Time with myself…

These days I’ve been really busy. Overworked. I had lots of appointments, duties, chores and tasks to perform.

These days, also, I’ve felt like noisy inside my head. I’ve felt disconnected from myself.

It feels like an eternity since I was able to just stay at home, alone, and be with myself. In the past months and years, however, it didn’t do good to me, because I stayed at home munching and twisting thoughts that my head created, telling me that I was inadequate, ugly, disgusting. I stayed at home and yet I felt repressed, because the things I wanted to do, the clothes I wanted to wear, the movies I wanted to see, and the books I wanted to read were not those a normal heterosexual boy would choose.

And it hurt being alone, because I expected to receive validation of my own worth from others. And these other people, instead, were living their own lives, maybe enjoying themselves doing exciting things with exciting people, maybe just having a boring evening watching TV.

I’m beginning to feel different. It’s like, at last, I can be fine with myself. It’s like I don’t need anyone else around, but me. I can enjoy myself, because I’m beginning to feel my own worth. For me it was a breakthrough discovering that my self-esteem depended only on myself, not on others. But that’s a thought, and it has to get rooted in order to work. Now, however, I’m beginning to feel it.

I’m beginning to feel that it is not wrong to be myself. It is not wrong to feel the way I do. It is not wrong to like the things I like. And that is my own whole universe, where I am queen. That’s where I am, where I’ve ever been, taking care of myself, trying to choose at all times what seemed best for me. I, in my own universe, am the worthiest person I’m ever going to meet. And I’m going to be here, for myself, always.

That is a lot. And instead of looking around, trying to find happiness in other people’s love, as I always did, I can now rely on my own love.

Still, I need time. I need time with myself, alone. I need time to do things with myself, to learn new things, to explore. I need time so that I can know myself, and enjoy myself, and love myself.

These last days I felt disconnected from myself, because I had such a little time to spare. But now, as I type, I’ve found here, on my own, and I’ve felt again that warm sensation of being with myself.

I hope this feeling gets deeply rooted in my heart, and never, never, goes away again.

Advertisements

Self-esteem…

Two months since I last wrote here.

I’ve been down. I am still down. Probably I’ve been down all my life, since I was a child. Back then I felt sad, different, inferior, weak. I felt uncomfortable, scared of other people. I felt safe with adults, because they would not attack me, or berate me (at least, too much). With equals, children, adolescents, as I was growing up, I always felt in danger, or at least, uncomfortable.

But this was my normality. I’ve never *ever* felt any different from this.

Now I’m trying to get up. Not like every other time I’ve tried to get up, by bashing myself, by repeating to myself that I must not break; that I must move on, like a horse under the strokes of a whip. I’ve finally identified that I’m depressed, and I’ve looked for help, to address this specific problem. I’m also reading David D. Burns “Feeling Good”, which I’ve been told it’s a nice book to get tools and methods to try to fix your depression.

I’m not aiming too high. I’m not aiming for happiness, for instance. I’m just looking to be “not depressed”. I can feel sad, and I will feel sad, but not in a pathological way.

Burns’ book says this is achieved by changing the way you think about things. Thoughts, distorted thoughts, are the way we interpret reality. Reality just *is*. We don’t have much power to change it. But we perceive reality, and our brain understands it, abstracts it into thoughts. And these thoughts sometimes hurt us, and cause us pain.

These thoughts are just simplifications, abstractions. Because they’re just that, they are flawed. They are distorted, because they don’t reflect the whole reality. Just a part of it. And sometimes, they’re only the parts of reality that make us despair.

I know I’ve had a difficult life, so far. One of the most disturbing, harming thoughts I’ve always had about it is that I should have started my transition much, much earlier. If I had done that, I would have had a happier life, I would be now a more adult person, instead of being like an adolescent now, and I would not have got into much of the trouble I’m now in. It’s easier to straighten a sapling that it is to fix a grown oak tree.

But I’ve, I am trying to stop bashing me for that. It was not my fault. I’m trying to learn this. My life was the way it was. But how I think about it is up to me.

I never had any chances of something different. All the messages I got at all times were telling me that I was flawed, weak, that I cried too much for a boy. I was taught from everywhere that gay people were wrong, and that transexual people were odd, strange, and ultimately deranged. I didn’t know what I was, especially when I started being concerned about my adolescence, about sex, about the things that drove me. I didn’t know anybody who was gay. I didn’t know any gay people until I was 15, and this person was seen as wrong, as bad, because he just came out and divorced his wife when he couldn’t stand living a life that wasn’t his.

The worst part was that I was told that I was lucky, because I had an open, tolerant family, and I could talk about sexuality, about ethics with them. I’ve wished so many times to be *just* gay, it would have been so easy…

But my family was not that open. Transexuals were seen as pitiable, and sex had to be restrained, saved for something else. For a higher goal. Not procreation, they were not like that. But sex had to be preserved for a meaningful, loving and lifelong relationship. Sex, for the sake of sex, was wrong, was lowly, was dehumanizing.

And sex had to be natural. Fetishes were weird. And people who had sex with too many people were, at least, irresponsible, and immature.

I had no alternatives. This was the “open” approach. And I had to feel lucky because I had people who were “open”.

I was too scared to move. I felt deeply wrong, being what I was: A bisexual transexual woman who was deeply kinky and fetishist, and who felt that could be involved with more than one partner at the time. I had everything set in place in my head, I was already defined, but I just felt that everything I was, in my most intimate core, was wrong and sick.

Wow, it would have been so easy being *just* gay…

Years later I met wonderful people. I met transexuals, and I saw they were just like me. I met bisexuals, who can love the very nature of people, and not get stuck in their genders, and I just love them. I met kinky people, who taught me what “respectful” means. I met polyamorous people, who showed me that love doesn’t just have to be restricted to one person to be “proper” love.

I just discovered then that I was not wrong. And as soon as I learnt that, I was able to move on.

It never was my fault to be like I am. I just had the bad luck to be born in an environment that made me thing I was flawed. I knew I had to go away from all of that, so I did as soon as I could.

I’ve always felt bad about studying this career that I didn’t like as much as others. I did that because I was told I could get more money doing this. I knew then I would need money. I labelled myself as a greedy person. Now I’m learning I’m not, I just knew, or felt, I would be needing a lot of money just to be secure, and to be able to become the person I am. I don’t feel guilty any more about having fought so hard to finish these studies that didn’t make me feel fulfilled. I just reached my goal – to be self-sufficient.

I never got any satisfying sex with people. Until recently, I’ve always felt inferior, damaged because of that. But you can’t have satisfying sex, unless you’re just being what you are. You can’t feel good if you’re just trying to please someone else, and trying to hide what you really are. Well, that is not my fault either. I’m not inferior, or worse at sex. It is not my fault, either. I’m not boring, or damaged, or bad. I’m just different. Maybe someday I will be able to be just myself at sex, and then maybe sex will be wonderful.

I feel this is going to be difficult, because people usually will tag me as weird. I will be in their eyes as a circus freak. I may feel a disappointment for heterosexual men who are worried that their masculinity will be damaged if they sleep with a person who was born male. I may feel a deception for lesbian women who feel tricked into believing I was just a girl. I don’t care. There will, there are people who will like me as I am. I have a friend who is just in my situation, and she feels bad because the only people who find her attractive are bisexuals. Well, I say, God bless bisexuals. I wouldn’t feel any bad if all of my partners in what remains of my life were bisexuals. I’m lucky for that. It’s a nice filter, actually.

All my life I’ve tried to comply to the standards of people who weren’t remotely like me. I’ve struggled so that people who didn’t like what I was liked me. And I’ve done that because I grew up in a world in which everybody was like that.

Now I realise I couldn’t have done better, and that I’m responsible for quite much of what I’ve got.

I didn’t lose my job, but that is because even when I’ve been feeling anxiety and depression, I’ve shown I cared about my work.

I didn’t lose my friends. I feel lucky for having the friends I have. But in the end, I’ve chosen them. I’ve chosen to get closer to people that was a bit more like me, and I’ve left behind lots of people I got close to just because they were there in the first place, and I needed so that I could have a beer with somebody. It’s quite much like other transexual people experience. When they open up, lots of people reject them, but they find new, better friends who accept them. I just did the same, but I chose who I filtered myself.

At the moment I’ve lost most of my family. I mean, I’ve given up on them. Only my parents, my brother, and a couple of relatives are in the know. Maybe when the rest of them know about me, maybe then they’ll give up on me. Or not. I don’t care much about this.

I am what I am. My transition has not been much different, or easier than anybody else, I guess. I did it when I felt I could. And this doesn’t make me a coward. I’ve fought hard, and the only thing I regret was to deny myself my own value, in trying to satisfy lots of people who didn’t deserve that, people I grew up around, and who taught me that I was wrong, and that I had to abide by their rules.

I am what I am, I like what I am, and I don’t have to feel guilty for that. I don’t have to please anybody, I just have to enjoy being with people who enjoys being with me. I don’t have to prove anything, because I’ve done always the best I could, and I don’t deserve being judged just because I couldn’t do better.

I just have to experience my life, the rest of it, from now on. I have the right of doing that. No less, no more. I have the right of being myself, and to feel that I, my feelings, my tastes, my inclinations, are perfectly fine. And I have the right to dismiss anyone who doesn’t agree with that.

My own value is not to be questioned, not even by me. And this feels good to know.

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.

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.

Normality, it is…

Today I thought I was going to write a post. I realise I’m spacing my posts more and more. I guess it has to do with my own personal development these days.

These days I’m feeling a lot less anxious. I still feel some anxiety, some uncertainty about my future, but it is much more manageable than it was before. I’ve been writing a lot in my personal diary, and somebody pointed me to Richard Wiseman’s 59 seconds. In my youth I was given a lot of self-help books, and some were not probably the most appropriate ones, so I grew reluctant to these. But I must say that this book has a scientific approach and is based in proper investigation. And it is also nice to find out that some of the advice the book offers were things I had begun to do instinctively to feel better and help myself solve my problems, or things that I’ve been already doing right for years.

I keep thinking, pushing myself into acting right. First I learnt the lesson that the world keeps going on, (and this is a very reassuring thought to have in mind at all times, I tell you), and now I’m assimilating, incorporating it into my own mind, as if it were some crucial pillar in my life. I’m allowed to make mistakes, and I’m not supposed to do everything right.

I still have lots of feelings I’d rather now not express. I feel it is better now like this. Maybe in the future I can talk openly about this, but right now I’m more or less comfortable keeping these feelings to myself, and trying to act according to them in the measure I’m allowed to. It’s no longer like I feel pressured because I just can’t express my feelings aloud, it is more like I choose not to do it, and I’m okay with it, because I feel it is best this way.

And yet, I’m speaking more than ever. And more important, I’m listening. I’ve come to learn that this one is a very important thing, and it is not that difficult. And it gives you a lot of knowledge about where you are, about what the people around think. It is important because it is what keeps you close to your loved ones.

And I still feel a lot of insecurities. Today is the day I complete two months full time. I feel okay, I’ve had no problems, I feel great. As I’ve said sometimes, it’s like living without that big stone on my back. I feel I look good, I feel comfortable with myself. It’s been eight months since I began taking hormones, and I’m still impatient because my tits are not yet big enough, and because I’ve got still a muscular torso and wide shoulders, and because my hips are not round. Probably they’ll never be, and I’ll have to accept that. But my tits keep hurting, and I feel them growing, and probably the rest of my body keeps doing the same, very slowly. So I’ve got to be patient.

I’m looking forward to having my surgery done. I’m a bit scared about that, but it’s okay. It’s a really important thing for me, because then I’ll see my body more complete, I’ll have one less reminder of having being born with a wrong body, and most important of all, I’ll feel more sexy, more excited about my own body.

Still, this is just a process, and it is a hard one to live through. It helps somehow thinking that it’s like I’m just 12 years old now, and that most of my body features have still to develop, with time. I’m still a bit scared about having waited too long before starting my transition, and being locked out of the chance of liking my own body.

So, all in all, everything goes fine. Everything is normal. I feel that I’m growing, that I’m becoming a better person. I’m not repressing myself any more, but I’m also trying not to push too much the people around. And I have lots of unfulfilled desires, and a lot of things I’d like to have in my life. But I’m working on it, and things can only become better.

So, I guess this is normality…

Habits…

It’s strange this thing I’m feeling right now.

It feels a bit like peace.

I’m still feeling some anxiety, some nervousness, some uneasyness. But I’m feeling peace.

And I’m tired. I’m now constantly watching my own thoughts, trying to stop myself and think slowly whenever I start going down, or when I know I’m about to say or do something that is wrong.

But whenever I do this, it brings me peace.

Today I feel like it has been easier than yesterday. Not much, just a bit.

I hope that soon I’ll be hearing the noise of my own bad habits starting to crack.

Breakthrough…

Not two weeks ago I identified something wrong in how I processed my emotions. The last entry is about that.

For the last month I had been writing my thoughts, my feelings, whenever I felt anxious, or insignificant, or wrong.

Today I’ve reviewed all of that. It has been amazing.

In the past month I’ve managed to identify most of the emotions that make me feel bad. I’ve been able to label them. I’ve learnt from them a lot. In the end I came to discover how my feeling bad in my own skin, my lack of self esteem, was the underlying cause of everything.

I’m learning to control it. My feelings still hurt sometimes, but I’m now beginning to be able to control them.

The most amazing part is how everything fits. How everything makes sense. How I can consistently fix myself. And how I’ve been able to learn this mostly from my own reflections. I’ve had help, and I’ve read things that have helped me. But sometimes I’ve got an idea on my own first, and then I’ve seen it outside. Or at least, sometimes I perceive it like that. Probably it was all so mixed up that I’m deceiving myself a little.

Still, I’ve got this feeling of having progressed this far by myself. And it feels good. Very, very good.

I can learn from my own mistakes, because I’m willing to do all of the introspection I need. I’m quite honest, and I try not to fool myself so that I have not to bear with thoughts I can’t stand. I guess that being an accepting transexual person has trained me in this aspect.

I feel good, because I feel I have a mind that is able to recover, to regain balance. I feel reassured, I feel mature, and I feel healthy. I feel in control.

I still have lots of work to do. I know I will fall again, and then I’ll have to get up. But this is a huge reward in just a month.

I’m going to be fine.