Acknowledging Change (a.k.a. Dem 'Mones, Dem 'Mones)

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've been expending a great deal of mental energy lately trying drive off an overwhelming depression that seems to be swallowing me whole. It's a depression that stems from the whole trans issue (obviously), and since I don't feel like playing a rousing game of "Jonah!", I need to find a way out of its belly.

As I've also mentioned, there are many things I'm trying in order to get this to happen. So... here's another thing that I'm doing:

Whenever anyone gets in a situation that they don't like... be it a bad living situation, a bad job, a bad relationship, financial straits, or whatever... most people will generally take steps to make things better. And when we try to make things better, a lot of times it seems that the process goes oh...................so.......................slowly. Like imperceptibly slow. To the point where it feels like you're not moving at all. Which is precisely how it feels for me at this point in time (hence, you know, the hungry depression that's been making a hearty meal of me).

There's this illusion of permanency that hangs over bad situations. This is especially so when it's a situation that will only get better through years of effort. It seems like nothing ever changes... and it gets annoying... and it gets frustrating... and it can make you very, very sad.

SO... I needed to keep reminding myself that the permanency (read: nauseating stagnation) I feel actually IS an illusion, and that things ARE happening to me all the time that will get me closer to my goals. I mean, I quite often feel like I haven't made a lick of progress since I started taking hormones about 6 years ago. It feels like this was the last big change that happened in my life. And I'm sure that this may seem a bit insane considering all I've been through, but it still feels like things aren't moving at all, and I've been doing the same thing on repeat for the last 6 years.

Now when I look at the events that occurred during this span of time in my life, I know that a LOT has happened. There's not a year that's gone by where I haven't had some big, life-altering event shake up my world in major ways. Sometimes the events were good, and sometimes not so much. BUT they did change me. They did move my life forward. They did cause me to grow as a person in some way. In short, things DO change.

However, I've been dealing with this trans thing for so long, and I still have SO far to go with it, that it seems like I'm just running in mud. The molasses-in-winter speed of this process is enough to make you want to start beating your head off a wall for the better part of a year. It seems like nothing happens with it. Ever.

Now this is inherently false. Much and more has happened in regards to this issue over the past 6 years: coming out to more and more people, getting more and more support, getting better and better with myself, accepting myself more, LOVING myself more...

All of this should be a constant reminder that, even if it doesn't seem it, things ARE progressing. Some of these things seem quite nebulous, though, so it's hard to feel like there's concrete evidence of change, and I start to feel like I'm making a lot of it up. I know now, however, that it's just a matter of having faith in what you're doing and having faith in the process. Acknowledging these things has made it a LOT better for me over the past few weeks.

And if that's not enough to help me feel better, there's that big thing that happened 6 years ago, and the effects of that event, to show me IN REAL PHYSICAL TERMS just how far I've come. I mean, physically I'm not even the same person I was 6 years ago. I'm pretty f'n different... and, more importantly, closer to my goal... as I keep having to remind myself for some reason.

So, after that long introduction, I'm now actually going to remind myself of some of the effects that hormones have had on me since I began taking them in the summer of 2005. I also thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to cover this since a lot of people seem to ask me what hormones do and what they don't do, so hopefully this will be helpful for that reason as well. Additionally, I find it an interesting insight as to the differences between men and women, especially those that are induced by hormones. Keep in mind here that I take 2 small pills in the morning and 2 small pills at night—a pill of estrogen and a testosterone blocker, twice a day—and doing this is enough to bring the following changes.

I found a list on Wikipedia of hormone effects and I shall now kind of breeze through that list and talk about my experience in regards to said list item (where pertinent). Ready? K, here we go...

Firstly I would like to talk about a few very important things that hormones do NOT do. 

Hormones do NOT change your voice... at least going from male to female it doesn't, because your vocal chords have already thickened during puberty. Voice DOES change, however, when people go from female to male, though I'm not really here to talk about that side of it at the moment. A lot of people have said that my voice sounds very different, but that's mostly due to practice, practice, practice. It's gotten a lot better, but I still have a good way to go with it. Consistency is my biggest issue, but let's move on lest I get bogged down in this topic.

Hormones also do NOT remove any facial hair. That all has to be burned off through various annoying and expensive treatments. Electrolysis is the only proven method of permanent hair removal and they say it takes 100 to 400 hours to clear a face of its hair (at a cost of $65 to $100 an hour). Being about 200 hours in, and still having a great deal of hair on my chin and neck, I can attest to the fact that this is very much true.

Hormones will also not cause my hips to widen, though had I started at an earlier age when my bones were still growing, they would have. Generally speaking, the more removed from puberty you are, the less effect the hormones will have. I started when I was 32. Changes would have been much more pronounced if I began at 22... though they would have been less pronounced if I started at 42.

Hormones will obviously NOT change my height. Essentially the skeleton I have is the skeleton I have. It's just the way it is. Cosmetic things can be done to the skull to give someone's face a more feminine look, but height, arm and leg length, and all that other good stuff is pretty much fixed.

Now, here (according to the Wikipedia) is what hormones do, though I did edit this list down to practical things that I can discuss: 

-  Body hair thins greatly. I noticed this on my arms and legs. I didn't have much hair on my torso to begin with, and now I have none save a few stray hairs that stick around even though they are most unwelcome. They don't seem to care that they're not wanted, though. Little annoying bastards. 

-  Thicker head hair. More than a few people have said this is the case with me, including my hairdresser who has no idea that I'm taking hormones. Part of this is that the texture of my hair has changed. It's just thicker, shinier, and less coarse. Additionally, from what I've read, it seems that the hair I lost while younger may have started to come back because there were some follicles that weren't completely dead, and they were revitalized by the estrogen. Some follicles have died, however, and I pour some of my 40 out whenever I think of these fallen homies. I'm pretty certain, however, that at the rate my hair was going, if I hadn't started hormones when I did, I would be bald by now. And while I do have some issues with my hair, and it's certainly not the thickest head of hair on the planet, I do think it's manageable and that it can look good at times. So, you know, hooray for hormones... and all that.

-  Decreased libido. Yeah, totally true. When I first started hormones it was like someone came in and cleared out my head, because getting bombarded with testosterone all the time made the majority of things in the world center around sex (or so it seemed to me, anyway). When you remove that, and you can finally see the world outside of that vantage point, WOW does it look different. It was like getting a whole new take on the world... and it's one that isn't dominated by sex. It was refreshing when it happened, and I'm still very happy that this is the case. This is not to say that I don't have ANY thoughts of sex, I just don't have thoughts about it all. the. time. Which is nice. For me anyway.

-  The skin becomes softer. YESSSSSS. It did. It's great. Sometimes just having a hand on my arm and feeling my skin is the biggest reminder of how much I've changed. It seems as soft as melting ice cream compared to how it felt before. It's tremendous. I love it.

-  The uppermost layer of skin becomes thinner "and therefore more translucent and pinkish (spider veins may appear or be more noticeable), less collagen, more susceptible to tearing and irritation from scratching or shaving, increased tactile sensation, and slightly lighter in color due to a slight decrease in melanin (pigment)."

This is actually one of the more noticeable changes from the hormones, believe it or not. Now I don't know about the lighter in color, because when I started I was already a nice, paper-like shade of blinding white. But there's definitely a different look to my skin. It's more shiny, to be succinct about it.

I also get clear indicators reminding me to be more careful with my movements, because when I'm not, scratches and bruises magically appear ALL over me. Maybe this is why women generally move a bit more gracefully than guys? Before hormones I would RARELY notice a bruise or scratch on my body, let alone have any; now it's like I'm never without one. Odd.

Finally there's the increased tactile sensation. What does that mean exactly? Well for starters, it means that I get cold. Like really, REALLY cold. PAINFULLY cold, in fact. And I used to love the cold weather. I mean severely LOVE it. Like wanted to make out with it because I loved it so much. Now it just HURTS. I tell guy friends of mine, "Yeah, you don't even KNOW what it's like to be cold. You may think that you do, but you just don't." And I didn't either. Then there were hormones.

The flip side of this, however, is that I realized the sheer amazingness of a good, hot shower cutting into the back of my neck and shoulders. It is SO. F'N. GREAT. Additionally, with the aforementioned softer skin, this heightened tactile thing is where it's at! The stuff that felt nice already, feels even nicer now. 'Tis fantastic.

I should also mention here that in addition to skin becoming thinner, my nails have as well. I used to do home remodeling when I was younger, and I remember using my fingernail to turn smaller screws (like on a receptacle plate) with no real problem. I tried to do that once recently, and it literally tore my nail. I never had a nail tear in my life before hormones, and now I'm thinking that I should be hitting them up with some clear polish or something just to strengthen them because they rip and tear a LOT.

-  Due to reduced gland activity, dry skin becomes a problem and lotions and oils may be necessary. Totally. I never, ever, ever, ever, never had dry skin before in my life. And now I hate winter because not only am I painfully cold (as I mentioned above), but the skin on my hands basically cracks and peels right off. It's brutal. I can't tell you how much moisturizer I go through, and still I get cracked, bleeding,  f'ed up hands. If you can't tell, I'm not too jazzed about this change.

-  Body odor (skin, sweat, and urine) will become less "metallic," "sharp," or "acrid" and more "sweet" and "musky." I haven't noticed this because I don't often smell of the b.o. (nor do I often make it a point to sniff at my urine), though I feel like I have noticed some differences with this. Just nothing I can really confirm mostly because... 

-  Many types of sweat glands become inactive and body odor decreases. Which I'll take... though I'm betting that the whole "less sweating" thing leads to the whole "stupid dry skin" thing. I guess that there's just a good and bad side to everything. 

-  More fat tissue accumulates. Yeah, I have a lot more fat than I used to. Part of that may just be getting older, but just the way I'm shaped is now completely different. It's also a HELL of a lot harder to lose weight because of this (you know, because muscle burns off fat, while fat, surprisingly, does NOT), and it's also a LOT easier for me to get drunk (according to this article from the NY Times, "Because women's bodies have a higher ratio of fat to water, they reach a higher blood alcohol concentration after a single drink than men, even when matched for weight and size."). 

-  Sensitivity to male body odor(s) (including male pheromones) may be positively correlated with elevated estrogen levels. Overall, olfactory senses may increase.  The latter point first... I definitely smell things better and more intricately than I did before. I remember the first time I noticed this. I was walking through the woods a few months after starting hormones and I was overwhelmed by how much I smelled. Scents were coming at me from every angle. It was crazy. And delicious.

I also had a moment about a year or so after starting hormones where I was walking down the street with a friend of mine and I said, "I smell boy." And right then and there two guys came walking around the corner. I've also told guy friends of mine who were fresh from the shower that they "smell like wet boy." And they did. That's exactly what they smelled like—wet boy. I'm not entirely sure I even knew what that smell was before.  I should try to make a Wet Boy scented candle to capture the scent.

-  Breasts develop. Yeah, they did. They're not as big as I would've hoped, but they're certainly there and they're fine. I'm turbo-happy about that fact, but I've discussed this in other posts, so I'm not really going to get into it here. Just wanted to say that this does happen from hormones, as opposed to the things I listed earlier that don't. 

-  Fat distribution takes on a more female pattern. To this I'll just say that I had zero ass when I started this process... I mean like negative ass... and now it's a whole heck of a lot fuller. It's now to the point where I notice it. Like, I was lying on my floor the other night and was amazed that the small of my back doesn't lie as flat to the floor as it did before, which kinda feels weird. I can also feel more "junk in my trunk" when I walk. My thighs have also gotten bigger since I started hormones, and I should mention that none of this is because I've gotten heavier. Since starting hormones I've lost at least 30 pounds, and yet there's still this odd kind of fat collection going on. 

-  The face appears "puffier" and more rounded out. My face looks completely different and more than a few people have told me that. People who didn't know me before I started hormones are sometimes shocked to see older pictures of me. I wish I had two to post to this page by way of comparison. I'll have to look into that and try to do it another time. 

-  The metabolism slows down and one tends to gain weight, lose energy, need more sleep, and become cold more easily.  This compounds the thin skin factor for coldness. Brrrrrr. I don't really need much more sleep, but I've never been much of a sleeper anyway. Sometimes I feel a bit more run down, though, and if I eat anything even remotely bad for me these days, I can rest assured that I will gain weight. Part of all this metabolism slowing thing may just be me getting older as well. It seems that most of the changes I notice in myself are addressed with the question, "So, is it age or hormones?" I will say, however, that the food thing is maddening, and I work my ASS off trying to lose weight, and it's rare to see a change. I'm sure if I was doing everything I'm doing now before I started hormones, I'd be absolutely, 100% at my goal weight.

-  Due to androgen deprivation a loss of muscle tone, a slower metabolism, and physical weakness becomes more evident. I addressed the metabolism thing above... so to move on... my arms, as an example, don't look like "guy arms" anymore, to the point where my forearms are actually curved differently now and look pretty much like a woman's arm. My upper arms aren't big or bulky in any way, and they're much smaller than they were before. I also noticed that I have less physical strength than before, and things that I would move around with ease before (like this big-ass arm chair I have in my living room) now takes a good bit more effort. Additionally, before hormones I felt like I had this reserve strength or something, but that has since disappeared. Like if I was struggling with something, I could strain and get a nice boost of strength (I should say here that I was pretty f'n strong before). Now when I strain it kinda seems like nothing happens, you know, other than me making that straining noise that one makes when they're straining.

And finally, to wrap up this uber-long post, here's two weirdly interesting things: 

-  The hips will rotate slightly forward due to changes in the tendons. As crazy as it sounds, this totally happened to me. About two years into hormones (right when I upped my dosage), I started to get hip pain. It got better over time, but I've noticed since that I can't really stand the way I used to, nor can I really walk the way I used to. This also kind of makes my butt stick out more, and it's just kind of crazy in general. I never thought anything like this could happen, yet it did. I find that fascinating for some reason. Like taking these pills every day can cause your HIPS to ROTATE. Nuts.

-  The lens of the eyes changes in curvature. Now I never actually had it measured and compared, but I did notice about a year or so in that things just started looking "off", and I was getting headaches, having trouble judging depth, and weird things like that. This eventually got better, probably because I got used to it, but I do think that things look differently now. I wish I could explain it more than that, but I think that I've been seeing things for so long through these new lenses that I can't really say what's different anymore, though I know that it most certainly is.


Like I said, those are most of the physical effects that I've noticed. There are also some major mental ones that hormones have brought on (but that's a post for another day). With all of this going on, and with all of the amazing differences I've experienced, it's probably pretty delusional to think that "nothing ever changes" and that I'm "stuck". As I said, I've been acknowledging these things more and more, and that has certainly helped in my battle against The Big Sad. 

And now I better go. Thanks for bearing with me through this longish post. I promise I won't make it a habit.

Be well.

Oh, Look...An Actual Positive Post

As those closest to me know, I've been going through a major bout of depression lately. It's a bad one. Like a really, bad, BAD one. And this is coming from someone who's gone through their fair share of depressive times. I can honestly say it's one of the worst bouts I've ever had. Ever.

BUT (as this is a positive post)... I've been feeling slightly better and better with each passing day. This is the case because I've been coming to certain realizations about life, and also remembering important things I learned in the past that I have, through the normal passage of time, since forgotten. What follows is something I remembered recently that is a helpful thing to keep in mind in the coming days:

I should preface this all by saying that the massive span of the entire stupid trans issue is at the root of this last bout of depression, which is probably rather obvious since: a) that seems to be the cause/reason for pretty much everything that decides to pop its head into my life, and b) this blog is about said entire stupid trans issue... so, you know, there's probably a reason why I'm bringing it up here. 

A major part of my depression was triggered by the fact that I've reached a point where I don't really want to deal with this anymore. This issue, which has utterly dominated everything in my life for the past 15+ years, is something that I just can't DO anymore. I can't take feeling bad every time I look at myself. I can't take the constant question of what I'm going to do next. I can't take thinking about every. single. aspect. of this situation over and over and over again every single fucking minute of every single fucking day. I can't take the fact that THAT'S how wrong I feel at ALL times, that it feels SO terribly wrong that I can't block it out anymore and just LIVE. And I certainly can't deal with the fact that the "answer" to all this is to go through hundreds of hours of treatment, grotesque amounts of surgery, and spend a shuddering amount of money to only then TRY to present myself to the world in a way that's as close as I can possibly get to how I see myself, even knowing that the wide majority of people will never see me for that AND that I will probably never feel truly "right". It's grueling. And it's an utterly horrible way to live. 

And the crispy chocolate coating on top of this sundae of joy is the fact that instead of staring at themselves in the mirror and gritting fuck...fuck... fuck through their teeth at their excruciating reflection every night, most people are busying themselves with falling in love, with getting married, with starting a family, with furthering their career... in other words... with BEING CONSTRUCTIVE AND LIVING THEIR LIVES.

And here I am, slipping further and further into middle age, still contending with these horrible feelings that consume the whole of my energy and strength, and not knowing what to do... because there really is no good option here. There just isn't. And even if I knew what to do, how do I put thought and energy into this massive undertaking when I'm basically struggling to make it from one day to the next without an utter collapse?

I feel phenomenally trapped. Trapped because this is something that I HAVE to deal with; it's not going to go away, and actually, it just gets worse every day. There is no choice here, because this is just who I am and how I was made (as a very good and astute friend keeps reminding me). So, as epically shitty as it all is, I still have to deal with it. Always. I'm trapped in this issue and trying to gnash my way through the bars doesn't seem to be working. 15 years is far too long to spend in a cage.

To... ahem... get to the positive here...

What I remembered recently that is slowly getting me past some of these feelings, is that most people are trapped only because they allow themselves to be.

There was a story a while back about a guy who sold all of his things, save the clothes on his back, and took all of his money in the world to a casino and put it ALL on one spin of the roulette wheel. And what I thought about this is that anybody could do that. Not that they would do that, but that they could do that. You really could go and do that. Now you probably wouldn't want to deal with the consequences of such a risk, but it's important to realize that you have that kind of power. You CAN do big things like this if you so desire, although you have to accept what the outcome of your actions will be.

You don’t have to be where you are, doing what you're doing. You can do whatever you want to do. You could literally quit your job tomorrow. You could leave behind your family and friends. You can run off and join a cult. Hell, you can even sell everything you own and move to China if you wanted! You could do all of these things. Really, you could.

And if you have the ability to do all of these outlandish things, there certainly has to be a way to take positive steps to change your life. Even if they're only minor, there ARE things that can be done.

Now hopefully you're living a life full of happiness, and you don't feel trapped in any way, and you don't feel like you need to break out of some sort of metaphorical cell. Hopefully. 

For those that do, you have to realize that you and you alone are in charge of what happens in your life. You CAN make decisions. Your are very rarely a victim of circumstance enough to have NO say in the direction of your life. YOU get to say where your life goes or where it doesn't go. You DO have that power.

Keeping that in mind, very few people are ever truly trapped, they're just presented with options where the outcomes are unappealing to them. In that case, you have to just learn to accept what the outcome of your breakout will be. If you can't do that, and every way out of your cell is less appealing than being in it, maybe what you consider being trapped isn't really all that bad and you should just chill the f out.

As I said, the important thing is to realize that you almost ALWAYS have options. You are never trapped. Once you know this, and ingrain it in the way you view and live your life, it gives you a certain kind of freedom and relief, and it punts a very annoying (and probably angry and diseased) monkey off your back, clearing the way for you to address more pertinent issues.

And so what I'm re-realizing is:
I am not trapped.
I have things I can do to make my life better.
I best find what they are and get hoppin'.

Be well, everyone.

Upon Entering 2011: The State of My World

In the months leading up to the holidays, I found myself shying away from social occasions, often preferring to just kind of lay low and spend the time by myself. "This can't be a good thing," I thought, and so I decided to be as accessible as possible in the time leading up to the end of the year. During this spate of party going and occasion hopping, I found myself not only getting sideways glances from those now "in the know" regarding my particular condition (which I actually can handle, btw), but I also got a litany of comments thrown in my direction. Some of these comments were:

"Dude, you are SO big! Do you ever walk into a place and feel self-conscious because you're so fuckin' big?"
Umm, no, but now I might... and shit, I thought I was losing weight. (Actually, I know I lost weight, but apparently I'm still just. that. fuckin'. big. Nice.)

"There he is... there's Mr. Big Strong Manly Man."
Eeesh.

"You look like a longshoreman."
Er...um... thanks?

"You have hair just like George Washington." (To the point where I was being called "George" for the rest of the night, even after I made my displeasure with this known and asked repeatedly for it to stop.)
Shit, and here I thought my hair was growing in okay and looked pretty decent that night... and I'm not THAT bald, am I??

And the list goes on for sure.

What makes all of this especially bad, is that not only did these comments come from people whom I consider "friends," but that after six years of physically going down this Path to Transition, I still can't escape things like this. Apparently this is just going to be the way it is, no matter what I'm trying to do. Apparently all the hard work, and thought, and tears I put in over the years has gotten me to a place where I'm still getting comments like this. Apparently everything I've been working my ass off for doesn't make a damn bit of fucking difference.

I keep thinking of a very old episode of The Simpsons where Bart, the chronically terrible student, has to pass a test or he's going to be left back or something. So he bears down, and he studies, and studies, and works his butt off... and he still fails the test. This then causes him to break down and start crying over the result of his test, which takes Mrs. Krabappel aback because since when does Bart Simpson care enough about his grades that a bad score causes him to burst into tears? It then comes out that he's so upset because this time he really tried. He put a massive amount of energy into it... and he still came up short.

Yeah, I know the feeling. It's one thing to fail when you're not really trying. It's quite another to pour your total self into it and still come up small. Based on everything that I heard over this past holiday season, all the hard work in the world ain't gonna get me to where I need to be. So really, what's the point?

Well, other than keep trying, there's not really another option. That being said, I have a feeling that 2011 is going to be a very cloistered year for me. At least when I'm home alone, I can live in the delusion that all my years of effort, hard work, oodles of spent money and everything else is actually leading me somewhere. When I step out into the world at large, all I seem to find is cold hard slap from reality after cold hard slap from reality. Alone, I can keep the hope (even if it is false hope) that all the energy I put into making my life right is actually getting me someplace good. Out in the world, among the majority of my friends, all I hear is the sound of that hope being tossed off a high cliff and being dashed to bits on the jagged rocks below.

Yep, it certainly seems like 2011 is going to be a year of solitude. Hey, at least I'll feel like everything I'm living my life for is actually progressing and, you know, has a point to it. If reality is never going to let me be happy, perhaps it's high time that I remove myself from that reality. Apparently that's the only way to get some peace with who I am without people telling me time after time how my views about myself are so utterly and hopelessly wrong.

Peace.

Tackling Infallibility

In reading a story about a player on the George Washington University women’s basketball team who recently came out to teammates as trans, I mistakenly wandered into the comment section of this story on the Yahoo! News page. If you don’t know, the combined hate of the people who comment on Yahoo! News stories rivals the energy of several small suns… but I digress.

The large majority of these comments (as opposed to the magnificently wonderful ones I came across on jezebel.com) screamed out in rage and disgust, citing reason after bloodthirsty reason why the person in this story was so epically “confused.”

...and thus begins the first in my series of blog posts responding to these reasons. Here we go...

Part I: The Infallibility of God
Yikes! That seems like such a big thing to tackle with the first part of any series… though I’ve never really been one to scurry away from an intricate discussion of theoretical abstractions. Seriously though, it does seem like such a grand, sweeping topic, but I’m really only going to be looking at it from the scope of this one issue. Additionally, I’m not here to debate if there is or is not a God, nor whether this deity is indeed infallible. What the practically entitled “Part I” is addressing is an often-used barb that I see hurled at people like myself on a relatively frequent basis:

You were born the way you were born. God doesn’t make mistakes.
If you should have been a girl (or boy), you would have been born that way.

Okay, people do believe this, and I do see their point. I say this because, while I may not be one to subscribe to another’s particular religion, I will in no way ever knowingly disrespect their views and beliefs. So, if one earnestly believes that God is infallible, as I was actually taught for 12 years in school, then I can see them thinking that if someone was born a boy (or girl), that messing with this trifling aspect would pretty much be messing with divine design, because, you know, of God not making mistakes and all of that.

The thing about this is that more and more evidence has been pointing to the fact that people are born trans (and/or gay), so, if that’s true, then God’s design was for us to be this way. If God is infallible, and God governs how we’re born (i.e. we shouldn’t change how we're born), AND we were born with this condition (for lack of a better word), there would have to be a reason for that. GOD would have to have a reason for that… and personally I can only fumble a guess at God’s motives.

Additionally, would these people say the same thing if someone was born with a cleft lip, or 10 fingers on one hand, or myriad other conditions? We live in a time where there are treatments for these issues, so should people not have things like this addressed because it would be messing with how they were born? I, and I think most other people, would say "no." If, however, you think that situations like cleft lips and the like should not be addressed by medical science because you believe that this isn't "God's will," then you should stop reading now and maybe ponder why you believe that God wants someone to suffer with conditions such as these when they don't really have to... because I can't think of a reason.

And even if, in spite of the mounting evidence available, someone still chooses to believe that people are not born this way:

Not only are there people in the world today who are trans, but people have been feeling this way all throughout history. Despite what you believe about the genesis of the issue in an individual, this currently is and has been an issue for a countless number of people. These feelings exist, and they have been existing for centuries.

If you believe that God does indeed have a "design," I think it would be fair to say that you believe that there is a reason for everything (because it is part of said design). So, if there is a reason for everything, why would scores of people have these same feelings that I and many others have? To take it further, why would scores of people have these feelings in a time where means have actually been created to treat this situation and bestow some degree of happiness and sanity on those suffering? If you truly believe that God has a plan and everything happens as a part of this design, there has to be a reason for people like myself to exist. Who are we to say what that reason is?

Now some people may say that God created us the way we are, and that ambling down the path that I'm on is only due to free will and our ability to sin. Fair enough. But, in reality, where is the sin? What are we harming by doing this? It certainly doesn't affect anyone else on any kind of physical level. We're not inflicting pain on anyone.

As I said, loads of people have these feelings of incongruity (which must come from somewhere), AND we currently live in a time where there is a treatment available for this kind of torment (and make no mistake, going through the process I'm going through is widely regarded as treatment for this condition). So... couldn't there be a reason for people feeling the way I do that doesn't have to do with moral corruption, depravity, or mental illness? Since people have been like this for centuries, isn't it possible that there just might be a good reason behind it, a God-given reason behind it?

Well, the only thing we can say for certain is that this is something that’s part of the world today, just as it’s been for ages, and people in this spectrum are now more in the public forethought than ever before. Is the reason for this because God wants everyone to fight and rail against people like myself and pulverize us into the ground, OR should we follow the advice of every major religion and love and accept people the way they are, ESPECIALLY when these people aren't hurting anyone else and are just searching for their own slice of happiness?

And maybe people like myself are more in the public eye because the world is just now getting ready to accept an even wider variety of people into the fold, and in the process, evaporate mounds of hatred and transform it into a massive amount of love for people who were once maligned. I'm not one to be presumptuous about the Almighty, but I’m pretty sure that these sentiments are something that God could get behind. After all, God = Love. :)

That being said... love to you and yours.

My Purple Post

Today is the day when people are asked to don purple in “honor of the LGBT youth who have committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes and schools” (according to the Facebook page that seems to have started this movement). Additionally, there has been a recent spate of video pieces featuring numerous celebs and the like telling kids that "It gets better." 

These efforts are tremendous because teen suicide due to anti-LGBT bullying IS a horrible problem, and because it IS something that can be remedied by love, compassion, and understanding. And, you know, it’s simply just a good idea to give these kids hope, especially when they’re dealing with something that they may be having a hard time wrapping their head around, possibly with no one to turn to, and they’re forced to go to a school where every. single. day. can be a grueling gauntlet of teasing, harassment, and violence. Public shows of support like these help raise awareness, foster understanding, and they are things that can give hope to someone who has no hope left in their reserves. 

What I don’t want to get lost in all of this, however, is that while kids may be more vulnerable to pernicious treatment, and that things WILL get better after they can leave the cloistered high school campuses and expand their social bases, things STILL aren’t all ice cream and puppy dog kisses as an adult. 

As I addressed in an earlier post, the suicide rate for trans folks is over 30 percent. 3 out of 10 trans people will kill themselves. Because it’s just that much fun to be trans in society today. And even if you overlook these statistics, how many of these people are slowly killing themselves by other means, even as adults?

Even if someone doesn’t come right out and kill themselves (which is just staggeringly horrible), there are still a lot of other, more “quiet” ways to get the job done, and that’s what a ton of people in the LGBT community seem to do. Many studies have indicated that LGBT people have a higher incidence of smoking and a higher incidence of drug and alcohol abuse than their heterosexual counterparts (not that cigarettes and alcohol aren’t drugs... but I digress). Sitting in support groups for people like myself, I heard a litany of horror stories centering around these kinds of abuses. It’s like life gets better enough so that you don’t kill yourself in one fell swoop, but it’s still bad enough and makes you apathetic enough about living to coerce you into the silent, erosive ways of killing yourself: smoking, alcohol, heavy drugs, etc.

Let’s face it, sinking into abuse is essentially a way of coping (for most). I know, because I’ve done it, and I’m still waging an on-going personal war against cigarettes. But shit, cigs—one of the worst things in the world for you, that, by the by, just happens to be one of the most addictive things in the world—have certainly gotten me through some tough, stressful, hopeless times. Maybe that coping mechanism actually saved my life at one point... I don’t really know... and that’s not really my point. I’m just saying that it’s not a coincidence that people who fall into the LGBT spectrum are more likely to smoke, are more likely to abuse heavy drugs and alcohol... and are more likely to kill themselves.

Again, SO much of this can be remedied by love, compassion, and understanding. Maybe reaching the haters starts with these poor kids who have to deal with so much. Maybe they’ll see these young and innocent people who are being destroyed by fear, misinterpreted doctrines, and xenophobia, and they’ll think on it, even if just a little. Maybe seeing the stories of tragic suffering that have been personified by these sorrowful incidents may stir something greater in their souls. Maybe these kids didn’t die in vain, and maybe, just maybe, their very public display of just how much they were hurting can make the world a better place for scores of other people. I’d certainly like to think so, as I’d like to think that something good, ANYthing good, can come from such heartbreak and tragedy, and that through all of this pain, things will truly get better.

The Key

While there are many people out there who offer those in my position acceptance and support, there is still a significant undercurrent of people who find what I'm doing to be odd, horrible, and perverse. I don't think that these kinds of attitudes are a surprise to anyone.

What may be surprising, however, is that in spite of these perceptions, in spite of the ridicule and violence that is levied upon trans people in the world, I still ardently believe that at the core of everyone, there is good; that there is a desire to do right and to do right by other people. As illogical as this may sound coming from someone who's mired in their own personal gender catastrophe, I believe that those who vilify people like myself DO believe that what they're doing is "right".

Now one may argue, "How can inflicting pain on a group of people who are just out to live their lives (and who are not harming anyone) be right in any way?" Valid point. Personally, however, I feel that the motivation behind these people doing what they think is right is all a matter of not fully understanding what being trans is all about. (As an aside, I can't even contemplate how much animosity is generated in this world by sheer lack of understanding... but I digress.)

I've read all the arguments against people like myself:

• You can't change who you are... if you were born male (or female), you'll always be that way, no matter what you do to yourself.
• It's immoral.
• It's against the laws of nature.
• It's mutilation.
• etc.
• etc.
• etc.

If I could convey one thing to these people it is solely this:
Bring trans is not a choice.
That's it. That's all there is to it.
It's the key to everything when it comes to this.

No one chooses to be this way. Sure, we may choose to do something about the feelings that bombard us with misery on a daily basis, but no one chooses to have these feelings in the first place. They're just there. They exist... and they grow stronger with each passing year. The effect of this on someone's psyche seems to grow exponentially as the days pass by, and it's just crippling at times. I've seen this, not only in myself, but in many of the trans people who I've come across in my life.

An article from the BBC even states that Australian researchers have found a genetic link to transsexuality, which occurs in the womb. Here's another excellent (and very in-depth) page about it.

And just speaking from my own personal experience, which I've delved into in earlier posts, I fought these feelings for 15 years or so before even admitting to myself that this may be an issue. This was followed by visits to no less than four different therapists (some of whom I saw for years), all in an attempt to get them to tell me that this wasn't the case with me, and that it MUST be something else. ANYTHING but this.

Again, the point I'm really trying to deliver here is that this needs to be accepted as something that isn't chosen. This needs to be seen as something that someone just is. When one does that, they can better see the emotional and psychological misery that this produces in a person. They can better see how not being in concert with your own body is a truly searing trauma. They can better see the societal stigma attached to it, and see just how truly wrong these views are. They can, ultimately, better see that when you have to deal with the incongruence AND THEN have to deal with all the negativity and societal stigmas hurled at you, it wreaks horrible outcomes. (As I also stated in an earlier post, this is why 30% of trans people kill themselves. 3 out of 10. Sobering numbers... to say the least.)

If society at large could see that this is not a choice. If they could see that this is something that many, many people have to deal with that is causing them immeasurable pain. If they could just see that this is something that has been documented by scores of cultures throughout the course of history, and that this is purely a rare, yet natural, variation in a person, I really think that the good hearts that govern these people would be more apt to reach out and try to help than to shirk away in fear and revulsion.

This is what I hope for. This is what I hope is to come for people like myself. It's hard enough to have to deal with the trans feelings in and of themself. If the social stigma was alleviated, it would make SO many lives easier, and more productive, and more positive. Ultimately, the world would get better. The abatement of that kind of pain across a huge mass of people can only be for the good. Again... it can only be for the good. If you're one who wants to do good and who wants to do what's right, how can the easing of that much terrible pain be seen in any other light?

All the best, and warmest regards.

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

Part III: The Lovely

Now's the time for the much-delayed conclusion to my "The Good, the Bad... and the Lovely" posts. If you remember, these were about three different experiences I had dealing with health care professionals while being trans. As I said, this is the third part, meaning it's time for...

The Lovely

It's the summer of 2006, and I'm driving in the direction of my mother's house. She's on the phone and I'm telling her that I have to go to the emergency room because I'm having chest pains and feeling dizzy and just in a bit of a daze. It's the middle of the week and it's around midnight.

She's telling me that I should go to one of the ERs in the neighborhood, because the wait will be much less there than if we go into downtown Philadelphia. At the time, she knew I was trans, but she didn't know that I was on hormones (i.e. doing anything about it), though I had been for just over a year. That being the case, I wanted to avoid these neighborhood hospitals and go someplace that promised to be a bit more accepting of my situation. I insisted that we go into town – to the hospital that was affiliated with the LGBT center that I was getting treatment at. Now I don't know what would have happened at another hospital, but in hindsight I feel safe in saying that going to the hospital I wanted to was very much the right choice.

After we'd gone through all the waiting, they finally take me back into an exam room. A nurse was there and he said that they wanted to do an EKG on me to check my heart. I was nervous to begin with, and getting this test done made it even more nerve wracking, because, like I said, I had been on hormones for over a year, and that being the case, I was starting to get some noticeable breast tissue. Still, the test occurred and nothing was said by anyone in the room as far as anything being abnormal about my appearance, though the nurse did tell me that there was something slightly irregular on the test. Of course, I got a bit worried about this.

I realized at that time that I had to let the nurse know what was going on with me and what hormones I was taking, just in case I was having some kind of reaction. Since my mother was sitting right there, however, and I figured that this was NOT the way to let her find out what was going on, I waited until she left and went back out to the waiting area. I then began to jitteringly tell the nurse that I was trans, and that I've been or hormones for a year, and that I waited to tell him this privately because my mom didn't know.

He immediately put any and all of my concerns to rest, saying something along the lines of: "Don't worry about this at all. I'm gay myself and we deal with people in your situation all the time. Don't worry about any of this stuff, it's all fine." And he smiled and he was super-supportive, and it was simply amazing.

After this conversation, I was sent back out to the waiting area. There I found my mother. We went outside to get some air and that's where I told her that I was on hormones, and that I'm telling her this now because they found something a little odd with my EKG, and they also said that there may be a chance that the hormones were part of the abnormality. Since my mother was at the ER with me, I figured she should know this.

My revelation, however, was met with her tears. That sucked. That was a bad, bad part of the evening. To try to comfort her in some way... in any way... I told her that I mentioned all of this to the nurse, what he said about everything, and in doing so, I told her what was the most important lesson that I learned that night...

There are going to be people who will be fervently against me and what I'm doing. It's just the way it is. Either they have a problem with it from a religious standpoint, a societal standpoint, through lack of understanding, or just out and out fear of the different. I get that people are going to be like this, because the news is inundated with stories of this kind of hatred and intolerance. What we often fail to see, however, is that there are people who will IMMEDIATELY jump to your aid just BECAUSE you're in this position. You get support from literally out of nowhere, just like I did by the nurse who was treating me who just happened to be gay himself.

I stayed in the ER overnight that night, and underwent a litany of test. I remember around 6 in the morning the nurse who was treating me earlier, and who I hadn't seen since the EKG, came into the little cube that my bed was set up in and said that he just wanted to check on me before his shift ended. He squeezed my hand for a second or two and told me, "Don't worry, sweetie, everything's going to be okay." Then he asked if I needed anything before I sincerely thanked him and he left.

So... not only do you get support from out of nowhere, but you also get support like this. You get support that will take people out of their way to make sure that you're okay. You get support in that people will look out for you. And I think that in this case it comes from an almost kind of kinship that people across the LGBT spectrum share with one another. There's a lot of looking out for one another, or so I've seen.

Additionally, there are people who aren't in this group who are just kind, caring, and supremely understanding people. They seem to truly comprehend two things about what I'm going through:

1) This is NOT something I chose.
2) It's DAMN tough to deal with.

And once people get these two things, it really seems like their heart opens up to you... and in amazing ways. When you hear story after story about trans people getting attacked, or murdered, or being fired from their jobs with no recourse, you tend to get more than a bit dejected. Then someone comes along and bowls you over with an intense act of kindness, and it's truly astounding. It smacks you in the face with hope and shows you just how insanely good people can be to one another. This was the first time I witnessed anything like this when it came to dealing with health care... and it was quite simply lovely.

Flying Blind... But Still in the Air

"Of flight or fly, This choice is left ye, to resist or die."
- Alexander Pope

It's been about 6 months since my last inspirational and uplifting post, and over 7 months since my last post of any real substance. In that time I've experienced a kind of "shut down". Essentially I just couldn't process and/or deal anymore. I didn't know what else to do, so I tried to shut off my brain as best I could. Seemed reasonable... or not. Actually, I think that it was more of a defense mechanism than anything else.

You see, the majority of my thoughts during the past months just flat out hurt. They hurt to think about. They hurt to dwell on. The hurt to write about. I didn't want to get into it. I didn't want to think about being trans, or my place in the world, or just about anything really. I just wanted to be. If only.

Pretty much every bad thought about being trans had a few good kicks at my ribs (and/or my psyche) during that time, and writing about it would usually help to ease this. Writing would get these thoughts out into the open and help me to deal with them more. Writing would help me to see my way around them and maybe even find a solution buried in the ranting. In this case, however, writing made it worse, because I was thinking about an impossible situation even more than I had been. It mired me in The Bleak even more so than I was already. I couldn't do it. I no longer felt liberated and mentally cleansed after I was done writing. What I did feel was hopelessness, sorrow, and yet more hopelessness. Writing proved to be nothing more than an intense dwelling on the unattainable. I couldn't do it... and for years and years it had been my predominant way of coping.

What I have come to realize through this sunny stretch of time, is that what I want out of life is truly unattainable. I will never have it. And when you're hit with the realization that all you want out of life is the one thing that you can never have, it kind of leaves you in a "ready to die" kind of mode. Not a lot of fun. It was best not to exacerbate it. So, I shut my brain off to it and just tried to be... an especially black-or-white decision, since the alternative is NOT to be. Aren't I just SO fucking Hamlet-esque? Bleh.

The important thing here, however, is that through all of the shit... through all of the despair... through all of the life-loathing thoughts of suicide... I still plodded on. I still tried to be. I still tried to exist. Even when it seemed like everything in my world was telling me not to.

The key to this was staving off my constant thoughts of trans-like issues in any way that I could. Old bad habits resurfaced – overeating, smoking, not caring that I was overeating and/or smoking. The last of these being the most telling indicator of where my head was at. I mean, can you really give a shit that you've gained 20 pounds or that you're killing yourself slowly with cigarettes when you're just out and out apathetic about the very concept of being alive? If so, I'd have to think that it's pretty damn difficult to do.

All of the above came about (in short) because I truly realized what I stated earlier: I can never have the only thing in life that I ever really wanted, and the only thing in life that I really care to get out of it. Never. It's not going to happen. Ever. Never. Ever. Ever.

So... now what?

Well, here comes the part of my life where I completely reassess what I hope to get out of it, what I'm looking to attain in this world, and what steps I can/should take to salvage something good from the rubble of my utterly smashed hopes and dreams. It's quite literally cultivating a change of my entire perspective on the world and my place in it, AND doing this while still dealing with the fact that I'm oh-so desperately trans. I mean, that feeling isn't going to go away (and from what I've seen, it's only going to get worse). So, how do I deal with this issue – THE issue – inside these new parameters?

Well, first things first.

I am throwing away the lens that I used to view my life for so many years. I have to find a new one, and I don't think that's going to be a swift process. Until that time, however, I have to be okay with the fact that I don't have any real idea of where I'm going. I mean, it's hard to know where you're going when you can't even see.

Be well.

An Update

I haven't been on here in a while, so I figured I'd at least pop in and give an update. The update will actually tell why I haven't been blogging here. It's short, sweet, and to the point. The following is an excerpt from a "catching up" e-mail that I sent to a friend recently.

I'm also at the point where I don't know that this life thing is all it's cracked up to be. I've been fairly apathetic about being alive these days. I have no real reason to live and absolutely nothing to look forward to. Then there's the whole being 6'4" and trans thing to kind of take the wind out of any sails that I have. I've been pushing and pushing to make things happen with it, and I find myself going in circles... if not outright going backward. I am just completely mentally exhausted and I can't find A reason to push myself anymore... especially because I'm realizing more and more that what I'm pushing myself for is a total and complete fantasy that can never be achieved. It's the only thing that even matters to me... and it's a completely hopeless endeavor. It's the only thing on my mind... and I am SO miraculously tired of thinking about it. It governs everything in my life, it's never going to go away, and in fact, it only gets harder and harder to deal with. This is what I have to look forward to. It'd be different if I hadn't tried a million different things to make it better. But I've been fighting and fighting for years now, and losing... time after time... and things are only getting worse. It is DESTROYING me. Quite literally. And I don't know what else (if anything) I can do about it. I don't even know what's left to try, and more to the point, why I should even bother. It's never going to go away. Never. And, as I said, I am so, SO tired of dealing with it. I can't even explain the depth of the pain these days. I'm not even sure how I deal with it. I guess it's just a one day at a time type thing. I don't really know.

These same sentiments have been expressed to a couple different people, none of whom really know what to tell me at this point. And the hope wanes more and more.

Be well.