This has already been one of the most stressful years of my life, and it's not even half over yet. In my ever-continuing effort to improve my ability to function at a normal level, I'm now taking three classes in college. I know for many people, that's not much, but for someone still recovering from a very long-term disability it's a challenge. As it is, I'm barely keeping up. By the end of the semester, I worry that I may not be able to get all my papers finished on time.
To make matters worse, my parents' impending divorce and sale of the house is starting to drive my mother, who is already crazy as hell, batshit insane. She's actually starting to tell me things like our real estate agent "wants me out of the house as fast as possible" and stuff like that, which not only doesn't make any sense, it's potentially harmful to our real estate agent's business.
So, in an effort to find a more stable home I've been working with my brother, his wife, and my father in an effort to work out a place for me to go. We had just decided to rent a house together, but that brings us to my latest stresser: I just found out that my brother and his wife are splitting up.
So now the plan is for her to move out of their apartment and me to move in on May 1st. I don't really know how to feel about that. It upsets me that this is happening, because I'm very close with both of them and I'm worried I may lose a friend. On the other hand, it gives me a place to live other than the house full of crazy I'm living in now. But then there are their kids, and I can't help but think it's going to be incredibly hard to look them in the eyes and not want to cry because of what it must be like for them.
I'm really emotional right now, as you can imagine. This is a hard time for all of us, and I'm doing my best to keep up, but it's been incredibly stressful. I feel like it's a testament to my strength just how well I've kept together already. I've been crying a lot, though I suppose that has a lot to do with the hormones. I actually find that to be kind of a good thing. It's liberating.
I hope to be free of this limbo I seem to be stuck in soon. When I'm able to work, I will hopefully be able to earn enough money to make greater progress in transition. I've been really hurting lately because I've had a few instances where people have pointed out some rather undesirable features on me and it has really upset me.
So, that's my life these days in a nutshell. I hope things can start getting better soon, but frankly I'd just be satisfied with it not getting worse at this point. Things are rough enough as-is.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Tranny On Tranny Hate
I have begun to suspect there is a major problem in the transgender community. This isn't a new problem, but I was hoping that it was scarcer than it actually seems to be. That is, unfortunately, not the case, as I have seen recently. Many trans-folk who have gone full-time already have forgotten what it's like for those of us who, for whatever reason, can't, whether it be for financial issues, family issues or other complications.
I need to make it clear that this is not a universal problem, since many still are incredibly supportive to the less fortunate among us, but I still see a considerable number out there who utterly fail to remember the stresses that we have all had to put up with at one point or another. Surprisingly, there are some who have only been full-time for a little while, some as short as six months, who seem completely unsympathetic.
Naturally, they have other problems to deal with, but it still astounds me how some can completely forget how hard it is to have to pretend to be someone we're not out of pure misfortune. Getting jobs with the dreaded, obligatory background check, trying to avoid being fired from our jobs for simply existing, finding affordable housing without being denied for being transgender; the list goes on and on for how many problems we have to deal with as a group. But i had hoped that, as a community, we could be more supportive of each other.
I have a friend that I regularly chat with online who has fallen victim to this problem. The thing that makes me especially sad about this is that I helped her out when she was still questioning. That must have been about three years ago. However, since she was able to support herself, she's managed to complete most of her transition WAAAAAY ahead of me and has been full-time for a while now, and I find she's mostly unwilling to even chat now. A lot of times, when I try to talk about my problems, she just gets mad at me.
I can't deny that a lot of the hurt I feel is because of jealousy, but that I can feel with anyone. With her, in particular, there's a powerful element of betrayal; the feeling that, despite how much effort I gave to helping her, she no longer seems to care about me.
What makes all this worse is that this is, in fact, on top of the factionalization of the greater LGBTQ community. Most people are aware that gay guys often discriminate against lesbians and vice-versa, both have a tendency to discriminate against bisexuals, and often all of them discriminate against trans-folk, but there is a severe problem of trans-folk themselves having their own "elite" groups. Post-ops are sometimes prejudiced against pre-ops and are downright loathsome of non-ops. FtMs and MtFs sometimes don't get along. Even between the same gender, there are often lines drawn based on sexual orientation, which just brings into question the massive clusterfuck of discrimination that is. I mean, gay trans-folk discriminating against straight trans-folk discriminating against bisexual trans-folk whom are all hated by cisgendered LGB. . . There's a long list of problems with that, but I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.
I do my part to try and create as much unity as I can, but it's a very tough uphill battle, especially considering how horribly isolated I am. Beyond just being something of a loner in my own right, I jokingly refer to myself as the "token minority" at my school's GSA since I am effectively the only trans-person there. I guess the joke isn't really that funny.
I hope that my friend and I can work out our differences and be able to talk more candidly again. For now, though, it's hard to talk to her without feeling like at any moment anything I say won't just turn into her getting mad again. I get enough of that from my mother.
I need to make it clear that this is not a universal problem, since many still are incredibly supportive to the less fortunate among us, but I still see a considerable number out there who utterly fail to remember the stresses that we have all had to put up with at one point or another. Surprisingly, there are some who have only been full-time for a little while, some as short as six months, who seem completely unsympathetic.
Naturally, they have other problems to deal with, but it still astounds me how some can completely forget how hard it is to have to pretend to be someone we're not out of pure misfortune. Getting jobs with the dreaded, obligatory background check, trying to avoid being fired from our jobs for simply existing, finding affordable housing without being denied for being transgender; the list goes on and on for how many problems we have to deal with as a group. But i had hoped that, as a community, we could be more supportive of each other.
I have a friend that I regularly chat with online who has fallen victim to this problem. The thing that makes me especially sad about this is that I helped her out when she was still questioning. That must have been about three years ago. However, since she was able to support herself, she's managed to complete most of her transition WAAAAAY ahead of me and has been full-time for a while now, and I find she's mostly unwilling to even chat now. A lot of times, when I try to talk about my problems, she just gets mad at me.
I can't deny that a lot of the hurt I feel is because of jealousy, but that I can feel with anyone. With her, in particular, there's a powerful element of betrayal; the feeling that, despite how much effort I gave to helping her, she no longer seems to care about me.
What makes all this worse is that this is, in fact, on top of the factionalization of the greater LGBTQ community. Most people are aware that gay guys often discriminate against lesbians and vice-versa, both have a tendency to discriminate against bisexuals, and often all of them discriminate against trans-folk, but there is a severe problem of trans-folk themselves having their own "elite" groups. Post-ops are sometimes prejudiced against pre-ops and are downright loathsome of non-ops. FtMs and MtFs sometimes don't get along. Even between the same gender, there are often lines drawn based on sexual orientation, which just brings into question the massive clusterfuck of discrimination that is. I mean, gay trans-folk discriminating against straight trans-folk discriminating against bisexual trans-folk whom are all hated by cisgendered LGB. . . There's a long list of problems with that, but I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.
I do my part to try and create as much unity as I can, but it's a very tough uphill battle, especially considering how horribly isolated I am. Beyond just being something of a loner in my own right, I jokingly refer to myself as the "token minority" at my school's GSA since I am effectively the only trans-person there. I guess the joke isn't really that funny.
I hope that my friend and I can work out our differences and be able to talk more candidly again. For now, though, it's hard to talk to her without feeling like at any moment anything I say won't just turn into her getting mad again. I get enough of that from my mother.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Circle of Anxiety
I don't look like it, but I'm a nervous wreck. The sole coping mechanism I have for dealing with daily life is to intentionally avoid dealing with the things that are causing me anxiety, which means a lot of avoidance.
I've gotten a lot better about handling my anxiety over the past few years. I've learned to stand up for myself, especially with my mom, and I've been able to deal with making phone calls even to people I don't know, but there's still a lot that I have difficulty dealing with.
For example, take my boobs. Yes, I sort of have some now, even though they're barely beyond just being man-titties, but they hurt like a bitch. I can't run or else they bounce and that hurts, for the guys in the audience who don't know. I need to get a sports bra, since anything else would be too big, but I'm too nervous to go into a store and ask for help with sizes or anything. I've tried several times, but every time it's like I have a sort of silent seizure; I walk in, "panic" without really showing any signs of anxiety, and walk out having accomplished nothing other than a waste of time and a loss of confidence.
I suppose it's all to be expected, but I have no real peer support. I mean, I'm supported by my family plenty, but there's just no way my family can provide the connection I need right now. I don't really have any close friends, and I have no one to talk to about my problems aside from my therapist.
I keep trying to reach out, but so far I haven't had much luck. I went to a transgender support group, but all the trans women there were twice my age. Not that I have anything against them, but there's a whole generation gap there to make connecting difficult. There are some girls I've wanted to talk to about stuff, but in the end I always feel too scared to ask. The thought always comes to me that I might be overstepping my bounds, or that even if she offers, I'm asking too much.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just emo. Maybe I'm just a stupid shut-in girl like some people say.
I've gotten a lot better about handling my anxiety over the past few years. I've learned to stand up for myself, especially with my mom, and I've been able to deal with making phone calls even to people I don't know, but there's still a lot that I have difficulty dealing with.
For example, take my boobs. Yes, I sort of have some now, even though they're barely beyond just being man-titties, but they hurt like a bitch. I can't run or else they bounce and that hurts, for the guys in the audience who don't know. I need to get a sports bra, since anything else would be too big, but I'm too nervous to go into a store and ask for help with sizes or anything. I've tried several times, but every time it's like I have a sort of silent seizure; I walk in, "panic" without really showing any signs of anxiety, and walk out having accomplished nothing other than a waste of time and a loss of confidence.
I suppose it's all to be expected, but I have no real peer support. I mean, I'm supported by my family plenty, but there's just no way my family can provide the connection I need right now. I don't really have any close friends, and I have no one to talk to about my problems aside from my therapist.
I keep trying to reach out, but so far I haven't had much luck. I went to a transgender support group, but all the trans women there were twice my age. Not that I have anything against them, but there's a whole generation gap there to make connecting difficult. There are some girls I've wanted to talk to about stuff, but in the end I always feel too scared to ask. The thought always comes to me that I might be overstepping my bounds, or that even if she offers, I'm asking too much.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just emo. Maybe I'm just a stupid shut-in girl like some people say.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Why I Don't Find Horror Movies Scary
This one came to me as I was reading Facebook posts from friends talking about how scared they were of Freddie Krueger and the new "Nightmare On Elm Street" remake being released later this month. I started commenting on how movies don't really scare me, but for some reason I just couldn't get over that thought. It wasn't a statement of arrogance, just an observation I had made about myself.
So, I got to pondering: why am I not scared by horror movies?
Obviously, the answer is more complicated than just a simple, one-point conclusion, but let's explore the conclusions I have come to in this exploration of my own psyche. The first question I had to answer in order to know why I'm not afraid of horror movies is this: what does scare me?
I'm creeped out by insects and spiders. In fact, I'm more creeped out by insects than spiders, due primarily to the fact that I know spiders are solitary creatures and they eat insects, which makes them the lesser evil. However, the "creepy" feeling isn't really the "scared" feeling. I separate the two.
I haven't been truly scared by a movie in years. I have come across a few "creepy" movies, like "The Ring" and a few old, low-budget slasher flicks (the special effects are kind of nauseating to look at), but the last movie that actually scared me was "Event Horizon" with Sam Neil back when I was still in elementary school, and now when I see that movie, it just seems silly.
I have been occasionally scared by video games. Survival horror games have a way of building tension in such a way that you are actually involved in it, I think. When you are in control of the lead character and around any corner there could be a horrible monster that is not only scary but that you have to deal with yourself, it's a bit of a different beast, but I don't think that's the difference that makes video games scary and movies not. I think it goes deeper than that.
What truly scares me are the real scary things, and by that I mean quite literally real. Like any person raised in an abusive household, I'm naturally afraid of my mother. I'm afraid of seeing anyone in my family get hurt, especially my nephews. I'm afraid of losing everything I have because I can't earn enough money. These things are real things that are far more terrifying to me than any bogeyman. I dealt with the bogymen when I was a kid; I now have the real dangers to deal with.
Want to know what movie really scares me now? "Pet Sematary". Not because of the evil things brought back when something is buried in the old indian burial ground, nor because of the creepy psychotic killer child at the movie's climax. The thing that scares me is the very real threat of a child being hit by a truck on the highway. The thought that that could happen to my nephews is a true horror to me.
What makes this even more disturbing is that these are just the horrors I have come across. I can't imagine what it must be like to fight in a war, or to live on the streets. These are things that are so beyond my situation up until now that I can't even comprehend how frightening they must be. I'm scared of losing all my money, but what would I fear if I didn't have that money to begin with?
So, if you find it odd that I laugh at Freddie Krueger or Michael Meyers slashing people to bits, remember that to me that is funny. It's cartoony, it's fake. The scary things are not the monster under your bed but the tax collector at the door or the mother who wanted you to be miserable just so that she had control over SOMETHING. Those are the things worth screaming over.
So, I got to pondering: why am I not scared by horror movies?
Obviously, the answer is more complicated than just a simple, one-point conclusion, but let's explore the conclusions I have come to in this exploration of my own psyche. The first question I had to answer in order to know why I'm not afraid of horror movies is this: what does scare me?
I'm creeped out by insects and spiders. In fact, I'm more creeped out by insects than spiders, due primarily to the fact that I know spiders are solitary creatures and they eat insects, which makes them the lesser evil. However, the "creepy" feeling isn't really the "scared" feeling. I separate the two.
I haven't been truly scared by a movie in years. I have come across a few "creepy" movies, like "The Ring" and a few old, low-budget slasher flicks (the special effects are kind of nauseating to look at), but the last movie that actually scared me was "Event Horizon" with Sam Neil back when I was still in elementary school, and now when I see that movie, it just seems silly.
I have been occasionally scared by video games. Survival horror games have a way of building tension in such a way that you are actually involved in it, I think. When you are in control of the lead character and around any corner there could be a horrible monster that is not only scary but that you have to deal with yourself, it's a bit of a different beast, but I don't think that's the difference that makes video games scary and movies not. I think it goes deeper than that.
What truly scares me are the real scary things, and by that I mean quite literally real. Like any person raised in an abusive household, I'm naturally afraid of my mother. I'm afraid of seeing anyone in my family get hurt, especially my nephews. I'm afraid of losing everything I have because I can't earn enough money. These things are real things that are far more terrifying to me than any bogeyman. I dealt with the bogymen when I was a kid; I now have the real dangers to deal with.
Want to know what movie really scares me now? "Pet Sematary". Not because of the evil things brought back when something is buried in the old indian burial ground, nor because of the creepy psychotic killer child at the movie's climax. The thing that scares me is the very real threat of a child being hit by a truck on the highway. The thought that that could happen to my nephews is a true horror to me.
What makes this even more disturbing is that these are just the horrors I have come across. I can't imagine what it must be like to fight in a war, or to live on the streets. These are things that are so beyond my situation up until now that I can't even comprehend how frightening they must be. I'm scared of losing all my money, but what would I fear if I didn't have that money to begin with?
So, if you find it odd that I laugh at Freddie Krueger or Michael Meyers slashing people to bits, remember that to me that is funny. It's cartoony, it's fake. The scary things are not the monster under your bed but the tax collector at the door or the mother who wanted you to be miserable just so that she had control over SOMETHING. Those are the things worth screaming over.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Why I Don't Go To Clubs
I'm willing to bet that my social life sucks more than yours. You could be ignored by all your friends while a dog is chewing on your ass and a mind flayer is sucking out your brains and your social life would be better than mine.
The fact is, I have pretty much no social life. There are a couple of reasons for this and all of them are pretty damn frustrating. First, I have social anxiety disorder, which makes simply being in social situations stressful, but worse than that I am transgender. For those of you who've had your heads in your keesters for most of their lives, that means I identify as a gender other than the one assigned to my biological sex.
I was born male, but I identify as female. This puts me into the unfortunate situation of having to either live my life pretending to be something I'm not or go through the incredibly painful process of transitioning so that my body can at least mostly match my mind. After a long time, I decided to transition, and am now working on that process. Unfortunately, it's a slow fucking process, so even though I've started taking steps to fix my problem, I still appear male.
Now, therein lies the problem. It is incredibly hard to have any sort of social life when no one sees you for who you are. I was at a club tonight at the behest of a friend. I had told her that it would be torture for me, but she thought I was just reluctant to go. I tried explaining, but ultimately it came down to me being accused of not giving it a fair shot, so I went. So, there I was, surrounded by people having a good time while all I could think about was how not a single one of them recognizes me. And of course I don't mean that they didn't know me (How could they? None of them have ever seen me before.), I mean they didn't see me as the person that I am. They see the costume that I'm forced to wear, a costume I would tear off if only I could find the damned zipper.
See, that's one of the major differences between being gay and being transgender: when you're transgender, you can't just come out of the closet. As open as I try to be about it (and believe me, I'm pretty damn open about it), I still have to be in the closet simply by the fact that unless I walk around wearing a big neon sign that says "I identify as female", no one recognizes that fact. Obviously, I can't speak for others, but I'm pretty damn sure that even the people that know don't think of me as being a woman, and that's a pretty damn painful thing to consider.
But I still try. It might be a huge set up for disappointment every single time, but I try. People offer to let me in, and I try. I usually fail, but I keep trying anyway in the hopes that, at some point in time, I'll get through and SOMEONE will see me and not the guy I look like.
The fact is, I have pretty much no social life. There are a couple of reasons for this and all of them are pretty damn frustrating. First, I have social anxiety disorder, which makes simply being in social situations stressful, but worse than that I am transgender. For those of you who've had your heads in your keesters for most of their lives, that means I identify as a gender other than the one assigned to my biological sex.
I was born male, but I identify as female. This puts me into the unfortunate situation of having to either live my life pretending to be something I'm not or go through the incredibly painful process of transitioning so that my body can at least mostly match my mind. After a long time, I decided to transition, and am now working on that process. Unfortunately, it's a slow fucking process, so even though I've started taking steps to fix my problem, I still appear male.
Now, therein lies the problem. It is incredibly hard to have any sort of social life when no one sees you for who you are. I was at a club tonight at the behest of a friend. I had told her that it would be torture for me, but she thought I was just reluctant to go. I tried explaining, but ultimately it came down to me being accused of not giving it a fair shot, so I went. So, there I was, surrounded by people having a good time while all I could think about was how not a single one of them recognizes me. And of course I don't mean that they didn't know me (How could they? None of them have ever seen me before.), I mean they didn't see me as the person that I am. They see the costume that I'm forced to wear, a costume I would tear off if only I could find the damned zipper.
See, that's one of the major differences between being gay and being transgender: when you're transgender, you can't just come out of the closet. As open as I try to be about it (and believe me, I'm pretty damn open about it), I still have to be in the closet simply by the fact that unless I walk around wearing a big neon sign that says "I identify as female", no one recognizes that fact. Obviously, I can't speak for others, but I'm pretty damn sure that even the people that know don't think of me as being a woman, and that's a pretty damn painful thing to consider.
But I still try. It might be a huge set up for disappointment every single time, but I try. People offer to let me in, and I try. I usually fail, but I keep trying anyway in the hopes that, at some point in time, I'll get through and SOMEONE will see me and not the guy I look like.
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