Vulnerable…

When you think you’ve occupied your space; when you think you’re comfortable in your world, something happens. And you feel vulnerable again.

And it doesn’t need to be something big.

Yesterday I was walking home from work. I had my plans for the evening in my mind. Having a quick meal, then a short nap, and then start working out again.

As I was opening the building door, the owner of the sushi bar passed by. Some years ago, girlfriend and I were quite adept to this sushi bar. We’d order sushi at least once a week, and the people there would treat us very warmly and politely. We liked that place.

But as I transitioned, as I removed my beard, I grew more and more reserved. I felt uneasy outside, especially at those places where I was known. People could notice me changing, and sometimes they were puzzled.

This was the case at the sushi bar. They started making comments about my skin, about how soft it was becoming. Maybe it was just politeness, but I felt uncomfortable. So, in the end, we stopped going there.

Yesterday, the owner of the place passed by, and I don’t know why, but I said “hello”. And he recognized me.

So, he greeted me.

He was quite effusive, as he used to be. “Hello, Mister!”, he said. And, in the middle of the street, not knowing who was around, I explained him that I was not a “mister” any more, that I was rather a “miss”.

For me, this was too much to handle at the moment. I must say that he remained polite at every moment, and that he seemed to understand. He does not speak the local language quite fluently, so this made all the scene a bit more awkward. But I guess he understood, because he said that I looked pretty. We shook hands, and said goodbye.

I entered my apartment all cold and shaky. I guess it is normal. We have levels of acquaintances. We have relatives, and closer or distant friends, and then we have people who are just there. And transsexualism is a difficult matter. It always is.

It is a difficult matter because it is controversial. People they take positions about it, even when they shouldn’t. And the problem is that you cannot hide that you are a transsexual person, unless you pass.

I usually pass. I don’t raise quite a lot of suspicion. And it is quite likely that, if I hadn’t said “hello”, this would not have happened. But he recognized me, and then I felt exposed, and forced to talk with someone who is not so close about something that is quite intimate for me; something that is such a delicate matter, and that may cause many people to immediately take position against me.

I felt naked and vulnerable. Probably if I had had the chance to talk about this in a more relaxed way, in a safer place… It would not have felt more comfortable, but at least I would’t have felt so naked.

I don’t see bad intention here, however. This man was just greeting some person he had recognized. He was just being polite.

Maybe it is time to return to the sushi bar, and face my own fears…

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Symmetry…

Sometimes I feel that the easy thing to do would be starting my life over again.

I know that my transition is going well, that I have no health problems and that almost everybody is fine with this. I know I’m having one of the easiest transitions I know of, and I’m lucky for that. And I also know that I should be grateful for this and stop complaining.

The thing is, sometimes it’s hard to feel so good even when the sun shines and everything is so fine. And I feel a bit guilty about this.

I think I can count a lot of friends now. I’ve met most of them in the last five years, and many come by the hand of my partner. And yet, we have already a background.

We’ve shared events, places, anecdotes already. They have formed an image of me, based in these years’ experiences. They have an idea of what I like, what I dislike and what is it to be expected from me.

And most of that stuff is plainly wrong, because I never talked about what I really liked, or disliked. I’ve missed things I would have loved on purpose, because I didn’t want to be there as a boy. The feeling of not being able to enjoy those things as a boy was too hard on me, so I preserved my feelings. I’ve deflected a lot.

And I retained the geeky, nerdy stuff and the absurd humour, because it was a safe ground.

So, in the end, I know a lot of people, and I know they have a friend on me. I feel that way, because I (more or less) know them, because they were not deflecting. So I can love them as they are, and I can think of ways of making them happy. Maybe I’m wrong, though.

But I have this strong feeling that they don’t know me at all.

A gender transition has many, many hard obstacles to overcome. The first and more obvious is the looks, the being able of going out as a girl, maybe pass (or not), and be able to be comfortable in public. Okay, check.

Then I feel there is all this stuff of being happy with one’s life. This part of trying to cope with your old crap, and not crumble. I’m at this point.

Because I can’t recall a happy memory from the past, one happy moment with my friends, without thinking that I wasn’t really happy then. I just looked happy. And maybe in that moment I was oblivious to my feelings, but they were still there. Each time somebody calls me by my old name, it hurts a bit, because it reminds me that maybe this person doesn’t know me that well.

And I have this bunch of memories of moments that I had to hid myself the hard way, to bit my lip and say “meh…” to something I really loved. Sometimes there were things I wanted to ask a thousand questions about, and I had to just look away. I wanted to enjoy those things, but not that way.

I’m so different from the person my friends know…

I have just a few friends who I’ve met in the last months. I feel different with them. They won’t say my old name, because I’ve always gone by my new name. We have few memories from the past yet, but all those moments don’t hurt when I remember them. I can talk with them about my past life, because they just accept that it was me, trapped in a male body. With them I’ve always been a woman. With them I’ve never hidden the things I like.

With all the rest, I’ve got this need to talk. To talk a lot, for hours, so that they can know who I am. And it feels selfish to me, because I’m asking for the same effort twice. But that person they know, it wasn’t me. Still, I can’t change that perception in their minds. It’s more like I was a man before, and now I’m a woman. So I’ll have to bit my lip for a long time yet, while they know better the boy I was than the woman I am.

I guess that, with time, I’ll start doing all this stuff I want. I’ll talk about the things that interest me. I’ll go to places I want to go, and listen to music I want to listen to. I’ll dress the way I like, and they’ll become used to be with this other person they don’t know yet. But it is like starting over. We just met, but I already know you.

I don’t want to leave, because I really feel that I’m loved now. But sometimes my past is so heavy that I’d wish to run away and start things anew.

Update: I have this fear of having screwed things too bad by denying myself for too long. Of having broken something that can’t be fixed. But those were my choices in life, then. And a lot of them sucked, but they made me who I am right now. And I can’t say I’m not proud of who I am. All I can regret is not having been happy during a lot of time. But I got pieces of happiness. And I met a lot of great people. And now I can get this happiness I was missing.

Let’s not screw that too.

Another step…

Last week one of my colleagues at work resigned.

We’re a close team. There is a core group of veterans who will hang out and have drinks and party. This guy was one of them, so we went out and had drinks and partied.

And I took my chance to finally present myself as a woman in front of my colleagues.

Yes, I know I’m already almost completely living as a woman. The reason why I’m not going to work yet as a woman is the place. The building I work in is in the middle of nothing, and I have to walk some fifteen minutes from the bus stop through a deserted place with weeds and reeds. Right now it is not too bad, because it doesn’t get dark yet, but I still feel I must protect myself in that place, and I feel it is more unlikely to have a bad encounter if I dress there as a man.

Soon I’ll have my car. In two weeks time, at most. And then I’ll start going to work as a woman, feeling confident that my colleagues have already met me, and it wasn’t an issue for them.

I can’t wait 🙂

Sorry…

When you say something, you can’t take it back.

Until recently, I’ve never in my life talked about sex with almost anyone. Imagine being me. Not only being transexual, but also being bisexual and extremely kinky. On the weird side.

It feels lonely in here. I guess that, even now, my biggest fear is being alone. Not just alone, but rejected. Labelled. Ostracized. Being that weird person you must fear, because it will do bad things to you. Being pointed at as a pervert, as a sick person.

And so, I’ve never talked about sex with anyone.

So I wrote.

The plots were always the same. There was some girl who got the chance to experience that fetish she had, to become a extremely sexual person, confident with herself. There were lots of extreme full enclosure latex suits, lots of toys, lots of strange devices. Sometimes the girl kind of transformed, becoming more powerful, more dominant, and then she met some other girl who connected with her. Sometimes the starting point was the first girl being already into the scene, and meeting a long lost love that never happened, and discovering that she was accepted.

Even once I wrote about a boy like me, who met a girl while in school. A girl who accepted him, and was always with him while he became a girl.

And in those worlds, the girl never had to regret her decisions, because she was not judged for being who she was. Because she was just living her dreams, and she was lucky to find someone who shared them. In the end, the girl was always happy. She was never sorry.

I want to be able to speak about sex with the people closest to me. To do it freely. And not having to be sorry afterwards.

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.

Lefty…

Yesterday I found myself trying to explain my transition to an old friend. She says she can’t support me in my decision, because she feels that I should try to accept my biologic gender. Moreover, she says that what I’m doing, taking hormones to feminise myself, is wrong because is unnatural.

So I put it this way.

Of course taking hormones is unnatural. All modern medicine is. Anybody can take hormones to, say, avoid getting pregnant. So, why are we transexuals sometimes frowned upon when we decide to take the only treatment that can help us live happy lives?

Because we are seen as if we had other choices. We are sometimes seen as if we just had some self-acceptance issue, something which can be fixed by seeing a therapist.

So I put it this way to her, and I really hope she understands…

I’m a left handed person. For ages, left handed people like me have been prosecuted and punished for the single fact of being left handed. We have been forced to write with our right hands. And, of course, with a lot of willpower, left handed people can learn how to write with their right hands. But that’s it. They can write with their right hands, but with more effort than right handed people. And they will always be left handed. You can’t change that, because it is hard-wired into your brain long before you’re born.

I’m also a homosexual girl. Even now there are places where gay people are prosecuted and punished for being homosexuals. And you can make a homosexual girl like me try to follow a heterosexual life, by inducing fear, self-disgust and guilt upon her. But that won’t change the fact that this girl is homosexual, and it will make her unhappy, fearful, uncomfortable with herself, and guilt-ridden. And this is because homosexuality, sexual orientation is hard-wired into your brain, long before you’re born.

And finally, I’m also a transexual person. Guess what, gender identity is also hard-wired into your brain long before you’re even born.

So don’t tell me how should I accept my genitals, when I’ve come to realise that the only way to go is to accept myself.

Closets…

Some people tell me that sometimes I come out to people too abruptly. Well, I guess I’ve done that with some people.

I don’t see why coming out should be something dramatic. Maybe sometimes it can happen in a funny way. Yesterday I was GTalking with a friend I hadn’t talked to for quite a long time, and I revealed him my little secret. It went like this:

– And how are you?
– Pretty well, I guess. Same job, same girlfriend, same city. Just that I’m changing sex.
– Yeah, sure, to alien, right?
– Actually, I’m being serious.

In the end, I had to show this guy a picture, because he wouldn’t believe me. But everything went okay, and we had some laughs.

Other times I was much more serious, more dramatic, because I didn’t know how the people would react. But I guess I’m learning to do it in a way it doesn’t seem too important. It’s just a little detail about me that’s changing. Otherwise, I’m quite the same person.

It’s not that I’m that comfortable with everyone. I am very cautious, very suspicious with new acquaintances. Sometimes I ponder telling some people, and consider if I’m expecting to see that person again, or if it is worth the risk of telling.

There is something that is different when you’re transexual and you’re coming out. You are somehow forced to come out. Your appearance changes will give you away, so coming out is just intrinsic to the fact of being transexual. Or at least, on a bigger degree than, say, being gay, for instance.

Don’t take me wrong, of course it is hard to come out. Always. And you have to be very careful about who you tell. Doesn’t matter if you’re gay, or transexual, or an atheist. And I’m not saying that gay people don’t need to come out. This is a very crucial thing, being open with the people that matter to you.

When you’re transexual, it’s just you’ll have to be open with a lot of people you wouldn’t be otherwise. You don’t have the choice. You don’t need to actually tell anything. People will just see you changing. And this means family and friends, but also colleagues, neighbours, maybe people you see in the underground, or who you cross on the street.

I know that lots of people will know, some dear, some just near (sorry). And that for some years it will be unavoidable. The other option is just disappearing, and I can’t do this all the time, with everyone. Maybe in the future, when my looks are definitive, we will move to another place, and nobody will know us. And then we will be just two girls who live together, and we will be back in the closet, at least for lots of people around.

I guess you’re never done coming out. But sometimes it is not a task that bitter, and some great surprises are to be found in the way.