A Relentless Nadir

It's been ages since I've posted anything here, or written anything of note, actually. Trauma, however, has always been one of the major impetuses for me to write, and the past two years have laid me lower than I have ever been. I assume that a lot of people could say the same, as the pandemic has really caused the world and all of our lives to spin upside down for far too long and in some truly horrific ways. 

The pandemic hit me just as I was getting my legs underneath me with my new public identity and place in the world. It hit me just as I was learning how to embrace and appreciate who I am. And all of that stalled and regressed. 

Two years later and I'm now a hollowed-out husk of a person meandering my way through a magnificently pointless and fantastically lonely existence in a world that uses people like me as sick and twisted villains in political and societal theater. Just the other day I saw a political ad of someone running for one of Pennsylvania's US Senate seats that covered three talking points in their 30-second commercial, and one of those points just had to attack and invalidate people like me. This is in the top three of the issues this person wanted to mention. People like me. Like there's nothing else more important going on in the world right now. Fuck us all.

Meanwhile, in Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson's Supreme Court confirmation hearing, she was asked, "What is a woman?" by a GOP Senator purely as way to target and invalidate trans people. This, of course, was then covered to a ridiculous degree on conservative "news" stations, began trending on social media, and is now used as a rallying cry against confirmation. 

In addition to this, there's staggering heartbreak going on in Texas with the governor there declaring that parents who support a trans kid are partaking in child abuse, to the point that anyone with a trans child who is seeking treatment for them can be reported to the government for investigation and are at risk for having their child taken away from them. My heart is shattered for these families, who already have to deal with so much, and now they live in fear of being separated from each other for no reasons other than sheer cruelty and the scoring of political points.

I can't get into these things on a deeper level to counter them in this post, as that's not the reason I'm writing here. Though there are many great articles about all of these things that you could research and read through if so desired. But keep in mind that this is all just the tip of the iceberg, as there are currently anti-trans bills being proposed in over 30 states, with some of them already being passed.  

Why I bring all this up is because these stories and attacks are INCESSANT. Trans people inspire both fervent support and bottomless hatred, so we generate hits on websites, views on stories, and an avalanche of comments on social media. In short, we make the media, and the politicians for that matter, entirely too much money for us to just be ignored and allowed to live our lives peacefully.

I don't know if it's due to all of these things or not, but after kind of existing in the world as myself for several months in 2019 without a whole lot of horribleness to report, the past two years has been rife with terrible shit. 

In our world today, it's perfectly okay and acceptable to hate trans people. It's perfectly okay and acceptable to believe the horrible lies about us and to spread them. It's perfectly acceptable to dehumanize and reduce us to sick perverts to the point that it's done regularly by the media and by sitting members of Congress. 

Some people may yell in outrage about it, but ultimately we don't matter enough for more than that to be done on any measurable scale. I suppose some boycotts go on and things like that, but nothing substantial enough to get any kind of notice. And, more often than not, I see people telling us to lighten up and anti-trans views get dismissed as overreaction and therefore not important. All of this while the whole trans community is screaming for help.

In our world today, it's perfectly okay and acceptable for people to laugh in my face as I walk down the street. It's perfectly okay for people to literally go out of their way to be awful to me. It's perfectly okay for people to stare and mock and disrespect me, even in spaces I once considered to be "safe." And since trans people have been pushed firmly into conservatives' crosshairs, this just gets worse and worse. When I speak to people about it, even supportive friends at times, I feel I'm just seen as annoying, am more or less dismissed, and then avoided because dealing with me is too difficult and suddenly too much trouble.

And it's like, what do you do when person after person laughs in your face as you're just walking down the street trying to live your life? What do you do when person after person goes out of their way to disrespect you just for daring to exist? You can only say so much. You can't fight everyone who does this because there are just so many people that do so. You can't fight the world. You just can't.

So you try to ignore it and move on. You try to put it aside... until the next person does it to you, which just compounds the feelings... and so on... and so on... and so on... and so on... and so on...

It becomes easier to just hide away than to be out in the world. Every step outside of your home becomes a game of Who's Going To Be Horrible to Me Next? And when you couple in the effects of the pandemic, everything becomes amplified. 

So many people have forgotten how to be social during this time. My one friend, who may be the most social and outgoing person I have ever known, said recently that in going through the pandemic she "forgot how to people." So if the most social of us are struggling with getting back in the groove of being around other folks, you can imagine what it feels like for someone like me who, as I said, was just starting to get going with this new life of mine and is now openly mocked, laughed at, and disrespected when I step out of the house. 

I've spent the past two years completely alone for about 99% of it. First, you couldn't see anyone when COVID hit. Then the bubble expanded a little and I could at least see some people, but for me, even as things are opening up, going out to meet friends seemed to be suddenly something that wasn't going to be enjoyable because inevitably mistreatment and aggressive contempt was going to be part of the evening. How can something like that even be mildly enjoyable? I constantly have to consider where I'm going and if it'll be even remotely okay for me to be there, because even in open and accepting places I'm still getting shit hurled at me, so how would it be if I stepped into a truly unfriendly place?

And this all goes without even mentioning that my social avenues are mostly closed anyway. I'm so very single and in my late 40s when just about everyone I know is coupled off and doing their own thing. I'm a perpetual third wheel during a time when third wheels are definitely not needed.

Not to mention that some people just don't want to deal with me because they know that it's difficult to be friends with someone who's struggling so much. So it all spirals. And, on top of that, I no longer fit in with my some friends that I've had most of my life. Perhaps because we never really redefined our friendship after my transition or maybe it's just through the natural course of life, so my social circle closed even more because of that. I have very few lasting friendships and I feel more a burden to these friends than I do anything else. 

I'm at the end of my rope. So much so that I've actually entertained the thought of detransitioning just to make things a little easier in terms of being out in the world. But every thought of that just leads me to think, "I'd rather die than go back." That said, I'm also keenly aware that I can't keep living like this.

To further complicate things, I've been trying to get back into therapy, but either people aren't seeing new clients or they're seeing them virtually, and as I found out when the pandemic hit and I tried virtual sessions with my therapist of many years, it just doesn't work for me. I'm on at least three waiting lists to get back into therapy at places once they go back to in-person appointments. Even when I reached out to my former therapist basically crying for help, I got a cursory response and then no response. Fun.

I recently had a checkup with my doctor and told her how I was feeling. She prescribed me Prozac, which did seem to take some of the edge off, though before it could really kick in and start working fully, I started to have an adverse reaction to it and have to sort of skip days with it. I haven't totally stopped taking it, though, because I'm afraid not to take it. I have an appointment in a couple weeks (the soonest I can get in) to talk about an alternative medication. I'm trying to hang in until then.

Then, in an effort to actually get out of my apartment and maybe meet some people I could connect with, I found a weekly trans social group at a local LGBT center, so I thought that would be very beneficial for me. But when I emailed to ask if it was still meeting, I was told that due to the pandemic the group is meeting via Zoom call every week and will be for at least the next few months, which really just defeats the whole purpose of me getting the fuck out of my apartment and meeting people. It's also impossible to meet people on a Zoom call with dozens of people on the call. It's all so insane.

So, I guess I should take at least some degree of solace in the fact that I'm still trying, yet I have a voice in the back of my head that tells me my time is running short. I struggle to find any reasons to be here anymore. I struggle to find any way forward. I struggle to find any purpose. And I am just so. incredibly. alone. And in being so alone and depressed it's gotten to be horribly difficult for me to do anything even when the rare opportunity arises to do so. 

It hurts to be so alone and it hurts to be out in the world. It all hurts. Everything. The only things keeping me here at this point are that it would devastate my parents (particularly my mother), and, as crazy as this sounds, I also stay because I have a cat I'm responsible for. It's amazing what pets can do for the tragically lonely. The cat I had before this guy served a similar role at times. I guess we all need something to keep us grounded. It's an odd blessing that my responsibility to care for this little furball is keeping me from devolving into something truly tragic. I'm safe for the time being thanks to these things.

I'm now emotionally and mentally spent this evening after spewing all of this. I'm sure you can imagine why. But one thing I will say before leaving is that the world SUCKS for trans people. IT. SUCKS. And it gets worse and worse. It's grueling and relentless the way we're drug and misunderstood en masse. It's soul shattering the way we're dehumanized and vilified. If you have trans people in your life that you care about, check in on them because they're severely hurting right now and we just keep. getting. kicked. 

Wishing you all the best and I hope you're all doing far better than I am. Be safe and be well.

Reeling in Recovery

In the tomes of literature I received from the doctor’s office prior to my facial surgery in November, I read a few things about how patients should try their best to stay positive in the weeks following surgery, and that depression or regret is natural. I certainly felt a tinge of that from the first surgery I had in contending with this gender bullshit that is the utter bane of my existence, but at least with my bottom surgery I also had the feeling that part of me was finally right… so there was a bit of internal harmony that drowned out most of the depression I felt when I was laid up, cloistered and healing.

The experience I have been contending with since my facial surgery in November has been quite different. I saw this surgery as crossing a finish line of sorts. I saw it as the second of two surgeries I wanted for decades, and that I needed to have so I could be the truest version of myself, fit this truest version of myself into the world, and grant me some semblance of internal peace.


Wow, has it not been that at all.


First off, I need to say that, even though it’s been three months since my surgery, I still feel pretty beat up. My chin is almost completely numb, as is my upper forehead and the crown of my head. I also now have an incision that crescents across the top of my head from ear to ear, and the scar is very visible because they had to shave that area to make the incision AND because the scar there is going to prevent a swath of hair from growing back. Couple that with scalp trauma from the surgery itself and the hair loss that seems to come from going under general anesthesia, and my hair has never looked worse and never looked thinner.

Add in to all of this, that while the surgery has helped soften me a bit, it’s still nowhere NEAR enough. While the frequency may be a little less than it was before, people who see me on the street still pretty much instantly “sir” me. In short, to the world… and to me… my face ultimately still looks male, and my staunchest hope in going through this ordeal is that this would NOT be the case.

On top of that, my neck and jaw still look SO wrecked that they may have looked better before surgery, and I don’t know how much, if any more, I'm going to heal.


All of this is CRUSHING to me.


People have told me, “Well, if you’re not happy, you need to tell the surgeon. You paid a LOT of money for this and he should be able to fix whatever you’re not happy with.”

But the thing to realize here is that: a) you can only do so much, and I kind of trust that the doctor did all he could, and b) if I have to go through the pain and discomfort of yet another surgery (not to mention cover the additional cost of reserving another operating room and anesthesiologist, which both aren’t covered by the surgeon), the very thought of it makes me want to dive headlong through my third-floor window and plummet skull-first into the concrete below.

I just can’t bear the thought, especially after going through the insane pain, expense, stress, and struggle of having two major surgeries in the span of 11 months.


But if all of this… if all I struggled DECADES to get to and get through... isn’t enough, then what do I do? There is nothing left for me that I’m planning on. There is nothing I can look forward to for solace.


Before the surgeries I had, I was depressed, and hurting, and upset at my situation in the world, BUT I lived with the constant hope that once I got these surgeries taken care of, it would be enough for me, and I would feel better.

Now that these surgeries are behind me, and there is nothing else I can point to that will help me live my life and help me fit my new self and my new life seamlessly into the world, I am beyond depressed. I am completely forlorn and utterly hollowed out. I am supremely bereft of hope. Because I know now, FOR CERTAIN, that no matter what I do and no matter what I struggle to achieve when it comes to this transition, that it’s not EVER going to be enough. People are ALWAYS going to see me as something I’m not. I’m ALWAYS GOING TO FEEL WRONG… ALWAYS. There is NOTHING MORE I CAN DO ABOUT THIS.

And with all of this weighing on me, I can’t think straight, I can’t be social. I hole myself up and avoid everything and everyone. I struggle just to make it through the work day and be constructive and it is enormously tasking just to do that. I have never felt this hopeless in my life. I have never felt this upset in my life. I’m trying to fight on and do whatever is next for me, but I have no idea what that even is, because with this plan there wasn’t another step. There were the two major, difficult steps that I took, and now there is nothing. There’s just me contending with the results and trying not to break down every other minute of the day… which is even more difficult every time I look in the mirror.

I feel completely crushed and I don’t know what I can do to make me feel better, if there is anything at all. It hurts in ways I can’t even describe. I feel like my life has careened into a dead end. How do you recover from this? What do you do next?


Well, if you’re me, you continue to go to therapy, and work on your weight and your overall health, and hope there is still some miraculous healing that’s going to take place and things can somehow still get better. What else is there to do? I’m stumbling like a beat-up zombie through the world at this point, trying to find any source of joy I can in what has suddenly turned into the most excruciating and painful time of my life.


And for those who say, “Well, you just need to learn to accept it,” well, they just need to learn what it is to be trans and about the pain that comes with it. They need to learn that THIS is what the experience is… you CANNOT accept it, because if you COULD accept feeling SO off and SO misunderstood all of the time, then you wouldn’t be trans. It is the VERY DEFINITION of what it is. You feel wrong. Always. I hoped that this would make me feel not wrong, and while the first surgery did to a big extent, it’s still not right. It’s STILL all wrong. It’s all wrong and I don’t know how to make it better.

THAT is what the experience of being trans is in a nutshell. Dealing with these feelings and trying to just hold on in the middle of a raging tempest. Though why I’m holding on at this point is anybody’s guess. Yet, I do. I honestly don’t know what else there is to do.


All the best to you.

---

As an addendum to this post, actually writing this stuff down and getting it out of my head and onto “paper” has helped a little. I felt a bit of an uptick in my attitude from a few days ago when I first spit all of this out of my brain. I’m still plodding on the best I can and trying to take the best care of myself… even when the depression hit so violently that I heard cigarettes calling to me again after spending years with the habit pretty much kicked. I was just looking for that stress relief again, and, really, a distraction. It says something that I haven’t gone back to them yet, like so many other trans people do… because, let’s face it, when you have no hope, do you care about the damage that nicotine is inflicting upon you? Apparently I'm hanging in there enough to not go back down that path.

That said, I’m still not good, but I’m a smidge better than when I wrote this post initally. This being a blog about the whole trans experience, though, I felt it important to share the rawness of it all.


One final thing. Yes, I’m partially destroyed at this point, but I still do realize that people have gone through worse than this and that I do not hold a monopoly on life struggles. This is just my struggle… and while there are worse things to go through, it doesn’t make what I and other trans people are contending with any fun at all. In fact, it’s still pretty fantastically terrible.

Thanks for reading.

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.

Pardon Me, I Need to Rant

Alas, the time has come yet again for me to decry the ravings of fools.

And, truly, I don't mean to start off with an abusive or attacking tone, but those screaming sheer preposterousness for any and all to hear about people like myself... about trans people... well, it's difficult for me to see this in any serious light.

Firstly, to these people... not that you would probably ever really read this blog, but I speak to you anyway... You say trans people are mentally ill. You say trans people are simply confused. You compare saying that you're an animal... like a panda or a rhino... to being a human gender other than the one your appearance leads people to think you are...

...okay, see... that last thing you say... this is why I used the word "fools" to start the post. Because really, if you can't see the difference between someone saying their gender is more nuanced and different from most people's and SAYING YOU'RE A DIFFERENT FUCKING SPECIES... well, you a fool.

As far as the other nonsense above, this is actually REALLY simple.

Ready, here it is:

1. Who made you a doctor, such that you would know these things and can diagnose ill people? Do your numerous degrees in Psychology give you a deeper insight of the inner workings of the human psyche?
2. Are you aware that most mental health professionals recognize that trans people are not insane, and that a large portion of mental issues they may have are caused by society's attitude towards them? Do you realize that attitudes like yours make us crazy? Do you realize that your attitude, when tossed into the caustic din of attitudes like yours, costs us lives? Do you realize that when people constantly berate you and degrade you just for being who you are, that we're only human and, as steely as us transfolks can be, it eventually starts to hurt? Are you comfortable with inflicting pain on people for no good reason? And if you do think we indeed have mental issues, do you enjoy inflicting pain on those who have such issues?
3. Who knows more about a subject, someone who lives and deals with it every day, or someone who gets cursory glances into it through media blurbs that are quite often sensationalistic? Chances are that I don't share your job. Do you think after hearing 30 minutes of scattered news stories about your job that I could possibly know more than you about it? Do you think I would know anything at all about it other than what the name of your job is and maybe a really high-level understanding of what it is that you do? Do you think I could have many erroneous assumptions about your job? Can you now see that when you say the things you do about something you barely understand that you could be very, very wrong? Do you think you could possibly know more about gender and the conflict that it can cause than someone who lives with it, literally, every second of every day? Do you realize that trans people are supremely aware of gender and think about it all. the. time., and this includes researching and reading many things about it from a wide variety of sources? Do I need to go on?

Look, this is probably the most abrasive blog post I've ever written, but when you ask and ask for understanding and you get more and louder voices screaming back to you about how you're twisted and inferior, it tends to grate. All we're looking for is understanding. An open mind and/or an open heart. That's it. Can you strive for that, or would you rather stay mired in hatred?

Either way, I'm a fucking hippie at heart, so I'll send you love back, and hope, at the very least, that maybe you'll think twice before plastering hurtful words for your own misguided shits and giggles or to scratch at whatever itch you may have.

And for those of you who are awesome and supportive, I'm sorry you had to read through that, but feel free to send anyone who doesn't get it here if you ever get stumped in trying to get through to them.

I can't thank those in my life and other trans people's lives enough for the good that you do whenever and however you do it. You honestly don't know how much you help, especially when there are people saying the utter shit that this post addresses.

All the best to you all, 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.

Therapy and Fairy Tales

I mentioned in my previous post how I've started therapy again, and briefly touched on the fact that it's been amazingly helpful thus far. Now I have been to at least six different therapists over the course of my life, but this therapist asked me to do something I never did before.

She asked if I would be interested in doing some expressive therapy, which, in this case with me being me and me doing what I do, centered around writing. I said I would very much be interested in it, as I want to write more, this was a great excuse to write, and the only way to catch the writing bug again is to write and write until you get it.

The writing assignment she gave me was this: Write a fairy tale about yourself.

It seemed like it could be a lot of fun, but I was waiting to write it because I wanted to give it some thought first. Then my appointment got cancelled due to the president being in town last week and it shutting down like five city blocks to the plebs like myself (side note: *GROAN*). So this writing assignment slipped out of my head... until last night... at midnight. And my appointment was today.

I knew it would probably be fine if I explained things and completed the assignment for my session next week, but I figured I would give it a go. So, I sat here, on my sofa, at one in the morning, and words just came out of me, and they came out of me in rhymes for some reason (though I guess some fairy tales do rhyme... maybe?... idk).

Annnnnnnyway... while this is stupid rhyming verse, and is actually kinda embarrassing, I'm going to share it below. I figured it's as good an update as any as to where I'm at now. Additionally, dealing with embarrassment has always been tough for me, so in an effort to get better with it, here's something potentially embarrassing that I will then have to deal with.

Lastly, when I was done writing this last night, as cheesy as this writing may be, a giant smile smeared itself across my face and I literally said out loud a few times, "That was awesome. That was fucking awesome." This is because a LOT of feelings came out of me, and writing became some sort of solace for me once again.

It also made me realize that I had forgotten one of my most favorite feelings in the world—getting in a zone with words spilling out of you, and you don't know where you are or what time it is. You eventually look up from writing (sometimes hours later), and you have something completed, and, on top of all that, you feel emotionally exhausted and cleansed.

God, do I fucking love that feeling.

So here it is. Make what you will of it. Much love to you all.

Fixing the Broken Girl 

Once upon a time, there was a girl,
Who looked like a boy,
And everyone talked to her like she was a boy
And everyone treated her like she was a boy

And so she acted in this role as best as she could

She learned all the Dos
And she learned all the Don’ts
She learned the You Shoulds
And she learned the You Won’ts

She learned what it was like
To not ever fit in
This lesson she learned

Many times and again

This filled her with hurt
This filled her with rage
This feeling she felt…
Like trapped in a cage

She battered around it
And clanged off its walls
It broke her and bent her
Her movement, turned crawls

Now limping, she falters
On broken down bones
And with each step she takes
She stifles back moans

But onward she plods
Into what, she knows not
No other option to choose from
This… is her lot

But striving for, working for,
Fighting for more
It’s what she must do now
She arrived at the door

And on she must go
As scared as she is
For what she does now
‘tis no way to live

So kick the door down
And do so with laughter
It’s the only way you can ever find
Your Happily Ever After

The End