Burning Cocoons

Oopsies

2011-05-23T20:35:00.000-07:00

the previous post was actually a mistake intended for my other blog which is http://myemptyvessel.blogspot.com/ the one I meant to be my spiritual blog, as this one was initially intended for my political rants but ended up being more for personal rants. the thing is I don't actually have as much to say, specifically in regards to being transgender anymore, I feel dwelling on the topic pushes me to obsess over it. as weird as it is to say, I think i'm at the end of my journey in that regard. I guess I'm not really at the end, i still don't have a job, and i still want to save for my orchiectomy, but I'm happy with myself, I'm happy with the person i am, at least, as far as gender is concerned.

To reach further than arms length

2011-05-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

I have not posted on this blog in years, but my spiritual journey bumpy and often without direction, is nevertheless important to me. I no longer give half a damn about educating people about anything. Transsexuality, witchcraft, politics. I don't care that much. Not because trans politics aren't important, but because, I'm just not cut out to be a journalist of any kind, I don't have an eye for facts and I'm not doing much investigating from my hole I live in. It's simply not my area of talent, so I may on occasion offer my opinion on things for the sake of sharing, but not because I feel I have a very strong voice in politics.

Religion comes out pretty much the same. I'm clueless and partially insane. I'm not an anthropologist, or a theologist. I'm no ghodi, no initiate of Wicca or Thelema, I'm not a preacher or a rabbi. I'm going to post here for one person and one person only: myself. Frankly I think it would help me to get stuff off my chest once in a while, and this will be a place for me to do just that. This blog will be dedicated to my spiritual confusion and what my beliefs are and what I'm searching for.

Rant blog, and expansion of a previous confession.

2010-12-29T12:40:00.000-08:00

I've decided I'm going to keep this blog as a personal journal given the previous context. I want to comment more on society in general, LGBT rights, and sexuality, in a broader sense, but I've decided to make a new blog more designed for this. As a result I won't be posting as much on this one as I might be on the new one. However there are issues I want to discuss here twice, on both a personal and societal level partly because some of this I'm just starting to deal with myself, and because some of this I'm thinking needs to be said to the transgender community as a whole, or to society.

For one I'm out of the closet now as being partly genderqueer. I've come to realize that as important as femininity and womanhood are to me, to a lesser extent, my gender ambiguity and bigendered identity are also important to me, hence the non operative choice and my identification as "mostly female"

I'm exhibitionistic. I've been placing pornographic photos of myself on the internet. Why? pure personal choice: I find it fun and I like the attention. I'll get to the relevance of why I needed to post this on my blog in a moment.

Finally I'm a trans fetishist, although it's not truly a "transgender" fetish, but if your eyes are not crossed now, just bear with me. I am probably going to be accused of being a transvestite in denial, and I'm going to have the legitimacy of my gender identity completely torn from me by smug self superior individuals who require their own validity to come at the expense of another's. For this reason I'm am probably going to lose friends as they read this before they make it to the end of this paragraph, I no longer trust people to read this objectively and give me a chance to explain myself. But someone might, so here goes:

I find the juxtaposition of a male organ on a female body arousing. This is a detail, not a focus, but it exists in my sexuality, and among the things that I have dealt with in my life, I have found this to be the deepest source of denial, loss of validity and self doubt in the entire course of my transition and my life. As I've stated before sexual kink is not my reason for transitioning, however it appeared first before I gave myself more self analysis as sexual kink.

I have already more than asserted the legitimacy of my gender identity disorder, which has come to bring to my attention the fact that this needs to be discussed openly, in the potential instance of others less like myself. I'm absolutely sick, tired, and disgusted of the hatred that comes from -within- the trans community. This hatred has been by far more the source of my self doubt than any destructive words that could come from outside. I've dealt with for a very long time the semantics of who is and who is not a "true" transsexual. While I have met fetishistic men with male gender identities I do not think this is the exclusive case of fetishism, I've met cissgendered women who feel this way, having fantasies about penetrative sex rather than being penetrated. I do not believe neurologically there is any difference between myself and them.

I am not a "tranny chaser" given my own gender identity disorder and my ability to empathize with a woman's need for validity and for the need for public funding for SRS, and my own gender identity disorder. I feel the transsexual persecution of fetishists whether transvestitic, heterosexual, lesbian, gay or otherwise, is a useless element in our community. While the phenomenon of tranny chasers exists, this can be remedied with communication and understanding. Having had the opportunity to communicate with a number of these men myself, having this fetish and legitimate transsexuality myself, I somewhat bridge the gap between these two opposing communities. Persecuting them for this aspect of their sexuality only further pushes them to acknowledge stereotypes and return to incidences where they feel welcomed for their sexuality, thus furthering the momentum of prostitution and pornography as the only understanding of transsexuality. This sexuality is not going anywhere, and yelling at them for invalidating women is not going to magically cause them to click their heels and re-write something that is probably nuerologically set, or at least deeply psychologically set. The fact that I exist with these people asserts there is a niche in our psychology and nuerology for myself and them, and that neither of our existence needs to be a threat to a classic DSM IV transsexual woman.

I find it deeply hypocritical that we argue that womanhood is not defined by sex organs, and yet, by imposing a desire for surgery as a requisite for validity on all male to female transsexuals, we continue to define women by their genitalia. I also have seen transsexual men asserting that they enjoy being penetrated and even some gay transmen who have found the possession of a vagina on their male body or on the male bodies of others to be arousing. A woman who was deeply critical of "shemale" transvestites, who were never, ever "legitimate transsexuals" was in complete acknowledgment of the validity of his gender identity.

Mentioning the "shemale" derogatory term, given my bigendered identity, with a preference towards my femininity (don't you dare try to box my gender identity into a triangular "middle" simply because you acknowledge that there is not a binary. I am mostly female, period.), paired with the exhibitionism I briefly touched upon, my relative brush with pornography, my fetishism and sexuality, you begin to build a profile of a "shemale" or a "transgenderist" and you compile a negative stereotype that has affected me deeply and made me have to doubt my validity as a woman. I make no requirement for other women to be like myself, and I believe I have just as much of a right to my gender identity as anyone else. If you have failed to recognize that validity, frankly, I find that quite pathetic. It's taken every ounce of independence and individuality out of me to acknowledge this for myself, and I challenge you to -think- independently and -then- challenge anything I say, instead of rehashing the same illegitimate bullshit about transgenderists and the sacred vagina as the sole defining element of female existence.

Goddamn it's been long

2010-12-20T04:36:00.000-08:00

I've been ignoring this thing for like... ever. I suppose I don't have readers anymore, which is fine, although I've made some dear friends on here. My main reason for ignoring this is dealing with the fact that I was letting trans-sexuality define me, and I wanted to let go of that for a while. I tried being less vocal about it, and I guess for a while I needed that, but it's difficult for me to be entirely un vocal about anything. I'll be posting new things here every so often but I doubt I'll keep the monthly quota I kept during my transition. I would also like to talk about LGBT rights in general, and frankly I want to be perfectly open about my sexuality, this may mean flagging this blog mature, and posting things people might not wanna read. I don't know if I'll be touching my spiritual blog here, or if I'll be using another outlet for it.

Transgender Day of Rememberance 2009, a few days late

2009-11-21T23:02:00.001-08:00

I apologize for posing a day late today, for yesterday, 2009 Day of remembrance. I searched for a list for this year, but was unable to find one. Last year I poured my heart out on a very difficult post, about those who has passed away due to hate crimes or other things relating to their transgender status. Many more have passed this year, who's names I do not not know. This was a difficult time for me last year. I had just gone full time a few days ago, and the list of transgendered hate crime was a reminder of the dangers I faced. I didn't really pass yet, and it took everything I had to go outside in girl clothes.

Looking back on that now... its hard to believe that its only been a year since then. Since I was doing volunteer work for the campaign to repeal prop 8. Since I was taking a cane with me that I borrowed because I was too afraid to go on to the train without some kind of weapon. Since I was in the potential pool for next years victims.

This thanksgiving I've a lot to be thankful for. My transition really wasn't that bad, not compared to how it could have been. And while I hurt for those who have lost or are lost.

I meant to post this almost a month ago, and left it for editing feeling unsatisfied with what I wrote. I'm sorry for such a delayed remembrance.

Working in Corporate America, a second little social commentary.

2009-11-02T16:43:00.000-08:00

Greetings bloggers and readers. Apologies again for my lack of posts or attention to these blogs. I've been juggling personal and school life, but as I'm currently taking only one class, I've little excuse save the lack of motivation on my part for nearly anything.

Though I've wanted to dedicate this blog to social commentary, it isn't as though I've nothing to say. In particular, though this has little to do with gender, I'd like to take a second attempt at offering my disgruntled perspective in regards to the system of employment and job interviews in our society, and how I feel a bit excluded by it. I do not know whether this says more about me, or the values we keep in our culture, but I'll let my readers decide.

A close friend of mine got a job at Vons and promptly quit. She was a bit taken aback, with the way she was treated in her employment. The other co workers cared little for training her, and only did the bare-bones minimum they were required in showing her the ropes. She was unprepared for some of the work and shocked, with little assistance in tasks she was not ready for, or physically unable to comply due to her petite size.
But in my opinion, it was more the disposable nature by which she felt she was regarded, than the nature of the work itself that drove her to quit. I hold this opinion because I too, was an employee once at a super market, and I still dread Job hunting to this day because of it. I worked hard at my job as courtesy clerk, very hard. But I was not a fast worker, nor an effective one. Rather, I never gave myself unscheduled breaks or fooled around on the job. I obediently continued to wherever I was expected to be, and to whatever I was expected to be doing.
Often, it seemed like, the case was, that I was reprimanded for not being in two places at once, or for putting out the wrong fire at the wrong time. I was repeatedly told to say "service first" at albertsons, in particular any time I was needed to use the intercom, Yet when I had to choose between that customer that needed my help on aisle 3 and the spill on aisle 6, I was often treated like I was trying to avoid my obligations by helping the customer, despite the instructional videos I was shown which told me to do exactly that.

My boss would make fun of me. whistling the tune thematic of Slowpoke Rodriguez whenever I passed him struggling to figure out which end-cap the go-backs that looked as though they obviously belonged in a completely different location, should be placed in. Another superior of mine, was often thankful and polite to me, making me feel good, until I discovered from co workers how she would often discuss behind my back how wretched slow I was, and how she hated having to work with me.

I constantly felt like my employment, and any hopes of resume for the future, were at stake, because I was not fast enough at dexterity or wit to keep up with the demands of this rather simple, idiotic job at Albertson's. I wondered when they would decide to fire me to let in the next egomaniac behind me who was waiting to do my job, a little bit faster, with a little more skill, or maybe a lot more.
The other employees, who took their job a lot less serious than I did, seem to get along better with their superior motor skills, and that seemed to overshadow the fact that they would extend their breaks as much as possible, and goof off at every given moment on the job. One co-worker of mine even scolded me about the importance of putting away go-backs at the end of each shift, and then began to literally goof around, playing with a toy that was found in the items to be returned.

Another time I was looking for a job, a prospective employer asked me if I was "aggressive" and of course, I thought it meant rude or overly outspoken. Logic should have told me that he meant competitive, but I never took the moment to associate aggressiveness with the place I was applying for work at... Micheal's, an arts and crafts store.

So the bottom line is, I am neither fast, nor competitive. I just want to do my job, as best I can, and I would happily keep a vested interest in how my work is benefiting the employer for whom I work. No employer would want to hire me after I told them that, they want someone who will come in and say "yes" or give a positive answer to every question they would ask about their prospective employment. Either there's a shortage of people like me in this world, who are not good enough, or megalomania and an overwhelming excess of self-esteem are necessary to compete in this cutthroat environment we live in, even at the very bottom of the food chain.

Perhaps this is just the asperger's talking. Maybe this is just the perspective of someone in a very distinct psychiatric minority, complaining about something that works fine for just about everyone else. It must be because I don't see many people complaining about the values in entry level corporate society, outside of my little circle of friends. We talk about the big guys like the banks and the upper eschalons of corporate society, and how their greed often forgets about those left on the bottom rung, but nobody complains about the guy in charge of job interviews at the local best buy or Target.

Honesty and hard work in our society, only pay off when one also has superior skills in every aspect of their job, social, physical, and mental. I clearly simply do not fit in with my inferior self esteem and the slow pace with which I must try to keep up. You need to be the best, or at least be able to claim to be to an interviewer with a straight face.

At any rate I'm in school for the time being, and I'm sure I'll find a way to get by in society, but it doesn't change how it appears to me, in terms of cultural values. I don't like to boast about myself or try to put myself on some kind of high pedestal, and this has already put me into a number of awkward encounters with job interviewers.

Long time no post.

2009-07-31T13:05:00.000-07:00

Good afternoon dear readers, I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. To tell the truth I haven't felt like I had much to say. The struggle with my family continues, but has withered down quite a bit. The struggle with my self, and my own body... is coming to an end. I talked to the doctor just yesterday. My breast growth is slowing, and I still have a problem of body hair on my stomach, even if it's rather thin, but he said these things are normal for a patient in my stage of transition.

I haven't had much to say, because being transgender hasn't been as much at the front of my mind lately. I've got problems to deal with, most of them having little to do anymore with my being transgendered. I'm coming out of the euphoric stage, and I'm starting to feel rather normal. So its about time I posted what I intended to post last month. My transition and how it has affected my life.

I basically created this blog to hopefully fight ignorance about the status of transgendered people in the world, or at least in the united states. As it went on, it became less that, and more of me venting my pain and my frustration, and a part of a greater coping mechanism.

As far as this blog goes, I had hoped my struggle wouldn't have been quite so easy. Nothing motivates a society like a gripping tale of obstacles and perseverance, but as things went on, I realized my story was hardly novel material. I didn't end up on the street. I didn't end up in the shelter. I didn't even have to look for any jobs yet, so I haven't had to worry about job discrimination. I had trouble passing for a little while, but no violent encounters thankfully. Now I pass enough that it doesn't really effect my daily life, so my blog is hardly as inspiring or riveting as I had hoped, though I'm extremely lucky in that regard.

My life as it stands now, is not completely without trans issues, much to the contrary. Not only that but it is far from perfect, as I am struggling with money, self worth, and self esteem, and a plethora of other issues. But even on the worst possible day, I feel like it could never be as bad as before the transition. I started this blog to record the transition, and the effects it had on me. Many people suggested transitioning will do nothing to improve the quality of life for me, or for anyone. While hundreds of documents existed to prove otherwise, I felt it was necessary to record my own transition, and provide one more truthful document, regardless of the results. I can now tell you living full time in the roll of Sara, exactly what the results of my transition are. My life has improved dramatically, and it is like being cured of a disease. I do however feel that I am in a situation, where the problems remaining in my life, are in some way damaging to the outlook of those around me. My mother wants visible proof that I'm -really- happier or more confident, not just my word for it, for example, and so I have a new burden to carry. I have to be careful not to let others see the problems I still have in other areas of self esteem.

I'm now posting this, quite late, and with this post, I'm no longer able to maintain the promise I will post on a monthly basis from now on. I would also like to dedicate this blog to a more specific purpose: commentaries on gender roles and transsexualism in our society, instead of just details of my own personal life. That said, recent comments have shown me that people HAVE found hope in some of my writing. I was going to erase or move the post about sexuality, but for now I will allow it to stay there. On the one hand I want this blog to be readable by anyone of any age, and I don't want it to be too explicit. On the other hand, that there are teenagers that go through some of what I went through with sexuality, I want the information to be readily available, so people might not think they are alone in their situation, or that they are the only one who does not fit in to the typical formula of the trans woman.

The Times, they are A-changin'

2009-04-07T21:49:00.000-07:00

Minipost time. New picture guys and dolls, lo and behold the new passable Sara version 2.1 The hormone crew is currently working on the the next update, stay tuned.

At any rate not only am I passable nowadays, the progress I'm making with my family is making leaps and bounds as well. A few days ago, I was getting a new bed for my room from grandma and grandpa, a twin size, a bit smaller than I had liked, as I was hoping my girlfriend and I will finally make our real life rendezvous. The day ended up leading to mom having called me Sara, for the first time in public, in my entire life. She does not regularly call me Sara, and I know it was only because I object to any other name in public, especially around the house, where my neighbors might hear. Still, my reaction was one of such joy, I could not contain the literal "squee" that came out of my mouth or the almost silly feminine hand gesture, she must have found it annoying.

I went to dinner later with my parents and grandparents. This day was the first time dad had really seen me as a girl, the previous time I had kept my sweater zipped up, and tried to hide any of my feminine attire. It was also the first time my grandmother had ever seen me as a girl at all. I found it odd, most things continued as though nothing had taken place. They still call me by the same terms of endearment, even if some of those terms are male. I'm content enough now, just to appear and move in my natural skin, and not have to dress up as a boy when I see them. Maybe I'm giving them too much.

After dinner that same day, I went to see an uncle and aunt, and their two daughters, the oldest 7, (I think, I can never keep track of all three of my cousins ages, every time I see them they've grown up so much more.) While my younger cousins had asked me some unfortunate questions "----- why do you look like a girl?" Well I was not happy as a boy and decided to change. "but you don't have a girl voice" (ouch I'm trying okay girls, I'm still working on that part) Most of it was shockingly uneventful... I remember thinking how I had imagined this day for six long years of my life, ever since coming out, with the intent to transition. The day had gone nothing like how I imagined it would.

Next time, assuming I don't get distracted by other posts, I'll make my official comment about my satisfaction with HRT so far, since I started this blog for the sake of documenting the effects of transitioning on me. It's become a much needed source of support from the community, and a place to vent my troubles, but I still want to also keep it as a document.

Tranny complex and the T word.

2009-04-05T14:09:00.000-07:00

Oops I already used the T word.

At any rate before I get started, I'm gonna babble a little bit. First off, thanks for your support everyone who commented on my previous post. I feel like I can finally move on now that I got that off my chest, and forget about stupid labels by transsexual women, trying to elevate themselves above other transsexual women. Secondly, new pics coming soon! I keep meaning to update but I'm at my parents house and my pics of me are at home. Also new blog! http://myemptyvessel.blogspot.com/ this is where I'm gonna be recording all my spiritual hocus-pocus from now on.

So on to the topic at hand. I've noticed in myself, that I've felt comfortable... maybe a bit too comfortable with the transsexual label. I remember during the life as a straight man, I always felt out of place in a straight world full of straight people, and left out of the LGBT community. I knew I was the L and the T, but I just didn't FEEL it. Now that I'm transitioning, I'm starting to worry that I take, perhaps a bit too much pride in being trans. I'm fairly open about it, most of my friends know, and I am not a member of any online communities, unless you count FFXI, that don't know about my transsexual status.

But it's not just the fact that I'm open about it, it's the fact that I often feel compelled to talk about it and bring it up. This probably comes from the time I spent longing to transition, and longing to free myself of my fleshy bonds, and longing to feel like anything other than a straight man. I could not convince myself I was a girl, so transsexual was all I could give myself. When I compare how strongly identify with transsexual, to lesbian, it's fairly plain to observe. I'm definitely proud of being a lesbian, but it's not big issue in my life. Not a day goes by when I don't think about the fact that I'm a ts, I'm a tranny, I'm transsexual. I need to let go of this complex. I'm Sara. Transsexuality is a part of my life, it is a part of my experience, and a part of what shaped me into who I am, sure, but it is not, who I am.

My second thought, is regarding the T-word. Tranny. I remember at a group meeting for transsexuals, at night, a ftm talked about how offensive and stupid sounding it is that we go around calling each other tranny. I call myself tranny all the time, but it IS a derogatory slur. One way of thinking is that it's reclaimation of the word, and a change of its meaning, its use, its ability to hurt. I can see this, being called a tranny is not really offensive to me. Conversely, I have a friend who is a Rroma, a culture most often mislabeled by the racial slur "Gypsy." She has renounced the use of this word, and I've stopped using it, except within quotations, to explain the fact that it is, in fact, a racial slur. But these two terms have entirely different circumstance. The G word has fallen into such wide use, that I'd never heard the term Rroma in my life till recently.

Tranny has not taken over the more polite labels within the trans community, and people meaning to use the word as an insult, will find themselves a tad disarmed. Conversely using it like this, encourages other people to use it, and some people use the term because they simply don't know any others, are we starting down the path towards the G word situation? And people meaning to be degrading, need only to substitute any number of terms at their disposal, trap, shemale, ladyboy, transgenderist.

At any rate what do you guys think of my new template. I decided to use the dark colors for my spiritual blog, to represent my emphasis towards mysteries, but it does kinda look like I'm stereotyping witches doesn't it?

Probably my most difficult post... ever.

2009-04-03T21:19:00.000-07:00

Hi boys and girls! lets talk about sex!

This post contains mature information about sexuality, specifically my own. I'm currently not sure if I have to put some kind of 18 plus flag on this blog because of it, or if I should have to re-word it. I feel like the majority of information in my blog should be available to anyone.

I'm in a pretty bad mood when this topic comes into my mind, because it's something I've been fighting with myself about for a long time. Please excuse the frustration, sarcasm and bitterness of this post. In all honesty, I'm really really angry.

Let's start with the basics. Autogynephilia. The theory of autogynephilia was brought on in response to the idea that transsexuals were human beings, deserving respect. This theory suggests that transsexuals or at least transsexual lesbians are perverts, who want to enjoy their own female bodies, instead of someone elses. Us narcisistic "shemales" lust so intensely over the idea of becoming women that we take medicine to alter our bodies. Nevermind the notion that gender dysphoria in males would cause this to be a regretful and painful decision. Nevermind that sexuality is different for all of us. We're transgenderists, not transsexuals, know the difference.

I'm guilty of autogynephilia. I admit it. I have, on occasion, become sexually aroused by the thought of reaching my status of womanhood. I'm guilty of getting the occasional arousal out of the changes that my body has made due to hormone therapy. My first experimentation with being female, was in a sexual role playing situation. Most of all, I'M TIRED OF QUESTIONING MY VALIDITY AS A WOMAN BECAUSE OF IT! Autogynephilia has never been my reason for transitioning, I've cried, contemplated suicide, gone into deep bouts of self loathing over my identity, even during my transition. Because of womanhood I'm finally comfortable in my own skin, I'm finally free and happy. I'm finally able to enjoy real life without pretending I'm someone else, but because I've experienced moments of autogynephilia I'm not a real woman. I'm a transgenderist. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of doubting my identity, not because I'm conflicted about what I want to be known as, or because I have any reason to change my mind about being a woman, but because my sexuality makes womanhood NOT OKAY.

I am a lesbian. I'm attracted to other women. My gender identity and my sexual orientation take me in the same direction, so is it really THAT ABSURD to think that maybe, just maybe, the lines between the two get blurred? Am I guilty of some crime against womanhood? Am I a narcissistic pervert over a side effect that occurs maybe once in a few months, for less than a few minutes? I rarely look at myself in the mirror, and when I do most of the time, I think I look pretty damn disgusting actually. Even when I don't it's hardly ever sexual, I'd much rather look at another woman, than at myself.

Now, we've covered the basics, let's move on to our next closely related topic. Transvestitic fetishism. Transvestitic fetishism is the notion of sexual arousal derived from decieving people into believing you are a woman, while being a man. Clearly being a man means having a penis and wanting it, so if any woman is conflicted about sex reassingment surgery, and may deside to keep their penis for any reasons non medical, such as, gods forbid, actually enjoying it during sex.

I enjoy the idea of penetrating other women. God forbid I make the most of what I have for the time being. I prefer a partner who enjoys this as well, must mean a tranny chaser, and not someone who just enjoys my unique sexuality. I'm offended by this too, because people forget that there might be something in between tranny chasers and people who see me as a cisgendered women. I DO NOT WISH TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE COMPARING MYSELF TO A CISGENDERED WOMAN. Lastly, I'm exited by the idea of a woman who has a penis and is comfortable with it. (do you know how difficult this is for me to confess to the whole internet? do you know how many of my friends read this?) It's not because its dirty, seedy, or naughty, its because its unique, different. But I thought men had that fetish, so this must make me a man, with transvestitic fetishism... even if I prefer to look at said women, as just women, with a unique sexuality, and loathe the swath of stereotypes, gender ristrictions, and degradations associated with it. NEVERMIND it might be just my sexual attractions, and that my gender identity might be no less valid.

Incidently I'm actually conflicted about sex reassignment surgery. I'm more or less between just getting an orchiectomy and getting the whole thing. I'm about 100% sure I want an orchiectomy, but I don't know the medical, benifits, vs risks in getting only an orchiectomy. I've heard sex reassignment surgery has a 50% chance of abolishing all feeling in the sexual organs and this is why I'm leaning against having a complete sex reassignment surgery. Outside of sex, I'm quite uncomfortable with my sex organs, and am certain I'd be content with a vagina. If I was born a cisgendered woman, I'd probably be the type to have fleeting "penis" fantasies, but nothing worth doing drastic changes to my body.

My bottom line, is that the term transgenderist, and dehuminization of autogynephilia from WITHIN THE TRANS COMMUNITY, is unecessary, and hurtful. We have the term androgyne already to describe persons who fall between the binary of male and female, and this term, is respectful because IT ALLOWS PEOPLE TO KEEP THEIR SEXUALITY PRIVATE. We have acknowledged that the majority of trans persons do not experience autogynephilia. What every source, every place of acceptance, ever thought pattern on the internet fails to recognize, is people like me, who have been hurt, and have spent many nights crying about this term. Call me a pervert, a sicko, call me disgusting, call me an animal. But don't you dare call me a man, an androgyne, or anything other than a woman.

THIS IS WAR ON THE TERM TRANSGENDERIST. I BEG YOU AND IMPLORE YOU TO CORRECT ANYONE WHO USES THIS TERM STARTING TONIGHT.

Society of the Damned

2009-03-05T21:13:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, a friend I've met at the clinic said something that struck me. She said, that transgender people, particularly transgender women, have developed, a sort of "culture of victims" as she put it.... That sounds harsh, and i didn't like how she put it... but it's true. Victim hood has become a part of our lives, especially male to female trans women. It's not entirely our fault. We didn't ask to be stereotyped and marginalized and treated like trash. But look at myself, I actually felt guilty for having it easier.
I felt guilty for not being forced on the streets, homeless, selling myself or selling drugs. I felt guilty for not being beaten or raped, for not being completely abandoned by my family. I felt guilty for getting money through social security and getting help. Why? Because other transsexuals have it the way I didn't. I still feel guilty about this, actually, but when I think about it, this mindset is something we need to get ourselves out of.
In a more negative fashion, some girls who have had it rough, I've heard look down on others for not going through the same punishment they did. They haven't had the proper hard-knock life it takes to EARN your way to womanhood in this modern day society. I guess I can understand this mentality too, as perhaps, subconsciously, without even realizing it, I've been guilty of it, feeling some kind of jealousy towards girls who've had it easier than I.
This mentality needs to stop. We are women, we are men, we are born in the wrong body. Being transsexual means we have a medical condition, that effects us in psychological ways. We are not our condition, we are not our past, we are individuals. We don't deserve to be tortured and raped and ridiculed to acquire the same birthright that other people take for granted, but the only way to stop this mentality from spreading is to talk about it and understand why its happening.

I made a poll for my blog because I want to know who my readers are. I know a number of my trans sisters, are reading this and showing their support, and I also know that a number of friends I've made throughout my journey have done so too, and I thank you all and hope you'll keep reading. But I'm hoping this reaches out to someone who's not trans, or who is and is feeling hopelessness as I used to feel. If this blog changes at least one person, I'll feel its a success. If my struggle, or maybe in the future, the struggles of others I can connect you with, can change at least one person's way of thinking, maybe transsexualism, will eventually, just be a condition. So I want to hear from non trans people, I want to know what they think, what they believe, and if anything I've said so far changes anything. Please don't think I don't appreciate the support of my fellow trans women however, as sometimes your comments have really helped me get through a lot of this.

Silence

2009-03-01T20:23:00.000-08:00

So it happened just like that... Donna found me a tab on a piece of paper that had some phone numbers for a room for rent in the same neighborhood. Now I'm living in a room all by myself, which is a bit stuffy from the heat, and the carpet is a little stained, but is otherwise, quite comfortable. I can't get the internet running on my Xbox360, and I'm waiting to get my pc repaired, and in the mean time, I feel really, really alone.
I've reached a point in my transition where I pass more easily, though not fantasically. I'm at a point in life, where my family is coming to terms with who I am. My mom and grandpa saw me for the first time in my female clothes, and they hugged me, and I feel a little more comfortable around them. They are still calling me by my boy's name, and using male pronouns, but they are beginning to realize that it is in error. My life is moving forward in strides, and some of them I thought would never achieve reality... so why do I feel so sad as I'm typing this?
Honestly I know why I'm sad, I'm asking myself rhetorically. I'm lonely, and scared, in a new house, with new people, the landlady and her tenants are friendly and warm to me, even given what I am, but with no internet, my world has been completely severed from me in this foreign place. No friends all the time, and most of all, no girlfriend. I feel like I fell off the world into a new life, as Sara. My former roommate is still nearby, and we're still best of friends, but she's got so much going on that I don't feel comfortable calling her, I just don't know what to say to her.
The feeling of loneliness is worsened by the terror I feel of my neighbors. The next door neighbors give me all the usual stares, and they have a bunch of rough looking teenagers that congregate outside their house. The tenant in the room next to mine, with her little girl, is more or less a stranger to me, and I'm afraid too, that ignorant of my reality, she thinks me to be some kind of pervert, or freak. I wonder if she fears that I'm a danger to her daughter or something. I'm not used to being thought of in that way, by anyone I have a chance of meeting again. I guess I should get used to it since I'll be going back to school soon.
My ID finally arrived just before I moved with a problem attached, my middle name, was misspelled with two a's and I now have to turn it in to fix the problem. Yet another burden to overcome. The room was previously a disaster, but I've turned it into something a little less monstrous, now that I've organized it a bit. I'll have an old computer set up soon and hopefully I'll have the internet back, and then this move won't be as painful. Until next time, that's all the news about my own life. Sara

A victory and A defeat.

2009-02-20T15:23:00.000-08:00

I'm now 24 years old. I mention that because my birthday was this month, on the 9th. I didn't do much on that day that was out of the ordinary. I saw my grandpa in the morning, and went over a friends house to play Dungeons and Dragons, because I'm nerdy that way. It was a big day I guess, it was my first real birthday as Sara. I had to spend part of the day dressed as a guy, because of Grandpa, and looking back on it, I kind of regret not asking him to see me the day before or after, I wish I didn't spend such a significant day dressed like that. I didn't get time to really freshen up after either so again, I spent the afternoon getting "he, err she sorry" from some of my friends.

That however, was not the most significant day of the month, for me. Rather the real big day was when I brought the form, signed by my doctor to the department of motor vehicles, and got the go ahead for a new Drivers license, which for me right now, basically just serves as a California ID, with my real name on it. Sara Marquilla Ross, F. My soon to be real name. Later that day however, I went to the bank to discuss changing my name there. I thought I wouldn't have a problem since it's a private organization, why should I need a federal name change? They told me since the bank is regulated by the government, I'd need the papers for a court name change. This seems utterly silly to me, since If I was opening an account, they would probably only ask for a picture ID, that said, my picture ID has not come in the mail yet, so I can't do anything yet anyways. I'll have to be more persistant about a court name change now that I've got my cellphone back.

My roomate and I have been going through some hell lately. Her bf broke up with her over personal things, but it turned out to be partially the result of a forced intervention on the part of his family. He got back together with her when he had the chance to speak to her in private, only to shortly after be kicked out of his house temporarily because his father over heard them on the phone. Her number was deleted by his family from his phone list but he re retrieved it easily. The shock and stress of this series of events has worn both of us down heavily, though I can only imagine what she's been going through. I personally hope he arrives here soon, I dont have issues sharing a room with a guy actually, though I think the feeling I've overstayed my welcome will become even worse. I've been looking on craigs list for housing options and I'm thinking of posting myself that I need a room... but I'm afraid of dangerous situations emerging from this, as I've heard the horror stories of what happens to girls like me, who come forward with what we are to a stranger. I couldn't live in a situation where I had to hide my transsexuality though, I just don't pass clearly enough and even if I did I wouldn't really feel safe...

Sara out.

Anathema

2009-01-26T14:29:00.000-08:00

Over the past few days, I've felt my place in the world closing in on me, until realizing all I have is a cot, a tiny rectangle of space, carved out in another person's room. Even in that room, I'm just a burden, a parasite if you will.

Two weeks ago I went to see my mom, as per usual, for a trip to the orthodontist, and while eating dinner we were talking about my cousin, who I had seen a week before then. My mom decided to ask what I had said about her, and asked me if I had said all the things SHE wanted me to say, as though I needed to bring up Asperger's syndrome and all the things she points out that I'm not doing at the dinner table with my cousin. The worst part though, is when she asked me if I worded it, "as though she had kicked me out" when in fact, she had kicked me out. Actually I didn't quite word it that way, but the matter of fact is, kicking me out because I am transitioning, and not allowing me to transition because I am there, are the same thing.

She had the audacity to say, that it had nothing to do with the hormones, it was that I needed to take more responsibility, and wouldn't even let me talk, when I tried to say that she had said, I can stay there, and should, but I can't be taking hormones in that house, she yelled at me and talked over me. She asked me when I will stop playing the victim, and take personal responsibility for not making something of myself in the five years I spent since I came out to them... (five years of hopeless misery with seemingly no way out)

She refused to let me stay at her house that evening and took me straight back home. With an onslaught of being called unfair and mean to her, and being told I will always turn on whoever is taking care of me, as if some kind of prophesy, attributing it to my Asperger's syndrome, she left me sobbing, walking up the driveway home, in near hysterics. She called later in the week, not to apologize, but to say she's gonna look for help for us. She told me she cried all the way home, and cried all night till she went to bed. Why tell me that except maybe to prove she's more miserable than I am. I was going to write a letter to mom here, and include it as part of the post, seeing as she'll never read it here, but I want to move on to my next topic... my roommate.

My roommate and I were basically best friends when I moved in, but time has left us more and more annoyed with each other, as living together will do that to a person, especially in such a tight space. but a few nights ago left me wondering if she even cares about me at all. Doubting it, rather. On the way to therapy, I was wearing the top I had just bought, and I was feeling relatively confident in myself, but I could tell something was giving me away because I received the usual onslaught of dirty looks.

Just before I arrived at the clinic a Latino teenager stuck his face in front of mine, and said "HELL NO it is NOT Halloween!" obviously referring to my being "In drag" as he probably saw me. I was heart broken by this comment and went to therapy feeling miserable, which I suppose is great because I had a lot to talk about. I came home and cried, and she was already in a bad mood, so she ignored me. I tried to tell her what happened and she said "oh..." and continued to ignore me, I cried some more and finally decided it was time to go to bed.

I asked her to turn her music off, which was upbeat and obnoxious, and she got mad at me. I tried to sleep but she types so hard that it sounds like she's trying to break the table. I felt like she was doing it on purpose. I was absolutely fuming at this point, I could have lived with her not caring, or showing any sympathy about the dirty remark, but I was hoping she'd at least understand enough to wanna let me sleep it off and start a new day, but apparently her comfort is more important. I went back online and cried to wolfie, and then I went to bed, she was doing something with less consistent typing, so I was able to fall asleep. Work the next to days provided me from solace, that is, her work. Not however, very much, because a few nights later she wanted me to leave the room so she could have a private conversation with her boyfriend. I decided that was fair enough, so I left the room, saying I'd take a shower. In addition to taking a shower I ate, did laundry, spent as much time in the shower as I could, and tried to give them lots of extra time. She snapped at me when I got back to the room saying "I was hoping you'd take longer" I yelled at her saying all the things I did to give her more time before being yelled back at, and being told "I'm the one who's yelling at her." At this point, we've been unable to speak to each other. The next morning led to a little fight, to her scowling at me, which now she does if she even looks at me, and slamming a drawer shut that I had left open. She asked me what I put in my tea, with an upset voice, so I answered, probably also sounding upset as at this point I couldn't keep it underneath. She said "Okay fine!" she snapped at me. I was upset and said "you should listen to yourself before getting pissed off about how I sound" She said "whatever..." and I said sarcastically "yeah whatever"... I'm sick of her saying that but I know at this point I'm only adding to the misery.

That night her constant scowling and sighing got the better of me, and I started to cry, and again she ignored me. This confirms that she really doesn't care about my feelings. at some point maybe she'll be in a better mood, and pretend like nothing ever happened, but she'll never talk about it with me, she never talks about things.

I feel I'm trapped in the room of someone who hates me, and as I realize how close she is with the majority of my friends in person, friends she introduced me to, most of them would easily back her up, seeing me as the villain of this story. Knowing that, my world is really closing in on me, and I'm feeling a strong sense of exile, of not belonging anywhere... but being stuck in someone else's world. The only time I don't feel violently alone is on final fantasy xi, where I have a number of supportive friends, all of whom know of my transition, and have been there for me for a long time, and of course with my girlfriend, thousands of miles away in France. I'd give anything to be with her, save the fact that I need to transition and I've told her this. She more than supports me in that endeavor and has been my north star in the darkest nights.

I'd give anything to be with her, instead of a friend that despises me, or a mother that keeps me in prison and blames me for everything that goes wrong. Right now, that dream seems far far away, her in France, and me here, with too much going on in our lives, and too much to sort out to dream about moving to another country just yet. I'd settle for the luxury of total loneliness, an empty house and no friends or family to care or not care about me. Of course I'd still want to be close to my girlfriend and my online friends, But at this point I just want to hide from everyone and everything, that isn't her.

I can't shake the feeling that I deserve this. For not having a job, for not going to school, for transitioning and hurting my family, for transitioning on free hormones, for flying so far on someone else's wings, for being a burden on the one who took me in, for not being able to sleep with her music on, for wanting more than just my cot, and blankets, and the little plush husky I keep with me that symbolizes my girlfriend, (which my roommate gave me). For being the bitch in this situation, in some way I haven't seen or figured out yet, unable to see outside of my own perspective. For getting out of what I was, a boy, in life, trapped, with no way out of it, hopeless, helpless, the way I should be.

Forgive me for whining, crying, or being "emo." If you've no patience for such things, read something else.

PS Samantha and Veronique I've been reading your blogs though unable to comment for a while, thank you both for the support you've shown on mine.

An Almost Perfect Day

2009-01-18T12:26:00.001-08:00

Yesterday was my Roommate's birthday, and though I said something about to her and my friends... a few times, the significance of the day to me was lost the merriment and exhaustion of an exhilarating day, in hindsight I hope I didn't seem self centered.

She opted to go to Disneyland for the day, and it was rather exiting, given that I haven't been to Disneyland in years, not since some time in grammar school. I had forgotten how much fun it is just to walk from one completely different setting to another in New Orleans, Tommorowland, Fantasyland, and so on. I had a great time with my friends though I spent a little more money than I had hoped, (despite getting in free thanks to an employee, who happens to be the aunt of a mutual friend of my roommate and I.

I had so much fun with my friends, and was apparently passing. I wore my favorite top, did my hear a little nicely, and put some foundation on, and I was getting no dirty looks, or I should say... very few, (it was hard for me to keep my voice up in femenine pitch all day) but very little of the day went bad, so I really didn't care about the small stuff. I got a little lonely on the train, something about it was romantic and I bumped shoulders with my friend... From that I got the idea about my sweetheart putting her arm around me, I'd been thinking about her the whole time, but right then is when it started to hurt. I realize though that my roommate's boyfriend also wasn't able to make it, I moved on and enjoyed the good and let myself let go of the sad romantic for a bit.

But the significance of it, the reason I was posting, is that I was there as a girl, and apparently passing, and I realized at some point... I SAW myself as a girl. Being a girl had stopped being some fleeting, click your heels imaginary thing, "I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside, I'm a girl inside..." It had become a fact of reality, "I'm a girl"If I did think about gender dysphoria, all I thought about was that I wasn't experiencing it at all, that I only felt the euphoria of release, or of the novelty of hearing miss and ma'am all day. At Disneyland in that context I got to revisit my childhood, seeing famiar sights and sounds that used to exite me, but this time I needn't pretend to be anyone other than me. I became a little Sara for the first time, exited and enticed by everything I see. This day was a milestone for me, to be with friends, to have fun and not have the doom of gender dysphoria looming behind or ahead of me, a few months ago I thought a day like today would never achieve reality.

Now if only my girlfriend had been there it would have truly been perfect, I really did miss her alot. That said, I look forward to when we do finally get to go somewhere like that together, maybe just us, and be girlfriend and girlfriend, rather than looking at yesterday with any sadness or regret. Maybe we can even hold hands, I hear the exeptionally GLBT friendly at that park.

Miracle on Sunset Ave

2008-12-25T01:03:00.000-08:00

I meant to post this the night it happened, but now hear I am, posting Christmas morning, about something that happened about a week ago. So begins another two part post courtesy of Sara. First and foremost, an experience that happened to me that more or less changed my life. I guess it was going to happen eventually, but I wasn't really expecting it.

I was taking the train down to Hollywood as per usual, wearing a new top I had bought, and a cute black and purple hairband I got when I was out with a friend a week or so earlier. I was feeling pretty good about myself even though I knew I wasn't passing. Something however, was strangely absent in today's journey: the dirty looks. Sometimes this happens, when I'm wearing one of my black babydoll shirts and a hoodie over, because its cold, people seem to not notice that I'm a girl, or even dressed as one, so they simply ignore me, regarding me simply as a man.

I knew today it was blatantly obvious I was dressed as a girl, the top I was wearing wasn't that low cut, but it was enough that they don't make men's shirts in that fashion, and it was a bit frilly and tighter than the shirts I used to wear. Oh and red, by the way. The hairband completed the picture. I've never seen a guy wearing a hairband.

I figured people were just too busy or didn't care enough, I got lucky with a nicer crowd today on the train. It passed in the back of my mind that people actually took me for a girl, with no strings attached but I didn't want to get my hopes up, so I let that notion slide from my imagination. Its best not to get caught up in dreamworlds... okay I don't really live up to that very often, but concerning my transition, I try especially hard.

It happened when I was about to go to subway and the bum that is normally there asking for change, didn't talk to me. He stopped asking me for change at a certain point in my transition, was it because I never have any to give him, or was it because he was appalled at what I am? He whispered something to another ragged loafer (I try to be a generous person but these particular bums inappropriate behavior dampens my respect for them) something about me, as he was looking directly at me... well and pointing at me. The ragged loafer replied "who the white girl?" He was looking at me. I'm the white girl??? Despite the rudeness and and creepiness of this behavior, I was ecstatic to be called anything other than sir! The bum had probably told the ragged loafer that I was transsexual, as he had seen me several times before this, in various stages of my transition. The ragged loafer became the creep. He proceeded to call me "hay baby, hay girl, baby girl" and said something about going to Victoria's secret with him. I gave him a cold "not interested" and fled to subway from the shaggy troll's advances.

Equal parts ecstatic and disturbed, my first experience as a woman in the real world, was an encounter with a creep. Ah, but being a woman, for all the new terrors associated with it, is at least, far more exiting than being a man ever was. I'll stay safe don't worry. I'm being uncharacteristically optimistic, but I won't go searching for this kind of excitement, which the novelty is already wearing off.

In subway, where I had been called sir previously, I met no strange looks or confusion or nervousness behind the counter. Once I could see people were actually terrified of me. To them I must be the troll. No such terror existed in their eyes. No dirty looks and no rush to get me out of the line and hopefully out of the store. I was met with the same politeness I received before I began to dress. I assume that this is just how they roll here in Hollywood where queers are plentiful. When I handed them my cash they told me "enjoy your sandwich ma'am." A euphoric shock surged through every nerve in my body. It was at this moment I finally admitted to myself, what was happening. I was passing, at least for a day.

Since that day I've been able to pass on and off with my hair band and a little foundation. I guess at the length my hair is now, I don't pass without the hairband. I'm not really into short girl haircuts, but it hurts that I can't choose to be one of those girls with short hair if I wanted to. Some girls can really pull that off and look sexy.

Sometimes I get ma'am sometimes I get sir. It seems the majority of it has gone back to sir, but that one particular day gives me so much hope, that it's easier to go on. Even as my friend Amanda continues to accidental call me "he" without meaning to. It's probably my voice, but my facial features don't help it much.

So I'll be getting my name change soon, and I'll be working on getting some schooling, or a job, or something, under my true name, and not under some identity forced upon me.

Fast forward then, to today. Christmas eve, which I spent with my family, as I have traditionally for Christmas eve since childhood. It was my immediate family this time, just my aunts and uncles grandma and grandpa and mom and dad. No throng of second cousins and third cousins twice removed and children I don't know chasing each other through the halls, like I'm used to. I wore my hairband today, the black one, so it wouldn't be as noticed, but for some reason I chickened out when I got there, and took it off. I knew the kids would notice, and indeed they said something about it. I wore my girl jeans, and my breasts have gotten too big not to be noticed under the dress shirt I wore, even if their still much smaller than I'd like. Like last time, nobody said anything, I'm not sure I really wanted them to, quite as badly, but it still would have been nice. Next time maybe I'll wear the hairband the whole time.

I received a card from my grandpa that said something like "You're the kind of special boy a grandson ought to be" What the hell am I supposed to do with a card like that?? I also got two hundred dollars from them though, that's plenty of Christmas money for new clothes and maybe a video game. Still, I think this card stung more than anything else. Did they just not think, its difficult to imagine my grandparents purposely giving me a stinger like that, but not impossible. You just don't complain about Christmas cards in my family, so I guess I'll just have to throw it away later. Its cute too, with Santa's chubby airbrushed face on the front, why does it have to use boy words? Part of me wants to keep it, because I'm sentimental and I'll get all emotional if I throw it away. Maybe I'll bury it in my stuff somewhere and forget about it, like I do with all the ones I mean to keep.

Sorry for not commenting or posting for a while, especially Wolfie, Veronique, and Samantha, Veronique and Samantha are my friend's of mine I've made here on the blog community, and fellow writers about their lives and the trials and triumphs of being a transsexual woman. Wolfie is a name I call my lesbian girlfriend Acacia. I really don't write about her enough for someone who is such a staple in this struggle of mine. I've come a long way, and as cheesy as it sounds, Wolfie you are really the wind beneath my wings.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

More Scraps of Information/Awkward Silence

2008-11-27T18:20:00.000-08:00

You'll have to forgive me if this evening's post is a little bit hard to follow. If my words are jumbled or simply chosen poorly, the reason is simply because, I lack a great deal of sleep. Tonight is another one of those nights where I have to cram two topics into one post, both topics are equally relevant, though one is far more personal, and the other far more broad.

So I'm going to start this evening, with the broad topic, a bit of research I had not yet come across, since I have not been doing a great deal of research on transsexuality since a few years back. When I say research, please understand I mean the kind of research you do for a paper, as I basically just collect the little scraps and pieces of data that are available to the public, and take from them what I can.

Needless to say, having a lot of stake in the matter, It is functionally impossible for me to look at this data with no bias whatsoever. That said, I can still make an effort to try to see the data without bias. So I looked carefully at this data, and saw that, according to this study the transsexuals, had similar brain functions and shape to their non-transsexual, peers, and not afterward. Hormones change your brain.

A lot of this data can easily be misconstrued as saying, "this proves that transsexuality is an invention of the brain" or "this proves transsexuality has no biological cause" when in fact it does neither of these. All this study shows is that your brain changes. Even the study itself, or at least this article concludes, "the finding suggest that, throughout life, gonadal hormones remain essential for maintaining aspects of sex specific differences in the human brain."

This article was given to me under the notion "It was once believed that there are biological causes for gender dysphoria, and those causes have since been disproved." Despite this horrendously presumptuous take on what is really, a very small and limited amount of information, I actually think this study says some positive things for us.

I for one, used to worry if I didn't behave exactly like a biological girl, in every fine detail. I would analyze my every thought, every movement, every desire. I would think to the point of self torment, on whether or not I qualified as a true transsexual. Finding this information out, is in fact, a massive relief. What this really tells us, is "don't sweat the small stuff." The core of "I" has not changed since I began my transition, but I've noticed little by little my more shallow thought processes have changed, and my behavior has become more and more that of a normal woman. I find less useless things happening in my mind that used to disturb me. I find I control my sexuality, rather than it controlling me. I find I have a better span of attention for my appearance. I find my brain seems to function more like it feels it SHOULD. Meanwhile my beliefs, ideals, spirituality (though I'm growing a lot in this area) likes, dislikes, interests and hobbies have not changed. I'm still me, so the changes that happen in the brain, are most likely very superficial.

I have more to say about the debate I was having on transsexuality, and about an argument I had regarding "correcting" gender dysphoria, rather than transitioning. I will not take womanhood as a last resort treatment for my illness. I AM a woman, its not an illness. More on this on another post.

So with no real segway available, I come to my second topic for this evening. Thanksgiving. I'm currently typing this on my mom's laptop, dressed as a boy for the second time in two weeks. It is the day after thanksgiving though I began this post yesterday.

For days I toiled over whether or not to remove my nail polish. I decided my family has given me a bit of understanding, and though its been a slow painful process for them, they've moved, at least a little, in their acceptance of me. Most of my fellows at the transgender support group at the clinic, told me to leave the purple nail polish on. Only my lesbian friend from china, who is more understanding of matters with family and confinement to their needs, told me I should compromise and change it to black, which is what I ultimately decided to do, a color that has seen more androgynous use than purple on people's nails. In addition to that, I have been wearing my hair in a more feminine style, and I've been working on how I walk. I spent most of thanksgiving day trying to correct my walking when really I probably walk more like a girl than I used to when I don't think about it at all, but I'm moving away from the topic at hand here.

I was concerned that if I let my gender identity be too noticeable, it will cause drama at the dinner table. They will assault me with accusations. My grandmother's declining health will be blamed on me and so will her death from shock of my transition. Worse, my little cousin, who since being old enough to speak, has exclaimed "I'm a boy" and is probably a female to male. No doubt if this is the case, his transition will be blamed on my corrupting influence.

None of these things happened. My mom laughed a little and asked what did I do to my nails. My grandpa made a comment about my black nails the week before. That's it. But its the silence that hurts more than anything. Why wouldn't my childish uncle make an outburst remark. Why wouldn't they approach me and ask me questions about my transition, or about how I feel? Why wouldn't for the most part, they even comment on my nails. Everything was the same. The same he's and hims. The same "Justin" instead of calling me by my name, Sara, which I will make my legitimate name soon. Nothing. Everything was as it was, only I was a little softer. My grandma said I looked pale, and other than that nobody seemed to notice my physical changes... or they pretended not to.

Why couldn't the approach me and ask me of my transition? Why couldn't my childish uncle have misbehaved, had an outburst, made some snarky remark or asked a personal question. Why couldn't any of them have approached me and asked me something personal? What, dear family, are your thoughts, do you have goals and motives? Are you still shocked. Who am I to you?

The silence hurts so much more than rude words ever could. Why can't they talk to me about it? I shall push the envelope until I probe some small response of acknowledgement of my transition. Next time a bracelet, if no remarks occur, I'll wear my girl jeans. If more remarks occur, I'll wear my other bracelet, the one with the ribbon on it, I guess. I'll do something to move in them, some manner of response or acknowledgement.

Should I?

The scattered mists of womanhood

2008-11-21T16:00:00.001-08:00

Today I spoke with my grandfather, it never ceases to amaze me how iron-willed and open minded he is, despite the fact that for almost two years my mother FORBADE me to tell him of my transsexual status, and my plans of transitioning from male to female. She swore he'd have a heart attack and die. Natural causes were the most condemning threat my parents used on me for the longest time. If I should shave my legs or wear a dress, my parents bodies would give way to the shock and stress, and pass away. Far be it for me to begin hormone treatment, and change my name. Charged with the guilt of my mother's murder how could I transition in comfort, but as you can see, my family is still there. I do worry for my elderly grandmother though.

He told me every time he comes to see me, grandma asks if I look different when he comes home, and he tells her I look the same, and he doesn't know what exactly I'm doing. Ouch, do I really look exactly the same? My body is changed so much, and my face is so soft compared to the Carpathian mountains I had for a jaw when I started, heavily forested and all. I do wear baggy clothes though, when I see my family, so as to make things easier on them.

I didn't want to tell him that I dress as a girl now, that I fear for my life taking the train at night, but somehow the conversation, and all the wonderful and terrifying truths came out. His main concern is for my safety, that is, that people do not lash out with physical violence. My concern is also this. I can get used to dirty looks and cruel remarks, but if someone shoots me in the face what am I gonna say to that?

Where the hell is the balance, between dressing in a way that brings me a sense of identity, and dressing in a way that provokes disaster, or does such a thing even exist. I don't wear dresses yet, and I don't really wear my skirt that often. I started painting my nails and stuff, I haven't gotten on to make-up for the simple issue of I have no idea how to apply makeup without making myself look like a clown. I've never done it before. The dirty looks have started up as expected, but what do I do?

I came home and took my baggy shirt off, my tight tank top underneath, in my opinion far more flattering, but apparently I'm too fat for something that shows a lil of my tummy, so I'll only wear it as an under...thing. So says my roommate and her mother anyways. After talking a bit with my friend, she told me that she was talking with her friend, about my apparently, ape-like posture and mannerisms. I didn't know it was that bad... apparently she did a walk like me in front of her friend, and her friend laughed and said "that's just mean." I really didn't realize I was quite this bad. I know I need work but geeze.

So after this I received a bit of coaching on walking and standing more like a girl, and I tried as best as I can to correct my ape-like posture and walk. Another description I heard tonight was "bull-dyke" I think that's a bit of an improvement to "ape-like" since most butch chicks I know, are far more civilized than apes. She told me to stand with one leg straight and that hip up, and the other leg at an angle. I see girls standing like that alot, but it seems an exaggeration to stand like that ALL the time. I guess I'm one big walking social faux-pas, no wonder people stare at me, as though I were the Frankenstein monster.

Later however she told me something chillingly painful. She said that in discussion of me, her and her friend said my aura was androgynous, neither male nor female. Consider me what you will, in believing in auras and such things, but this roommate, friend of mine, for all her flaws, is someone I trust implicitly for council on all things regarding the spirit. If she told me that, there is no doubt in my mind that it must be the truth.

So why the hell does knowing that, though I believe I already knew it, hurt so much. I'm not having second thoughts about transitioning. I'm not regretting what I've become. I'm not considering transitioning back into a man, the thought seems absolutely abominable. I know I'm not the very model of a typical feminine woman, particularly in the unforgiving world of transsexual stereotypes... but I always believed myself to be a woman nonetheless.

Slowly Staggers November, in Swiftness Came December.

2008-11-20T12:26:00.000-08:00

The previous slowly trudged forth, as if caught in a marsh. October, and the months before as my transition slowly happened beneath my clothes, seemed like years unto themselves. It happened a few times in October, I'd have just shaved the tattered remains of my beard, and I'd go out as Sara, with a group of friends, and feel painfully self conscious as people stared at me.

I've become either brave or exceptionally foolish, as when after a week or so from the second laser treatment, more of my beard fell out in clumps, and a few days before that, my skin texture changed dramatically, and I purchased an article of woman's clothing, (a simple fitted "baby doll" t-shirt, rather than the lose baggy ones I have accumulated over the miserable years as a man,) and urging to wear it, I changed and felt comfortable in the rather bohemian, glbt friendly environment of the local coffee shop. Amassing my strength I wore my most feminine top on the bus and on the train to my volunteer work the next day. The stares and cruel glances are hard to get over, and I brought with me a cane, ordinarily for walking, which I could use to defend myself, though hopefully I will not have to. I should probably bring something more concealed, something about it is somewhat empowering. I should at least get one more personal, such as having colors of purple and black, maybe flowers if its not too frilly, not that I mind frilly stuff, but I'm tremendously picky about frills.

I do not pass. I do not know if I will ever have the luxury of passing. And so, the stares will continue, and although I'm trying to hold on to the warmth within, and remain a creature that has feelings, the more often I receive these stares, and dirty looks, the less I am bothered by them, and that comes at a high price. I feel my heart becoming cold, and I start to look at the cisgendered masses through a jaded, disgusted eye. I learn to appreciate more fully, those who smile back at me, and greet me with kindness, as wearing a friendly face on the outside, for the time being, is still not entirely difficult.

At this point anonymity is getting a little bit pointless. My name is Sara Ross, though I'm still working on getting the first name changed officially. My family is at least trying to accept me, so I will not change my last name. I do not want a masculine middle name, so I guess I'll change it from Marquez to Marquilla... the closest Hispanic feminine name I could find. I haven't told my family about the name change, and the middle name in particular, they do not know of at all.

So its here today. Day of Remembrance. Last year, I do not remember why I did not post. This year I had to combine it with a personal post, if nothing else because I needed to explain why it weighs so much more heavily on my mind. I'm suddenly a candidate for next years list, impassible, transsexual, maybe I'm being paranoid but I'm terrified for my life.

I'm still here...

I'm really lucky when I think about the fact that 1 in 12 transgendered folk, are murdered of hate crimes, or otherwise discriminated against in ways that cost their lives. For many of us transitioning is difficult, because of expensive doctors, or loads of processes to go through, or family situations, and so many of us simply resolve the matter with suicide. Having been in that place of despair, I know what it was like, and knowing that, cruel stares and watching over my shoulder, are by far a lesser sentence for whatever crime I must have committed, than the hopeless life I had as a boy.

Kellie Telesford, in Thornton Heath UK

Was strangled to death with a scarf on November 21'st 2007. That's the day after day of remembrance, last year. Her killer, said he discovered she had a penis. That seemed to be motivation enough for him.

Brian McGlothin in Cincinnati Ohio
Was Shot by an automatic rifle in the head, He was only 25 years old, two years older than me, the same age as my roommate's boyfriend. The note says he liked to wear women's clothes, heaven forbid. We'll never know whether it was simply his taste in clothes, or if it was something deeper. We'll never know anything because this person's life was cut short.

Gabriela Alejandra Albornoz, Santiago Chile.
in Santiago Chile, Was attacked and stabbed on December 28th 2007. Three days after Christmas. This is all the information given about the person.

Patrick Murphy 39, In Albuquerque New Mexico was found in women's clothes, shot several times in the head, on January 8th 2008. Again very little information was given about the person here.

Stacy Brown, in Baltimore, MD, Was was also found shot in the head on January 8th, the same day as Patrick Murphy, and was 30 years old.

Adolphus Simmons in Charleston, SC was shot to death at the age of 18, later in the month, on January 21st, 2008

Fedra, a known Transvestite in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia was found lying face up in a pool of blood, and we know nothing about the cause of death. The was the next day on January 22nd, 2008. As I go through the list it's difficult not to become desensitized to all of this, by I refuse to see these people as just names on a list.

Ashley Sweeney, Detroit Michigan, was shot in the head on the 4th of February. It says that her age is unknown, and that she is only identified as a transgender young woman, in this press release.

Sanesha (Talib) Stewart (name in parenthesis?, if its her middle name why put parenthesis, if its her guy name why include it?, well that's what the source says, I'll link it at the end of this list)
Sanesha Stewart was stabbed to death in the Bronx, in new york on February 10th, 2008. That's my grandma's birthday, which is a day after mine. She was 25 years old.

Lawrence King, age 15, in Oxnard California, the state where I live, was shot to death by a classmate because he liked to wear women's clothing. Do you think society will reach a place where this crime, is not punishable by death? Clothing is clothing, and the idea that we must confine ourselves to our "correct" gender, makes transitioning all the more difficult. If you're not one of my regular readers, and your the type that snubs a kid for wearing makeup or tight pants, or even going all the way, Could you, please stop yourself and think, why does this unsettle me, and who is really the one with the problem. The boy in girl's clothing has done nothing to you.

Simmie Williams Jr. in Fort Lauterdale Florida, was found shot to death wearing women's clothing, at age 17. On February 22nd, 2008.

Luna, who was not reported having any last name, in Lisbon Portugal was brutally beaten to death and tossed into a dumpster. The thought of this one makes me shudder, the symbolism of the dumpster, is that this person was no less than garbage to the perpetrator. When I was young my cousin put me in a garbage can and sat on the lid and he thought it was funny. I guess what I'm saying is that this cruelty is there inside all of us. Human beings are not garbage. I hope whoever did this didn't think it was funny... This happened march 15 2008. It hurts to know that one of my favorite artists in the music world is from this same city. Hopefully, not of the same mentality.

Lloyd Nixon, 45, in West Palm Beach, Florida, was repeatedly beat in the head with a brick. That says more than anything I can add. April 16 2008.

Felicia Melton-Smyth was brutally stabbed to death in Puerto Vallarta Mexico. Her murderer claimed his reasoning to be "that she would not pay for sex" She was a vacationing HIV activist from Wisconsin, where my roommate's boyfriend lives. May 26th, 2008, this is just before I moved out to my current location.

Silvana Berisha, Hamburg Germany, was stabbed to death. Judging from the picture and first name, this person was probably early in their transition, and will never get to experience the freedom I have barely tasted. This happened June 24th, 2008. I had just begun my hormone treatment a week prior.

Ebony Whitaker
Memphis Tennessee, was shot July 1st, 2008, at the age of 20.

Rosa Pazos, in Sevilla Spain, was found in her apartment, having been stabbed in the throat. One of my best online friends lives in Spain, though in a different area. This happened July 11 2008.

Juan Carlos Aucalle Coronel,
Lombardi Italy was severely beaten, found with several skull fractures, BEFORE being run over by a car. This was on July 14 2008. He was 35 years old. Probably a female to male given the name, though I've no further info at this time, it's fair enough to surmise that such atrocities do not only happen to male to female transsexuals, and cross dressers, etc.

Angie Zapata, in Greely, Colorado, Was found in her home, with fractures in her skull. She was murdered at the age of 18. It says her murderer was 31 years old, I will not bother with his name. July 17 2008.

On the same day of July 17 2008, in Makiki Honolulu, Hawaii Jaylynn L. Namauu, was stabbed to death. She was 35 years old. So much for paradise.

Samantha Rangel Brandau, in Milan Italy, again where one of my favorite bands is from, was gang raped, and stabbed numerous times. She was left for dead, and probably died alone, bleeding, and defiled by her attackers. I'm not sure what is worse, to die alone or in the presence of your murderer.

Nahkia (Nikki) Williams of Louisville, Kentucky was found shot, near the dumpster next to her home, on the 20th of August, this year. She was 29 years old.

Ruby Molina, in Sacramento, a major city here in Southern California, was drowned on September 21st, 2008. Her naked body was found floating in the American river, just 22 years old.

Aimee Wilcoxson, Aurora Colorado was found dead in her bed on November 3rd. The police have not specified the cause. I was receiving laser hair removal on that day, so I remember it well.

Duanna Johnson, Memphis Tennessee was shot, found dead in the middle of the street. 42 years old. I was at my parent's house on this day November 9th, 2008.

Dilek Ince, Ankara Turkey, was shot in the back of the head, on November 11th, 2008. With no knowledge or understanding of modern day turkey, or really of their culture at all, I've no idea what this person's struggle was like. I was returning home from mom's house that day.

Teish (moses) Cannon was shot at the age of 22 in Syracuse New York. November 14th 2008. Considering the number that have been added for this month, in comparison with the rest of the year, These probably only a tiny fragment of the hate crime victims for 2008. Indeed a number of these probably go unreported, unnoticed, forgotten by all but those who care to look.

Ali and two other women in Iraq, were executed for being transgender, this year, unknown month, day and time. I will post their names when I get the information, if I ever do.

This is the list where I got the information from. I did not copy paste, I went through every name, and read every location and date. The reason I added comments reflecting my own personal life, is to make each one more of a person. Comments about friends, family, even favorite bands, these were not intended to be cruel or uncaring, rather I wanted to make the point that it is a small world, and we all share in it. I hope you, the reader, please understand and excuse my strange style of reporting. Please inform me of any errors in the person's proper gender, as some of the original information was uncertain. I also regret missing any names not covered in this list.

Keith Olbermann will probably not be making one of his special comments tonight, as he did beautifully expressing his frustration at the passing of proposition 8, here in California. These names will not be read to you on the national news. They will not even, it seems, be read on KPFK here in California. These human beings do not deserve to be forgotten.

Kellie, Brian, Gabriela, Patrick, Stacy, Adolphus, Fedra, Ashley, Sanesha, Lawrence, Simmie, Luna, Lloyd, Ali and companions, Felicia, Silvana, Ebony, Rosa, Juan Carlos, Angie, Jaylynn, Samantha, Nikki, Ruby, Teish, Dilek, Duanna, Aimee, and all those who's names aren't listen here, Godspeed to wherever you are going. Please find yourselves a better place.

I am not Martin Luther King, I do not possess the sheer strength of will, the amazing, almost superhuman, self-sacrificing vitality, to speak out, at the cost of my own safety, much less my life. I am neither Nelson Mandela nor Malcom X. I am not a person of historic strength in times of cruelty.
After reading and typing up this list, I do not know, from where inside me I'll ever get the strength to dress up as a girl again. I do not know how I'll face the frozen desert of human emotions, that is, outside the safety of my home. But I guess I'm not stopping now, I'm not waiting for some magic point in my transition, I'm not gonna give up being myself because I do not have the right look, to pass for a "real" girl.

So pull your children away from this abomination that I am, if you must, though I would never bring harm to them. shake your head and roll your eyes, avoid me like a bearer of plagues. Call me names and do what you will to lessen the temperature of my heart. As a young transsexual woman, I beg you on my behalf and on the behalf of all my kind, let me keep my life, my dignity and my freedom. Let me walk the streets and keep to myself, when there is somewhere I need to be. If you are reading this and find me disgusting, immoral, degenerative, please, I am not here to create cesspools of sexual deviance, I am not here to do anything to you, that would compromise you, or your security. I just want to live my life, the way I feel is the only way true to my heart. I implore you to simply let me live, and I ask this on behalf of all transsexual and transgendered men and women.

There is so much more I want to say. For those of you with daughters and sons who are transgendered, for those in countries where we are seen as monsters like in Iraq... please just give us the freedom to be ourselves.

Ambivalence

2008-10-30T17:22:00.000-07:00

So I've been meaning to post for a while.

Let's continue some of the previous topics before I go on about what sparked the title.
It's been over 4 months since my transition began, and while I've seen miraculous effects, but these effects have been few and far between. I'm noticing the other girls at my support group are changing in appearance much faster than I am. The reason is beginning to become apparent: medi-cal pays for the other girls' testosterone blocker, whereas I'm using estrogen alone.

(I'm finishing the post now, a lot further from when it began, so bare with me, as I'm basically complaining about something that's actually gotten a little better)

I live in a cluttered house, with cluttered people. Kind, intelligent, accepting, wonderful people, but cluttered people nonetheless. The title of this post was towards my roommate who I was struggling with at the time. I still am, thought not as terribly.

She has about 70% of the room, to herself, as I was beginning this post, possibly more. I'm not a big space hog, but I think given that, I had every right to complain when I told her I was going to purchase an Xbox 360. Obviously this item is not a necessity, it's not food or medicine or my hormones, which I would consider part of the medicine category, but it's important to me.

She complained that she does not like Microsoft, or the Xbox, and about the lack of available games on it, that are to her tastes. She complained about the space it would take up. Bare in mind, I sleep on a cot, because I do not want her to have to give up her futon, and that I have a pile of clothes which I cannot effectively organize because I have no space to put them away. So when I ask that we make a little more room for the Xbox, I do not feel I was asking very much, and I do not have any intention of having her pay for it, or any of the games or add-ons. If she did not like it she didn't have to touch it.

This wasn't the extent of my frustration, she is prone to yelling and losing her temper without reason, whining for things she wants, with no consideration of the other person. When she gets online, she'll jump from being bored and wanting to play with me or tickle me to super focused on god knows what, and snapping at me when I try to talk to her. She can be downright cruel at times, and undeniably selfish.

I always thought of ambivalence as a sort of passionless, feeling, something that just sits there, because it is comprised of both good and bad things. In fact ambivalence is intense, and powerful, as I at the time was so frustrated and angry at this person, yet so indebted to them as a friend, and so grateful for her support in some of the darkest hours of my life.

We've since then resolved some of our issues, and learned to give each other time. She still holds a greater portion of the room, by far, but she's managed to offer me some space for more of my things. It could be a lot worse, so this post's meaning has dissolved quite a bit.

Anxiety

2008-10-07T12:03:00.000-07:00

First of all, thank you Veronique, and Samantha, I don't know why my comment reply is not appearing on the comments, but I'll reply here in my next post. Your comments managed to help me pull myself together to keep going. It gave me a lot of hope to know it might take longer for the hairs to fall out especially.

It's been a week to the hour since I had the treatment. I stare daily at the mirror with hope and fear swelling up inside my mind. It has thinned out a lot, except for certain areas, and I'm feeling generally better about it, but about 60% of it is still stuck in there, and in certain areas its still a full blown carpet.

It's no secret that I'm a person with a bad problem with anxiety. I get nervous and even paranoid at the drop of a hat. the daunting thought that I will need to look into -only- electrolysis means it will be years before I can go full time.

But its looking more and more like it will fall out, and my hopes are getting higher and higher. I can't help from watching the mirror with straining anxiety, but I'll try to stay strong, even if they don't fall out.

I've been forced to start shaving again, I have to go on with my life and think about other things.

I guess I had a lot less to say today than I thought. Thanks again for the comments everyone.

Hurt

2008-10-02T19:43:00.000-07:00

I could reply in comments, but this feeling of hopelessness is beginning to overwhelm me. Usually my excuse for whining in my blog is because I hope that people will learn how painful and hard it is being trans, and that they will learn that we don't choose to transition for stupid reasons.

tonight the real reason is I feel hopeless, and lost, and scared. it's been over 48 hours since the laser hair removal treatment and very very few hairs have fallen out. That may sound trivial to some readers, but the fact is I'm frightened and devastated. Apparently according to what I've read online, some "Ideal" candidates do not respond to laser treatment for whatever reason.

My beard grows thicker every day I don't shave. Tiny Patches are missing but barely noticeable, I continue to wait, to hold back on shaving in hopes that more will fall out, but why is it GROWING if it's supposed to be dead? I know it grows back thinner with each treatment, but in this case it hasn't even fallen out yet. I waited a month since I scheduled my appointment. I waited many years to get a laser appointment in the first place. I researched it online, I thought, pretty thoroughly. I spent 100 dollars on this session, and admittedly it was really painful.

So why is this happening? Why is my nightmare coming true? Why won't my beard go away, or at least thin out? Is this my fault for going with a cheaper clinic that was recommended to me by several people? is it my fault, because i should have let the stubble grow out more, since I didn't know how much was needed for the procedure, and how much would get in the way? (I shaved the night before, keep in mind my beard grows extremely fast) Is it my fault for some other reason?

The truth is I never saved up the necessary money for it, instead I found a place with a more reasonable price, which I could pay per session. I feel really strongly about trying them again simply because I cannot afford any other places right now. Am I a fool? Will I have to save 900 dollars if it doesn't work next time? Where can I get that kind of money.

I'm sorry for not showing everyone how strong I am in recovering from this and moving on. Its difficult to eat, to play video games or to take my mind off of it. Almost everything in life seems to be losing its appeal. I'm not gonna let myself die or anything, but this is the kind of thing I can't just take and move on.

1,000 Needles

2008-09-30T17:58:00.000-07:00

They say that when you reach the top of mount Everest, you are too tired, too out of breath, too close to to collapse, to possibly take in the glory of the moment. I wonder if this is why so many transsexuals feel depression when they finally reach sex reassignment surgery. We get there and the journey is so long and so hard, that you're finally going in for just another expensive procedure.

This crossed my mind as I tossed and turned last night with the last throws of a fever, knowing full well it was too late to cancel my appointment for laser hair removal on my face. And knowing that no matter how bad it was and no matter how scared I was of going when I'm sick, all the way to Hollywood, that nothing could convince me to put it off for another month.

Luckily my fever for whatever reason went away when I finally did sleep and wake up, despite only getting a few hours of sleep. The usually paranoia took its place in my mind. What if it doesn't work, what if something goes wrong, what if I shaved too recently, or not recently enough. What if the follicles do not fall out for some reason...

During the procedure, I was not prepared for the indescribable pain of it. I had heard nightmare stories of SRS and electrolysis, but the myth I had been exposed to was that laser hair removal is painless. The reality is that she sat me back in a chair, and launched tiny needles into my face, with a little needle shotgun. This is how it felt anyways. I always considered myself to have a high pain threshold yet I was clutching the chair and wincing at each blast. Some weaker part of me deep inside wanted to call it off and leave, but I would never give up on this procedure, I wanted it too bad. I held on and stood as still as I could.

It has been more than 6 hours since I had the procedure done, and I can still occasionally smell the smell of burning flesh. The initial red marks on my face are now gone, though the sting is still there and very slight. My face looks the same as it did before the procedure, as if i had shaved several hours ago, with some stubble. Hope and fear do a dance in my chaotic mind as I wait impatiently for the little follicles to fall out. Oh how I long to see my face without the constant mask of dirt that carpets it.

Another long delayed post. I had so much to say, and yet sheer laziness kept me from devoting some of my time on my roommate's computer to updating this blog. Shame on me. Well, as always, expect at least one post a month.

Claudia.

Still Life

2008-08-23T14:32:00.000-07:00

I've been on the hormones for over two months now. my face has changed a little since the beginning, and it seems to be softening gradually, but the progress has begun to slow down. I've developed breasts that are small, but its something at least. My hips are starting to become more round, I never thought that would happen at such an early stage in the transition. I'm still only at 250$ of the way toward my facial hair removal, which might make the difference between being called sir or miss in public. (or will at least make me feel less self conscious)

My transition is going considerably well, and I'll be receiving more money from disability and i should be able to live much more comfortably and save up with more ease on the amount I'm getting now. The problem is I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself. I'm torn violently between going to school again and searching for a short term career, and searching now for a job.

If I do get a job now, what kind of job will I have to get, I want one that will be trans friendly, and in fact I'm still going to talk to someone about work next week. But i have to leave every week for therapy and every other week is a hormone shot. I usually do the hormone shot on the same day but the therapy is required for the hormones, so I'm unavailable every week. Plus I'll be starting hair removal soon, and that will add another problem into my schedule, having to do hair removal which I may not have time for on the same day as hormones, unless I make a huge trip going back and forth. In addition to this, I go once a month to the orthodontist with my mom, (despite her having kicked me out).

What if I go to school. Do I pursuit a career? any career? An acquaintance of mine pursuing game design, has recently had her art featured in the local newspaper... twice!! Should i continue to push my dream aside now that i have time to follow it? Now that I'm already in my transition? The only reason I stopped this is because it was not a realistic enough goal for now and I needed to fund this transition more than anything else. Its even more difficult to watch someone else pursuit my dream while i let it slip away. I can really see myself busy with some career I don't care for keeping me busy while I don't have time to take classes not offered at night.

Childishly still... I don't have the games and the internet to keep my mind off the painfully slow progress. I spend almost every day trying to occupy my boredom, and what little life I did have feels like it came to a screeching halt. I own little else besides a DS and some clothes, and my months supply of food. I know games are not that important but... I feel empty a lot of the time. Maybe its just withdrawls or something.

I still have a supportive best friend and a girlfriend that loves me during my transition, and free hormones. I have a place to live. What right have I to complain about no games to occupy my mind?

Progression

2008-07-29T15:47:00.000-07:00

It's now about a Month and a half of Hormones. I'm at 200$ still but I may soon be lucky enough to have another $100 to set aside thanks to help from my grandfather with groceries and the like. I'm lucky to have the family I have, even if they don't understand or support me fully.

Today's topic is a bit personal, but not too bad. I feel its somewhat relevant as I want to record the effects of the transition. My body is changing, or at least I think it is. For the most part all I've noticed is my face. I have a lot less acne, and it might not be as masculine as it used to look. I can't place what it is precisely but my face, while still loathsome, is somewhat slightly more pleasant for me to look at. It doesn't look like a girls face yet necessarily but it's not exclusively a boys face either. In certain lighting it looks feminine enough to pretend, yet at other times it looks disappointingly, the same as always. Others have told me I look different, more feminine, which leads me to believe its not just my imagination playing tricks on me, but it was my therapist and be closest friend... were they just being nice?

The other, more personal, but in my opinion, relative to this blog recording my transition and how it affects my life, both during the process and as a long term goal. I may be experiencing the early stages of breast development. I can't tell for sure if I've lost any upper body mass to go with it or not, but for a while my chest felt sore and tender, and now there seems to be, some well... softness. I can't tell for sure again, if it's natural breast development, or if it's just fat, and an active imagination. I suppose that information is more than some of my readers wanted to know.
As far as how I feel about this? Great. That is if its real its great. I didn't know breast development can occur so early in hormone use. I am afraid too, afraid people will notice. Afraid of the impending middle zone, where there is no jobs, and people laughing left and right. Afraid that I'm going to be thrust into being noticeable in my transition entirely too soon. But not as afraid as I am happy. In this society that puts strange emphasis in strange places, I feel more like a girl now, just having barely developing breasts, than I did before. My body hardly constitutes my identity, but there is some undeniable comfort in the changes that are taking place, be they real or imaginary. I know the middle is coming and I know its a terrible part of transitioning we all have to face, and whether I'm ready for it or not... I know I'm making the right choice and I'll be stronger for it in the end.

The Great American Job Search

2008-07-19T02:05:00.000-07:00

I am in the midst of not trying very hard to get a job, despite the overwhelming pressure, and necessity. I decided I'd post, another whiny post about something different this time. I'm about a month on the hormones and currently 200$ of the way to my 900$ goal for my hair removal holy grail. The Following has nothing to do with my transsexuality despite the mass discrimination we face in the workplace, as I'm not passing or in the middle yet, I'm still living in my male identity and while my skin has softened and cleared up on my face a little bit, I still look more or less, unfortunately, like a boy.

It occurred to me during previous job searches, one must appear absolutely flawless, even if the general understanding amongst people is that nobody is perfect. You have to be great at customers, a flawless worker, completely outgoing and socially adept, with no emotional or psychological baggage, regardless of how well you keep personal things to yourself.

I may be exaggerating a little bit, but nobody is good at everything, and everyone seems to try to present themselves to be. I'm shy, but I'm polite and I can be outgoing when I need to be behind a counter. I have a hard time approaching people, but I can force myself to do it and be pleasant and welcoming on a job. I'd love to be able to say these things, but the honesty there waves two brilliant red flags, shyness and difficulty approaching people. I'm a hard worker, but I can be a bit slow performing tasks. If i let any of these things on in the outside world, I'd never get hired at any job anywhere.

All this being said, I've worked with employers and employees who are rude to customers, who ignore their duties, who goof off on the job and will play with other employees, when they needed to be doing work. Try putting that on an application or a resume. But the point is not that I'm a better worker. The problem is values, not work ethics. The competitive working world of America, SEEMS to value two kinds of people: Those with inflated egos so extreme, that the earnestly believe them to be that ideal, and flawless, and those who can lie through their teeth, without any care, fear or remorse.

I guess I've had awful work experiences so far, but I've always felt like a disposable tool in the work environment. I've never felt like there was any value in who I was as an individual, but only in the ideal I attempted to vaguely compare to. Maybe I'm just morbid, or too sensitive. It really feels like I'm not cut out for anything at all, when it comes down to it.

Pardon my bitterness, folks...

Another Long Road

2008-07-09T20:59:00.001-07:00

When I was about 14 years I began shaving for the first time. It was an awkward experience, and the thought of a beard growing and enveloping my face making me manly was frightening. I preferred the barely noticeable amount that appeared naturally, though I wanted to just do without it entirely. My father forced me to watch him do it and then do it myself. My family was all proud of me, I guess they saw it as a coming of age thing... I was horrified. I now knew that if I failed to do this even one day, a beard would grow on my face. Even then, long before I knew I was trans, I felt it was disgusting.

I'm 23 years old now. The filth that covers my face is so thick that I sometimes shave twice a day, and even so, its still easy to see it. To me it looks like I got dirt on my face and there is no way to wash it off. I've always felt disgusted by it. Sometimes I'd spend hours just staring at it wishing I could remember my face without it... despite the fact that I hate my face regardless. I would stare and imagine if it was not there. I'd rub the razor over parts of my face 30 to 40 times, and I'd get itchy, but still see follicles of hair to thick and too deep to cut any more.

I once plucked out a third of my beard hair and ran my hand over my twitching smooth skin... it took me several several hours, over the course of a few days. Some of them were as thick as metal wires, often like little needles stuck in my face. I would stare at them and think about how long the part was that was inside the skin, and that they had to grow that much further before I would have to see their filth again... but it would only take a couple of days for that to happen.

I checked the price on laser hair removal several times, and got different answers each time. I believed it to be in the $3000 dollar range to remove the facial hair. Even that, though small compared to sex reassignment surgery, was still for me, a daunting mountainous price, and in fact... it still is.

I finally went in today, to a laser clinic in the town where I get my hormone shots, to see what kind of price I'd really be dealing with. 900 dollars for my face. It would take about 6 sessions or so, once every 4 weeks, with possible follow-up sessions after that. Over the phone he told me that I would be able to do 50$ a month, and I was strongly considering doing this, even though life is already a struggle without this extra bill... but I learned upon visiting today that I would require a credit card.

Rather than apply for a credit card I went to the bank and withdrew $100 in cash, and pocket-ed it. I decided I'll pay 900 in cash and then I wont have to worry about this payment ever again... So my life today has taken on a new goal... 800 more dollars in cash, to get the filth removed from my face. This hideous mutation has been a mental block not only on dressing, and trying makeup, but on just wanting to be seen at all. I feel helpless and useless with this disgusting beard on my face, and I've longed for too many years to get it. I'll eat less food, and not buy fries or chips when I don't need them. I'll look for cheaper meals that get me full, instead of whatever sounds good. I'll only buy things I know I'll need. But 100$ or more a month is a lot to save when rent costs 400, and bus passes cost 62$, and I only get a little over 600 per month. Looking for a job is long and grueling and I lack the medications I need to do a great many things... The bottom line is wish me luck. I'll need it.

Uncertainty

2008-06-28T01:32:00.000-07:00

Here I at the house of my best friend. I've been here for the majority of this month. I suppose I should be overjoyed, my friend and I are both close, and I have a lot of fun here...

I began Hormone therapy on the 19th of this month. It feels like an age ago already, though I haven't gone in for a second shot, yet. It wasn't exactly what I thought it would be, I still felt the usual tension I feel before a needle prick, even if I was exited and happy about it. I was nervous beforehand and afterward I was overjoyed. Even now that it has finally happened, it feels surreal, it's difficult accept my transition as a part of reality.

Her parents accept me, and I'm getting used to spending the majority of the day in my female identity, despite my foul appearance which suggests otherwise. In a lot of ways my life has improved, and yet in a lot of other ways it has gotten worse.

Sharing a room is difficult even if its with your best friend, as I've come to discover, and I'm only able to afford the cheapest food available. The computer I'm on isn't able to play the games I'm used to playing, and I miss my mother's house where cases of soda sweets and meals are in the refrigerator waiting for me.

The worst part however is the stress... I worry constantly about losing my Medi-cal or disability check (though I can survive without disability, if i get a job, i need the Medi-cal). Medi-cal is already withholding the Stratera I desperately need to hold a job and often just to do simple tasks, as I've waited almost a month now for their approval.

Most of my life is being run on a pillar of other people's support. This living arrangement, the hormones, even my groceries. I'm constantly living in fear that any one pillar will be removed from beneath me and my life will come crumbling down to the despair from whence it came. Back to hopeless sorrow with no way in sight back to the path I'm on now.

I wonder if this uncertainty is part of the trial all of us transsexuals must face, or if it is only my version of the trial we all must endure.

I've truly little right to complain... with medical coverage, a place to live, free hormones, supportive friends, a family that at least tries, to accept me... and even romance, with a girl who sees me for the girl I am. I'm one of the lucky ones. No matter how scary my situation gets, I shouldn't dare be selfish enough to forget that others like me have it even worse... others without the coverage and support I'm getting towards my transition. Some people are in a place where there is no hope...

Additionally I have no real excuse for not completing this post within the month... My life isn't all computers like it used to be, and I don't have my meds, but I still managed to type this much today... I can't afford at this time to let myself make this the end of the world... but I'll try to maintain at least monthly posts hereafter.

Sideswiped

2008-05-26T16:27:00.000-07:00

Just another update on my life for those who are wondering. Nothing really thoughtful here today, I haven't felt like I've had much to say lately unfortunately. I'm waiting for things to change, and my life to come out of this hiatus. Hopefully the will change, and soon...

I did not begin hormone therapy on the 15th. The car I use to get to the clinic is damaged and its my fault. I sideswiped another car last time I was driving there. I didn't think much of it at the time as I barely felt it, but my parents kept bugging me about it, and when I took a look the damage is pretty bad, though nothing interior. Though they are trying to stop me from making any progress toward treatment, they unfortunately are right about this one. There could be a warrent out for the arrest of the owner of this truck, since I didn't stop after the sideswipe...

So now lieing is no longer an option and my only way to continue forward is to move out. I tried to arrange things with the shelter, when a close friend of mine came to the rescue. I'll be moving in with my friend soon, though I'm not sure this will work out. She looks female, I look male, why would her parents really be okay with that? It doesn't seem secure but its worth a try before I end up in a shelter or on the streets. I'll post more later.

Just Before Mother's Day

2008-05-08T20:46:00.000-07:00

To those of you who were wondering what happened to my upcoming post, regarding starting the hormones, I haven't started them yet. I managed to get my vehicle stuck in a ditch a few feet from my house. The vehicle is fine, and so am I, and the appointment is now re-scheduled for the 15th.

That was initially all this post was going to be about, so people knew I was okay. As the truck was being towed out of the ditch, mom told me to hold off on scheduling an appointment so that she could make one with a local therapist to have me diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, as her therapist had told her that she knows for sure there are local housing arrangements for people with Asperger's syndrome. Even before what ended up happening it sounded fishy to both of us, I've already been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome before, and Such housing arrangements sounded too good to be true.

The day came when I was to be re-diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, and it had already begun foul though nothing out of the ordinary. Mom was not feeling well, on account of her back problems, and as usual, I hadn't gotten very much sleep, as I've been having difficulties sleeping at night, and difficulties staying awake all day for quite some time now.
So we arrive, both of us in pain and foul moods, and I fill out their paperwork. My mood is particularly foul since I was the most suspicious of this and felt that it would turn out to be a waste of time.

I was right... Kind of.

The therapist I ended up seeing had a lot of experience dealing with people with Asperger's, and had some relative understanding of my Transsexuality too. He told me early on he didn't understand the purpose of this visit, as I already had been diagnosed with Asperger's and he didn't understand what we needed him for. I talked with him a bit and he asked me questions about how I felt about Asperger's and Transsexuality. He understood very well how I felt overwhelmed by trying to overcome both at the same time and seemed to honestly care about my plight as a woman and not as a troubled boy with an identity crisis.

And thus hell broke loose.

He called my mom in, though I felt uneasy about this whole thing, and tried to lay it on her: That his knowledge of my condition sounds like the same idea as the ones who are treating me further away, a condition I was born with that I can no more choose than Asperger's... (mom had made an ignorant comment asking "I don't understand, at the clinic they say anyone who wants to be transgender can be transgender, don't they?") My mom became furious with me, blaming me for everything he said.
The rest of the day Mom was silent. All I remember thinking was, If you don't believe a word he said, then nothings changed except that you get a small glimpse of the hopelessness that I live with... How is it my fault that he agrees with me... I didn't do anything to you. She refused to talk to me the rest of the day, I said hi to her as she walked by me and she ignored me. She went to bed without saying goodnight. I guess because the doctor agreed with me, I no longer deserve her good nights. The hardest part of the day, was one particular moment, where she was walking to get water... limping slowly her back still giving her pain, an exhausted defeated look on her face staring blankly ahead of her barely watching where she was going. I felt a dark guilt creep up inside me and it's moments like these, where I forget how angry I am at her, I forget how much fighting we've done, I remember that she's my mother and I love her... These moments are the ones that hurt the most.

Why I state that it isnt fiction

2008-04-29T14:48:00.000-07:00

First of all, I'd like to apologize for not posting for a while. So far my posting minimum has been "once a month" and I'd like to keep it that way, but when I'm feeling lazy and not much is changing I end up posting at the beginning of one month and the end of the next. I'd like to thank everyone who's been reading my blog and leaving supportive comments, I know I haven't responded to some, particularly on the last two posts, but I read them and they mean a lot to me. If you're still reading, thank you.

Although I can offer no proof while maintaining my anonymity, I wanted to at least comment on the reason why I keep saying that this isn't fiction. It's not that I believe what I'm posting is all that shocking or unusual. I'm aware of the amount of fiction on the Internet that claims to be real. In particular, I remember hearing about the chronicles of a young teenage girl on her web cam blog that turned out to be nothing more than scripted dialogue by a group of aspiring script writers. There's a million other scripted things like this on the Internet claiming to be real and being particularly convincing at doing so.

My anti climactic stay at home after being certain I was heading to the shelter, might offer SOME evidence that there's no script or plot behind this, it's just my life. Some of what I write might seem exaggerated, and other things might just seem strange, but nothing I put on here is made up. My name is not really Claudia and I've already admitted to that. Other people's names have been omitted or changed and some details relating to other people have been omitted as well, but nothing of the facts, feelings, or events that I've posted this far have been made up.

I guess saying all this is somewhat counter productive, just as pleading the fifth amendment or flat out denial tends to make a person seem guilty, but I felt I wanted to talk about this for some time. In the end, some people will believe me, and others will not, I hope this blog makes even a tiny, minuscule difference, whether or not you believe every word I say.

I'm scheduled to start the hormonal treatment this Thursday, and I have, and will have a lot to say about that, so you'll hear from me again pretty soon.

"Every guy wants to be a girl"

2008-03-19T03:10:00.000-07:00

According to my father, apparently every guy wishes they were a girl. Girls are lighter than air and their fun and energetic or something I don't remember exactly what the description he gave was, it was actually my mother who told me he said it, and I can't go ask her again, because we're not talking to each other at this moment.
I'm so sick of trying to have faith in who I am. I didn't know since I was a child like so many trans people. I don't fit the profile of the "typical" transsexual girl. My mom uses these things to try to convince me that I must be a boy at heart and that I am not letting myself accept that fact.
I have no proof of who I am. I have no way to scan my brain and prove once and for all that I'm a woman. All I have is faith the way some people have faith in god. I never really believed wholeheartedly in God, even when I was a child and wanted to. I'm the kind of person that likes proof to whatever claims I'm making. My obsession with the occult comes from a desire to find solid proof of something beyond the physical: the human soul.
And so it is the same for very existence as a girl. Its hard for me to maintain faith. When mom or dad or anyone try to make little of the suffering I'm going through, I die a little. Even if they say things I know aren't true. This suffering, this need to hold on to my identity, this pain and this despair... sometimes these miserable things are ironically, all I have to hold on to, all I have to prove to myself in that which barely has any evidence in the physical... my own femininity.
I've described this feeling as dieing and being alive to feel myself dieing, and maybe I exaggerate... but that is really how I think of it. I'm tired of experiencing this. I'm tired of trying to defend or justify my identity through rhetoric, science, or through emotions. I'm tired of trying to hold on to hope that I am a girl. I'm tired of thinking "what if I'm not, and I'm just fooling myself into thinking I am a girl" and then thinking the only hope left is suicide. If I'm not after all, a girl on the inside, then transitioning means nothing, it's just fake surface work to hide something buried within.
This is what I'd like to say to my mother, though I doubt she will ever read this blog: I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not girly enough to be a girl. I'm sorry I never gave you signs that I'm a girl when I was little. I'm sorry I'm not like those typical transsexuals you saw on the video they gave me at the clinic. I'm sorry I'm my idea of womanhood is not the same as yours. I'm sorry I like video games and adventures and fantasy. I'm sorry for everything I am, down to the very core of my being. The tragic thing is, I'm not even sarcastic when I say I'm sorry. I feel an honest to goodness shame and guilt over these things. I want to punish myself for being who I am, inside and out. I want to die, to destroy both the woman I hate and the man I despise. Both of whom, are me.

I've promised people over and over to stay alive and so I shall. I write about suicide I think about it but I will not do it. At this point withholding the thought of it would be tantamount to a lie.

I'm sorry

2008-02-25T19:55:00.000-08:00

Today I owe some people who have been reading my blog an apology. I'm still sitting at home writing this. My parents have changed their minds several times on whether to kick me out or not. When I began my last post I honestly believed they were going to go through with it, but that's an excuse I suppose for jumping to conclusions. They changed their mind again and again since them, and I can't help but feel a little guilty having received such regards and sympathy for an event that ultimately did not take place. I thank you all for caring, and I appreciate your support, and I am sorry for misleading you. At this time I cannot for my own sake forget the possibility that my parents may resort to kicking me out when I begin the treatment or afterward, but it hasn't happened yet and I do not know at this point if it will or will not. My goal is to transition and live life as myself whether it be here or in the shelter. I wanted to offer a story of hope and persevering strength, but this is more turning into a story of people throwing me a lifeline. My parents, while aggressively trying to make me "change my mind" are still willing to bring me to the doctor while we deal with my lack of transportation. I am getting insurance coverage for care most transsexual people have to pay for out of their own pockets. I cannot say I've endured in the worst of situations, not compared to what others like me have endured. Most of all I have support of people who I meet online, people who read this blog, and I thank you for that support.

A choice was made for me

2008-02-01T20:23:00.000-08:00

I was about to post over the choice I have to make...

but it seems the choice was made for me today.

Mom decided I need to get out as soon as possible.
In some small way I am relieved. The choice for me is very difficult. I don't really feel I'm ready to move into the shelter, I'm terrified in fact... but it seems alot easier now that I do not have to actually decide.

Mom had told me she bought me books for aspereger's syndrom so that I can learn to deal with my problems instead of turning myself into a girl. I told her she must be joking. My Asperer's Syndrome has nothing to do with my transsexuality, and learning to cope with one will not obliterate the other. Angry, I told her, the only thing that would stop me is if she killed me, and that even if she threatened to stop driving me to the doctor I'd find the way to the greyhound bus route to get me to the shelter.

In hindsight it wasn't the smartest thing to say. I was angry, and I was childish. But it was enough for my mom to tell me to get out. In my heart I don't really feel like anything about my life is really gonna change living under her iron law. I'll finally have the chance to stand up to her, to stand up for myself, and to be who I am. I'll demand my name and pronouns, I'll demand they respect me as a woman, and when they (mom and dad) do... I'll forgive them everything.

I'm going to have to give up my fantasy world on the internet. I'll still have my girlfriend, but not access to hundreds of different games with her and infinite time to spend with her like I idd before. I'm scared of humiliating myself in front of people. These kids that go into this shelter, they haven't had easy lives like I have. They have been beaten, thrown out directly by their parents without any promise of the bed at the shelter, forced to find their way there themselves. I don't know exactly what I'll find there, but I know that the hell they have been through has, though unfair and injust... prepared them for the hard life on their own. These aren't spoiled kids like me. I'm not cut out for life and I don't know how I'm going to get through this. I'm a hard worker, but i'm also clumsy, disorganized and very bad at doing simple tasks. I'm frightened... very frightened... but also determined. Whatever powers work the world into the shape that it is in... have mercy on me.

Lindsay/Lucas

2008-01-30T17:52:00.000-08:00

Today I was planning on following up yesterday's post about my recent diagnosis with the choice I'm faced with about moving out... but something else caught my attention, and is on my mind at the moment.

I was watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, using a take on the John Joan story, of a boy who was, in response to a medical accident given sex reassignment surgery, with the advice that he should be raised as a girl. This experiment failed proving that gender identity is wired in, not learned.

I was so moved by the story I had to write about it. In this one, Lucas had a brother and was the victim of rape and ended up killing the rapist in self defense. The story ended up revolving more around the doctor and his obscene experiments to "train" Lucas into thinking like a girl.

In the end one of the twins murders the doctor, and neither one of them will come forward with who did it. I am not condoning their murder by any means, but I do believe that sex reassignment surgery performed without the consent of the patient should be considered criminal.

I remember asking my mom once if she was keeping a secret from me. Later when I came out as trans I asked her if I was somehow surgically altered at birth, if I was born a girl. Of course I know that that isn't possible now for them to have reconstructed my male parts. I wish however that I had that birth right... I f I was born a girl, I doubt my parents would have fought so hard against me reclaiming my proper gender identity. If the birth defect was only postnatal where someone could see it happen... then nobody would be trying to stop me... but even if not in the way others would like to insist, it really is "all in my head." That is, my head is the portion of my body affected by Benjamin's Syndrome.

Another thing that had a profound... and negative impact on me was unfortunately not intended. Before I found out where exactly the plot was going, I thought he was an aggressive... tomboyish girl, I related to him, and felt like he reminded me of myself, till I found out he was a boy. I can't let this get me down, I know who I am and I know that minor things don't make me less of a girl, but I still wish I had more people I could relate to... I don't fit in with most women or men I know in person. Men are too masculine, obsessed seemingly with some endless, doggish competition for the alpha position, and forming endless silly social regulations on each other, and rating one another on upholding such regulations. (I do not mean that men are bad in any way nor do I know if all men are like this. I have had such experiences myself though, where men expect me to behave in a similar way and I end up preferring to exclude myself. All human beings are individuals and I do not mean that men are animals because some of them behave a certain way. I haven't had this experience among women yet. I associate this behavior as male in other words because of personal experience, that doesn't mean it properly describes male behavior in general)

Women just don't like the things I like. Plenty of girls play video games, and like fantasy and adventure... just none around here it seems. I like a lot of girl things too, but the nerd in me separates me from them... it makes me feel more like a boy, and it makes them see me more as a boy.

More than anything though, it just hit home. He gave subtle signs of being a boy, but overall was living the part of the girl... a miserable girl. He didn't guess what was wrong until he was told, but when it came out it wasn't much of a surprise. "I knew it! I never felt right!" he said. I never felt right either. Send me those estrogen pills I'll take care of them for you. I guess I'll post about my choices tomorrow. I've got a lot to say lately.

Nonfiction about Fiction.

Claudia

Asperger's Syndrome

2008-01-29T19:09:00.000-08:00

I had been holding back on telling people this until I could find out more and know it was true. Unfortunately... today is that day. It might as well be official, I have a high functioning form of autism known as Asperger's Syndrome. It's not like the other more common forms, so its less easy to distinguish or diagnose. Autism is a kind of disorder that makes interacting with other people difficult... as a result learning also becomes difficult. Since Asperger's Syndrome is high functioning, the normal learning disabilities associated with autism are not normally present... that is to say, I can read and write, and speak English, and I generally understand on a college student level, assuming I'm not being self congratulatory.

This blog is not about Asperger's syndrome it's about transsexuality, and if nothing else, my constant pleading not just for me, but for all of us to be seen as human. Being a dissociative disorder interacting with other human beings and sharing in their culture and world HAS always been difficult for me. I'm not exactly where a 22 year old should be in life because the way humans work and tick has been difficult to understand at times. Escaping reality into an inward fantasy world has always been a must for me, and fixations and obsessions are nothing new either. The hardest part is the difficulty with emotional responses, perhaps once the most inhuman moment of my life, was when someone I knew died of cancer... not the friend mentioned in this blog, but long long long ago... there was a sadness buried inside... but I could not understand how to feel... how to respond... and so I hated myself believing I was cold and callous, and unable to feel for anyone unless it directly affected me. The same sinister feeling came over me during the tragedy of 9/11. It isn't to say that I didn't care that those people died, or that I in any way condoned it... but I just couldn't feel the shock of the tragedy, the sadness... I couldn't cry over those who had died... And the longing to feel what other human beings feel, even if they are sad feelings came over me, and became the most presiding feeling for the moment. Now I wonder if I will ever attune myself to these feelings.

But I do have feelings, and a conscience, and a sense of morality. I am human, perhaps unfortunately. I have expressed a verisimilitude of feelings here on this blog. I love someone, not a forced, I'll do anything for you love, a genuine love where I need to be with her. I may be belligerent and rude and nasty and angry with them at times, but I also feel for my parents and the agony I've put them through, even if I haven't fully forgiven them yet for how they've taken it out on me... I still know this is hard for them... and believe it or not I do care. I care what happens to other people, about the poor and the homeless and the hungry. I care about the war, even if I don't directly feel the sadness yet because I have been lucky enough not to lose anyone close to me from it yet (though I have had friends suffering PTSD, but it really isn't the same as losing someone directly or suffering it myself.) I react to the breeze the overcast and the sun, and the moon. I feel sadness, pleasure, terror, nostalgia, sympathy. I like to give... I get an honestly rewarding feeling from giving to others or helping other people, (not to say that I'm not selfish, but rather that I have a generous side too.)

I guess what I am trying to say, is this whole blog is at least partly, a plead to see me, and through me, other transsexuals, as human.

I don't want to let this disorder, this Asperger's Syndrome in humanize me or even others any more in some people's eyes. I am not trying to commit some perverted act by transitioning myself... I'm just trying to live a happy life, I have joys and struggles, morals and beliefs just like you... whoever you are.

None of this is fiction. Claudia

Child's Play

2008-01-12T21:10:00.000-08:00

This post is more unique to my personal situation, and so many other transsexuals might not relate to it. In fact it doesn't really only apply to trans people.

I recently got into a fight with my mother about my habit of constant computer games. Childish? Sure. Boyish? Not in my opinion. The fact of the matter is, right now life being so hard to deal with and waiting for some answer as to where I'll be in the next month, I have nothing else to do.

As I've explained before the Internet provides me with a chance to be a girl, despite the ravages of nature on my male body. I can demand whatever pronouns I prefer, having no image of me to tie me down to my male identity.

But it goes a little beyond that too. It gives me a chance to get away, to escape into some fantasy land with my long distance partner. To be an elf or a magician, to be some kind of magical entity. To be the heroine that saved some town from some plague, or saved some child from some monster, or wicked person. Gives me a chance to feel special.

My mother got sick of my constant escapism, which at this part of my life I feel is even more necessary than it has been in the past. We got into the typical fight, and she yelled threats at me, (I am heavily dependant on her at this time, still living with her and having no working vehicle) and she decided to throw some insults my way about my fixation with "Faeries and Swords and Knights" She said I need to stop playing these games because they are destroying me, making a comparison to how she was younger and used to drink to feel confident and popular. (Frankly I found it audacious of her to think she even comes close to knowing what I'm going through... popular? I just want to be a girl, she had that right at birth).

She left me with the following ultimatum: No video games while living in this household, if you can't live with that go move into the shelter...

perhaps it was my "childish" anger... I opted for the shelter.
I doubt I'll have much time for games there, but having been insulted over who I am, not just in terms of being a girl, but in what kind of girl I happen to be... I was, and still am infuriated with her.

But here I am coming to the first point of this off-topic post: I admit that I am addicted to video games. I'm confident enough in who I am that I can say I don't think that makes me any less of a girl, despite the stereotypes. I can't stop escaping into a mystic fantasy world where being a girl is only the beginning, I'm a beautiful heroine who saves lives and performs superhuman deeds. I go on adventures and face untold perils, how exiting! Its so much better than being a bitter, pathetic, dependant, hairy, untreated transsexual, as I am in real life.

I've read all the arguments about video game addiction, but I believe for me it is a unique problem... where is balance? I know and admit I have an addiction and in no way do I want to spend my whole life doing nothing but playing video games... But I've no desire to give them up either. I do not know how drugs or alcohol or smoking feels, I've never tried any of them, but for me video games are also a passion. Its been my dream to be a game designer, one I've recently had to give up on for now... but not for life.

I believe these games, while obviously a heavily commercial industry, if given the opportunity, can be an art form. Don't get me wrong, I'm a girl, and personally I'm not into blowing off heads with shotguns and seeing how much better I can be than someone else. (I suppose some girls ARE into that but I'm not one of them.) For me it is entering another world, with enchanted forests, where rumors of hauntings just might actually prove true. Its infinite oceans with islands that have yet to be discovered. Worlds of breathtaking beauty and unspeakable horror become possible.

I yearn for the day I can invite people into worlds of my own creation, to wander enchanted glades of my own dreams. To discover adventures in my own faerie world. But my transition and my identity as a woman come first. So my transitioning has put this dream on hold for now, but not forever.

My question is... Is my mom right? Is my passion killing me? Is it impossible for there to be a happy medium where I can be Claudia in real life, and still explore and create in the world of video games? I do not know if drinking or smoking can be a passion like this, but In my opinion there is a serious difference. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe giving up drinking means giving up something that for some people has a lot of meaning and impact.

Or maybe because this is something that has such meaning to me and something where I'd like to place my creativity, there has to be a different answer. Maybe addiction or not, it's not the same as getting drunk or stoned. Maybe it does have meaning for some people and, it's not just me trying to get another fix.

I would like comments especially on this post. Are video games like drugs? Am I just giving meaning to a meaningless thing because I am an addict or is there something to my words?

Shamefully honest~ Claudia

What's it feel like anyways?

2007-12-30T21:08:00.000-08:00

First I want to apologize to my readers for not posting in a long time. I've slipped back into my fantasy life in the Internet, on games I shall not name. I haven't even been on second life recently so I'm skipping out on both lives, I guess I have no excuse for that.

However my original goal when making this blog was two posts a month so I guess I'm alright.

Anyways instead of focusing on every little trivial detail of my life, I thought I'd try to post something more relevant. I'm going to try to describe what cannot be described. How exactly it feels to be stuck in the body of the wrong sex. People may fantasize about it, thinking it would be fun for a little while, or interesting not really wanting to stay that way, but I guarantee unless you were already feeling this way... there's nothing fun about it at all.

I cannot account for ever gender dysphoric person. I can only offer exactly how it feels for me. Some of this may sound exaggerated but I assure you my goal is to document exactly how I feel before, during, and after the transition, so that I can either prove the positive effects of the transition, or prove myself wrong. None of it is exaggerated.

Its really all day long... The moment I wake up in the morning, I feel the awkward form of my body, and the misery that it means to me. I feel disgusted with myself even on mornings where I'm busy and have plenty to take my mind off the pain. But the real pain hasn't even begun yet.

When I see myself in the mirror I see a deformed girl, rather than a boy. I see a girl with growing facial hair, thick as carpet, and a masculine face. I see a girl's lumbering broad shoulders and a girl's body slowly being covered in hair. I feel gross... disgusting. I've felt this way about my body before I had any understanding of what or who I was. I've honestly looked myself in the mirror and gotten physically nauseated at the sight of myself.

Around people I feel constant pain. There is nothing I can do to escape the reality of my situation. Even if I tell them what I am inside, accepting or not they still see the lumbering hairy male on the outside. Having friends in real life is painful, regardless of how dearly I care for them. All of it involves being the guy, even if they know and tolerate who I am... because I cannot escape from the guy. I have a few exceptional friends who do understand me, but they live far away. Even around them I feel the pain.

Everywhere I go I see reminders, women and men on television capitalizing on the difference between us... If i fit in with men, I feel even less like myself, and so more miserable, if on the other hand I fit in with women, I feel a slight sense of comfort, but I am always always looking for that "proof" of who I am. I spend hours and hours thinking about it to myself trying to justify what I already know to be true. Some people work their whole lives for a title like Doctor or professor... I would just like to be called "She."

However the most debilitating part is when I'm NOT thinking about it. No matter what I always feel it... a sense of disgust, a wrongness... I feel a dull miserable sorrow at all times that never leaves. Its there more than others at times but it's always there to some degree or another.

If this didn't hurt so much that I cannot bear it I wouldn't put my family to so much pain.

I'm sorry I thought I could describe it better than this but in the end, if you believe me you probably already knew... maybe I'm wrong. I hope I can change at least one person's outlook on transsexualism.

None of this is fiction, as much as it may sound like it is. ~Claudia

A Queen for a Day: Reality Check

2007-11-20T16:40:00.000-08:00

This is another post thats a bit delayed so a lot of things are clumped up into it. I'll start by talking about my visit back to the clinic on november 15th. I chickened out of wearing my girl jeans but I wore my bracelet that I bought a few nights ago with my friend. When I arrived, I covered it by holding my sweatshirt over it, but when I got to the waiting room, I entered the magical haven again: With a word I am Claudia. Nobody there questions me. One of the nurses referred to me as a "he" by mistake, but remembered to use she all other times, so I wasn't too offended... after all I look like a he. In this place... people respect who I am... as simple as that may sound to some of you reading this... it is truly a dream like to be appreciated as me by total strangers, and friends alike. In real life only trusted friends know who I am, and only a few of those friends really understand it. I don't really take being a girl for granted yet, nor do I know if I ever will. Should I? Maybe the whole point of this nightmare of a life I live... is to know better than to ever take that for granted.

I talked to their therapist... I was honest in how my past experiences with therapists have been... unpleasant at best... but she was very sympathetic, and said she saw me as Sara. She won me over pretty easily... I hate therapists still but I like this woman in particular. Also she was a woman, and younger, maybe not my age, but younger than my first therapist... the reason this helps is because I think age set me apart from the first one I spoke to, and made it difficult to communicate... we were from different generations and different schools of thought. The second one was a man... I have no clue what he was thinking about...

I told her of my consistent worthless questioning. I say worthless because I know I'm past the point of questioning... and that I've known I'm a girl for a long long time now. But I analyze everything I do hysterically in terms of male and female... its a reflex that I force myself into, and it often drives me insane, it hurts so much. My fear is... that having told her this will delay my transition even more...

She told me to stop questioning and to go ahead and be Claudia, advice that is priceless. Friends and my sweetheart have told me the same. I know its pointless when I know the answer is that I am a girl, yet I do it because I doubt... not doubt in my need to transition, or in who I am, but doubts in self esteem. I want to be a girl, therefor I must not be one. I need the self esteem to believe in myself.

I drove home that night holding on to hope as tight as I can... but I can't seem to keep my grip on it for very long. I talked to mom for a bit and she started asking me questions. This time I was certain I wasn't going to let her shake my resolve in believing in myself as Claudia. She said things like she doesn't understand how I can be who I really am by having a fake body. I know she is far from comprehending my suffering but these thigns still hurt.

It was in this... one of many painful conversations that she said something that changed me a little... made me understand HER a little better. She said she didn't know how she is going to live the rest of her life. She started asking me questions about the risks of taking the hormones and crying before I could answer... I realized she needs me to be a boy about as much as I need to be a girl. I feel like I am so selfish... I am taking so much from her... but I can't keep living this way... it just hurts too much. I guess I'm a terrible daughter.

I dont remember when exactly it was I found out I had been outed to my whole family. My uncle I guess was going through some of his own problems, and he ended up blurting it out to everyone behind my back. If I knew what he was going through I wouldn't have told him anything at the time... but apparently my business is everyone elses's and not the other way around. I suspected them but... now I know that many of the comments I thought they HAD to be making in ignorance (IE: boys do this, and you're such a boy because of this) were meant to help close and tape shut the boy box. They have all been talking behind my back about how they do not see it in me and my mom was just thrilled to tell me this finally, that nobody can picture me as a girl.

I'm not looking forward to later today... thanksgiving. I have to pretend to be catholic, pretend to be straight, and pretend to be a boy. I have to pretend even though my existance as claudia is and has been common kmowledge. I have to pretend for their personal happiness at the cost of mine. And I have to pretend to enjoy it. life in general is a chore for me most of the time... It is dreadful to exist in the physical world when I'm being a boy, for everyone else. This chore in particular... however is one of the more tasking ones. I'm not allowed to confront them. So says the great mom, proprieter of my social life... such that it is.

I do love them believe it or not... and I'll forgive them someday for this... but I don't know I'll forget... They are still dear and precious to me, and I do not want to lose them, my Mom my Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncles and Aunts... but I not really look forward to this holiday season with them.

I never finished this post, though reading through it it's about ready to be published. I remember wanting to say, that I wasn't ready to be stared at, and to be looked at as a freak, and that somehow I will have to find the strength within me. Edit and final publish on nov, 20, 2008 day of rememberance

Girl's Night Out

2007-11-14T21:17:00.000-08:00

This post is a bit delayed... so there will be extra stuff crammed into it.

I've had so much to say I don't know how to word it.
I went to visit a very dear and supportive friend of mine, one that has been there since the crisis that lead me to coming out as trans, many years before I began this blog. She's been supportive of me since the get-go, but this is only the second time we've gotten to meet in person, due to physical distance.

But I went not just for fun but with a plan on my mind. Call me silly, or whatever you will, but my new years resolution for this year was to buy at least one article of girl clothes for myself... to try to develop the strength to face people looking down on me, and to feel some sense of progress in my lack of a transition. There has been (hopefully) much more progress than expected... but I still wanted to keep this resolution... and I wanted to feel more like me!

I was a nervous wreck the whole day prior to it... I knew I was going to buy girl clothes... and that they were for me... and that I'd probably have to try them on... I tried to remain calm... tried to put it off for the last minute with eating and driving around trying to find a parking space (it was morbidly crowded, which did its job of delaying things but also made me worried I'd end up with an audience)
At the store where I was to try on clothes we were looking at something when the employee there said "hello ladies" before I instinctively turned around and she "corrected" herself. "I'm sorry sir!" "oh it's alright I don't mind hehe" - sigh... you should have gone with your first impression... I was flattered that I pass for a girl at a distance... from behind, in a plus sizes women's clothing store.
When the moment finally arrived I snuck myself into the changing room and my friend waited outside. I tried on a few skirts and some tank tops and an elegant dress... I felt wonderful... and awful at the same time. It felt great to try on girl clothes, and be feminine, but at the same time the ghastly horror that was my slightly hairy (thankfully only slightly) male, hideous body in the mirror, I felt like I was polluting the clothes I tried on. I was frightened with fear... if my friend would walk away to look at more clothes I would shiver on my own, and then eventually try something else on... I think I only tried on a few of the clothes I picked out... I was just too scared to move... My friend was saying something about"she's trying things on" when she was clearly there with a boy... but the lady figured us out, and I guess she smiled at her... I don't know. My friend meant well, but now the lady knows to some extent what I am... or at least what I am doing.
It was a wonderful and horrible experience... the employee that caught on to me, was polite and didn't say anything about my first real cross dressing experience. I bought myself a pair of girls jeans, a tank top, a sweatshirt and a new belt... all of them things I normally wear except for the tank top, but clearly feminine in design. I feel good about my choices... I can't hope to pass for a "real" girl in my current appearance, or even a girl at all... (maybe after a few months of hormones it will be possible... I hope) but with the choices I made I can at least express femininity in my current form, without in my opinion... looking silly by trying to pretend my body is different.
The rest of the day was easier... I bought some necklaces and jewelry, and had a little period of self discovery as I explored my style in things I never got to really try before. I bought nail polish and perfume and other feminine things, other things to make me feel more like a girl right now.

If only I had the courage to use them.

I know that being a girl is not about hair and nails and clothes and make-up. It certainly is about much more than that to me. In my opinion the real difference between men and women is much more subtle. I am foremost myself, and then female. But right now with my body and my family life, and school as a constant provider of negative reinforcement, I need some little ways to express who I am, some ways to FEEL more that I am a girl inside, then simply saying it to myself over and over... And I guess that is why I need to transition, even if there is a risk I'll never pass... to be at peace with myself.

Me and my friend are talking about moving into an apartment together, and she has even extended the offer of staying with her at her parents house while we work on moving out. I have not spoken directly with her parents on the matter, and it doesn't seem certain, but I guess its one more possibility. Things are looking up! My transition is becoming more and more likely every day, and in a lot of ways I'm over joyed...
You'd think I'd be able to take all this positive movement for what it is and not worry about it but... not me.
I can only help but be frightened something bad will happen, or that this is all just a dream... and that reality has it that I will keep living day in and day out with gender dysphoria, using the Internet to pretend to really exist, and dreading facing every day life...
After thinking about it long and hard I forced myself to tell my mom about moving out sooner. As expected we both got carried away and the conversation turned into another fight, about irresponsibility and gender dysphoria... Now she is heaping mad at me and cannot stand to look me in the eyes... and I feel shame whenever I see her face. She says her health is deteriorating, and I can't help but feel guilt. She told me she was coming closer to accepting me before but I guess now I should realize that was a lie... she's still hoping for me to be a boy, and hoping, even if without realizing it... for my misery.

None of this is fiction... not even my cross dressing experience... though I sometimes have it hard to believe I actually gathered the nerve to go out and do that.
~Claudia

Mother and I

2007-11-08T22:24:00.000-08:00

I promised myself I wouldn't do any double posts on the same day, but tonight I feel I have to...

Fought with my mom again today... it was stupid and more or less my fault... She reminded me I needed to shave before class, and I got frustrated and decided to comment at how I never forget how disgusting my beard hair is... so another fight ensued.

It turned into an argument about why I'm so depressed because I'm "getting everything I want" now. This is how she interprets medi-cal paying for my hormones and SRS... me "getting everything I want." It still doesn't change the here and now, I'm not depressed because I'm going to transition, I'm depressed because of gender dysphoria. I'm depressed because I can't seem to pull myself far enough out of reality to find pleasure in every day anymore. I'm depressed most of all... because I'm afraid of disappointment... I'm afraid that I've gotten my hopes up for beginning my transition, and something will go wrong that will end it... Medical will discontinue coverage, I'll turn 25 and be ineligible for their help... they will diagnose me a transvestite and cast me out of their care and tell me to go buy some lingerie.

And I am depressed about and at the same time scared of transitioning behind her back... I feel guilt like I've betrayed her, but also fear of being discovered.

She wonders why I don't act faster if I "want this so bad" Truthfully I'm trying... I've never written a resume before and I've not had too many jobs... The ones I have had have been awful, and its just hard to get up and face the day, much less actually accomplish anything in this confusion...
She told me to get out of her room, and go feel sorry for myself, and I did exactly that... I do what I do when it gets too much to handle or live with. I refuse to kill myself, but there is no rule against thinking about it... so when it gets to the point where I want to so badly, I curl up in a ball in my room, hug a pillow pretending its my love, and let the thoughts of suicide cycle through my head until they finally pass, and eventually something more pleasant, even if only mildly... seeps into my head in their place.
She went to get cigarettes while I was doing this... she was trying to quit again.
So I guess I'm killing her slowly.
I didn't want to feel completely defeated so, I forced myself to go to class... to sit there with people who's faces I did not want to see, and do drawings I felt no desire to do. I sat there trying not to look TOO miserable, but right now the pain is just too much to hide it from other people. Still for what its worth... I dragged myself up and drove over there and worked on my drawing, instead of laying there feeling sorry for myself. Still a great deal of self pity took place in the class room... so I don't know if I really accomplished anything by going or if I'm just kidding myself.
I've become a burden on my family, my friends, and everyone who has been there for me. I just cannot think happy thoughts at the moment. Little entertains me... enjoyment of life is a strain at best... and I cannot seem to pull myself out of this funk, so for the time being, I'm going to take a short leave of my friends, and everyone precious to me for a day or so... if your reading this, know I'm alive and I haven't given up... but I do not wish to whine to you, and I've nothing else to say...
Unfortunate for the love of my life... at least in my perspective... for I cannot face this completely alone, and so I cannot take my leave of her...

Not fiction.
~Claudia

The Ugly Duckling: Late onset transsexuality and why that by itself is a source of grief for me.

2007-11-08T14:10:00.000-08:00

The ugly duckling is taunted and teased all her life, until she one day discovers she is a swan!
Ahhh such a lovely comparison to the so called "late onset" transsexual.

But such things are not so lovely for me... Do not get me wrong... my female identity means so much to me... I remember when I first did research on the subject of transsexuality... I found the ultimate discovery... that I did not just WANT to be a girl or WISH I was a girl... that all this time... the profound mystery that's haunted me all my life... was simply that I already AM a girl and I have been all along...
Wishing I could understand the female mind even better: gone! I have one! That explains why I'm always in tune with women, not men... (though some of my best friends are still men, and many have been) That explains why I've always found "being really in touch with my feminine side"
But whenever I look for advice or for information from other transsexuals any personal account always seems to start with "ever since I was a child, I knew I was born the wrong sex..."

... not me...

I just have never been that smart. I knew something was wrong... seriously horribly wrong with me as a child. I knew that I didn't want to be what I was, and I was absolutely appalled by being defined by, what at the time I -thought- was my gender. Yet I can also remember a number of times where I'd repress my femininity... not really knowing I was a girl inside or needed to be a girl, but "that cartoon is for girls, I better ask grandma to change it" rather than just watching it if it interests me.

I didn't really play with boy toys, or with girl toys, so I can't really use the old "oh when mother found me playing with dolls" story either, but my rough and tumble cousins were always aliens to me. In fact my experience growing up and some of my experience during adolescence (though by this time my feelings were more that of a transsexual) were much closer to that of what is called an "androgyne," or some other kind of gender variant persons... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Androgyne http://androgyne.0catch.com/
In some parts of early adolescence it was similar to the experience of a transvestite... that is sexual attraction to women, and my gender identity, were impossible to separate... so I thought it was a natural part of attraction.

... but though I've no problem with transvestites or androgynes, I feel I am neither one... and would not like to be mistakened for either one. My wish, my true wish, is to have been born a girl... though as a child I actually was afraid that my body would magically turn female (other transsexuals told me the felt this fear at one point) I have no doubts now, that given the choice to go back and do it all over again as a girl, I most definitely would.

You'd think this makes me unique, even for a transsexual... but I despise my existence and regret my childhood even more for these things...

If only I'd figured it out sooner I wouldn't have to doubt and keep trying to convince myself, I'm really a girl inside, I'm really a girl inside.
Even the other, who I am closed to told me she never knew how she knew... she just knew.
So why the hell couldn't I figure this out till I did tons of research? Why did it take me so long to figure out the most all encompassing aspect of my life?

Now it seems I am overtly feminine... I like the color pink... I like butterflies and tiaras and faeries... I suppose someone kind would say I'm reliving the childhood I realized I lacked... but my infinite ability for self torment accuses me of being a transvestite, (sorry transvestites, I mean no offense), because I am TOO girlish. I must simply be "trying too hard..." but I really do like these things...

The problem is that the lines are not so solid, even in matters like this... and I'm not proud or happy to be within the blur.

I wish I was at least a little less unique... a little less peculiar.
I do not wish to be special in this way... I just wish to be a girl, whole and complete.

Apparently on Harry Benjamin I'm a 5/6 (http://www.genderpsychology.org/transsexual/benjamin_gd.html note that I don't dress up as a girl in every day life, coz I don't look anything like one yet... or else I would. Also note that this is out of date as Gender Identity and Sexual Orientation are found to be unrelated) "Moderate intensity transsexualism" but there is nothing moderate about this feelings... my feelings right now are either I'm a girl... or die.
I have no misgivings about transitioning... only the infinite doubt and confusion in my mind about what creature I am, and WHY I need to transition. (and the overwhelming fear that I will not pass for a genetic female, and be ostracized from society for all eternity)

I took Jennifer Diane Reitz's COGIATI (Combined Gender Identity and Inventory) and scored 350+ on the high end of the "probably a transsexual" category. That is to say I'm actually more transsexual than most, apparently. http://transsexual.org/TEST0.html I've taken this three times being as honest as I could... but I WANTED it to tell me I was transsexual... and it did. That's what I want... to not have to confirm this for myself anymore... for someone else to just tell me and prove: I am a girl, there's no more doubt or confusion on the matter any more, I'm a girl and that's all there is to it.
My nontranssexual friend who DOES identify as a man in touch with his feminine side... took this test and it told him he was an androgyne... so much for proof.
I suppose the only proof I can ever really have is the ultimate extent of my suffering... and that I've thought this through as thoroughly as possible: I do not like the idea of getting old and I don't really see myself as an old lady... but I'd rather be an old lady than an old man. (no offense to the elderly, I look up to my grandparents, I am just not there yet at age 22)

If only things weren't so complicated... ahh to be unique is not so great. Apparently no wonders are found in the obscure... only horrors like myself

And none of this is fiction.
~Perpetual little girl: Claudia

Clear, concise, direct to the point.

2007-11-05T21:31:00.000-08:00

Everything my blog is not.
You may have already noticed the link, but I've been meaning to post this page: http://ftmstraighttalk.blogspot.com this man, another transsexual, female to male, offers a more direct an easy to follow explanation of transsexuality, and his personal experiences dealing with it as a man.
I wanted to share this link because he explains things in a very simple direct and positive manner.
I also wanted to share this link because it gives a man's perspective, as what little positive attention we get in the media is usually directed towareds male-to-female transsexuals like myself.
I wasn't planning on having a daily blog but lately so much is going on that I cannot keep up with my own life. (Yet nothing seems to really change)

Family Matters

2007-11-04T21:41:00.000-08:00

"Tension so think you can cut it with a knife"
Ever heard this expression? I've always found it kind of silly, but I guess its the only thing that can describe what I'm feeling with my family right now...

I guess I never should have mentioned to my mom that medical will be covering the hormones for me... I wanted her to try to see this as treatment for something wrong with me... not as an "alternative lifestyle." She told dad the news, and now their both finding it difficult to talk to me. She told me their both upset that I'm going to begin my transition faster than they thought. I know this looks bad on the outside to them, and that they cannot understand what I'm feeling or why it hurts so much, but its hard to get any motivation in life when the two people who I depend on most, who I love, are counting on obstacles, delays, and failure towards my desperately needed goal. I layed down and felt sorry for myself for a little while, but I managed to get a little bit done towards getting a job this weekend... Still they fail to notice that... they are even less supportive of me than normal now...

And they don't know I'm beginning so soon.

I just want to be happy... as a girl... Must it be so forbidden? Must I want this with so much pain?

None of this is fiction.

Another Wasted Halloween

2007-11-03T19:56:00.001-07:00

Students everywhere in costumes... families having fun with children... Halloween in my opinion you are never really to old for...

And it hurts like hell.
When it comes to Halloween, there's nothing androgynous or tomboyish about me... I want to dress up as a faerie or a witch or a princess... Halloween brings out the girly girl in me. Even the girl pirate costumes don't really interest me... the tomboy in me is totally gone on Halloween night.
So what did Claudia spend Halloween doing? Nothing at all. Lamenting on my usual pain, and wishing and hoping that some day, I'll be a pretty dark witch or an elegant princess or a beautiful faerie for one night, like the little girl I never was. I didn't draw anything for Samhain... too exhausted. I just went to bed... I went to class, and dropped off a prescription at the pharmacy for Halloween... my favorite holiday.
No boy costumes would have sufficed for any entertainment or fun for me... I have no interest in being a gender dysphoric samurai or gender dysphoric Dracula. I suppose I could go out in "drag" and be myself for a little while... but I'm too ashamed... I can't pass for a girl right now... and the drag would be taken as a joke... and I'm just too serious about it to be ready for that.

A Pact with the Devil

2007-10-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

When I woke up it was about 8:30, it didn't take long for me to be hurrying out the door. I thought I'd leave in plenty of time, at 10:00 am, seeing as my appointment was not until 1:00 pm. This is the farthest I've ever driven in my life. I wanted to convince myself that I am taking steps towards Independence, the Independence I need to transition, and I have to admit... part of me really is convinced.

Its amazing how hot it gets in the city, especially when its quite cold out in the desert. The urban heat was sweltering and I was beginning to sweat as I drove from the dirt covered black hole I live in, to actual civilization.

Relative comfort, the concrete jungle I grew up in. I always hated the place as a child, yet now I realize how much I miss its wretched smell and throngs of people, though why I still cannot say. Something about it feels like home. Or maybe I just feel comfortable knowing that there are thousands of other creatures that are stranger than I in every direction...

But desert people are weird enough.

The drive took me two hours. Surprisingly I didn't have as much trouble as I thought I would finding the place. I kept thinking I passed the exit I needed but eventually everything worked out, it was just a long drive.

I got to the bank... yes the bank... In which a hospital is supposedly stashed away and hidden. I looked around nervously, thinking... great I need help with transsexuality... not tax returns. Finally it really was in this building, awkward as it felt looking around in there. (I'm not trying to be silly but typing it out I guess this was kind of a silly experience.) I nervously entered the elevator, and when I reached the desired floor, I was only slightly relieved.

I'm not sure why I bothered with the details up to this point, as nothing up till now really matters. I approached the counter... and told them I had an appointment with Dr. Hope. "And your name is" "It's Guy but the appointment is under a different name... " I thought to myself: Oh great I have to tell her, she's gonna laugh at me and say hahaha you said your name is Claudia, you queer! "Oh okay Claudia, what time...?" She doesn't care? Is she used to this or just polite I asked myself. As I spoke a lovely black woman exited the door talking to someone else. She had a deep voice but was very pretty... I could tell, though only because I was looking and thinking of nothing else... that she was transsexual... in fact I was later to find out, she was in fact Dr. Hope.

I sat down in the waiting room and noticed an androgynous person sitting there... I wondered if it was a girl like myself... she was dressed as and appeared physically to be male, but had a cute hair clip, and long hair, and also a rather high voice... I didn't wanna make any assumptions about any ones inner gender, but as it turned out...

I was right...

they were waiting for a support group that Dr. Hope runs, and I was invited to be a part of this group for a little while, while I waited to have my paperwork sorted out. Dr hope called me by my real name, and introduced me by that name to everyone, and everyone greeted me by that name... almost everyone there was trans, and there was a silent understanding among us all, who was a girl and who was a boy.
One girl was very far into her transition, if I hadn't been in this situation I wouldn't have known... she was a somewhat large girl, but very pretty in my humble opinion, and very comfortable being a girl. She was quiet though. Another girl had the size of a girl, wore girl clothes, and had a pretty hairstyle, her face didn't yet have facial hair removed, but I could tell she'll be so pretty when she's finished with her transition. You get used to seeing who's inside pretty quickly...
Another young woman walked in also male to female, she was clearly physically androgynous, and also went by her male name still... guess she's still deciding. I felt inspired by these young women, you could feel the courage in the room. I couldn't imagine how much emotional strength it takes to be her in her currant state, but I think they will all be beautiful when they make it through the dark tunnel...
This was the first time I've ever been face to face with other transsexual, or transgendered people.
Dr. hope herself was a very pretty woman, though she had somewhat broad shoulders and narrow hips. She is very sweet and kind... and I felt so comfortable talking to her. She explained the whole process I'm going to go through to me... and she gave me a much needed hug.
All this time as Claudia, instead of guy, made me feel almost giddy... It felt like I had been suffocating for so long, and finally came up for air... it was a relief I cannot honestly describe in words. My body became transparent... I felt like a real girl... I've never felt so unquestionably like myself in person, with real people, though I have friends that accept me and treat me as a girl.
Apparently through them... medical will cover my hormones and possibly even the surgery... that is such a huge relief. I was prepared to give up everything
Yet there is still a catch... A weird kind of catch...
I get to start the hormones very soon... possibly in two weeks.
I've no apprehension about the hormones themselves or the effects they will have on my body.
I have no problem with starting right away.
(I'm a little scared, I know the journey will be hard, but I know this is right for me)
The problem is that I'm going to conceal it from my parents...
I've always secretly been a good daughter, sure I get into fights with them but... I've obeyed them this far...
So now this is the second greatest act of betrayal I can commit. The devil will approach me in two weeks with a contract... sign on the dotted line and I'll grant your greatest need in life... I'll absolve you of your most damning and condemning ill... all I ask in return... is a piece of your soul... the piece that never dared to betray them.

Tonight is the night of Samhain... I read this holiday represents death and rebirth... and that creativity is a way to celebrate it. I dunno if I'm going to draw anything tonight as I'm pretty low on creative energy, but I'll try...

This is the death of the boy and my rebirth as Claudia... or at least I deeply hope so...

Sorry mom and Dad...
at least I'm not a drug user serial killer gang member or anything like that...
or is this just as bad to you?

I came home that night and tried to talk the forbidden talk: to try to get her to let me transition while I'm here... She said she can't take it... that she could die of a heart attack seeing me do this... She could be right... she started smoking again... What she doesn't know... maybe it really can kill her?

Metaphors aside none of this is fiction save the names put in place of the real ones including my own.
~Claudia

The Moon Behind a Veiled Masque

2007-10-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

This post is primarily about my spirituality, though like all aspects of my life it ties in with transsexuality.
My readers not interested in this aspect of my life may want to skip this post.

It is the night of the full moon again, the first one since what feels like ages. Prior to beginning this blog I tried praying to the full moon. I've had spirituality dying and rising in me lately. I thought my prayers or spells did nothing. My time for mischief certainly seems to be over.

I read online on a Wiccan website (call me a "fluff bunny" I do not care, I shall explore the occult at my own leisurely pace) that the full moon is a time of cleansing. A simple example of a full moon ritual was to write down things I want to be cleansed of, so I thought it'd be worth a try. On the beginning of the list was "maleness" and "my male body..." I felt a strange guilt in this but perhaps that was the old Catholicism coming back to haunt me. It told me that such things do not belong in a "pure" ritual, and that I was being greedy. But this part of my life troubles me more than any other, this maleness. I also included other more "down-to-earth" things like fear, bad habits, and apprehension that prevents me from moving forward in my life.
It was shortly after that I stopped believing, but then shortly after that, that I was taken to the crisis center, which began this whole turning point which MIGHT lead to my transition. Am I making progress? Did my attempts to communicate with astral beings have any effect on that progress? I have no idea, but tonight the full moon is out again, and I shall try once more. If praying on the night of the full moon every night will turn me into a girl, I will do it. If its just "hocus-pocus" I'm not really hurting anything...

But of course tonight the sky is full of smoke and the moon is completely hidden. Will this curse me instead, or am I already cursed anyways?

This isn't fiction per say but I wonder if my imagination is getting the better of me...

~Claudia

Hope on Fire

2007-10-23T22:53:00.000-07:00

I awoke uncertain as always, today. Fires are raging everywhere, thousands of people evacuated from their homes. The freeway I had to take was not closed but there were warnings on the news... and I had not been given a time for my appointment. I was determined to drive down there time or no time, appointment or no appointment. After all I'm willing and well aware of the risks involved with taking conjugated estrogen, and I wouldn't be so determined if this was not life or death for me in the first place.
I called the office trying to reach Dr. Hope, only to discover that not only was she not a doctor... but neither was she a man, but instead a deep voiced woman, a "case manager" for the behavioral health section. A deep voiced woman... who I mistakened for a man... this left me with mixed unpleasant feelings... First of all was guilt, for though she is unaware of my error, my whole life is in shreds because of the importance of being recognized as who I am... and second I wondered if this is to be my fate as well... I wondered if there will always be a sign that will give away who I am. Her name will remain Dr. Hope for the purposes of this blog, as regardless she still symbolizes that to me: hope... something I am desperately in need of.
I called again and again to find out she will not be in until 1:00 today, and nobody knew of my appointment. Against my better judgement... I stayed home. I slept most of the day today, temporary suicide, or so I thought, but suicide became my haunt tonight. I dreamt repeatedly of blowing my brains out with a shotgun... and standing outside my male body with its partially destroyed head hearing my mother run outside to investigate the loud noise, horrified to see my lifeless male body... I wonder what this really symbolizes, if dreams are constrained to one meaning or if they mean anything at all. To my sweetheart who has been my support during all of this nightmare since she met me (as it is a never ending nightmare save when I'm with her, and she makes me feel like me): I am sorry for these dreams, but they are dreams... nothing more. I refuse to end my life while you are there for me, the love and support you give me is enough to keep me alive. I love you.

I cannot describe exactly how long seven days feels like right now...

Unfortunately not fiction ~Claudia.

The Hope Doctor... and a Journey into the Unknown

2007-10-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's been only six days since my last post... it feels like eternity. I have been on a roller coaster ride of hope, and no hope. I've come to a realization: all my other dreams and goals in life don't mean much to me... I don't care about animation or art... I don't care about anything else until I can live 24/7 as myself... I guess that sounds greedy... or maybe it sounds stupid. Take your pick. Either one is fine with me. I have been "okay" to some extent for the time I have been... only because I live vicariously through the Internet, and through video games. I drag myself to school... fake interest... keep in mind that I'll be Claudia when I get home. Get home, plug in and BAM! instant female. Sure I'm still at odds with my physical body... sure even then its not as good as being me in real life, but its a quick fix. I can't really focus in school because my goal is to get home plug back in and be treated as a girl by my friends online. Sometimes I'd get brave and tell the ones I trusted most... It felt good when they still accepted me as a girl.

I've dropped both my animation classes already. I don't care about them anymore, I can't even be creative anymore because all I think about is some way to express who I am in terms of female instead of male. So I was faced with this problem and a question: my parents are thinking of kicking me out, and I just don't know what's possible... can I support myself through this transition if I move out now? I decided I need a short term career... but I'm scared that my parents will kick me out before I finish the last few semesters of school for a career certificate... They probably want to make sure I cannot afford this change...

When I went on Tuesday to talk to the instructor he wasn't there, only a student who gave me some information about the software and the money involved in it. It didn't sound too promising for short term though... I plunged again into despair... there is no way out of this... I couldn't figure out how people pay for it... how they accomplish this change... save prostitution and the support of parents... It seemed so impossible... it seemed like I'm going to have to live with this for five more years... I can't deal with that...

I had a list of resources given to me by the crisis center from the weekend of the big fight with mom and dad. Trans friendly clothiers, churches in the relative nearby area. (Nothing really is trans friendly where I live.) The most important resource they gave me however, was a phone number for a supposed clinic which SPECIALIZES in Gender Dysphoria...

Feeling helpless and trapped I called Dr. Hope... Like anything else in this story I will not disclose his real name. He was very gentle over the phone... he asked me if I am currently transitioning from male to female. I explained to him I want to really badly, in a whining voice... almost crying. He talked to me about starting the hormones right away... I replied that my parents do not allow it, and he then explained that I can conceal the transition for up to two years in my parents house... But do I want to risk forsaking whatever chance I have at their forgiveness? He told me he is looking for housing for me and a job for me. My feelings are ambivalent, exited about starting my transition and at the same time afraid of the issues that might occur in consequence concerning family and finances. I have absolutely no hesitation as far as my decision goes to be female.
Housing already? Starting my transition? But what about money? All of these questions are racing through my mind as I head to the little hidden corner of the school to ask the teacher about GIS and its prospects for me as a short term career. He mentioned I could be making 3,700 a month with just two classes. If I live under my means that should be enough to slowly trudge through my transition. Can I really transition otherwise on just a high school education? After talking about it to a teacher I am out to, I decided that is the most profoundly simple question I need to ask.

Still miserable with the usual feelings of gender dysphoria, and weighed down with distractions of uncertainty, this clinic in the city for whatever reason brings to mind the 2001 film "Artificial Intelligence." Perhaps a modern spin on Pinnochio the boy in the film searches for the non-existant blue fairy that will make him a real boy. He tries and tries in vain, getting closer and closer to something that can't really exist, obcessed with a quest which for him can have only one possible outcome.
I can't help but feel this doctor is my "Blue Fairy." I feel I've mistakened something else for the transition I so desperately need. I am to go to this mythic place and think I've found the sanctuary I'm looking for... only to be pointed to the next destination in my helpless, hopeless quest... to be a real girl.

None of this is fiction except for the names that were substituted...
~Claudia

A Flickering Light

2007-10-12T13:46:00.000-07:00

So much has happened to me I do not know where to begin... I have reached a turning point in my life, and I finally feel I can actually do this thing, (scared though I am, that I will not succeed). It began miserably... I finally went to my first session with a "therapist" He told me we were gonna fix things... I thought to myself "you mean I'm really gonna be a girl?" He told me there is hope... he got my hopes up... I don't remember exactly what he said when I realized what he meant... that he wanted to kill Claudia... to destroy her, and make the iron shell in which she is imprisoned come alive... He wanted to make me want to be a man... He said it would only work if I wanted it too... thank goodness. I told him every bit of research I have done tells me I am born with this. He told me such research is biased. If it is biased, why does this occur in animals? He told me that I wont be happy unless I accept being a man. I know he was wrong, but I'll get to that. I finally in order to be certain of his foolishness asked him, if I was gay, and that were the problem, would he actually try and make me heterosexual... he said he would make me become heterosexual if I was uncomfortable feeling gay... I wonder how many gay people he's disappointed, especially in this conservative rural area I live in, (mostly desert, arid... dry... depressing... but that's beside the point) He told me, that some people want to keep feeling this way, shrugging and putting them off, I felt sorry for them when he said that, but I took him literally. He meant some people didn't want to try his game of black and white, and know they had to take the road less travelled. Despite knowing all this, his words still stabbed my heart deeply, and injured me. I was terrified driving home. Miserable. I actually screamed, while driving "HE'D BETTER BE WRONG!" at the top of my lungs... I came home miserable and avoided my parents as much as possible because if they knew they would tell me..."he didn't tell you what you want to hear so you left" Right... instead he told me what YOU want to hear. I can't remember if that night or the next night is when I heard my friend passed away... I think it was the next night, every ting is blurry. I was still miserable from what he said. Doubting the existence of Claudia is more painful then the feeling of wanting to be her.

My parents don't like to see me depressed. Hypocritical in some ways, but I know they love me... even if the are my worst enemies in this battle. They cornered me, assaulted me with questions... reduced me to tears. I wish I can remember what they said to me, but in this state of mind I cannot. All I can remember, is that I was out of the closet again and sobbing in my room in hysterics, for a while they wouldn't talk to me. They asked me to go to a hospital I said no. They asked me to go to a doctor I said no. They said I might get the help I need, I said "Their not gonna turn me into a girl at the hospital." That of course, was a in a stupor of rage and depression. Finally I let them take me to the crisis center where we live... it was an awful, silent car ride to the crisis center, full of silent blame and anger. When I got there, I was angry, and i told the therapist there first thing, "I want to be a girl" instead of beating around the bush. Finally, some support... she said to be proud of who I want to be and of who I am inside, She let me cry over my friend's death. She told me it was going to be painful and I was going to have losses but not to let my parents stop me. I felt such gratitude. The nurse came in, and made small chat with me and I offhandedly mentioned that there was conflict with my family. He asked if it's always been that way and I replied "Ever since I came out." I didn't tell him what I came out about but he laughed warmly, and I preferred it this way, since I just didn't wanna seem like a heterosexual boy. Anything to make me feel more like a girl. I talked to the doctor, the psychiatrist, that is, and he told me that for some people Hormone Replacement and Sex Reassignment is the only answer. He told me that Gender Dysphoria is a real psychiatric illness, that there are no psycho actives for it. He told me to keep going to school if i can, but to try to be strong... If I can... oddly reading between the lines made me realize I needed a job, and i needed to do something about this. I still wasn't sure what...

After telling my parents I wanted to get a job... trying to avoid the real issue I focused on moving out, telling them that I wanted to be independent, that I wanted to be on my own. They told me I needed to go to a tech school and learn a trade. I figured I can live with this for another semester or two, maybe two years tops. I realized it will probably be more like two and a half years before I can actually do something real about it, but at least I'm starting. I went to the councilors office the next day at school and tried a little magic spell (because I believe in that stuff or I used to and want to again) that I'd have a councilor that I felt would accept me... so that I can actually tell her my situation, and hopefully she will help me considering the... details involved. I actually did this... I told a complete stranger, my... "problem" and she was helping just like I hoped. She told me about a software program that seem to be in high demand. She gave me a hug, was so kind to me. Was this a spiritual experience?

I got home... Dad showed his first sign that he might accept me. We talked about moving out, I was worried that moving out before taking these classes, despite the constant struggle and pain, might not be a good idea... I made the mistake of saying "I want to move out now but I'm afraid it will slow me down more in the long run" He told me he knew what I was thinking about, we'll figure out what we were gonna do... It's the first time he ever acknowledged I was thinking that in a non hostile way.
I was this day, intoxicated with hope. I had a plan, I am going to do this. I could barely draw during drawing class, I could barely eat, yet for a... what I am... I was actually in a pretty good mood. I had the hardest time sleeping. I told my sweetheart all about it when I got home, she was so exited for me, I felt joy.

Dawn brought the searing rays of a new day. My parents left on "errands" in the morning. Of course later I was to find errands meant them seeing a therapist. I don't trust therapists anymore. I know this is an acute exaggeration but it feels like therapists are out to get me, to kill my soul. They told me the doctors told them to do what's right for them: to evict me in 30 days. They said they would consider laying some rules down and making me sign a contract in order to stay. I could have stayed cool... I could have stayed calm... I could have acted like that was fine. But the conversation started digging to the core of the problem... I was afraid it would slow me down... if they kick me out now I'll never be able to afford any procedures towards my sex change... and that's just what they want... to make sure I cannot.

"Why are the doctors that say go for it always right to you, and you will not try to listen to the doctors that say you can learn to like being a man"
"You'll be able to come back here you know..." is one of the things they said... I cannot recall every word, or at least, don't feel the rest is as important. " You won't let me back" says Claudia and she adds... "because..."
"Because he'll be changing himself and we won't accept him." her mother says...
"The moment I can afford it..." replied Claudia...

Can I really be this stupid?

I just want to be a girl. I don't have to be perfect, radiant beauty, I don't have to be a model on the catwalk. I don't have to be rich, and a singer on the stage. The world doesn't need to know and love me. I don't need a big house, a perfect life, I know people will not always accept me or respect me or understand me... if they know. I know it will be hard... it already is...
I'm not gonna murder anyone, not gonna steal anything. Not gonna beat anyone, I don't want to hurt anyone... not even my parents who I am hurting every day.
I just want to be a normal girl...
I just want to be a normal girl...
I just want to be a girl...

You can pull the weeds out all you want, and try to trim the landscape of my mind... but the agony root is always soiled deep in my heart, waiting to blossom into a garden of pain.
~Claudia
None of this is fiction except the name Claudia

Passing

2007-10-10T12:48:00.000-07:00

When I told her about my condition, she said she wished me strength in the mountains I had to climb. She told me this, while cancer ravaged her, and her time left to be alive was short. She was always thinking of others, in fact her life career was helping others. I may be biased through my friendship but others who knew her might agree, at least from what I saw of her, she did not have a selfish bone in her body. As if my mountains mean anything compared to what she has been through, and now she is gone. I never had the chance to get too close to her simply because, there was not enough time. My dear friend who has to deal with this the hardest of all, because you loved her the most of all, because you were in love with her, whatever powers that be, have mercy on your soul. ... None of this is fiction. ~Claudia

Just the basic facts, can you show me where it hurts?

2007-10-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

Claudia again. Since I'm pretending this blog is actually doing something for the transsexual community, I figured I should post some facts and not so frequently asked questions about our state of being, and about myself.

Claudia you have a girlfriend in the real world? Then why do you think you are a girl?

First of all give credit where credit is due (Edit: that is a cold sounding way to say I love you sweety, and I'm grateful for you in my life), yes I have a significant other, a girlfriend. The likely hood of getting into a relationship that is satisfying in this state of being is very low, and in this I am actually extremely very lucky. She has an innate understanding of the manner of creature that I am, that to date, no human being I have ever met, save one fellow transsexual, has ever managed. While some people identify with us, it is impossible to truly understand what exactly it is like unless you've lived it... usually.

To answer the question, SEXUAL ORIENTATION and GENDER IDENTITY are NOT the same thing. Despite the stereotype of gay men being feminine, a gay man is still, at heart and soul, a man. If he is a woman in a mans body then he is essentially a heterosexual woman. This works the same way with women too. I for the record currently identify as bisexual, but since I am in a relationship with a woman it makes little difference. You might think that this is convenient, that I look like a heterosexual man, I can sorta act like one and pull it off, why go through all these changes, but it's not. I am her girlfriend and she sees me as such. I couldn't be happy in a relationship as a "boyfriend" and being bi or lesbian makes it even more difficult to convince people I so much as exist. People desire more than anything to "normalize" me, it likes women so it must be a man.

How did you come to be?
The Science that saved my sanity is the science that torments me constantly. The dominant theory is that it is a precongenital birth defect. All fetuses start female, and male development is triggered by a release of hormones. In some cases this is off timing and certain organs are developed before the hormones kick in, this is how hermaphrodites are born. Sometimes it isn't visibly noticeable and the brain is in fact... an organ like all the others. There is also theory towards genetics with a bit less evidence pointing towards it. Anecdotally speaking I have a little cousin that claims she is a boy (I use she for the convenience of reference, if she continues to believe this, she in fact may be a he, and I will respect that identity, though I hope I never have to for one reason: I would never truly wish to damn this curse on another human being, let alone see my cousin I love and care about endure this agony)

I say the science that torments me because I never have had the opportunity to take an MRI scan and prove once and for all that my mind is female. My personality is an androgynous thing. I collect swords and play video games, I like Faeries and kittens and fashion too, (though what goes on my own body doesn't matter much, I refuse to wear anything other than black though till after the sex change... to obscure the shape of my own reflection.) I look at the tormented butterflies on my doodles in math class, and at the cute and perfect flowers on a girls notebook... I wonder do I doodle lines or circles... As much as this curse torments me, the worst thing I could possibly imagine being is a man.

No need to be ashamed of who you are?
Unfortunately while science has told me there is a reason for this madness, modern society as of today still requires shame on my part. My parents do their part in making me feel guilt, I am not allowed to wear makeup, shave my legs, or do anything else blatantly feminine while I live in their house... but it is not limited to them. I know how ridiculous I sound claiming to be a girl with the Carpathian forest that carpets my face at dawn every day, and the horrendous depth of my voice, and my lumbering broad shoulders. We do not choose to be freaks. I would rather have been born a girl, then I would not have to question why I want to be one, or if my brain really is the gender I feel it is... It wouldn't matter if I'm already there. Does anyone ask you why you want to remain in your current gender?

Why did you choose the name Claudia for this blog?
As I said Claudia is not my real name, it is not even my "real name." That is it is neither my legal name nor the female name by which I prefer. It is as I mentioned the little vampire in Interview With the Vampire who was permanently trapped in the body of a little girl. I related to her in how she wanted to look like the grown woman she felt like inside. Also because of irony, as I after all, never got to be a little girl. I never will get to be a little girl. With spirituality and faith flickering out like a dying candle for me, I'm starting to hope less and less for a reincarnation, and I'm realizing, 22 years of my life are gone, and I will never have them back, and I spent those 22 years as another person, and every second that passes is stolen from my life.

You shouldn't do that to your body, its unhealthy, you'll never look normal, and/or you should appreciate what God gave you.
As I said I do not wish to be a freak. It took a while for me to accept that this is even a choice, in the technical sense, while feeling this way, at least, is certainly not a choice. I know people who decided to cope with it, and remain that way. I respect their decision and they respect mine, though I have not acted out on it yet (if I could i would start immediately without a moments hesitation) For me it isn't a choice... not truly... I cannot live with myself this way, it torments me even when I'm smiling and I seem in a good mood. The haunting is always there, and while you who know me in person may read this and remember seeing me pleasant, know that whatever my outward mood is... it haunts me constantly. I do not ever cease to think about it. The ones who remain this way, the ones who choose to keep it, it is not without consequences for them either, they suffer, and are fairly alone in the world. I provide my companionship as best I can but, can you really ask that of me? Is it I who is selfish or is the world who is unfair. Why should I endure this my whole life if I do not choose it. Asking me to remain this way, is asking me to suffer for the rest of my life, and to die an incomplete human being. Shouldn't I at least have the right to make that decision for myself?

As far as God goes I stopped believing in God a long time ago. Why would a perfect being do this to anyone? But some transsexuals need their faith, and have found that perhaps God accepts them, and gays, and other less "Mainstream" oriented people in society, who are hurting nobody. I am not innocent. My parents are emotionally mortally wounded by the fact that I am not their son. But other than regarding this very issue: my gender, I hardly really ever lie. I do not cheat people, abuse people, am I really that bad a person? Surely, la heretique, bizarre, embittered and obsessed with finding answers hidden within the occult, I am the worst example of 'my kind.' But others are not like me. Some are even God fearing Christians who unlike me are nearly devoid of common vices.

Next: My name for our kind, and why it fits too well, for me at least... (edit: this post got delayed by an epic bad weekend described in the next two posts)
~Claudia

On recent times

2007-10-04T00:39:00.000-07:00

Greetings emptiness, Claudia again. I thought I'd continue this with a more thorough introduction of myself, or at least, of what's been going on in current affairs. Death. A friend of mine, a very dear friend of mine, is faced with the death of his lover, from cancer. She has maybe weeks to live, if that. She is my friend, and he has been my friend for a long time. I'm not honestly sure which is harder, saying goodbye to her, or seeing him in this state of being. Those of you who know me and did not know that, now you know what the catalyst was that sent me spiralling into the deeper bowls of my depression, there it is.

... but it is hardly the whole extent of it.

What manner of creature am I, that the easiest thing to do for me, is to simply sink within? Instead of thinking about my friends I guess its easier to wallow in my own misery, the misery of being in the wrong body. Maybe its just comfortable for me to feel pain I already understand.

I thought I'd more to say than that... another post coming later today but for now, Claudia signing off.

Burning Cocoons

2007-10-02T17:00:00.000-07:00

Hello annonymous void of the internet. I'm starting this blog as an experiment, and as a need to get things out of my system. I'm annonymous, most of the information I provided about myself is false, and the email I chose is only for this blog. Now that that's out of the way the following things about me are true:
I feel I am a woman in a mans body
I am 22 years old
I live with parents that do not approve of my desire to change my body, and so for the time being I am completely helpless...

I know i'm not the only transsexual in the world and I admit that I hope dearly this blog will reach out to somebody. That being said alot of this will be personal too. I cannot write professionally about only my condition, I will branch out into other things, as I am a complex person. (or at least I think I am) Also I have a few friends who will read this knowing who I am. Hopefully that will not comprimise my annonymity but, out of respect for them, and also because through me if I post any secret information about them, others will e able to deduct who I am talking about, even if they do not know me, so I cannot provide any secrets even if they are extremely relevant to the situation I live in and how others may relate. I hope anyone reading this can accept that... if anyone out there cares about this at all. This is not a peachy blog, and I'm going to rant, rave and complain and spew hatred out at the world. I am psychotically depressed IN ADDITION to the comorbidity of being transsexual, and I am searching as well for some form of spirituality, so this will branch into my bizzarre curiosity about the occult, and the hope that there is something more to this life. This is not for everyone, and it is certainly self absorbed... but I do earnestly and honestly hope that this reaches out to someone. That i can create a haven for others like myself to come to me or to each other and talk. This is a lonely world. ~Claudia

PS: Claudia is neither my real name nor the name I consider myself and hope to adopt. It is a name I like and my name on this blog, that is all. It is also the name of the little girl Vampire in Interview with the Vampire. I hope whoever you are reading this, you did not somehow get past that I am bi and trans, and nearly insane, only to turn away because I read Anne Rice novels...