Face Time

From the moment we’re conceived, there is change. It is a natural and immutable part of existence. (Yes, change is an immutable fact.) From one day to the next we are not the same. I daresay from one moment to the next we are not the same. Even if that change is imperceptible from moment to passing moment, it’s still there. You take a million of these moments, and the amount of change that takes place becomes pronounced and profound.

The fact that you will not be the same person tomorrow you were yesterday is a curse, a blessing, and a promise. We grow up, we get older, we look at ourselves in the mirror and don’t recognize ourselves. We try to think of who we were even just five years ago and it’s difficult. Trying to put yourself in your own shoes 10 or 20 years in the past is almost an impossibility. We remember moments from those times, but they are now perceived through a vastly different lens. The lens of somebody else. That is how much we change.

I think of myself just five years ago and I don’t know who I’m looking at. Any more than that is a blur. And when you add major life moments into that mix… births, deaths, the experience of new people who become a major part of your world, new jobs, new struggles, new victories… the velocity at which change occurs is heightened. These events speed us toward the next incarnation of ourselves.

While I haven’t had the change that’s instilled through meeting the love of my life or starting a family, I have other milestones that have literally transformed me. I went through the raging tumult of grappling with gender identity and my ultimate acquiescence to the acceptance that I’m trans… and then the many years of not only trying to deal with it, but trying to embrace myself and love myself despite the fact that all I had inside me was a gnashing hatred of who I was. Even while knowing that I’m actually a pretty decent person by all standards, the self-hatred you go through from being trans truly alters who you are. It is a meat grinder that some people do not escape from. It wrings out your hope and sanity and leaves you less than whole.

BUT… once I accepted the fact that THIS is who I am, I went on to address the circumstance. I sought the way to treat the horrid feelings that being trans hurled at me. I began taking hormones. My body then literally changed in wonderful ways. Not only that, but the chaos swirling in my brain was calmed, at least a little.

Then, not even a year ago, I had bottom surgery to help me feel better. And WOW did it! After adjusting to everything, the regularity of depression that interrupted my world has been not existent, and I haven’t even been down or bluesy in months. This is UNHEARD of for me. I feel like I don’t even know who I am at times because of the absence of these bad feelings. And it’s wonderful.

And now I’m having facial surgery later today. To…day. I have navigated my way to another major and monumental leap forward, and it is now on my doorstep. And this, perhaps oddly to some, especially considering my last surgery, is the scary one. This is the one that truly frightens me and has me filled with a whole mess of feelings that I’m still trying to sort out even though it’s mere hours away.

On one hand, I am SO excited to see how this goes, and I most certainly KNOW that this is indeed a step I need to make in my life… because I’ve existed in the world as I am now for long enough to know that all of the steps I have taken aren’t enough. The life I have now isn’t the life I want for myself, and I have to strive to achieve that life because what am I doing with my existence if I’m NOT heading in the direction I need to go and fiercely fighting to get there?

But it’s trippy and scary as fuck to not know what you’re going to look like at this time tomorrow. It’s kind of terrifying to know that how the world treats me in just a short time may be drastically different. It’s also awful to think that I’m going through all of this trouble, and the pain and recovery of surgery, and the staggering financial expense of it all, and there is most certainly a chance that it won’t be enough and it won’t make a lick of difference in how the world treats me. The uncertainty of it is overwhelming.

Add into this the fact that I’m about to surgically alter this constant companion of mine… my face. The one that looks back at me in the mirror every day. While it has changed very much over the years, this seems to me to be something very different. As I’m thinking of this and typing this, tears are actually filling my eyes. There is a bit of mourning here, and there was for my previous surgery as well. But the mourning is more pronounced here, because with the last one I knew that if all went okay I would at last feel right… and I do… very much so and despite some complications.

This next surgery is different for some reason. Part of me really loves my face. Part of me wants to claw it off my skull. It’s such a strange and conflicting space to exist in.

And the really weird thing is that my weight has fluctuated greatly over the years, and when we gain or lose weight, even a little bit sometimes, our faces change. Drop 40 pounds, and you WILL look drastically different. I know, because I’ve done so. Is this any different?

I guess there’s something more to it when you’re talking about altering and shaving down and sculpting your skull. Maybe it’s the permanence of it all. But even with that, the passing of time is somewhat permanent as well. 45-year-old me has a face that has permanently been altered from 25-year-old me, and that’s just through the passing of time (well, and some hormones thrown in there too).

For some reason, and somehow, I’m both wildly excited about this next leap forward, but I’m also filled with a sense of sadness about it. Right now, with it racing up on me I’m just trying to hope for the best and stay positive about it all. After all, this is something I NEED to do with this life… I mean EVERY inch of me is telling me this… but it doesn’t mean that it’s not scary.

It’s been such a strange year, and it’s about to get way stranger. Though strange does not equal bad. That’s something I must keep in mind. 

Now my job is to stay optimistic, see this as a finish line of sorts that I’m crossing after a decades-long marathon, revel in that, and keep this mindset and the joy of completion with me.

Okay, I’m ready.

Goodbye old face, and long live the new one.

Much much love to any and everyone who has gotten me to this point. I’m thankful beyond the scope of words. 


Wishing you all the most happiness you can squeeze from this existence.

 

Here I Am

Talk about leaving things in a cliffhanger. I mean, I post over five months ago about how I’m going to have THE surgery… about how I’m getting ready to take THE biggest and most profound step I’ve ever taken… and then I don’t write for almost half a year.

Well, you see, the thing is… it’s taken me that long to even BEGIN to know what to say about it.

I had surgery on December 27, 2017. It went fairly well. I mean, I’m still healing, so we won’t know final results for another few months or so, but at this point in the process and with what I’ve gone through so far, I’m pretty, amazingly happy.

There have been some complications, but nothing all too major as far as I can tell. Mostly it’s simply about dealing with the simmering frustration that comes with recovery. You finally reach a point where you almost feel back to normal, but you’re not quite there yet. You’re just on the wide periphery of healed, and the closer you get to the core of fully better, the more the impatience nags at you.

All that said, I still really don’t know what to write about. I don’t know how to sum any of it up. I have so much to say about it to the point where I can’t get anything out. It’s like a tidal wave of thoughts are trying to escape my brain through a keyhole, and it’s so excessive that it just gets dammed up.

What I do know is this…. I’m happy that I’ve had the surgery. In fact, I’m beyond ecstatic. I can’t even describe how much better, and clear-headed, and content, and giddy, and confident this has made me. Even with the complications. It’s like someone has been screaming at me for the past few decades and it’s finally stopped. Know that car alarm that goes off for WAY too long and it starts to drive you slowly insane? Imagine that going on for DECADES… then imagine it stopping. THAT is how I feel right now. A thought that constantly entered my mind in the first few weeks of this new experience was: I don’t know how to be this happy.

I truly didn't, and I'm still trying to figure out how to be.

This is all just SO very different, and even I have a difficult time wrapping my head around it. At times I don’t even think it’s real. It’s like I think I’ve somehow fooled myself and suddenly I’ll be reverted back to what I was. All my life I’d imagine SO intently what I SO desperately sought… I’d visualize it to SUCH a degree that I could almost fool myself into believing this blissful lie. Like if I concentrated hard enough, I could pretend I was already fixed.

But then, sooner or later, reality would come crashing in and destroy this illusion I so desperately tried to get lost in.

But… this time…. this time it is real. This time the illusion is that I’ll revert back to that painful feeling. This time the illusion is that I’ll ever have to feel that way again.

THIS is what this experience is like. It is SUCH a hard thing to encapsulate, and I try to even do it a modicum of justice with my description on this page.

Yet, with all of this said, there’s a bad side to it too. You see, I still very much and near unmistakably look like a man, even when I try to present as female. Now, I’m not the most girly of girls, and to be honest, I really prefer jeans and t-shrits over anything more fancy. I’ve always strived for comfort more than anything else. And what would be read as “comfort” on other women, gets read as “completely male” on me.

And even if I play it up… even if I throw on a dress and try my best to appear as “feminine” as possible to people who meet me, I still come across as male.

This makes me hide. Because it’s easier to hide than to deal with the disparity between my perception and the world’s. If I’m not trying, then it hurts less than if I try and still get the same treatment. It’s like my mind can justify it by saying, “Well, I’m not trying, so it’s not as bad.”

And so I hide. Both in the way that I dress, and in the fact that I barely leave my apartment and have become, for all intents and purposes, a shut-in.

My hiding has become even worse since surgery. Because when I’m here, alone, at home, I am INSANELY happy. When I’m not dealing with what the world reflects back at me, I am INSANELY happy. It’s like a drug, and all I want to do is feed that addiction and live in this altered state of reality, because the other version, the REAL version that lurks outside my door, is so very much more painful and biting.

Before surgery, I still had the pain of feeling wrong, so I would hide but still go out and do things to try to deal with and distract myself from this pain. Now that this pain doesn’t exist, it is VERY difficult for me to try to move in and around other people. I don’t even leave the house to go to work, because I can work from home pretty much any day I want to… and lately it’s been every single day. I haven’t been to the office in weeks. I’m telling myself that I’m going in tomorrow. I see even just telling myself this as a sign of progress toward eventually getting out into the world again… but we’ll see if I leave the house tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is only a temporary thing, though. Maybe I just need to be with this and with my new self for a time and process it all. I’m not certain, but I know that I’m still planning for the future and trying to find a way I can move more easily in the world… so that’s good, because at least I’m still looking out there. Maybe someday soon I’ll be a part of it again.

Until then, I shall stay in my happy little bubble.

Things could most certainly be worse.

All the best to you. Always.

Before the Dawn

"Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong."
                                                                               – Mandy Hale

There seems to be a lot of debate and thought lately about what makes us who we are? What truly defines us? Is it our appearance? Our genes? Our DNA? Our mind? Do they all play a part, and if so, how important is each part?

As someone who is trans, the thought of identity and what makes us who we are is a constant. Part of that is because I feel in eternal discord, so I am trying my best to rectify that, and how do you fix something you don't understand?

And so I seek understanding.

Another reason I'm bombarded with these thoughts is because I insanely read comments on trans stories on the internet. People cry out that no one can be trans and we're all mentally ill and unstable because of DNA or genetics or <<insert reason here>>.


All that said, I come FIRMLY down in the camp that we are who our mind says we are. Our mind governs what we do and how we do it. It governs what we say, how we act, and really, isn't ALL of that who we truly are?

With that in mind, I have been out as trans to everyone in my social world for years now. I have received a host of reactions to it. Thankfully most of them have been good.

The thing that's strange about it is that I think many of the people in my life accept the fact that I'm "trans", but there's no real thought as to what that means. It's like, "You're trans and I support you," and while I appreciate that immensely, a step seems to be missed.


By saying I'm trans, I'm basically saying, "Yeah, I look like a guy, but I'm not. In fact, I'm not at ALL what I appear to be. My brain is female, and to me that means that I—who I am at my CORE—is female."

It took a loooooooonnnnnnnnngggggggg time and a massive amount of agony to come to that realization, and even more time and agony for me to learn to start embracing it. It's not that I didn't explore other options. It's not that I didn't scream and cry for it to be other things. It's not that I didn't go to seven different therapists to try to find out what was really underneath it all and why I was having these feelings.

After all of that, it became clear I was having these feelings because I'm trans. I was having these feelings because I'm a woman, but yet I look the way I do. It's enough to cause self-hatred and depression to envelop you like a shroud. It's enough to make you want to die. Literally. It's nothing that anyone would want for themselves, for it's just a magnificent amount of pain.


Okay, I don't mean to get all morose with this post, but I need to establish that this is not something I dreamed up overnight. This is not some fanciful whim I flew off on. This is DECADES of self-examination. And now I'm here, trying to find a way to be at ease with who I am, and have those in my world feel the same.

Yet I'm assailed with reminders that people can't let it go. That people can't see me for who I am. That people still call me the wrong name and say the wrong things about me. That people assume that I'm some guy and that I'll get all the "guy" things and have no idea about the "girl" things... whatever the hell that genderist bullshit is. That some dude will come up to me to tell me how "hot" some woman is because, I don't know, this is what dudes do (or creeper dudes do at the very least)? It's all fucking maddening.

But, outside of that, there are people who see me for who I am despite my appearance. They get ME. They understand ME. And they want to do right by ME. So there is hope, and things on this front get better every day. This is something I need to hold onto and keep in mind.

However, even with these people doing right by me, there is still the pain I feel every single day. There is still the discord. Nothing is in harmony with me. Everything is off kilter, and it's a terrible way to go through life.

And so I seek to get that harmony. I seek to match my outside with who I truly am. And this is happening in a major way just two weeks from now, because I'm having surgery. I'm having "the" surgery, as a friend recently put it. It has a lot of monikers: SRS, GRS, GCS, bottom surgery. Yep, that one. I'm having it. I couldn't be more excited about something, and I also couldn't be more terrified.

I think the excitement aspect here speaks for itself. I know this isn't going to cure all that ails me as a person, but it's a pretty big fucking bit of medicine for my soul. It will help. Immensely. I will no longer be cursed with feeling constantly wrong. A big part of me will be fixed. I will be able to just sit and watch TV at night and relax and not be in mental pain about my discord even while doing something so supremely mundane. That will be beyond amazing.

I'm terrified because it's surgery, and I've never had surgery. And with surgery you can have complications. You can have things go horribly wrong. There's a lot of trust with this, and you just have to hope and pray that things go well.

But even without that, there's the pain of recovery. There's the reliance on other people (which I am SO not good with) while I am healing. There's just the thought of SO much with this that it overwhelms and staggers.

On top of all of this, in preparation for surgery, I had to stop hormones two weeks ago, and I have been on them for over 12 straight years with no breaks. My brain and body forgot what it was like to be hammered with testosterone and not filled with estrogen. In short, I'm a catastrophic, emotional, hormonal mess. I cry basically every day, partly because my body chemistry is SO out of whack right now, but also because ALL of the awful feelings I had before starting hormones—before getting my body in tune with my head—is all coming back at me with a vicious ferocity. My skin feels different, my brain feels different, and my hair is already coming out in clumps again. I feel like all of the progress I've made physically in the past 12 years is rapidly being eroded away, and throughout all of this, I feel like I'm completely alone in contending with this horribleness.

I know people love and support me and they will be there to help me out, and I'm SO thankful. But this is an every-second-of-every-day thing with me now, and no one can keep up with that, nor would I want them to, because they have their own lives to live, and I need to find a way to muddle through mine.

Thankfully these feelings and this physical catastrophe that I'm going through should only be for a few more weeks, then I can get back on track feeling immensely better about me, my identity, and who I am as a person. I just hope I don't lose ALL of my hair by then.

It's overwhelming to think of this thing I've wanted for so long—to feel right—is only 14 days away. It's almost like, what do I want out of life after this??

I know there's more to go with my transition and getting me feeling better and better, but when something you needed has been SO out of reach for SO long, when it's finally on your doorstep, it's almost too much to process. And yet I'm doing my best to. Every minute of every day. The thoughts have swallowed me.

I think that's all I can say about this tonight, but my brain is going MACH 5 since this has been scheduled, and I get that out through writing, so I may just pop up on here a time or two before the big day.

In the meantime, thanks to all who have helped me or someone like me to get to this point. It's a hard enough journey as is, so it's nice to have some pals to help you along the way. Many thanks and much love.

And now I grit my teeth and continue trudging my way through this last bit of darkness before the dawn. I'm hoping for a glorious sunrise.

All the best. Always.

A Big Day for Big Things

For those of you who may not know, today is National Coming Out Day. And in knowing this some people may ask, "Why is this important? Do we really need a day for this? I don't have a problem with LGBT people, but why can't they just be themselves and not make everything about telling us who they love and that their gender is this one or that one?"

First off, if you have said the last comment, make no mistake, you DO have a problem with LGBT people.

But to address the first two questions that I've seen and heard people ask... well, I can only speak for myself here...

Being trans IS who I am to a large extent. It makes up a MASSIVE portion of what my life is, what I have learned in this existence, and the lens that I have witnessed the world through. The feelings and pain that this has laden upon me has shaped and eroded all things around me... family, friends, money, serenity, comfort, time, and the list goes on.

To not know that I'm trans is to not understand me as a person on any level. If you don't see this and don't understand that what I feel is true, you don't know me at all. And if that is the case, how can you even be important to me? How can you call me a friend or say you care about me if one of the biggest, if not THE biggest, aspect of my life is ignored by you?

Though this is not to say that this has to constantly be kept in mind by people interacting with me. It should just be something known, something recognized, something validated, and then you have a better idea of where I'm coming from with everything. It's a latent understanding that this is my identity and this is my struggle. If someone you know is going through an enormous amount of pain and conflict, it's not that you need to talk about it, but you should understand that it exists... well, if you want to know the person or you care about them at all.

So seven years ago today... on National Coming Out Day... I posted the following message on Facebook along with a link to this blog:

In honor of National Coming Out Day: Today, in 2010, 29 states still allow someone to be fired with NO legal recourse simply for being lesbian, gay, or bisexual, and there are 38 states where someone can be fired purely for being transgender. This means that in 38 states (including the one where I currently work), I can be fired solely for who I happen to be... you know, if I choose to make that known in the workplace. So, for those of you who don't yet know: Yes, that means that I am indeed trans.

It was a move that I would sometimes describe as nouveau-trite (you know, coming out to everyone... on Facebook... on National Coming Out Day), but there has not been a day or a moment where I have regretted any of it.

This is because I received a mountain of support and love that day, and that's something that I desperately needed at the time... and still do actually... much like many LGBT people.

This is because it makes me supremely thankful that I had a small group of close people in my life at the time who knew me for me and who were in my corner cheering for me and giving me the guts, nerve, and resolve to tell all who know me socially one of the biggest things about me and to not hide my shit in the shadows from those I care about.

This is because for the first time and on a large scale I was acknowledging THIS is who I am. THIS is me. Take me or leave me as you will, but do so for who I AM and not for who your half-shrouded notions define me as.

And let me say this, if it isn't already apparent... this was scary as fuck to do. It's scary to share that much of yourself all at once. It's scary to let ALL these people into your world and expose the rawness of all the pain that you feel to them. It's scary to anticipate reactions and know that just by saying this, just by stating who I am, people will leave me. People will say hurtful things to me and abandon me. People I care about will laugh at my pain and do so without remorse.

I have certainly been on the receiving end of bad and terrible reactions to this news... and much of it you can shake off. Then someone you truly love comes at you with all guns a' blazin' while you are completely vulnerable, and the anger and disgust they assail you with just shatters your soul. It's more profoundly devastating than I'd like to admit or acknowledge.

BUT... through all of that, coming out has brought me much closer to some people. I see this moment that happened seven years ago today as the turning point of my relationship with my mother, which has only healed and blossomed since that day. That Facebook post (and this blog, actually) opened up gates of support that didn't previously exist, and it gave all who read at least some understanding of what trans people deal with... and believe me, I have it better than most.

Coming out provides exposure: If you don't think you know someone like me... well, you do. You can then see that I'm a human being with my own set of imperfections, foibles, and struggles who is just trying to get through life... just like everybody else. And through this exposure comes empathy and understanding. And through that becomes the lessening of fear and hate.

ALL of this... and for so many more reasons that I don't have the time, capacity, or talent to state... is why Coming Out Day is so important. It gave me the strength to be more myself and take a flying leap toward happiness, and I know it does the same for countless others as well... and many of those who need an abundance of empathy and understanding far more than I.

To end this, I'll refer back to my Facebook post. Here we are, seven years later, and in 28 states you can STILL be fired for being gay, lesbian, or bisexual, which has dropped by only one. In 30 states, including the one where I live and work, you can STILL be fired for being trans (down by eight, but not enough). On top of this, a few states now have laws in place that don't even allow for local protections to be enforced for cities or municipalities that wish to protect LGBT rights. Then we have the incredibly fucking stupid "bathroom bills".... then of course there's the people running this country at the moment who are essentially waging a war on people like me, and I've already seen people suffer for it. I've seen people who enlisted to serve in the army to protect the country hurt by this... but all of this is a topic for another post and another day.

I want to leave this post on a positive note, so here's a quote from Frank Ocean about coming out....

I hadn’t been happy in so long. I’ve been sad again since, but it’s a totally different take on sad. There’s just some magic in truth and honesty and openness.

Be well, and all the best to you.

White Coat Hyperstressing

A few weeks ago I had an appointment with a dermatologist about a shiny bump I had on my face (which turned out to be nothing to be concerned about). However, since I’m in my 40s and have very pale skin, the doctor suggested I come back in a few weeks for a full body check. I suppose this is a smart thing to do, but now it’s causing me a ridiculous amount of stress, as most doctor’s appointments tend to freak me out for various reasons, a lot of them having to do with the whole trans thing.

This anxiety is exacerbated even more because the procedure I’m going in for requires me to strip down, and, since I have been on hormones for almost ten years now, my body is a mishmash of two different sexes. 

Now all of this could turn out to be totally fine, and with the visibility and empathy that trans people have been getting lately, and with the fact that this office is in the heart of downtown Philadelphia (a very LGBT-friendly city), many of my fears should be allayed. Yet they still exist.

And these fears still exist even after writing all my medications (hormones included) on the patient information form I filled out during my initial visit. I also even had a conversation with the dermatologist and another doctor about some minor scarring that has appeared on my face (probably) due to the extensive hours that I’ve had a needle repeatedly stuck in my face during my electrolysis treatments. 

When I told the doctors that I was having electrolysis, they asked if I was just getting ingrown hairs and other similar problems addressed, or if I was having my whole face cleared. I answered that I was getting all of the hair removed from my face, and that was pretty much that. The conversation may have paused for a second, but then they jumped right back into what could be done to treat the scarring, and even talked about how their office offers laser hair removal (though that doesn't work for me due to my blonde hair).

I should have just told them that I was trans then and there, and that probably would have helped me either feel more at ease with my upcoming appointment… or realize that I should cancel it altogether (as I wish I could've with some of the other AWFUL doctor's appointments that I've had in the past). But that ship has most certainly sailed.

So, what I described above would make many people think that everything would be fine, and that I should just go down and not worry about it and get checked out. But I also want to go because I was MUCH heavier than I am now, and I have just AWFUL stretch marks under my arms that trail onto my back and chest. So I’m hoping that something could be done about this, as sleeveless things are SUPER comfortable to wear and also make me look a lot more feminine, but I would have issues with going out in public like that because (among other reasons) it looks like someone dug in and scraped a rake down my armpits.

All of this being said, I’m STILL thinking about cancelling this appointment, because this is how heavily the whole situation is weighing on me. And because the scarring I’m looking to have addressed is where it is (primarily talking about my chest here), I’m just SO filled with agita about it. I keep thinking about what I would have on during this exam, and how things would play out, and it just makes me nauseous with how much it’s making my head spin.

On top of ALL of this, I’m just INCREDIBLY annoyed that I feel this way, and that I’m thinking about being a complete coward and cancelling this appointment. This leads me into beating myself up for ALL of the fear that has rooted itself deeply into my psyche, not just with this doctor’s visit, but with the entire trans issue.

This very minor situation is making me realize more and more that I am utterly immobilized by fear, and me being trans is at the core of it. After all this time, and all the progress that I have made, and all the effort I put into trying to be okay with myself and who I am, I still can’t fucking bring myself to do it…and it’s killing me. 

And the fact of the matter is, what many friends have told me about the trans thing is more than likely true: “No one cares about this as much as you do. NO. ONE. Most people give absolutely no shits about it.” So why the fuck do I care so much? Why am I so mired in this horrible position and why do I keep doing subconscious things to keep me pinned where I’m at? How do I get past this fear? 

Well, I think I can start by realizing that people are who people are and they feel what they feel (even if it's open contempt toward me), and accept that fact and be who I need to be regardless of that fact. People being who they are should have ZERO impact on me being me. Other people should have no impact on me EMBRACING who I am, and not just grinning and bearing it. This is a lesson that I desperately must incorporate into my life, because even in spite of all of this, I’m STILL thinking about cancelling, and I have about two days to decide to do so. 

If anyone has any suggestions for how to get past fear, please let me know. In the meantime, however, I wish all the best to you, always.