Industrialization

Tonight was the outing of all outings. For most of it, I was in a constant state of surprise at how well everything was going.

A number of weeks ago, I was talking to C about information on his piercer, for getting an industrial, which I've been thinking about for a couple years now. He told me that he was taking E out to have some work done, and that we could go together. That immediately made me feel much more comfortable about the whole thing, since I trust both of them implicitly, and they would also be there for moral support. The proposed date for it was still a bit off, so all I could do was wait. Well, tonight was the night, put-up-or-shut-up time.

Once we finally made it to the shop, E, who's been pierced a number of times before, just went ahead and took care of her stuff. That was fine with me, since I was unsure of what to expect. She was doing a fairly sensitive area, and yelled a bit during hers. That was fine, I reasoned, the ear cartilage has a whole lot less nerve endings than the area she was having pierced.

Then the man who was helping the piercer came out and we got started setting up for mine. Once he started looking at my ear, he discovered that I don't have a very deep rim of cartilage around my ear. In the days leading up, I've wondered about that; after he left to talk to the piercer, I started to worry that they wouldn't be able to do it at all. Both the helper and the piercer took better looks, and decided that everything was ok, that there was just enough cartilage there to make it. Whew!

So the next thing was to fill out some papers - who I am, stuff like that. "Can I see your ID?" he asked. Knowing it was coming, and somewhat dreading it, I mumbled something to E along the lines of "this is the part that I was not looking forward to." So I placed my thoroughly male ID down on the desk, and told him "it doesn't match very well," which didn't seem to register immediately. He was looking at it intently for several seconds before he said that it was a bit of a surprise.

I'll take it.

The piercing itself was anticlimactic; I held on to C, and was braced for some serious pain, and... it wasn't bad at all. The anti-helix side was worse than the helix side, but I didn't make a sound for either, and may have wrinkled my nose for the anti-helix. Maybe.

After that was done, we went out to dinner at C and E's favorite sushi restaurant. The hostess may have been checking me out as she left the table, but it barely made a dent. The food was excellent, and the musical duo was playing some good tunes.

Pretty much every time I'm out in public, I expect to be read by everyone, and half the time I expect somebody to cause a scene, so when the interest is so low-key, it's a nice departure from the horror-stories I cook up in my brain. The comments from the man at the piercing shop blew me away. I'm sure he had no idea that he completely made my night.

Several hours later, my ear is aching dully, but even that can't remove the smile on my face. I need to clean up and go to bed, but I'm way too excited to have a chance at sleeping.

You can see my ear here.

It's coming...!

I've done all the scheduling for my upcoming surgery that there is to do. I have my days off from work, as does my support person (I heart you, E!), and I have our hotel reservation, and I have the surgery itself scheduled. It's happening!

Being the queen of stress that I am, I'm still worried. I think my worry is in two parts. The first is simply that everything with the procedure goes smoothly. The doctor is a professional, and this looks to be a procedure that he's done quite a number of times, so I'm sure it will go very well. But as I've said in the past, I never let logic get in the way of a good anxiety attack. It seems to be simply the way I roll. I've learned so much about myself over this odyssey so far, and not all of it is positive; my anxiety about, like, everything is just another of those things. Fair enough. All my worry on that score will be moot on the 20th, after it's all done. So for the time being, I'll just go with it, and try not to make myself too crazy.

The second part of my worry, I figured out a few days ago. It's about my parents. They're not very accepting of my proposed changes, and would be very happy if I just forgot about all this madness and stayed the way I was. Which, of course, has a snowball's chance. But something like surgery... that seems pretty important. And if anything should go wrong, they'll be absolutely blind-sided with some really awful news. As much as they exasperate and upset me, I still think I should let them know.

I've discussed the situation with a number of people. One of my very close Second Life friends said "why do they have to know?" That is an excellent point; none of my family has seen me in the altogether since I was, what, 5? 6? And that surely won't be starting back up now. Another Second Lifer brought up the "what if, heaven forbid, something goes wrong?" Also a very valid point. They probably do need to know, just in case...

I've done quite a bit of thinking and worrying about this, and I think, based on the feedback I've gotten from everyone, that I'll tell my dad. The statement that he made during my coming-out talk with him, "whatever support you need, you will have," is carrying the day. If he wishes to tell my mother, or my sister, he can. That way, somebody will be in the loop, but it will be somebody with a more open mind, who might have a chance of handling it.

It's the least bad of the available options, I think. I feel that nothing with a gender transition is ever ideal - it's hard on everybody, emotionally, psychologically, and even physically, and there are people who simply can't make that transition in their hearts. It's the same thing that keeps so many of us in the closet, afraid to take that first step: we don't realize that we need to take a pretty big leap in our own hearts, before things can start to improve.

So, one day this will all be done, and my family will either be with me, or they won't. Parts will be, and are, with me, and I expect some parts to go away, probably forever. It's a shame that this will happen, but there's not really anything I can do, other than something that I won't do. All I can do is shrug to myself, and maybe hold out a little hope.

A new beginning

This afternoon, I had some time between my hair removal appointments, so I took the opportunity to call the surgeon's office, to talk to them about orchiectomy. This has been one of the few definite items on my transition-to-do list, and it has been at the top of that list for a while now, so it was a simple decision to go ahead and schedule the procedure.

This marks a big step forward for me. Up to now, the alterations I've made to myself have either been minor, or can be reversed without much difficulty. This is a very different kind of turning point, because this change can not be undone. It is a rubicon, and there will be no turning back once it is crossed.

Not long ago, I would have been frightened beyond comprehension by such a point, but now it solidifies my resolve to see my path through to the end. I have worked very hard to make it this far, and some possible conclusions to this odyssey are now coming into view. All these tasks I've had to perform and obstacles I've had to overcome... it feels like all these pieces are at last approaching their final places. I am beginning to feel comfort in myself for the first time, as a result of all those pieces. I will not give that up, now that it is within reach. I will not give up. It is within neither my desire nor my power to stop, pause, divert, or change my destination.

Now it is up to me to simply take the step. And take it I shall.

Shifting perspectives

I had a very interesting session with my therapist this week. For the entirety of it, we talked about my family's lack of acceptance, and what it means to me. And what I learned during this session, was something that would have taken me a long time to put together on my own.

I have left them behind.

That was quite a revelation to me. In thinking about it over the past few days, it's exactly correct. I am the one who's moving, changing, growing, and they are not willing to come along with me on my journey. In essence, I have rejected them. I presented myself and my path, and welcomed them to come along with me. They declined my invitation, so they are left to fend for themselves.

As I write these words, they sound so cold-blooded. But they are also absolutely true. I want to make my world into a place that's right for me — something that is well within my power to do — and they're not even willing to allow me to do that. I am long past the time of my youth, when they get to make decisions for me, and so they no longer to have the right to question the way in which I will live.

Many trans people worry, rightfully so, that their families will not accept the reality that is presented to them. It is a very real concern, that any given trans person will lose their family, simply because they want to follow where their heart tells them they must go. The family is the base, from which we all spring. Each person's family is supposed to be there for them, nurturing them, and loving them, and accepting them, no matter what. No matter what.

But "is supposed to be" and "is" are often two vastly different things.

Everyone needs a family of some sort. Since the people I've known as my family up to now are unwilling to take on that responsibility, it's up to me to find a new family, one which does accept and support and love me unconditionally. I do have such people in my life now, and I am grateful for them, every day. It's just such a incomprehensible change that I must now make, that the people who have meant "family" to me for my whole life, will no longer claim that label in my heart. I must welcome my new family members, at the same time I mourn the loss of the old. That will take some time.

The strangest part of this, to me, is the feeling of liberation that I had on the following days. I was no longer seeing myself as being held back by anyone but me. I was able to take a new step, and I can feel another one lurking under the surface of my thoughts. Limitations that were once firmly in place, seem to have fallen away, and I feel like I'm able to consider new directions for my path.

The green-eyed monster

Jealousy.

It's one of the seven deadly sins. It is a destroyer of souls. It is an eradicator of joy and grace and love. It brings out the absolute worst in people, and turns them into caricatures of pettiness and alienation.

And it's come for a visit to my heart.

I know it's terrible for me to feel this way, and it's causing me a lot of stress that I do. A couple of people, neither of whom I know directly, are in very good situations. Both are trans girls, and both have completed their transitions. They're both extremely attractive, and seem to have winning personalities. Both have love and companionship, and seem comfortable and happy with their respective places in life.

And for my part, I have none of those things.

I'm still struggling day by day to figure out just who I'm supposed to be. Some days, like today, I get an "I have absolutely no business doing this" feeling. Other times, it's "I'll never get finished", or "I'll never pass, I'll just look like some dumb guy forever", or some other terrible thoughts. And somehow, I developed these awful feelings about people who I don't even really know, that are completely unjustified. They've probably both been in the exact same place that I am right now, and they might have even had those same feelings then, that I have now.

And as if that wasn't enough, I discovered that I have a terrible, hopeless crush on a girl. Not that most crushes aren't hopeless in the first place; just by their very nature, they're doomed to end in a broken heart. Mine came crashing to a fiery end this morning, and it hurts so much. The tears have been threatening to start all day, but I just don't want to go through that. The worst part is that I didn't even realize how much she meant to me until now, so a lot of these feelings seem like they're coming right out of the blue.

I don't think there's really any solution for me, other than to realize what I'm feeling, and that it is about as unproductive as any feelings can possibly be, and to work through them. It'll take time, and plenty of patience, and probably some tears, and perhaps a willingness to forgive myself.

It's been a while

I came out to someone today, probably the first person I've come out to in a couple months.

It's interesting, I've had that same discussion with a whole bunch of people, and for a while there they were happening pretty often. Now that almost all my friends know, it's kind of fallen by the side, and I'm not really having to do it much any more. Don't misunderstand, I'm glad that people know and all that, but, I don't know, it almost seems like something is missing.

I've heard accounts of people post-transition, who think, "what now?" All the work and stress and so on, and once it's done and gone, what now indeed. Perhaps I've reached some intermediate what-now point.

There are a few more people I need to tell; a few other friends don't know yet, and then all of my extended family on my mom's side are still in the dark. My friends are all here, and it's just a matter of gathering a little courage and doing it. My family is another story. I don't live near any of them, so I think it might be more practical to talk to them over the phone. And based on the reactions from most of my family members so far, I'm not too excited about trying that again.

A light in the darkness

I feel like I've been fighting to get out from underneath the dark cloak of depression, that has settled on me once again. There's no way to tell when it will come around, and there's no way to tell when it will vanish, nor how long it will be gone. I just have to be thankful when it does go away, and try to have patience and hope when it does come back around again.

The past couple weeks have been especially hard. It has been a bit since the darkness has come around, and I was hoping that it had perhaps gone for good. Though as Frost wrote, nothing gold can stay, and sure enough, the gold faded and tarnished and turned black. It came on so fast, and I was caught completely unaware. I don't think it was any worse this time than it ever was before, but time thankfully grants a degree of forgetfulness.

This past week, though, has shone a bright light under the cloak. I've been making steady progress toward my goal, though I have an inkling that my recent transition related stuff has been an oblique part of the problem. It's just an idea, though, so I'll keep it to myself for now.

This week I managed not one, not two, but three days out in femme mode. Wednesday was nice, though I was too tired to properly enjoy it. Friday, on the other hand, was the real turning point; on my way out, I could not help but have a big smile on my face. And this afternoon was the icing on the cake. I felt extremely good, and I think I looked pretty darned good, and that just made me so happy. And the fact that we had an extremely good gaming session today didn't hurt things at all.

Tomorrow I have my next appointment with the electrologist; I'm actually getting pretty excited about all the progress we're making. I feel like I've been a bit of a bore here lately, since that's about all I've had to talk about, but that's been foremost in my thoughts. Now that my emotions have come back to a place where I can function, I'm sure I'll have a wider variety of topics, and a more encouraging amount of words to share.