Pride…

So, you don’t see the point of this day.

Homosexual people, bisexual people, transexual people are not prosecuted anymore for being as they are. They can be as anyone else. It is just that it would be nice if they didn’t kiss in public, because it is gross. And it can’t be called marriage, and it is bad for kids to have two parents of the same sex.

It’s a good day to talk about gay rights. Because it is okay to be a man and love men, or to be a woman and love women. It is good, as long as you have a clear choice and don’t want to love both.

It’s a good day to accept who you are. Specially transexuals. Because that stuff of changing their bodies with hormones and surgery is weird. They should just accept their bodies as everybody else.

So many labels. So many groups. I’d rather not define myself too rigidly. I’d rather not put limits to who can I love. We’re just humans, and we feel like humans, and we love humans. In the end is just that simple.

We all are more or less the same.

So, until we all don’t understand this clearly, I really do see the point of this day…

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Stop whining…

I’ve been looking back to my past for some days, and I’ve been feeling quite down.

I guess it is because I’ve been looking from a wrong perspective.

When I look back I can’t help but see that I was sad. It brings me down. So I don’t want to examine anymore the things I lived when I was a teenager, or when I went to the university. I already lived that. I know who I was. Reliving it, going all over again doesn’t add anything more to me.

Plus, it could have been much worse.

Sometimes I feel like I have missed my adolescence. That first love TV make us believe it is so perfect. Meeting a girl, falling in love, and learning that she feels the same for me.

Bullshit.

I imagine how it would have been if I were a cis woman. Well, probably I’d been isolated. It’s not that I am trans, I am also gay, and I didn’t feel I had a safe circle to go open. I might have been in the closet for a long time.

And I might have fallen in love with some girl, but the chances are that she would probably be straight, or worse, just wanting to experience something and then move on.

And look where I am now. I’m a transexual woman, I’ve fully accepted myself. I’m probably bisexual, lesbian for sure, and fucking happy with it. I can admit that there are some men that make me tender, and who might turn me on. I’ve learned that we like people, not genders, because genders don’t fucking exist. And I’m fucking okay with that. In fact, I love it.

I’m having a really easy transition. Yeah, I know this sounds difficult to understand, but it is true. Even though I’ve started a bit old, I’m good looking, since I was a bit androgynous to start with. I have no problem finding clothes because I’m not that wide. But I’m tall enough to look hot. And this is being fucking lucky. This is rolling a fucking die, and getting a six.

Sure, I’ve waited a long time, but I’ve also evaluated my environment. I’ve waited until I felt safe with my friends, with my colleagues. But then, I’ve got almost no negative responses. And, yeah, that is being fucking lucky.

I’m learning a lot, but then again, I’m fucking lucky to have the best friends, the best sisters who have talked a lot with me, and made me thought. I feel loved, and I feel invincible when I feel so much love. I’m so fucking lucky…

So, let’s stop whining.

Yes, most of my life has pretty much sucked. Just like many other peoples’ lives. Not worse, nor better. When it sucks, it sucks. I won’t ever be able to understand the pain others have felt, but I’m lucky that I’ve suffered my own share of it; and I’m lucky to have realised that it was not all my fault. When I couldn’t focus in my work these past years, I felt it was my fault, because I could have worked harder. When I had to suffer a lot to get my degree, I thought it was my fault, because I could have studied more.

We stupid humans have a tendency to think that the good things we have are exclusively because of our merits, and so we think that people who have problems is because of their mistakes. Virtue and sin both have their rewards, and if we’re unhappy, it’s only ourselves to blame.

I can’t deny that sometimes it is true, that sometimes we manage to screw up our lives really bad. But most of the time it is a fucking lottery, from the moment we are born. And when things go wrong, because we are born in a closet, or because our parents tell us we’re stupid for no reason, it’s really hard to look up, because we’re deep in our own dung. And people will tell us that we’re not happy because we’re not trying hard enough, that we’re unhappy because of our own faults.

But life is a lottery. We get some good things, and we get some bad things. I got good parents. I got some good qualities (let’s say, some good stats!). And I got a big difficulty to overcome. Just one. And I’m coping with it. I’ve make a nice lot of mistakes. And I tried very hard not to harm anybody. And sometimes, when I wasn’t as good as I felt I could be, it was not completely my fault.

All in all, I see now that have no regrets about my life.

So I’m going to stop whining, because I’m so fucking lucky…

Just like you…

Sometimes I have this weird feeling.

Sometimes I have this feeling of being completely different to everyone else.

I have this need to talk, to connect with people. But my stories are so different… I just want to be the same as you are, but I’m not.

When I try to explain, some people think that this is something huge. For me, it wasn’t. It was the only exit. The only thing I did was being myself. I just was scared to do it.

I feel that, no matter what I do, I’ll be alone. A lot of people will say that what I did was brave. But it wasn’t. I am fighting to earn my right to be myself. You just had that granted. I just want to be like you, I just want to have what you have. No less, no more. And definitely no, it doesn’t taste better when you have to earn it.

I feel alien. I feel like a 35-year-old child. I’m so excited about my first time doing things I’ve already done in my life, when I do them as a woman. And at the same time I feel it is sad that this is the first time I’m able to do those things as myself.

I just want to be loved. I just want to be hugged. Because I have the feeling that all the love that was destined to me got stuck in my outer appearance. I know it’s not true, I know that it was meant for me. But I can’t help but feel that it wasn’t.

I am somehow still a virgin. I can’t enjoy sex with these genitals. And when I get surgery, I might lose all sensitivity. I might never experience sex as normal people do.

And my body is weird. Right now, I’m no man, I’m no woman. I’m something in between. The taste of progress is quite a bitter-sweet taste. I love the changes that already happen, but I fear just getting stuck at this point.

I don’t want to be weird. I don’t want to be strange. I just want to be like other people are.

I don’t want to ever be different again.

And yet, I’ll forever be.

Advice to my old self, pt. 2…

So, you’re going to transition.

I warn you. It is going to be very hard.

And the hardest part is going to be when you talk about it to your girl.

She won’t accept it at the beginning, but that’s okay. You can’t do anything about it. Just give her time.

Don’t ever leave her. That is her decision to do. But your decision is to always be there. Don’t ever leave her, because she loves you.

I know that you love her more than anything, but when you tell her, you will hurt her. You will make her cry, and she will be really hurt. And you will have some difficult talk to do. And you both will cry a lot. But don’t you ever, never, leave her.

It will be very hard. So hard that you will sometimes think of breaking up. Just don’t.

Someday you will tell some friends about this. Try not to, because your friends don’t deserve that load of pain. Try to keep it shut. Some people will choose sides. Some people will understand. But in the end it is you, you and only you who has to walk this path. And you will make your choices. So, better keep all of this to yourself. Gather all the strength you are capable of. Because your choice is done. Don’t leave her.

I know you’ll try to protect her. You will try not to dress in women’s clothes when she’s around. You’ll try not to talk the subject. It’s okay. But it is better that you put this in the open as soon as possible. Not in a drastic way. Be careful. Be tender. You’re like this, but it doesn’t imply that a decision must be made right now. Let her know you. She will like you. Have faith in her. She loves you so much that you cannot imagine it.

Just show her who you are. And just show her how much you love her.

And in the end, you’ll both be happy, because you’ll be together. And you both will know that your love is strong.

But you won’t ever leave behind the guilt of having hurt her then.

Body…

Today I don’t feel quite positive.

I’ve been on hormones now for four months, and my body is beginning to change. My waist is a bit more slender, my hair is growing stronger than ever, and my face is now very feminine. My breasts are beginning to develop, but they’re not quite big, and my hips are quite the same as they were before starting the treatment.

Some people tell me that there is nothing to worry about, that lots of women have tiny breasts, and narrow hips. But that thought doesn’t help me at all.

Even though I love my face right now, my body is still very masculine. Not as masculine as it was, that’s right, but still too much.

Hormones take a long time to do their full effect. They can take as long as ten years. That is something common for genetic women, who start developing around ten years old, and by when they’re twenty they have a feminine body.

I’m thirty-five now, and I’m in the same stage as a ten year old girl. The changes might be finished when I’m forty-five. And I’m old, and I’ve had testosterone in my body for a long time, so I fear the effect is diminished.

I know I must be patient. But this is how I feel today.

And with all these worries, I still don’t regret a bit of being doing this.

Smudges…

I was at the office last week, writing some notes in a notebook. I’m left handed, and if I don’t write with a lot of care, I end up with all the text smeared, and my hand full of ink.

So I thought that if I turned the notebook a quarter of circle to the right, so that the top of the pages was actually to the right, and if I wrote from top to bottom, I would be able to write without stains. I started trying that, and I realised that I’d have to learn to write again, now drawing the letters with different gestures.

It’s just a stupid thing, but it reminded me of how many things I’ve been taught that I’ll have to rework.