Showing posts with label caring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label caring. Show all posts

Thursday, July 7, 2016

The Bounce


A few months ago I was enjoying a night of dining and drinking with a bunch of people I work with. One of these people, who is in the process of learning about me, though who knows I’m trans, was chatting with me. During the course of the conversation, I said something that I can’t even remember now, but whatever I said sort of took him aback. His response to my comment was a sentiment that I’ve heard thrown at me quite often, especially over the past few years. Basically what he said was…

“You’re one of those people aren’t you? You’re just….special. You’re an extremely good person who goes out of their way to be nice and respectful to everyone. I know so few people like you, that when I meet someone like you, I’m always amazed.”

And despite the fact that this is a wonderful thing to hear, I essentially shrugged it off.

This is because I knew what he said was true (well, with the exception that I always thought there were more people like this in the world than he made it out to be… though perhaps that’s just his experience). I also knew that people saw this kind of “specialness” (for lack of a better term) in me, because people have a tendency to tell me about it. I’ve been told something similar to this dozens of times, because apparently I have a “really good energy” about me or something.

Anyway, after he said this, he essentially continued with, “I especially don’t know how you do it, because if I was in your situation (read: trans), I would be mad at the entire world and wouldn’t know how to hold it back. So the fact that you’re exceedingly nice astounds me.”

Again, I shrugged this off, because, at the time, I thought to myself, What does being mean, angry, and mad do? It’s not going to change the situation, and it would really only make things worse. And while what this person said has stuck me with (obviously, since I’m writing about it), it’s not something I thought much about since then. Well, not until recently anyway.


The first time I admitted to having any trans-fueled feelings to someone was in 1998. I started hormones in 2005. And through all that time, while I have made great strides in the process of accepting myself and moving forward with this snail’s-pace crusade, the way I live now is STILL a lie. And even though the people closest to me—and perhaps even ALL my family and friends at this point—know that I’m trans (an achievement in and of itself), I STILL live a lie.

One of the gigantic reasons for this is because I have a severe issue with how I look. I struggle incredibly with my appearance. Actually, to be completely honest, I loathe my appearance… and I find it impossible to try to be true to myself while feeling the way I do about how I look, as I appear NOWHERE close to who I actually am.

My appearance, or more specifically my feelings about my appearance, holds me back in a MAJOR way and keeps me from publically jumping from the Male side of the fence to the Female side… which is something I desperately need to do. I’ve been saving money for years to try to address this in any way I can, and recently I thought I had FINALLY scraped enough together to make a good, solid push to address it so that I can FINALLY feel more confident about moving forward in this process… and, you know, just feel better about the everyday action of looking into a mirror.

So what I want to do (and have wanted to do since I first came to this I-am-trans conclusion) is have surgery on my face to feminize it, to make me feel better about looking at myself, and to help me make the huge and scary-as-hell step of entering the world in a way that is more representative of the person I am. (Though the thought of surgery certainly is frightening to me, but that’s a topic for a different post.)

After exploring what surgeries were available and how they could help me, I reached out to a surgeon, who is apparently excellent at this kind of work, and I had a good consultation. The next day his office sent me an estimated cost of the surgery. That cost was $28,000.

As I’ve mentioned, I have been saving for years to try to get the money together for this, but this price was FAR more than I expected it to be, and it sent me spiraling into a wild exploration of my options and what I could do to make this happen as soon as possible.

And, let me be clear when I say this, I need this to happen as soon as possible. This is because the way I’m living my life now has simply become agonizing. Every day I’m forced to endure living like this, and all the badness that comes along with not being your true self to pretty much anyone, is excruciating. To think of doing it for even another year is unbearable. To think of suffering it longer than that… well, that’s when I start thinking about giving up on everything and just yanking the power cord out on my life.

Yes, it is THAT painful, and destructive, and maddening. This is why trans people are so disproportionally self-harming. This is why over FORTY PERCENT of trans people attempt to kill themselves. Whatever you think about this situation, please keep in mind that the feelings associated with it can be THAT horrendous.

On top of this, I’m overwhelmed by bitterness that I need to spend THAT amount of money in an attempt to physically get myself to the point where I feel I somewhat coincide with who I am mentally, which is something that 99.9% of the population doesn’t need to even think about. (Though I do realize that people who aren’t trans experience body issues, and image issues, and all of that awful stuff. I’m coming at this purely from the whole contending-with-being-the-wrong-gender standpoint here.)

Despite all of this, I have recently been exploring options that basically boil down to taking a loan or using some crazy combination of credit cards just so I can get through THIS part of it. And I will say that while I make a decent salary, I would barely make enough to cover the not-at-all-extravagant expenses I generate now if you throw another huge monthly payment on top of it.

Still, if this was just for a few years, I could tighten my belt for this time and I’m sure I could navigate my way through it. The additional issue, however, is that this is just the first surgery for me, and the other surgery… the bottom surgery… is something that I also need to have as soon as I possibly can, because every day I feel wrong is another day that erodes at my will to go on. This surgery can cost up to $20,000, and I would then have to save for that, which I wouldn’t be able to do if I took a loan or credit card payment for this first round of surgery, because I would have exactly zero extra money to put away with the massive monthly payment the first round of surgery would rain down on me.

All of this, combined with a bunch of other factors in my life right now, are a swirling mass of stress and pain that surrounds me. And that stress and pain was insanely exacerbated when I finally got the strength and resolve to try to address this, and then just hit massive roadblocks that I don’t know how to navigate around.

The past few weeks have been a tornado of awfulness, and it’s certainly started to affect this nice, respectful person that was referred to at the beginning of this post. Because this pain is transforming me into a sullen, bitter, spiteful, hurtful, terrible person.


I’m an ardent believer that people have a good nature, and that when you see people acting in awful ways, it’s due to a pain they’re experiencing… either due to the fact that the pain makes them focus on themselves so much that they can’t see past it to see how they affect others, that this pain fosters anger in people and then they take that anger out on those that surround them, or the pain makes them so bitter that they just stop caring about anything and anyone.

This is the road I can feel myself getting pulled down. This once always-good person is now finding that I’m careening towards being someone who is so engulfed with bad that I am now taking it out on the people around me. I am not at all pleasant to be around. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t steer out of destructive behaviors, and I truly fear where all of this is leading me. I don’t know how to address it and I don’t know how to make it right.

I’m am trying, though… at least for now. Though, because of everything I described above, I had an EPIC meltdown over the past weekend that literally left me gasping for air. For someone who has undergone their share of stress and panic attacks, this is the worst that I have ever felt, and I am not exaggerating when I say that for a while I was keeled over in tear-ridden agony, uncontrollably shaking, nauseous, and hyperventilating, and then spent 24 hours in and out of overpowering crying fits and ugly tears, like to the point that I was amazed that someone could cry that much. And to top all of this off, also mixed into that 24-hour period was an insanely nasty fight between me and someone who I considered to be my best friend.

So, you know, life has been a cavalcade of fun for me lately.


All that said, I feel that 24-hour span was my rock bottom, and when you hit rock bottom, oftentimes you get a bounce, and with that bounce comes a much-needed catharsis that can clear your head and give you the resolve to move on with a little less burden, because you cleansed so much of that bad emotion from you through tears, and painful howling, and having most of your brain functions shut down just so you can process everything that’s screaming at you through all of these horrific feelings.

And so I try to find a way to muster on through this. I try to find a way to resolve these issues… but, that said, I feel like I’m doing so as a lesser version of myself, and as someone who has a festering overload of hurt and bitterness that forces me to not be nearly as good as I want to be to the people I come into contact with and to the people I’m closest to.


So, you may now be wondering, “Okay, emo kid, do you feel good that you dumped this mountain of shit on us?”

Well, no, of course I don’t, though one of the reasons I decided to write and post this was to try to find some sort of clarity and strength through writing about it and getting these thoughts out of my head and on “paper”. I also put this together to show just how much of a picnic this whole trans experience can be (since, you know, that is what this blog is about)… and yet all I continue to hear from certain people is that we’re dangerous because OH MY GOD THE CHILDRENZ IN THE RESTROOOMZ!!!111! (Again, a topic for another post.)

Lastly here, I wrote this as an attempt to tell people that one person’s pain is all of our pain. When someone is hurting, if affects them and their behavior, and will affect those that surround them. If you could make someone’s pain less, everyone’s interactions with them become better, as they become a better version of themselves. So I implore people to reach out and help others with their pain as much as they can, because in doing so you are truly improving someone’s life, and in turn, making this world a better place. One day soon I hope I can again be the kind of person that my friend from work described above, because right now, I feel as far from that person as I can possibly get.


All of this said, I’m actually going to leave you on a positive note.

In the time since this magnificent meltdown, I did indeed get that hitting-rock-bottom bounce that I mentioned above. Since then, I called about getting back into therapy, I reached out to someone about a trans support group (that I plan on attending next week), and, oh look, I’m actually writing again, which is something that has provided great solace to me in the past, though something I’ve steered away from over the last few years because I work as a writer, and with that being the case, sometimes the last thing I want to do when I get home after a long day is write for myself. I’m currently re-realizing just how helpful this can be, though, and I already have more writing ideas that I’m working on, which is good.

On top of all this, I have gotten some amazing support, care, and love from friends who realize the severity of what I’m currently going through, and I am insanely grateful for this and for them. Again, nothing but good.


While I am still not entirely well right now and still a lesser version of myself because of what I’m contending with, what I’m trying to get through, and the pain that this is causing me, through all of that I wish much love and nothing but the best to you all.

Monday, August 24, 2009

An Onslaught of Caring

This past weekend involved me getting together with a friend who I see about once every six months (if that). We met some other friends at a bar for a few drinks, had a great time, and eventually left said bar some long hours later.

He and I were the only people left at the end of the night, and we stood in the parking lot for a good while after everyone we knew had left. Well, we didn’t just stand there. We stood there and talked. Mostly about me and what I’m going through. You know all that gender stuff I’m dealing with? Yeah, that.

His thoughts on the topic that he conveyed to me that night are as follows:

“You’re never going to look good.”
“You’re too big.”
“You’re going to be a freak.”
“I would feel weird bringing my friends around you because I don’t know how they would react.”
“You’re going to LOOK like a freak.”
“People will treat you like a freak.”
“You WILL look like a guy in a dress.”
“You’re WAY too big to look like anything BUT a guy in a dress.”
“Why would you do this??”
“DON’T DO THIS!!”

And so on, and so on.

These phrases were all fired at me during the course of our conversation, and I, having already played this sort of game with an uncle of mine back in December, deftly answered questions with dizzying clarity and alacrity, which even had my friend questioning his thoughts on all that he said (or so I would like to think… if even just a little) by the time that we left each other that night.

I had an answer to everything because these are the thoughts that bombard me fairly regularly, and I have to tell myself something to get the thoughts out of my head. I have to have some sort of answer to these comments, lest I stay festooned in a dazzling sort of hopelessness and apathy.

Additionally, every single one of the comments that my friend made was answered with nothing but a smile and a calm explanation about things – even when essentially being called a freak, or when being verbally assaulted with your worst fears from a voice outside of your own head (scary!).

Calmness prevailed, however, because I know that he cares. I know that he’s saying all of this stuff to me, believe it or not, because he cares about me and doesn’t want to see me suffer. He believes that me going through this will yield nothing but suffering, so he’s trying to “hit me with some reality”; when IN reality, these thoughts and comments may as well be surgically affixed to me. I take them with me wherever I go… even when I try my damnedest to leave them behind.

This was the same kind of caring that ensued with the aforementioned uncle in December:

“Can I just say something about all of this?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“DON’T DO THIS! You’ll be a freak! Please don’t do this!”

Ahh… the power of caring and candid honesty. It just slices right through you like 200 razors blades all at once. Thankfully this past encounter with my friend only took the wind out of my sails for a few days (I’m still feeling the effects, but I can tell that the pain is lifting a bit). In the past, something like this would set me back and stay with me for weeks… if not months. I can shrug this off a tad easier than I could in the past, and it doesn’t hurt as much, because over the exact points in your psyche that these honesty-fueled razor blades burrow into, I have a lot of scar tissue to cushion the blow.

However… it still hurts. Just not as much as it once did. I suppose that’s something to be thankful for. That, and for people who care. I can’t NOT respect honesty, and I certainly don’t want people to lie to me about what they think. I just wish that hearing one’s honest opinion of me and my life wasn’t like getting repeatedly kicked in the face sometimes.

My best to you.