with-stand an enormous amount of inflicted pain.
List Two: Negative Aspects:
- Aggression is worse.
- More prone to snapping.
- Sexually more aggressive.
- More prone to emotional outbursts.
- Hunger / appetite is through the roof.
So…….to sum it all up…….I feel angsty, horny, hungry and angry. Pretty much like an eighteen year old.
However, I know that I can do this, I know that all of this will pass and eventually…..so will I.
Last post……I was waiting for the authorisation for HRT.
As I sit on the sofa now, I am now three days post my first injection of Nebido!
Next post will explain all…..
Its not like anyone is reading this anyway….
Im struggling again. I dont mean to but i am. Im sat at work at the moment, alone, listening to Pink Floyd. E is at home nursing a hangover and R is asleep. I dont think I can do this anymore. I know that I am a complete failure at everything. I wish that things would just go the way that they are supposed to not this half arsed attempt at making sure things are ok.
I wish that the world would understand that I dont mean to be like this. I have been through so much and I am so young that I don’t think that I can cope any more. I am supposed to go to hospital on the 10th for an operation (nothing gender related sadly) but all I’m now worried about is a shift swap that should of been swapped back / annual leave….not recovering, not making sure everything is ok, but ensuring that I have the time off work. To cap it, my Mum works at the hospital, so not only do I have to worry about the inevitable misgenderings from the NHS, I have my Mum to contend with. She will make it hell for me, especially considering that i have to stay in for upto 3 days. Im praying that she doesn’t find out that I am staying in and then I can be ok.
I just dont think I have the mental strength to get through three days both on my own and also in a place where my gender means nothing. The fact that I have breasts, the fact that Im having a “female related medical problem” treated (I want to stress this doesnt bother me in the slightest, it needs to be done, I want it done!) and the fact that my voice still hasnt broken yet will mean constant shouting at nurses and knowing my luck, my Mum.
Anyway, work beckons. See you all later.