How does it feel like…

This is another rant. If you don’t want to hear me complain, please go somewhere else.

I’ve been asked recently why I am not happy yet. Some people tell me they’re worried because they thought transitioning would make me happy. I’ve achieved a lot of progress, I should be happy by now, trying to enjoy my life as much as I can.

I should be positive, not negative.

The unexpected thing is… I’m trying to enjoy my life!

I’m feeling better than ever. I can concentrate, and I feel smart again. I am not bothered by that male libido I had, so I can focus on sex when I want to (and I can’t stress how much easier this does make the whole transition process). I look good, and I like how clothes fit me.

The truth is, it is not that easy to be happy. At least, for me.

I’ve grown up without anything I could like. I didn’t have my body. I couldn’t wear clothes that I liked. I couldn’t attract the women I liked, only some heterosexual women who wanted quick compromise and lots of kids, and their men to be manly men.

The only thing I could do was study. And then, work.

Now I’m achieving things. I’m almost granted authorisation for changing my documentation. I can wear whatever I like. And people don’t tell me that I should behave more like men did, and people congratulate me for this.

People say I’m doing great because I can get my ID card with my own name. People say I’m doing great because I can go to a shop and grab a dress. Really.

And I feel belittled. I don’t feel happy about this any more. Because these are things I should have been able to do every fucking day of my life. I’m just claiming back the same rights everyone has, and I didn’t.

I say this, and people get defensive: Not all the people can do what they want in life. Ok, granted. But me neither. I have to work, I have to pay rent and bills, I have responsibilities and duties. I don’t want anything but the same as everybody else.

And I complain, because it is unfair. Because these things are not achievements, they’re just extra efforts to put me at the same level as everyone else.

Ok, yes, but there are blind people, for instance. Or people with disabilities, who have to do some extra effort to achieve the same. Okay, that is true.

The problem is, I’m not disabled. I’m a fully functional person with all my senses and abilities working. I’m not ill. I’ve got just the same possibilities than any healthy person in my environment.

My problem is not me. My problem are the social structures in which I’ve been raised. My problem is that, by putting me in an environment in which I had to bear a wrong tag (many wrong tags, actually), by educating me according to those wrong tags, by telling me I had to act according to those, I couldn’t live. My problem is nothing but this load of crap called society.

So, please, don’t tell me I’m achieving great things. I’m not. I’m just getting what is mine, what is granted to everybody else but people like me.

And don’t tell me I have to accept that I was born with a problem. No, I’m afraid I have no problem. The problem is this ship that doesn’t accept all passengers as they are.

So please, please, if you’re just going to ask me why do I feel bitter, please don’t.

If you’re going to tell me that I should be grateful, don’t.

And if you’re going to tell me why I can’t be happy, please don’t. And think a bit.

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This is about me…

Warning: This is a rant. It is not going to be a pleasant post. It’s not going to be about how well it’s going my transition, and how happy I am. So if you don’t feel like reading my complaints, please don’t read on.

Transition sucks. Especially at this point. And I’m not happy.

Yes, I know I’m making lots of progress. I’m really close to be able to change my documents, and I’m really close to have my SRS. But I’m not happy, and I’m not hopeful.

I’m sad.

And I’m sad because I feel my body has stopped changing. My breasts grew a bit, but they don’t hurt now, they don’t feel swollen anymore. My ass is certainly a bit rounder, but my hips won’t grow, they won’t become wider. And my hair seems to be stuck. Some new hair grew, but not enough to cover my temples.

I’m not saying I am horrible. I look good. I look much better that I did at the beginning, or even before. I feel better with my body than I’ve ever felt before. What I’m saying is, when I get home and I remove all the padding I wear, in the bra and rear, I look at myself in the mirror and what I see is a man’s body.

I see a man because I don’t have hips. I see a man because I see broad shoulders. I see a man because my breasts could be taken for pectoral muscles. I see a man because I see a penis.

I’m afraid. I started my transition at this point because this was the only moment in my life I could dare to do it. I had the right environment, I had savings, I had a job in which I could dare to do it. I was, at last, living on my own. And I could take this decision.

Also I started because it felt right. I didn’t have the chance not to grow as a man. I didn’t have the chance to stop my puberty. And what I saw around, the transexual women I saw, in the media, were not role models for me. I didn’t want to become like them. I just wanted to be a woman. Because of this, because of my own fears, because of my self-rejection as a lesbian transexual woman, I didn’t step up then.

When I started this, it was my last chance to do it. It was my last chance to try to be something close to happy in my life.

And now I see that my body is a man’s body, still. I still will be patient, and let hormones do their work. But my hopes aren’t no longer high. I know that I’m going to have lots of surgery to have a body in which I can feel comfortable. I will have to put implants in my tits and in my buttocks. I’m already scheduled for my SRS. Hormones only work fine during puberty, and mine is a long time past.

It’s okay, I will save more money, and I will look for the best surgeons I can afford. I’m not defeated. I’ll have a body I’m comfortable in. A body that looks as it is, without paddings or tricks. I don’t care about the money, and I don’t care about the pain.

I know my transition is the path I should walk. I don’t regret anything. But right now my transition leads to a barren tree which can yield no fruit. I feel hopeless. And I feel alone, because I can’t talk about this to anybody without having to listen to lots of comments about how I should learn to accept myself, about beauty models, and about women having different bodies, and all that things.

I feel tired, and I feel alone. I feel tired because transition is not easy. It’s a lot of effort. And yes, it has paid so far, but I’d love it to be over, so I can just rest, and enjoy. And I feel alone because I can’t speak about it without the comments of my not trying hard enough to accept myself. I’m trying. But it’s so hard when the only thing you really long for in this life is being someone I can like.

Yes, the only thing I really wish for is being a woman, who looks like a woman, who feels like a woman.

And I still have a man’s body. And I feel I’m stuck in my male body, and that the only chance to change it is long gone. And I’m trying to accept myself, and people ask me why am I not happy yet. And they tell me that I ask for too much and that I should accept what I got. Well, if I could do that in the first place, I wouldn’t have started transitioning.

I just want to have this body all the time, not just when I put on all the padding to go out. Because here inside, at home, when I’m alone, I’m still stuck with my male body.

Not alone…

Today a friend sent me this article.

It is something I could have written myself. I feel completely represented in each point. But I’d like to point two of them.

First, microagressions.

Yes, it happens. I’ve talked about it with my friends, and some people don’t seem to understand why I feel uncomfortable when somebody points out that I must be very brave to be doing this, or that I’ve got a lot of luck because I keep my job, my friends, my family and my girlfriend.

I know that I must accept the world as it is, because doing otherwise is a perfect recipe for frustration and sadness. And in the meantime I keep the hope to help changing it a little bit. But still, it hurts to be reminded that I’m lucky, because my luck consists in not having suffered the problems lots of trans girls have to suffer. I’m not lucky because something good happened, I’m lucky because something bad didn’t.

And since those bad things that could have happened didn’t depend on me, but on others, this gives me a pretty good perspective of how life is. I am okay because the world around me gives me permission to. I am fine because I am allowed to.

No, this is not a comforting thought. I’m trying very hard to be happy, by doing lots of things, by exploring all the things I love, and by showing lots of courage. As much courage as I am capable of. And still I’m fine because now the prejudices against people like me are weaker.

And second, the transition does not fix everything.

But hell, it gives you a nice starting point.

Because of the transition, I’ve been able to start speaking about myself, instead of hiding. I’ve been able to start telling my friends how I feel, and what I like. And I’ve got lots of advice, support and love.

I’ve learnt a lot, both from talking to friends and from reading things they suggested to me. I’ve talked, talked, talked, and I’ve expressed my feelings.

I’ve been able to become emotional, to connect with people.

I’ve been able to start learning how to put my head in order. And I have found that I could focus better than I did before. I have still to learn how to cope with depression and anxiety, but right now I’m doing better than before. (Hint, having your own place to be yourself helps a lot)

And I’ve been able to perform better at my job, to start playing guitar in a regular basis and see some progress, to think about what I want to do with my life. I’m thinking about projects, about studies, about doing things.

And I’m thinking about sex and kink. Now I can picture how I want my life to be, and I’m working so that I can some day have it.

It is a huge lot of work, and sometimes I just get tired, sad, and I feel I won’t be able to do it. But I’m doing it, step by step. I just wish I would have been able to start a lot before, but I’ve started already, and I’m completing stages at full speed.

Still, it hurts a bit when people seem disappointed because I’m not as happy as I’d like to be yet. No, I am not. Because transition is not magic. It is just a starting point.

I got some relief from reading that article, mostly because I don’t have a script for this. It feels reassuring to see that somebody who is one year ahead of me in her transition feels what I feel, that my views on the world I’ve just discovered aren’t too warped. It shows me that I’m not doing it wrong, just that the world is this strange and unwelcoming place to live in. But I’m coping with it.

I can cope with it.

Just as good…

I’ve been feeling lately a bit of anxiety.

I’ve been a bit needy with my friends. I’ve looked for contact, for conversation more intently than before. I’ve felt sometimes like I didn’t belong. And I’ve had quite a lot of fear of losing my friends.

All because I’ve been feeling small, childish, immature, inadequate, unexperienced.

Today a friend made me notice this was not healthy, because it causes an imbalance in the relationships.

It does. Because if I feel so inferior, I’m not a friend, I’m an admirer or something. I can’t offer my friendship in equal terms, I offer it because I feel it is the only way I’ll get somebody to appreciate me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this today.

It’s been just me the one who has messed all this up. I could possibly come up with some reasons why I did it. But I don’t care about that now. I want to fix it.

Because if I don’t fix it, I’m bound to relive the past. Because I’ve just come out of the closet and started living as myself, showing myself to the world. In all these years I’ve spent feeling ashamed of myself I’ve developed lots of bad habits when I deal with people. Because I’ve never put myself in a position of equality with the rest of the world.

And thus, I’ve tolerated being bullied at work. And I’ve tolerated being belittled and humiliated in two relationships I had. And I’ve pushed myself to my own limits just to buy love.

Even worse, my worse bully was me. I’ve had this feeling of guilt whenever I masturbated looking at whatever I liked, whenever I dressed up like a girl, whenever I’ve seen something I wasn’t supposed to like but I did. There I was, with my whip of guilt, causing myself pain.

And this is not healthy. This is bad for me, and for the people around me.

I am what I am. And I’m fine with that. I deserve love for my own sake, because I’m a good person. As good as anyone can be.

I’m going to teach myself to feel great. To not feel shame for being what I am, for liking what I like or for having had the past I’ve had.

I’m a great person. And I’m not going to accept less than that when I deal with people. I’m not going to beg for love. I’m not going to fear somebody leaving me, or not liking me. I’m not going to look for external validation, because so far I’ve got most of my life right on my own. And I’m going to not look for consolation or pity, because I’m not some poor creature that deserves it.

This is going to be a huge change. Even bigger than the physical transition, because I have these habits very thoroughly learned. And I’m going to have relapses, that’s going to happen because I have to unlearn a lot, and learn another lot. I don’t even know if I’m going to succeed in the long run. But I have got to try.

And I’m going to be okay.

Genitatorship…

So, you tell me that I should accept my own body. And since I was born with four inches of meat between my legs, I am a man.

So, you tell me that I don’t have the right of wearing the clothes I like; that I don’t get to choose those clothes because I have these little four inches of meat between my legs.

So, you tell me that I don’t have the right of going by the name I choose; that I can’t choose that name because I have already a name that goes okay with these little four inches of meat between my legs.

So, you tell me that I don’t have the right of having the external appearance that I like, because then other people might not know that I have these little four inches of meat between my legs.

So, you tell me that I don’t have the right to have sex the way I prefer, because I should just be happy with these little four inches of meat between my legs.

So, you tell me that it is not fair that I ask other people to treat me as the person I am, because the person I actually am is defined by those little inches of meat between my legs.

So, you tell me that I should not take sex hormones that make me feel in peace, and that make my body look good for me, because the only sex hormones I’m allowed to have are those secreted by those four little inches of meat between my legs.

So, you tell me that the appearance I have should be an extrapolation of my penis; that the way I behave should leave no doubt of the existance of my penis; that the name I go by should be chosen according to my penis; that the way I have sex should be according to my penis; that the chemistry that moves my own brain should be the one that’s decided by my penis.

So I guess you think people are just something like a wart that’s grown upon their own genitals.