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.

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.

Some milestones…

This sunday it will be six months since I started with the hormone replacement therapy.

Today I’ve been full time for two weeks, with no problems at all.

These last days I’ve received a lot of compliments. People say it feels right for me to be a woman, that I look better. My boss has complimented me about how I handled the process in the office. A lot of people said to me that I’m pretty, and brave. And everything has happened in an atmosphere of complete normality.

I’m having the longest period of happiness I have ever had in my life. For the first time of my life I feel I belong. And I am a little scared, because I don’t want it all to go away. I don’t want to wake up.

Looking back it seems so far away when I was that sad boy who felt he was weird…

I’m getting results 🙂


I can’t be touched.

Whenever I’ve been with someone, I’ve built a wall around me.

I’ve never let anyone touch me. There was this guy who was my outside shell in between. I was protected inside. He, he was the outside façade that made me appear attractive. Because I thought others would find me disgusting. I always thought that I had to keep the pose and try to act as I was expected to.

So I’ve never been relaxed. I’ve developed this habit of being another person whenever I’m with someone. And for me, it’s just mechanic. I don’t have much experience, but all the experience I have has been in trying to please others, while trying to act my role.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to fix this. I don’t know how to fix this. Maybe I won’t be able to until I have my surgery done.

In the end I guess it’s just a matter of looking behind the façade…

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.


These last months, these last years I’ve been almost always doing some stuff, cultivating hobbies.

Right now I’m studying music. And I’m learning to sing. I’ve always loved to sing, and now I have some technique.

But I feel like stopping for some time. I feel the need for my own time.

In the past, especially when I lived alone, I did a lot of stuff to avoid being with myself, thinking about myself.

Now I like myself. And I need time for myself, to think, to ask questions, to write, to relax, to just chill out.

I missed myself for quite a long time. Now I want to recover some of that time with me.