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.

 

Facing Forward

I have huge news. Really, really huge news. I've been trying to come up with something to say about it for the past month, but the right words elude me and don't want to come out. I can't seem to write about it because there is just too much. But here I am, and I'm going to give it a shot.


The path life takes you on sometimes is a strange one. You feel compelled by forces seemingly beyond your control to do things you never thought you’d do. You take irreversible steps in your life because the universe drives you in that direction. We’re all being pushed and pulled upon by these unseen energies that act on us every day.

This past December I had bottom surgery. It’s the biggest decision and leap of faith I’ve ever made in my life. While ultimately it has been AMAZING for me, my psyche, and my soul, it hasn’t come easy after. There is just a PROFOUND amount to process with it, and I’m still doing so some eight months later. There are times where I feel astoundingly happy and at ease… and at peace. And then there are times where the world comes at me and places me back into the box I appear to be in to those who can't see ME, and it hurts even more than it did before because physically I am different.

But I’m also the size of an NFL lineman, and I’m big for a human being, let alone a woman. So people are going to see me the way they do no matter what I wear. Even if I hung a sign on me in all caps screaming at people “I AM FEMALE” they wouldn’t see me that way, and then, because some of our society is oh so loving and accepting, the comments and the ridicule would begin because I look like the stereotypical “man in a dress”. It’s ever so fun.

So, to correct this, and since I can’t change my size (though I can lose weight, which I am fighting through the process of), the only other outward thing I can do at this time is to have my face changed. To have my face feminized. It’s a common thing among transwomen who can afford it (though, by all means, not every one of us goes through this, nor should anyone ever ever have to). I feel like I have to, though. I feel like I have to try it. I feel like I have to do everything I can to present myself to the world as the person I know myself to be. This is my personal need in my personal journey.

And so, coming this fall to an operating room in Boston, I’m going to be having facial surgery. By this winter, I’ll have a new face.

It’s beyond crazy to think about.

"Facial feminization surgery" or "FFS" are the monikers for it. Essentially, it's a series of procedures designed to make my face look, as my surgeon put it, "unquestionably female." It's incredible what can be done today.

What's going to happen when I go under the knife is my forehead will be resculpted and my hairline lowered just a bit. My jawline and chin will also be recontoured, and my Adam's apple will be shaved down to something that is, hopefully, unnoticeable.

I'm doing all this in hopes that, in spite of my size and any other "male" characteristic I may possess, that people will somehow see ME, or as close to how I perceive me as the available science and my financial situation will permit. And while there are aspects of my face that I do like, there is so much about it that I, quite adamantly, detest. It sounds awful to say such things about yourself, but it’s just the way it is, and it’s what this “being trans” condition makes me feel.

I'm doing this because every time I look in the mirror, it hurts... it literally hurts... because my face is not the face of who I truly am. My face is of someone else... someone who I used to be... or, more accurately... someone who I used to fill the role of because I thought there was no other recourse.

What's to come is scary, and trippy, and exciting beyond words. I mean, in a little over a month and a half I'm going to have a new face looking back at me in the mirror. After this is over, my life is instantly going to change, and I have no idea to what degree. How the world sees me WILL change… something that did not happen at all after bottom surgery. It’s staggering to think about.

After this surgery... from that point forward... I will literally be showing a new face to the world. There will be no masking of things. No clothes covering and hiding. This face… this new, more feminine face… will be what I present to the world from now on. It's going to be out there, and it will be exposed for all to see. How fucking mind-warping is that?

Part of me thinks I'm not ready for this, and part of me thinks this should have happened many years ago… but I don't want to dwell on the regret that is birthed from the passing of time. I want to concentrate on what's to come. I want to be hopeful that this will be a massively grand and amazing step in my crusade to present my best self to the world, and, more importantly, that it will allow me to feel more at ease in my own skin and heighten my internal peace. 

If it has the same kind of impact as my last surgery, and I'm STILL realizing and processing all the good I've gained from it, this next surgery is going to be well worth the pain, and the trouble, and the ridiculous amount of money that it's costing me, even with taking out a loan to pay for half of it because not one cent of it is covered by insurance.

But this is where my life and my soul has brought me to. My last surgery pushed me all in, so now I have to play my hand to the best of my capabilities. In this instance, it means being bold and brave and letting who I am at my core guide my actions, even if that means having a new face and entirely new interactions with the world come November. And even if it means having two incredibly life-transforming surgeries in less than a year. 

I spent over a decade mired in a type of stagnation. Now I'm caught in an avalanche of forward movement, momentum, and progress. I'm terrified and I'm exhilarated. There is a GIGANTIC unknown waiting for me on the other side of this surgery, and all I can do is hope I made the right decisions and chose the right doctor. 

Outside of surgical complications, my biggest fear is that I go through the pain and expense of this and nothing is different and everyone says, "You look exactly the same!" On the other hand, my mind races with thoughts that my face may look so feminine that people will start "miss" and "ma'am"ing me, and I strangely question how I'll even handle that. Most people I bring this up to, however, all tend to say the same thing—"You're more than ready for that to happen!"

Well, if that's the case, then let's make it so! Let's do all I can to make myself as happy and at peace as I can be, and I'm hoping everyone else is doing the same bold, terrifying, and wonderful things in their own lives.

This journey I’ve been on, while insanely difficult, has certainly been different and has certainly been interesting, and for the first time ever I’m starting to appreciate it rather than being only pain-ridden and distraught from it. It’s funny how when things start happening and your life REALLY quickens that things get more enjoyable. And as scary as what awaits me is, my life and my transition are becoming both fascinating and, dare I say, kind of fun for once. Let’s see if it gets even more so when I’m wearing my new face.


The absolute best to you all. Always.

Wed May 5, 2010 – just after midnight

What follows is an entry I wrote in my "diary" (for lack of a better term) this evening.I found it to be pertinent. The only thing I changed from the actual text in my diary is the use of a friend's name. I'm kinda squirrelly about just how open I should be on the webbernetz about exposing my life, as in I'm sharing stuff verbatim right out of my diary. But, like I said, I found it to be pertinent. So... um... enjoy!! :P

While sitting here earlier this evening, I kind of arrived at a few conclusions.

The first, while it’s immediate, is that the song “VCR”* is just fucking FAN TASTIC.

After that, well, it seems that I really have a lot of conflict to resolve.. you know, on the internal level. Well, I guess on the external as well.

You see, it’s been years, and years, and years, and years that I’ve just wished upon wishing to be a girl. Just so much time and energy, hope and praying, and all that gushy, gushy stuff devoted to this idea… this notion. Why is it that I can’t seem to just be living this way?

Well, I think it’s obvious that I just don’t look the part. I guess this really is all about resolving the interior with the exterior. I say that because I can see myself. I can see my breasts… and make no mistake, they are breasts… I can see my skin, and just how I look overall. My size is the only thing keeping me from people seeing me as a woman… and I really feel this to be the case.

The fact of the matter is, I don’t know that there’s anything I can really do to offset this size thing. A friend of mine, who pissed me off at the time, was actually right in the fact that she told me that I had to “get over it”. I guess I do. It’s either that, or just kind of do nothing and live in fear (which has been established as just a horrible idea), die,... or get over it.

Don’t really wanna die right now. I’m looking for reasons to live. I’m looking for a reason to be here. I’m looking for someone to help. For a life to share. For everything that makes this existence true. And real.

So, since I don’t want to die, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to give into fear. I guess I’m gonna have to do something. Not real sure what that is at the moment, but I know… I KNOW… that this involves momentum and movement. It’s like making the energy that surrounds your life kinetic. It’s forcing things to happen when they should. It’s doing what you need to do to achieve these things. It is what you’re here for. It’s what you NEED to do.

And the fact of the matter is, I don’t want to do this because I’m lazy. I can’t be bothered enough to do things about this. I can’t be bothered to do what I need to do to get myself comfortable enough with myself to be comfortable in the world. And I can't get comfortable because even I look at myself, with breasts, and shiny-soft skin, and just everything that goes along with being on hormones for five years, and I STILL see nothing but a guy staring back at me. I can feel very much like me when I’m lying here alone, but when I look in the mirror, everything feels like lies.

And a big part of this bullshit is that fact that I can’t just accept the moniker of “woman”. I have no idea what that’s about. I’m sure it’s also fear-based, but part of it is that maybe this doesn’t feel right either. Well, not that exactly. Just everything feels foreign. Everything is strange. I’m not used to this yet, and I feel REALLY fucking awkward. Maybe these are just my neo-teenage years that I often hear transpeeps refer to (though maybe not in that exact term).

I mean, I just don’t know how to be a girl. OR, should I say that I don’t know how to be who I am. I’ve been hiding that person for so long. I’ve been hiding her for so long.

And referring to me as “her” feels natural… like really preternaturally natural (if that makes any fucking sense)… but yet it’s like embarrassing to me. I guess I’m just not that “out” with all of this, though I have no idea what’s holding me back when I’m by myself.

I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing right now. I can’t get me to feel right. Maybe I just need to “grow into” my new skin. Maybe I need to take things for test drives. Maybe I need to do a lot of things.


That's all I gots tonight.
Be good.

* the song "VCR" is by the band The xx and, as I said, it's certainly worth a listen