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The First Appointment

For those of you following the blog to figure out how to be trans and the hoops you need to jump through…Here’s the boring first day.

They walk you through what will happen over time. In my case, we skimmed over that surgery would be in the Los Angeles area, because they have the most experience (I live in San Diego county). We talked a little about the options of Testosterone and how much they would cost with my insurance. We scheduled my next appointment, which is due to be 90 minutes long, full of a lot of questions I need to answer. We talked a lot about me, my past, how I decided this was right for me…kind of a getting to know you day.

Because remember if you don’t like your therapist…GET ANOTHER ONE. No matter WHAT you are seeing a professional for! If you don’t like them ASK FOR LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE.

I like my therapist- she’s recently trained to work with the transgendered clients, and I’m one of her first patients. So, I will be learning as she learns as well. I’m okay with this- others might want someone more experienced. I think it’ll be fun for us both to learn and ask questions.

Next appointment is January 30th! So you’ll probably here from me around then. :D

(Mind you, my appointments are REALLY few and far between because..there’s…like three therapists at my Kaiser who are qualified to work with Transgender. It’s hard on them too, until they train more people.)

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Wild Ride

Hoo boy, where do I begin?

I was due to be married December 18th. Past tense. My ex fiancee` and I decided to break up. We’re still friends, but it doesn’t hurt any less…

We simply grew up and because of that, apart. Romantically, we’re not compatible. We don’t have a lot in common any more. And, because of a series of very unfortunate circumstances, our relationship became abusive without our even realizing it. It frightens us both and is sad to know it got this way without either of us realizing what happened.

It happened right before that appointment I told you guys about. Literally the day before. My therapist was really shocked and kind of concerned that I was taking it so well.

I’m not really taking it well. Humor is my defense mechanism and I know how to bury my emotions really well so that I don’t feel them. I cried a lot as the break up happened, because I didn’t want it to be true. But every hour after that, I rationalized it and logically…it all made sense. There’s still a hole in my heart, and I miss her like crazy…but it makes sense why everything happened.

And, it was a very tough choice to make so close to the wedding. I admire her bravery and honesty to break things off before the wedding.

So, despite the sadness, this does make me kind of excited. The next time I’m in a relationship? I’m hoping to be on T and have gone through top surgery. I want my next partner to know who I am. I mean…I won’t argue if it feels right to have someone in my life WHILE I’m changing…I figure it’d just be easier to have the bulk of it out of the way.

I wonder where life will take me now.

 

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Being Active

Okay. I’m not thin, but I’m not super big either. But I’m confident…had I just been born a male…I’d have some cute little moobs.

Which I really don’t want. If you think about it, I’ve had moobs since…5th grade. Thanks early puberty. I’m kinda over it. When I get top surgery…I want to look good and natural.

Imma make heads turn, damn it.

But I’m a lazy gamer. (ノ-_-)ノ Ugh.

I’m also a fan of NOT cooking.

Aside from not wanting moobs, my other motivation is to start my own official Quidditch team! There are none in my area! It’s really fun to play. I’ve only played it with 3-4th graders, haha.

So…I’m trying to eat better. There are things I can eat that aren’t Taco Bell and require no cooking…I just have to actually eat them.

Having no sense of smell, therefore flavor makes this easier…and harder as well.

BUT REALLY. I’m doing Boxing. And I love it. I love the shit out of it you guys. I joined a UFC gym after a free Boxing conditioning class and I don’t regret it at all. It’s motivated me to be active, to think about my health, and to get on a consist workout regime…otherwise those conditioning classes are gonna WHOOP my ass. And I don’t like being the slowest in the class. It holds me accountable and motivates me to be better than when I started.

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و  Wish me luck as I strive to attain my super attractive male body!

8

Coming Out Continues

I’m hosting a game on Facebook that no one is quite sure I’m playing. I’m leaving hints. Any posts I make are all related to Female -> Male. I’m enjoying myself, and that’s all that matters. Mostly close friends all know now.

Family however is TRICKY.

I had to come out to my biological dad over Facebook. We’re not always on good terms. I could really care less about what he thinks or does…but the saint that is my betrothed is forcing me to stay civil. So, for the wedding, I decided it would be good for him and that part of my family to know who I am.

There are many ways and words I could use to describe my dad. Supportive is not one of them. However he is strong. While he did take it upon himself to kidnap my brother and I and lie to the court about my mom’s capabilities of being able to care for us after the divorce was finalized…he was able to support us. He took the responsibility of raising us and we were fed, clothed, and had a roof over our head.

Most of the time, we lived with family. Most of the time, it wasn’t food that was healthy for us. We never saw our dad because he worked to pay back the family that was helping us survive. But he got the job done. But when you raise a child, it’s not as easy as The Sims needs meters…There’s a SOCIAL aspect too.

 

**EDIT: At this point I went on a rant and deleted it. This wasn’t meant for me to gripe and bitch about how I don’t like him, however true that may be. Here are the FACTS.

  • I had restrictions on the color choices and gender of clothing.
    • No boxers, despite the fact I got and wore them anyways
    • No black clothes, because it implied I was Satanic and/or depressed (ACCORDING TO THE SCHOOL whom informed my parents of their assumptions)
    • More blouses, less T-shirts, and less/no choice of what the clothes looked like.
  • No attempt at communication
    • Dad set up a therapy appointment to find out what “makes [me] tick”. Instead of listening and trying to understand. Because he spends more time telling me his expectations than caring about what I think of those expectations
    • Due to frequent moves across the united states because my dad wanted to desperately to raise us, I have the social adequacy of a slice of bacon in the middle of a vegan restaurant.
      • Basically, if you want to know how I’m feeling you have to drill and ask questions and be fucking relentless. Otherwise I will answer you “Great!” “Fine!” “Not much!”. I share my feelings with no one. Not even my Cutie waifu.
  • No physical presence
    • Even if he was a communication expert, the fact is he was never at home and always at work.
    • Time spent together was usually me being scolded for:
      • Not cleaning something, complaining about my step-brothers for a NUMBER of things, being online/computer, something I wrote to a friend in a private note stashed under my bed…

I wish I could be making the last set of bullets up. But these are most of the memories I have with my dad are him or step-mom being angry at me for not being adult enough. I was 16 when I moved out. From what I can remember, these behaviors started when I was probably 12. I was just…expected to be an adult because they weren’t around/at home as much as I was.

So. Needless to say. Things got a LOT better when I moved out. My life did a 180, I learned how to be responsible and to be held accountable at my level of competency. I was responsible for the same things a 16 year old should be responsible for. I hated it. I was tired of being an adult. But it helped me grow. It helped put me where I am today. It also gave my dad a lot of time to reflect…on me being a lesbian. *cough*

Some point after not talking to him for…years. We talked over Facebook and we built a little bridge. It’s a flimsy bridge on my end at least. But at least he was willing to try and understand. Even if I know he doesn’t like it. Which is still hurtful.

I didn’t want him to come to my wedding and expect me to be something that I’m not. I’m not wearing a dress. I’m not a girl. I’m not his daughter. He’s not walking me down the aisle or having a dance with me. I know this hurts because I’m the only girl among my siblings. But it’s hard for me to lie to my family. So I told him in the NICEST POSSIBLE WAY…that I’m trans.

That was a little over a week ago. My step-mom, who has been more supportive than my dad and more so since I’ve left home, sent me a message a day after saying that she supports me and dad is coping with it.

I am not surprised or upset.

I feel like people think I should be, but my relationship with my dad isn’t strong enough for me to care much more than just being nice to him over Facebook. He made sure I didn’t die and taught me how to be an adult starting first grade when my parents divorced. If he’s accepting, I’d be shocked. I may build a stronger bridge. If he avoids it and doesn’t come out for the wedding? I won’t be surprised or upset. Because that’s what he’s taught me to expect from him. He’s not a part of my life. And the moment he’s finally out, I can stop addressing my step-dad by his name…I try not to, but sometimes I feel that I have to clarify…

(Fun fact, to show their support, my mom and stepdad watched a lot of LOGO tv and Big Gay Sketch Show…I love them.)

I’ll keep you posted on how my dad responds. If he does. We’ll see.

 

Expectations are set low so I’ll either be pleasantly surprised…or things will go as I expect.

0

Weddings and Coming Out (Again!)

Because life keeps putting me back into a new closet these days.

No, Kaiser still hasn’t gotten back to me. This therapist better give me my T when I walk in, because goddamn are they hard to get a hold of.

So, you may or may not know, I’m getting married to this cute girl I met in high school. (Seriously, she’s so cute and I don’t deserve this happiness. Like. What did I do.)

It has been a big deal for the Mothership, ever since we announced it, for me to wear…a dress.

A DRESS.

At the time, I shrugged it off. Sure, whatever. It’s one day, I can wear a dress. HOWEVER. The more time and energy and thought I put into being male…the more certain I became about wearing that suit. I have already bought the dress, too (and there’s no returns. UGH.).

But this all means I had to tell my mom. I didn’t wear a dress to prom. I hate wearing girly clothes. And for all that my mother has done for me, I felt obligated to wear the silly dress. But. That silly dress causes me a lot of stress and discomfort. I knew that I had to tell her, I’m not saying yes to the dress.

So I tried. I pushed it. But I couldn’t push forward more than, “I’ll wear the dress for the ceremony and the suit for the reception.” Because I didn’t want to make her sad. I love my mother, you guys. She’s done so, so, soooo much for me. If she did not take me in? I wouldn’t have met this cute girl or made such cool friends, or even, very realistically, be alive. I couldn’t shatter her dream. So I compromised.

Lucky me, that cute fiancee of mine talked to her today and informed my mom I will not be wearing the dress. That was a great weight lifted from my shoulders! The Mothership knows! She’s not sad!

At least as far as I can tell. She does the same thing I do and we repress our outward emotion and focus on something else. Like the laptop or TV or Phone.

My Fiancee paved the way for me to come out to my mom. I want to dance with my mom for the mother son dance. I love my step-dad and all, but I’d really want to dance with her. Especially in my suit, looking dapper, and (fucking Kaiser) on T.

I have come out twice to my father. Twice because he wrote the first time off as a phase and me seeking attention. I had come out as a lesbian, because I didn’t know what else I was or could be. Dad was quick to shut me down and make me hide everything. Needless to say, I was not intending to have to come out again in my life time after my family knew what was going on.

Telling my mom I was trans was both difficult and relieving. It went very well, as far as coming out stories go, and she seems to like the name I’ve picked.

I’ll tell you now, my middle name is/will be James. She looked me dead in the eyes and said “JAMES. POTTER.” And I just smiled and nodded.
“Hell yea.”

My brother knows. My mom knows. My step dad would know if he hadn’t slipped off to bed so suddenly…(I told my mom she’s free to tell him because I don’t particularly ENJOY coming out). But the rest of my family doesn’t know.

That’s fine with me. And I CERTAINLY don’t expect any of them to start pronouns or name changes…or even if they did, I totally understand that they’re going to mess it up a lot.

My mom can’t even remember that I can’t smell. From an accident. That probably could have killed me. I’m not gonna hold anything against her.

So yes. Wedding is just around the corner and I’m wearing this super sexy grey suit with an ivory shirt and vest, with purple pocket squares! Stoked!! It makes up for the fact that my birth name will be on a lot of things…but we’re trying to keep names off of things. :)

(Also, sorry if this post is a train wreck, I hate rereading what I write. So grammar and typos and what not are just going to have to be there. I don’t careeeee~)