I’m feeling… discouraged. I have a lot going on, and I’m exhausted… and discouraged.
But, in light of liking to find things to encourage me, I decided to humor myself and took a picture of myself today when I knew that I had taken a nearly identical picture when I was in St.Louis last… on Christmas. Today is 12 weeks on T for me, and while some changes have been slow and others more prominent, I love this pair of pictures.
The next 2 weeks are going to be intense. The majority of my personal relationships are going to have to reconcile the fact that I’m going to have a flat chest in September and everything that goes along with that.
So what exactly is that everything else that goes along with the surgery?
Well, I am having a 4 hour operation. It is a fairly low risk surgery, but I will go under general anesthesia and there are inherent risks in that. I’m also allergic to a lot of antibiotics, so I know that the first part of my recovery will likely be very itchy. I’m being as smart as I can about the medical aspects of the surgery. I’ve toiled over the choice of surgeon and have picked one who sends 99.95% of his patients home directly following the surgery and also patiently answered all of my questions. I am in good health and an all around ideal patient for surgery.
Immediately following the surgery I will have a period of recovery. This includes drains from the surgical site and about 3 weeks without a shower to ensure that the nipple grafts hold. I am an independent person, I do my own T shots, I own my own car, I support myself financially, and I live alone. I have had to acknowledge that for a period of time following the surgery I am going to loose this independence and be dependent on others. I am fortunate to have people in my life that know what this surgery means to me and are willing to pitch in with my after care. There is a sizeable FTM population in the Twin Cities from which I have made friends and I have several good friends through work that I already know I can count on to help me out. I also know that I have family and friends from out of town that will help out if I ask them to visit. On this trip to StLouis I’m going to be asking my parents to help with my surgical aftercare. It’s a scary thought for me to think that I will need help for a while, especially since there was someone I thought would be around to pitch in but now I’m just not sure. Is the fear of not being as independent as I’d like to be for a little while enough to stop me from having the surgery? Absolutely not.
Beyond the medical aspects of the surgery, there is a huge mental component that is coupled with the obvious physical transformation of my chest to a masculine chest. My life is going to be subtely different from the way I get dressed and shower to the way I sit. My life will be largely the same as before- my style of dress, the sports I play, the way I sleep in just my underwear, the work I do, my goals in life. How do I know this? I made the decision to transition because I was tired of my fear making my decisions for me. I wanted to live a life where I am happy with what I’m doing and don’t let something intimidate me or hold me back. I’ve always had the philosophy that my mental transition has to come before the physical one. I put off starting testosterone until a point where I knew that it flowed with my life instead of defining me. The timing for top surgery is in the same logic. There’s nothing I want to do now where I think “I’ll do it as soon as I have top surgery.” I am getting my PhD in chemistry, I’m playing softball, I’m trying to find someone to have a family with and spend the rest of my life with, and I’m living my day to day life with priorities that make me happy. I enjoy music, video games, weight lifting, cooking/eating, cuddling, and learning. Who I am is not going to change from the surgery, it won’t make me a better person, more of a man, or more attractive. It’s going to make me more comfortable in my own skin my eliminating anatomical dysphoria.
My emotions following the surgery are going to be on a wide range. I will have a sense of loss of my old chest- even though I don’t feel comfortable with it, it has still been a part of me for years. I will fee relieved not only that my chest is gone, but that the planning process is over and the finances have been worked out. I’m going to be happy, because I will have a peace in the ending of a long struggle with anxiety and discomfort with my feminine chest.
Beyond these emotions, I accept that I will have emotions that I can’t predict. I am not a reactionary person, I don’t let my emotions define my life. Sadness, anxiety, doubt, and fear are not emotions that hinder my life. Happiness, comfort, security, and hope are emotions that I use to drive my life.
I’ve had a couple interesting experiences this weekend that I thought I’d share.
I made it my goal to pick myself up out of my slump this weekend so that when I travel to St.Louis I can at least not be a pathetic mess. I put in the very last bit of emotional effort I had left with the girl I had been dating, trying to pull us back together. I’ve realized that I can’t do all the fighting and that I have been not taking care of myself at all as a result of the heartbreak. I didn’t notice that I wasn’t eating much until I nearly passed out in my research boss’ office, I didn’t notice that I haven’t been sleeping well until I physically could not lift myself out of bed after a 90min nap Friday, and I didn’t notice how long all this has been going on until I played softball abysmally today.
Fortunately, it’s the weekend of a GLBT softball tournament in the cities, so many teams from around the country have converged on my lovely hometown(s) for the memorial day weekend. This means that Friday night there was a big party downtown and Saturday/Sunday there are plenty of games for me to immerse myself in.
I took a friend (female, lesbian) with me to the opening party on Friday night- we figured it would be nice to chill and have a night out. When I was pre-T or even a few weeks on T, people would think that we were a couple… all the time. We accidentally cock-blocked each other, and it was pretty sad. She’s very sporty and while I think the idea of us as a couple is absolutely ridiculous (she’s awesome, just not my type and vice versa), everyone we would meet asked if we were together. Even when we were standing on opposite sides of the pool table from each other. At any rate, this time out was different. The party was predominantly male, and I was quite often read (/checked out) as a guy. Several times people felt me up to see what I had going on (while flattering, I got tired of it). Wrong team guys, sorry. Needless to say, the friend and I went for Taco Bell and to a more lesbian bar for dancing and a few games of pool.
I don’t intend to deceive anyone with my gender change. I am who I am, and if you ask me anything about myself, I’m generally not only honest but very blunt about it. That said, meeting a group of guys from the out-of-town team I’m playing for and not telling them that I’m trans has been nice. I would be seriously surprised if they haven’t noticed something is up, but it’s just not an issue. I am literally one of the guys, intense high-fives, butt slaps, and hollering in all. It is unfortunate that I’m so run down that I played abysmally today, but it was still a ton of fun.
I did come out to my team in one regard- one of the players, though I don’t know who, is apparently a straight guy. Some of the guys were talking about this, and one went “wait, who’s straight?” and since we’re all laying in the grass between games, I raise my hand. A couple quick glances, and the conversation continues. I thought about trying to explain that I’m not really straight, I’m just a guy that’s attracted to women and lived as a female for 20-something years and has a vagina, but I really just want to play softball.
Passing more from the effects of T has really shifted my world. I’m finally getting used to assuming that I pass. I’m going to enjoy the rest of the weekend, go to bed early and play some good ball.
Unrelated: trimmed my hair before my trip to St.Louis and my new glasses.
I’m not sure where to start, so I think I’m going to pretty much rewind to the beginning.
I met someone shortly (<2 weeks) after starting T. Our interactions were possibly been some of the easiest I’ve ever had, romantic or non-romantic relationship. She impresses me in so many ways, it’s safe to call her the girl of my dreams. I started dating because I knew I was finally sure of myself, a good man. This relationship made me want to be a great man.
I’m unapologetically transmale- I don’t fit any box and I live my life in a way that is comfortable to me. I am good to other people and hope that it good enough for them to be comfortable to live their lives around me. I’m not less of a person, just not the one anyone expects.
She seemed to get that I’m not a female but I’m not 100% male and never will be. My future is built on the past, and when it comes down to it I’m masculine-identified. It’s like someone took the butchest lesbian they could find and tossed her in the blender with a gay man. I don’t think I talked enough about my anatomical conflicts with her though. It’s easy to just understand someone’s personality by spending a lot of time with them, but to know their inner conflicts is a whole other story. I took for granted how good the changes from the testosterone felt, and how plainly visible the changes are from it- I didn’t have to talk about it.
From the get-go, she had offered that if she was still around in August that she wanted to help me out after my surgery. When it came time to have a surgery consult, I asked if she would go with me. At this point, I knew that she is a person that I want to spend the rest of my life with. At this point, I knew that it was important that we talk about my top surgery as it’s still a relatively new concept for her.
We had classic/normal relationship problems. I’m insensitive sometimes and say the wrong things, I accidentally hurt feelings. An ex from her past saw how happy we were together and decided that she wanted it for herself, and figured out what she needs to say to get her back. Imagine the person that broke your heart by not telling you what you needed to hear coming back and telling you exactly what you wanted to hear about 2-3 years too late. We got past that. She promised me that she wasn’t going to see this ex since she completely disrespected our established relationship and I wanted to rebuilt the trust.
Unfortunately, the idea of my top surgery freaked her out. Within 24 hours of my consult, she had all but stopped talking to me and broke the one promise she made to me. Is my top surgery actually the big problem here? I don’t think so. I think that my surgery is daunting and makes it hard to believe me when I say that I’m not going to break your heart, that I’m going to be treating you this well for a long time, and that I’m exactly the person I want to be and that’s not going to change. Fears based on past experiences are ingrained into us much deeper than fears based on something new.
I had a relationship of a significant length (nearly 5 years) prior to my transition, and I found out in the end that I just couldn’t make it work. We were very young (high school) when we got together, and the substantial amount of growing that we each did in high school and college meant that we weren’t the same people in the end. I ended up feeling defective, like me wanting to transition was something that meant that I couldn’t have a relationship. I was all in, ready to get engaged before we fell apart. That was one of those things that I had to work out before I started dating again. Past experiences, past fear.
My transition isn’t what is breaking the relationship. Us, being people, is what is breaking the relationship.
I’ve had severe dysphoria with my chest for so many years it’s hard to remember a time when it wasn’t something I had to deal with. In recent months I’ve all but mastered the art of pretending that I have a flat chest or reminding myself that I am on the road to surgery.
I am tired of being hunched over. I am tired of nearly dislocating my shoulders getting my binders on in the morning. I am tired of not being able to wear something because I can’t handle how it doesn’t hide my chest well that day. I am tired of taking my shirt off, and feeling like I haven’t gotten undressed because what I see isn’t mine. I’d love to go swimming this summer, no go. I’d love to go for a run and instead of wearing a binder not wearing a shirt at all, no go. I’d love to get out of the shower and wrap the towel around my waist, no go. I’ll be honest- I’d love to have sex when my mind isn’t freaking out that I have my shirt off, no go.
I made myself a promise to have surgery in August since I survived the year, and it’s happening. I have 2 surgeons to consider in the immediate area, and I’ll explain why I don’t want to travel:
I’m currently working on getting my insurance prior-authorization approved for surgery with Tholen, at which point in time I’ll obtain a medical loan for the lump sum minus the money I’ve saved up (that will more than cover my share of the surgery) to be able to pay it all up front and fight the insurance company for reimbursement after the surgery. Once I have prior-authorization, I’m scheduling surgery for August. There is plenty of other logistics to work out such as finding out how much of my family would like to come up here for the surgery, but many of the details can’t be worked out until the surgery is much less than ~73 days away (yes yes, I have a countdown).
It’s really happening. It’s going to be like Christmas in August.
I can handle day to day life. People look at me sideways, cashiers question my identity, I get female pronouns, I have to fight to be who I am. These people don’t know me, and their disrespect is constant and biting. I can handle this, I have been for the last so many years.
What makes me feel sick is when the people that I love treat me with less respect because of my gender identity. My situation is not an easy one, it is more complex than your average person in some ways. Why that gives my 18 yr old sister the right to avoid me and complain to my other sisters about my transition behind my back, I don’t know. Why that gave the-person-that-I-was-dating-until-she-ran-in-the-other-direction the right to break promises and cheat, I don’t know. Why that gives anyone that knows me as a PERSON the right to treat me like shit, I don’t know.
But that’s when it actually hurts. Day to day bullshit I can handle.
ps- I buy the star stickers for grading from Walmart, in the office supply section.
I’m in this time between with my name change. Because of how I worded the gender marker change, I’m waiting on my amended birth certificate before I can get a “male” drivers license…
but I’ve notified my student loan lenders, bank, credit card, the SSA, and my work.
Having credit cards with my name on them finally has been both a blessing and a curse. I was at the grocery store when the automatic checkout wanted a signature verification, and after greeting me as sir the checker asked to see my card. Awkward situation avoided. Of course at the airport trying to make changes to a flight I booked for Elizabeth (since my gov’t ID’s aren’t updated yet) and tried to make a purchase with my new credit card, the teller asked to see ID. Well, here’s my old credit card and the ID that matches it. When asked to show something that links the 2 cards, I nicely told him that I don’t have documentation that I’m a transgendered male and in the middle of my name change. He accepted my explanation of the truth, fortunately.
The majority of the cost of the name change was incurred by court fees, but I know that there will probably be more unexpected side costs. I’ll loose about $150/year more on car insurance once I have a male drivers license.
Filing fee: $320
Certified copies: $56
Birth certificate change: $45
(New drivers license $13.50)
The biggest part of the fight is over. The pros outweigh the cons. The relief from knowing that my life is actually becoming more simple when it comes to my name change is phenomenal.
I’m an optimist. I’m an optimist until it hurts. and then some.
At any rate, I’m also generally pretty positive- when things go downhill I try to stay facing up. I could find the silver lining in the cloud of soot above a coal-fueled power plant. Even if the glass isn’t half full, I’m just glad if it has something in it.
What’s awesome in my life right now?
I turned around, and realized that I’ve grown up into a man. I’m young and relatively inexperienced, but I’ve grown so much I can’t help but wonder when on earth it happened.
I started graduate school last August, and my life was a mess in an instant. My long-term girlfriend and I broke up- I had hoped we would be getting married in the foreseeable future. The pressures of grad school made ignoring gender identity problems impossible and I started to transition from female to male. I had few friends locally, and I felt truly isolated. So, I stood up on my own 2 feet.
Something happened… my sense of worth is so unrelated to any one thing, how much certain people like me, what awards I win, or the stuff I have. I’m impressed that I’ve survived. I’m happy that I enjoy the little things. I’m content that I’ve made this life my own.
I passed all of my classes, but the class I was that was taught by my research advisor didn’t go very well. If that wasn’t enough to have her severely disappointed in me, my research has been going abysmally. I went to grad school because I love doing research- the fact that my advisor is terrified that I’m failing to do my job because of my research is just short of devastating. I’m pushing forward. I didn’t just pass all those classes to give up.
I’m nervous about my finances for top surgery. I’d really like to use the better surgeon, but his policy of not dealing with insurance makes it much more difficult. Do I not already have enough on my plate?
The night of the final day of finals week, the person that I was dating told me that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be dating me (after an ex that had come back into the picture). Yeah, that’s how I celebrated finishing my graduate coursework. I know I said I was going to take some mental health days… safe to say that didn’t happen. For the last few days I had been fighting tooth and nail with the world to keep us together, and it came down to having to completely separate so that she can decide if I’m the one she wants.
Yeah, that sucks big time. Am I sad because I’m crazy about her? Yeah. Am I hurt as a result of the things I’ve found out and the waffling on a relationship that I was all in on? Yeah. Do I feel like I’m a failure as a person because another relationship has gone downhill or because someone that hurt her in the past is at least as desirable as me? No, not really. I am who I want to be.
There’s a lot going on in my life right now. I’m having to stunt my reactions to some things to handle the others. I’m making sure that I get my research done, but I’m not letting myself feel how much it sucks to watch the girl of my dreams walk away. I want her to be happy so badly that I can’t tell her that she should stay with me- it has to be all her own doing. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t kill me to let her go.
When I consider my response to how my life fell apart last year to everything that has been happening for the last week- I know, without a doubt, that I’ve grown up. I can act instead of react and hold myself up instead of breaking down. I see beyond today, to tomorrow.
Here’s to a brighter tomorrow. Or next week. Maybe not till July, but it can only get better from here.
Oddball Orbital Transformation: FTM 