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|Friday, February 24th, 2006|
|Sunday, February 19th, 2006|
so I'm talking to Pel. Friends again and all. Good times. I retained both my dignity and my good friend. go me.
I also have a new therapist, with my first appointment on wednesday at 5:30, now, that is an odd time for a therapy session. I also have ochem section at 7, so I'm gonna have to do something creative to get everywhere ontime. Anyway, I talked with her, and she seems pretty cool. She says if I sign the release forms she'll talk with my old therapist so she'll be able to write my letter for T sooner. Maybe I'll actually pull this off before I go to canada. That is, if I get the position.
I am so ready for testosterone. I've been wavering on the issue since I started thinking about it over a year ago. I've been pretty sure I wanted T at some point, but I was unsure when. "After top surgery" was kind of my way to put it off. I mean, I'v heard scars heal better on estrogen, so there was reason for it. But now, I'm definitely ready. I guess I feel like I'm growing up. Because I've really been growing up. As a human being, as a young man, and also as a transguy. I usually dislike really identifying as a transguy, because I prefer to be just a guy, but whatever. In this case, I just mean that things are making sense now. I'm a guy, and I know it. I don't obsess anymore about how people see me. I still get irritated when people can't get my name. But my main irritation is just being seen as a little kid. I had a guy at this comedy show at Cafe Mare, the opening comedian, he came up to our table and asked how old I am, and he wouldn't believe me. He kept trying to find out if I was pulling his leg. Right now I'm looking to be seen as the age I am, as the age I feel, more than anything else. Current Mood: lethargic
|Friday, February 10th, 2006|
really freaking tired of introducing myself and having to correct people that my name is not Kelly, Elia, or anything at all anything like that.
But then, it's always amusing when a woman walks into the restroom at the Saturn Cafe and starts apologizing profusely although you're just washing your hands. (By you I mean me) I told her, "naw, it's ok, I'm just finishing up," and walked out past her confusion.
I don't really revel in confusing people, in fact, I'd much prefer it if everything were cut'n dry, but Saturn's restrooms are kind of for that.
In other news, I'm doing pretty well in school, Ochem is going rather well, but it's looking to get exponentially harder. My ecology professor needs some interns for his coot study in Canada this spring, and I'm hoping to get in on that. All expenses paid, in fact with a small stipend, plus UC credits. So I'm working on declaring my major (Ecology and Evolution) now so I don't have to worry about anything next quarter, in case I get the internship.
My therapist on campus has given me two names of therapists in town so that I can get a move on with securing a letter recomending HRT. I don't know how long it will take. If I'm gone next quarter, I don't know if I'll be able to start testosterone until this summer. Because I've only got so much time until the end of the quarter, and even if I get recommended and blood tested and all the crazy before the end, I doubt they'll let me take a prescription to canada where I'll be unmonitored. Checking blood levels and all that jazz. But dear god would that be nice.
Can't let myself get too built up on that though.
Life's good, if a little hectic. I'm a little bit terrible about getting things without deadlines done. Current Mood: anxious
|Thursday, January 5th, 2006|
|Sunday, January 1st, 2006|
This is gonna be a great year.
|Thursday, December 8th, 2005|
|Pete and Repeat
Take the first sentence (or 2) from the first post of each month of 2005. That's your year in review.
so a friend and I were talking about friends, and our transition to where we were prior to entering college (because getting to school changes everything that way).
so this makes number two. the first girl I had a crush on, turns out she had a crush on me in junior year. And she still does!
So, I've been ignoring this journal for the most part, using it as a conduit to communites more than as a place to post
the deed is done.
I'm an asshole.
So I flipped out at the ex-girlfriend today.
I've been doing fairly poorly on the homework assignments, and
received about a C-level percentage on the midterm.
was reading this discussion in the postqueer community. and... regardless of all the really strong opinions (stated more and less politely throughout the whole thing), my main qualm is just with the bare-bones meanings of the words being used. Female-to Femme transsexual?
oh man, what a...several weeks.
By which I mean I went to the cabin a week and a half ago for just over half a week.
I am really, really, very, very tired.
life. the final frontier.
So...I was going to print this out and send it as soon as I get the guts to, but the printer in the computer lab is out of ink. God fucking damnit.
K'steal! Take the first sentence (or 2) from the first post of each month of 2005. That's your year in review. Current Mood: amused but stressed
|Monday, November 14th, 2005|
We got your letter yesterday. Wow, unexpected, but not altogether
surprizing at the same time. Dad and I had been talking about you and
wondering about some of things in your letter yesterday morning while
walking Owen before I went to work. We are both very glad that you feel
comfortable and confident enough (and trust us enough) to tell us all of
this. It is a lot for us to process and accept all at once. We do want to
be supportive and a source of comfort to you. It does not mean it will
always easy for us.
I want to do the things you want us to. I will try hard to not call you
Elizabeth, refer to you as "she" or as a girl. I will probably fail more
than once. May I call you Izzy, at least for a while? It is something we
sometimes called you as a child, it is familiar, I associative with you as a
person. I honestly don't think I could call you any other name, at least
for a while and I don't want to refer to you as "hey you," "your sister"
Thanksgiving is coming up. How do you want to handle things with the
B*s and your sibs.
What do Mary and Carolyn Know? I'm thinking that you have most likely
talked with Carolyn already.
Have you spoken or written James? Do you want us to talk with him about all
this? And the other question? Would you like me to talk to Barbara?
Basically I think the B*'s (or at least the adults) will be
understanding and do whatever will make you the most comfortable. It sounds
like you don't want secrets anymore and Barbara and I have considered our
families to be "family" for years. Think about this (if you haven't
already) and let me know what you would like Dad and I do to make things as
smooth as possible.
We both want you to we love you and always have. We want the best for you.
With love from Mom (and Dad) Current Mood: ecstatic
|Saturday, November 12th, 2005|
|last public post
hey, this journal is friends only now. I really hate the whole friends-only thing, but at the same time, I'm doing this. Feel free to ask to be added. Current Mood: tired
|Wednesday, November 9th, 2005|
I am in a bad mood.
no one is separate from everyone else. The way you present yourself, in words, tone, appearance, body language, affects how people respond to you. You can mean one thing, but if you say it with the wrong words, or in the wrong tone, they'll think you meant something else. They can't be blamed for how they interpret what you're saying. Which is to say, yes, they can be blamed. It's a statistics thing. If 90% of people would interpret you one way, you can't be blamed for the other 10%. And you can be blamed for how you're interpretted for exactly the same reasons. If 90% of people think you meant one thing, those 10% who "really got it" don't count. Well, they count for something, but you really got to watch yourself. So my friend needs to shut the fuck up about it not being his fault I feel like he's always so condescending.
In other news:
I mailed the letter today. Current Mood: aggravated
|Saturday, November 5th, 2005|
|stuff and nonsense
so after getting myself all ready to come out to my parents, I remember one crucial detail: we're not going to have thanksgiving to ourselves. We're visiting family friends for the whole break. Which means we're in someone else's space. I'm really not sure what to do. Should I wait until after thanksgiving and have a really awkward time of things, or should I come out now, and we'll figure out how to handle thanksgiving when we get to it. Either way it's awkward and tough, but I guess the therapist is right, there's no doing this without some anxiety.
Anyway, I'm feeling good recently, just kind of stressed about all this. I finally gave the girlfriend what's for, at least enough that she's not making me crazy all the time I'm with her and half the time I'm not.
Anyway, my sister and I finally got down to having a conversation about me, and things went smoothly. There's no "right way" to do this, but I really feel like I fumbled on that one. It's her birthday this weekend.
Today I go to SJ with Meg and Andrew. This should be fun. Current Mood: anxious
|Tuesday, November 1st, 2005|
|coming out letter
So...I was going to print this out and send it as soon as I get the guts to, but the printer in the computer lab is out of ink. God fucking damnit. Anyway, I'm putting this here so I don't lose it, and also so I can get feedback from y'all about what to add or take out.
Until I can send it their way.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m writing this letter to you in the spirit of openness. I guess it feels like I can’t be close to you while withholding from you something of this magnitude. I love you both, and I want to include you in this process.
So, now that I’ve got you all pumped up and worried, here goes: I think I’m transsexual. This means that, despite what my body would seem to say, I feel that my brain is primarily masculine, and I identify more as a young man than as a young woman. I’m sure this is kind of a heavy bit of information to take in. It’s taken about ten months for me to get to the point where I feel sure enough to write to you about it. I’ve really only been out to my closest friends for the last three or four months.
While the subject of transsexuality, as it applies to me, has only been with me this past year, I have been experiencing the affects of this for my whole life. If you’ll remember, my favorite movie for...basically my whole childhood was Peter Pan, not the Disney version, but the stage musical, with Mary Martin playing Peter. I wanted to be a young boy forever, just like this woman onscreen. I played mostly with boys until about 2nd grade when they started making fun of me for being like a boy. When I played make-believe with Rebecca and Elizabeth, I always played the little boy, saving the Indian princess, I was the Aladdin, the Peter. I remember in 6th grade when my school friends pressured me into wearing a dress to school, with bright pink sandals. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more uncomfortable in my entire life. I have hundreds of memories all pointing me toward this realization, but I suppose that’s where realizations come from. Little clues throughout my life, adding up to this.
Last spring I had my first girlfriend. At the time she identified as heterosexual, and while her attraction to me caused her a lot of confusion, to me it felt right. It felt natural. I was too afraid to tell her about how I felt inside, about being a guy, so we weren’t together very long. Keeping a secret like this makes it hard to be close. She kept expecting me to be a woman with another woman, and I couldn’t be that for her, as much as I tried. That’s not who I am. I didn’t tell you about this relationship, because I wasn’t ready to talk with you about being trans. I was afraid that if I told you about dating a woman, you would assume this means I’m gay or bisexual, when that isn’t my reality. I didn’t want to have to “come out” to you twice, once when I was ready to tell you about my girlfriend, and once when I was ready to tell you about how I feel inside myself.
I never really talked to Dr. Caruso about my gender identity issues. This is mostly because I was very nervous and...well afraid that I would sound like I was coming out of the blue with all this. All of our past sessions had focused around my depression, and as I discovered how comfortable I feel in a male role, I was hesitant to bring it up. He also has a very psychoanalytical style of counseling, so his reactions the few times I disclosed my feelings on this issue, I felt closed off from this avenue of discussion. After a while this made it very difficult to make further progress, and I am glad I cut off our sessions when I did.
I have started therapy here in Santa Cruz with someone experienced with trans issues, capable of diagnosing Gender Identity Disorder (GID), and knowledgeable of trans resources in the area. I started out seeing one of the many therapists on campus twice, and he gave me a few names and contact information of the therapist I am seeing now on campus and others off campus who have experience with clients like myself. But the people I’ve seen have been very helpful to me, the first helping me address the shame I have felt toward myself, and the second, who I am still seeing, has been helping me establish support and resources during this transition.
Probably you’re wondering about what my being transsexual will mean for my future. In terms of long term future, many, many transmen live normal lives. It is possible to get name and gender changed on all legal documents, from social security card to that driver’s licence I’ll someday earn. It’s especially easy to make these changes in California, and since that’s where I was born and where I’m going to school, it should be pretty easy. I’m not ready to make these changes just yet, mainly because I haven’t yet been officially diagnosed with GID, a diagnosis which is required before beginning this process.
In terms of what this means for my body, this is one of the hardest issues, sometimes, for parents to face, one of the biggest reasons I wanted to talk with you sooner rather than later. I am extremely uncomfortable with my body. I have been since puberty. I’m sure you remember the long period in my life where I attempted to hide my body. I’m sure you, Mom, remember all those times I came home after shopping with too-big button up shirts, you’d ask me if I’d bought men’s shirts. I told you they weren’t men’s shirts, but of course they were. A few years later, I decided hiding in my clothes was robbing me of my life. Hiding out all the time made me sadder, reinforced a feeling of inferiority. I tried again to be feminine, but this was almost worse than curling up inside myself. While at college, I discovered I didn’t have to be the feminine that was expected, almost demanded of me in high school. Soon after, I discovered I am much more comfortable in these clothes, in this role, and with myself the way I have been this year than I ever was in feminine dress, roles, and friendships.
This has turned into a story of my self discovery, rather than a synopsis of what this means for my body, but I guess you’ll just have to bear with me. Please believe me when I say this is who I am. This last year has been one of the best of my life. I haven’t always been happy, but with this new understanding of myself, I have been much more at peace with myself. I feel the depression that plagued me through most of my adolescence has been steadily lifting all year long, and especially rapidly since I began coming out to friends. This isn’t to say that my depression was solely the result of gender dysphoria, but since correcting this mismatch in my life, I have felt much more confident and happy. Most of my bad spells recently have been a direct product of the difficulty of coming out to friends, family, and the occasional acquaintance.
I spent last summer going by a masculine name, and some of my friends even used masculine pronouns for me. I came out to my college friends just before returning to school, and the switch-over has been almost seamless. I present as male full-time now, using a masculine name when introducing myself, and clearing this detail with new professors. This switch has, for the most part, been a complete non-issue, as I am read as my preferred gender about 99% of the time. The new name and pronouns have helped me feel more solid in my identity, and when I have to switch back to Elizabeth and “she,” I am disoriented and a little let down.
Anyway, back to the original topic: what does this mean for my body? I have a great desire to have chest reconstruction. This is the part of my physical transition that I am most sure of, as I have been extremely uncomfortable with this part of my body ever since it developed. In early high school I used to feel almost jealous of older women who had to have mastectomies due to cancer. This was a pretty out there fantasy, I guess, because there’s no way I’d actually want to have to have this surgery under such conditions. My chest has been, for many years, the biggest source of trouble in my mind-body mismatch.
Hormone replacement therapy (HRT), while has not been my main concern, recently has felt more and more important to me. For most transguys this is the first step in the process. It is something I could actually afford in the near future, and would be very helpful in transforming my body to match who I feel I am. HRT has been occupying my thoughts more and more often recently. I have been feeling a great discomfort in my body, and I believe this could help alleviate some of the gender dysphoria I’ve been experiencing. On a technical level: Testosterone redistributes body fat in a masculine distribution, masculinizes the face, deepens the voice, coarsens the skin, increases body and facial hair, allows for increased muscle size as well as builds a masculine musculature. Testosterone halts menstruation after about a month or two, and sterilization can occur with prolonged usage. Some possible negative side effects are male pattern baldness, increased risk of heart disease, possible liver damage. None of the negative side effects are the sort that occurs in everyone on HRT, they’re just possible dangers.
I want to pause now to say that I am not leaving you. I’m still me. I’ve always been me. I will always be me. Your daughter isn’t dying or leaving you, she’s trying to grow up into the young man she’s always been meant to become. I still think the same, I still love you the same, I still feel the same in every way. My body may change, my voice may change, but the person saying the things in the voice you might hardly recognize will still be the same person you’ve always known. I hope that, now that I’ve figured myself out a little better and am opening myself up to you a little more we can be even closer than before. I guess that’s what this letter is about. Opening up a dialogue so that we don’t shut each other out with secrets. I have a tendency to keep things about myself secret, from both my friends and my family, and I’m trying to overcome that. I guess it’s about that sense of shame I surround myself with. I am working to become unashamed of myself. I hope that you can help me in this process.
I had a great time the last month of my summer, living with you again, even if I wasn’t able to talk to you about all this. Being with you again let me see what great parents you are. I know you were both watching me, seeing that something in my understanding about myself has changed. Mom, coming into my room with the rainbow patterned tube-hat, I love you for nudging me toward telling you the truth. Dad, working with me on the porch, teaching me to use the tools, I love you for helping me feel I can really be your son. And I’ve always loved you for everything you do for me, and for just being who you are.
The other weekend, when we were all in South Carolina together was hard for all of us. I could see how much you were hurting, Dad, and really I felt useless. I kept feeling like I never really knew Grandma, and I felt bad for never bothering to find out. Looking through photographs and her shark tooth collection and asking you about her family let me feel I could start to understand her a little better now, even though it’s too late to know her in life. I was bursting to tell you about what’s been going on with me, about my identity, what it means to my past, what it means for me now, and where I hope to go with this, but I was afraid. I’m not really sure what I was afraid of, I guess it was that pesky shame, and also I knew this time was hard enough as it was.
And Mom, I know you are ready to start discussing this with me because the other week at Grandma’s viewing you flat out asked me if I want to be a boy. I’m sorry for diverting you, I was afraid, and already very stressed out by the situation. I wish the question had come up at a more opportune time, when we had time and context to really discuss the question. I guess I’ll answer you now, as best I can. Do I want to be a boy? Yes and no. Yes in the sense that I want to change my body to be masculine, and yes in the sense that I want to be what I am. And no in the sense that I don’t want to become a boy, I feel that I already am. In that way I want to be a boy like James wants to be a boy. In reality what I want to be most of all is a man. I think I’m ready to start growing up.
I want, more than anything, for us to work through this stuff to where we understand each other as best we can. So if you have any questions for me, why I’m doing this, what I’m doing, I really do want to talk with you about it. Write me back, give me a call, however. I’m telling you about this now so that you can be involved in my transition, help me through the decisions I’ll be facing. I know I have a tendency to shut you out, not allow you to be parental, and I guess I’m ready to let you in and work with me in my growing up.
Thanks, guys, for everything.
Your loving son,
|Friday, October 21st, 2005|
hm. Went to see Dr. Monsour today. Pft. I hate first time with a new therapist. There are forms to fill out, and you all have a good chuckle about how many people in your family are depressives of one sort or another, and then you take a bit, trying to figure out if you should get to know each other, or just focus on what you want out of therapy. Bah.
But, no, really. she's cool. She gave me the name of a transfriendly MD on campus (Dr Cat Forrest), and she outlined some of the things on which this MD might be interested in hearing me elaborate. Which really came down to how everyone in my family is depressive and how I am too. Because testosterone is kinda unpredictable in terms of mood changes. So I guess my "psychological homework" is to try and tease out which parts of my fuck upedness is gender dysphoria and which part is just me being stupid. and by stupid I mean depressed.
The other parts of my psychological homework are to work on that coming out letter and maybe stop by the health center. I'm about half an inch from getting this parent thing over with. Half a fucking inch. It's driving me crazy, it really is.
Things Dr Cat Forrest might want to know:
1) Am I going to go crazy and kill myself and everyone around me (probably no)
2) Have I been thinking about this for a while
3) Am I sure this is what I want to do
4) Do I have financial support for a) school b) transition
5) Do I have support from friends so I won't go do question #1
so, no I don't think I'm gonna go crazy and kill everyone, but if it does make me depressed, well fuck it, that's life. That's my life, anyway. And honestly, I think it'll help with most the shit I'm having trouble with. The whole looking like a child thing, the whole, I feel wrong in my body thing, the whole I don't want to get out of bed because every day is an experiment in being me. fuck. Have I been thinking about this for a while? Yes. It's been almost a year since the thought occured to me "maybe I'm transsexual," and on top of that, I've been me my whole life. This shit's been up in the air for a really long time, and now I've got a framework in which to think about it. Am I sure this is what I want to do? 95% sure. I'm scared, sure. But I think everyone's a little bit scared. But every day that passes, I'm that much more sure of myself. I'm that much more convinced that testosterone if for me.
Do I have financial support? Yes. I mean, I don't think my parents are gonna pull out because turns out I'm a son. I think they'll stick by me. Oh god I hope they stick by me.
And my friends are here for me. I have one friend so far who's given me shit, and things will work out with her, or they won't.
It feels like things are moving forward. It's been hard recently. I'd really like to get the ball rolling. Current Mood: pensive
|Thursday, October 20th, 2005|
|Ok, It's story time.
Last night, when I got back from jujutsu/dinner there was a party at my place. No big deal, some housemates playing poker with friends, watching TV. There was some weed in the air, but it wasn't hedonistic. I get back to my room, know it'll be a while till it calms down, so I call up Stephen. He can verify this part of the story. We talked for maybe an hour, good stuff. I was already in my sleep-clothes, and in bed, with just my bed-light on, so I turned it off and went to bed. A little tossing and turning, but I'm out without 20 minutes half an hour.
Cut to 6 hours later. My alarm clock goes off. I hit snooze, because I'm tired, but sit up before it goes off again, because I'm also hungry. I'm sitting in my bed, facing my pillow with the alarm in my hand when I see it.
There are two holes in my wall.
Two holes about the size of a heel.
About the size of my heel, so I stick my heel in to see if it's true. It doesn't seem quite right, my heel certainly doesn't fit comfortably. Because usually punching through dry wall you leave a hole a little bigger than whatever you hit it with, unless you hit it pretty hard and pretty fast.
So I sit there staring dumbly at the wall for another 10 minutes. At which point I realize I'm gonna be late for genetics and I throw on my clothes and glasses, grab a banana and leave.
Walking to class, my right heel hurts.
Three words for you: WHAT...THE...FUCK... Current Mood: perplexed
|Saturday, October 15th, 2005|
|yeah, I'm so cool.
so...I been kinda busy. I dunno. Stuff.
A week and a half ago my grandmother died. So I went to S Carolina ever the weekend for the funeral. My mom asked me if I want to be a boy. Many old church ladies gave me very odd looks indeed. Because I certainly can't be a granddaughter. I think I'd have to say I agree. I cannot be a granddaughter. Plus she's dead.
I'm tired. I went to Monterey this morning, to see a rokudan demonstration. William did awesome. Plus training under Toribio Kancho. Which is always great. I would like to go over the techniques we learned today, but there is no one to train with.
I was Elizabeth this afternoon, because some family friends were in town.
The other day my Human sexuality instructor needed to know the name I'm registered under, in order to enroll me in the class, and first off I was really uncomfortable with it, but when she finally said "I'm gonna need the name you're registered under now" my first reaction was "Elliot" and then I got all flustered and said "except that's the name you already know and I'm not actually registered under." It's hard going backwards. Backwards sucks. I feel like some parts of my life are all progress, but other parts are not at all. Some parts are slipping back. I think I am depressed again. I think I might have actually been alright for a while there, but recently I've been feeling pretty aweful. At least now I have an ok idea of what it is that's messing with me.
First way I'm fucked up is I'm lonely. I have a really hard time letting myself be open with people. I'm afraid of relying on someone, or not being independent or something. I'm terrified of women. So I get lonely. I'm also afraid that my friends will find out how lonely I feel, and feel badly because of it. Dr. Badri Dass says my biggest obstacle is shame. yeah, I'm fucking ashamed of myself.
The second way I'm fucked up is this fucking gender dysphoria. It's getting to where I don't want to go to class. I wake up and I can't get up because there's a mirror and a hiding process, a whole slew of things I do in order to be a perversion of what I should be in order to slightly resemble myself. Fuck. At the party last night one of the girls couldn't get over the fact that I'm 19, not 12. She felt weird drinking in front of me.
Damnit, I'm making an emo post. Fuck me.
In other news: on tuesday I went to a trans meeting on campus, and it looks like we're putting together a club of some sort. Or something. I'm excited. Are you excited *touches nose* Current Mood: blah
|Monday, October 3rd, 2005|
life. the final frontier.
So, I have classes. And club. And I do shit. I spend a heck of a lot of time with Amber. hm.
I've spent the last hour and a half t00bing around the internet while she talks to her folks via phone. I...her life makes me sad. Some people you just want their lives to get better. But you know there's not much you can do. The little bits I can do, I do. But they don't seem like they do much. But I don't know, it's tough. It's like, I want to help, but I don't want to us to be where we used to be. And it's hard to tell at this juncture where we are. Goddamn it, fuck life.
I went on a great hike by myself yesterday, and I had a good time of it. I've been really, I dunno, dysphoric recently, and it cheered me up. I've done all the reading for Human Sexuality, which isn't due until thursday, plus I read the optional book (The Ethical Slut) and the reading for next week, too. Maybe I read too much. Maybe I should be reading genetics. Maybe I will. Or maybe not. yeah... Human Sexuality is simultaneously intriguing and irritating. Last class the teacher (a student herself) said that she sometimes wished she could be like me, because she'd like to see how guys communicate with each other. And then later she said that while right now she's got a rather feminine outer self, internally she feels transgendered. Right after I came out to the whole class (holding my breath and all) she put me on the spot about it, and then when she asked "the guys" to talk about how guys talk to each other, she went through three guys, and stopped right before getting to me. Way to make me feel accepted. fuck that shit.
And the week after next's topic is Gender and Sexuality. Which has been fun reading, but I think the discussions will be..trying. But, hey, challenging means fun, right?
hm. Jujutsu. Jujutsu makes me feel good. So I'm gonna go do that. Current Mood: I have to pee
|Wednesday, September 14th, 2005|
While in Salem, I walked downtown with my friends. We stopped at the Book Bin, so of course I went upstairs, sniffing out the queer section. There was one trans book, Kate Bornstein's "My Gender Workbook." I flipped through it, but got sick. First of all, too pink. Second of all, I'm not really interested in screwing with people's heads. The book felt so juvenile. I say juvenile, because puerile makes me sound like a nerdy little prick.
And I felt...embarrassed or something about being in that section. A woman who worked there came upstairs to shelve a book, and I kind of stepped over to the next section, I don't even know why. I guess I do know why. Because I ID as straight, and I'm afraid of being seen as gay. Maybe I've some latent homophobia or something. Goddamnit, why can't it be easy to see what's going on in the subconcious? Because I feel pretty shitty about getting all embarrassed like that.
I am so tired right now Current Mood: exhausted
|Sunday, September 11th, 2005|
there was this funny clothy tube thing that mom had while we were backpacking, that comes with instructions on ways to turn it into different hats, depending on how you put it on/where you knot it, etc. I told her the colors were lame (orange and brown), and we joked about it a lot I really liked it because...I don't know, I like the pirate hat I could make, and we were backpacking.
Yesterday she came in here with the same kind of hat, only it was rainbow, and she joked "How about the pattern on this one, you like this better?"
I think my mom is trying to get me to come out.
|Sunday, September 4th, 2005|
|Saturday, September 3rd, 2005|
I am really, really, very, very tired.
I was planning on not posting until I had a few pics of the vacation, but I guess that can wait.
because, while I've been feeling rather up recently, things're still tough. Especially when it's late at night and I'm tired and weird.
I love my family, but it's hard being home. They're good people, I'm just not...out here. They don't know about the whole winter quarter girlfriend thing, they don't know about my ongoing "gender identity issues" (as I referred to the business the two or three times I mentioned it to Dr C). But they see stuff. I mean, who doesn't. All of a sudden I've got no boobs (I wish), no girl's clothes, and hair shorter and more masculine than my brother's. So of course they're noticing. And joking about it. I thought maybe they understood somehow, even though I never mentioned anything.
Being in Yellowstone was hard, mainly because of public restrooms. Aside from that the trip went great. Public restrooms are the bane of my existance. Exaggeration. But being with folks it was a constant women's restroom trip, and hence I spooked quite a few women, and recieved a threat or two from little girls (going to "tell on me" you see).
Today I went shopping with my brother, he's going to high school on tuesday, so he needed new clothes (the whole puberty thing's finally caught up with him). I bought a pair of pants, too. From, of course, the boys' section. When I came back from trying them on, my mom asked if I'd ever tried out getting clothes in the "petite" section. She said I might find clothes that fit me there. Does she honestly think I buy boys'/men's clothing because I'm looking for a better fit? If she'd noticed how long all my pants are, maybe she'd get rid of that notion. But then, that's always been her response to me buying male clothing "Oh, when I was younger I would sometimes buy boys' pants when nothing fit me in the girls' section."
Then we went to REI so mom could check her schedule (she starts up there again next week) and James and I roamed the store and started goofing off in the sleeping bag section. One of the employees (who knows my mum) walked past and asked about the age difference, if it was one year. I kind of paused and said "actually it's five years." fuck me, so fucking young. erg. testosterone. which means, erg, new therapist, blood tests, letters, prescriptions and worst of all parents. fuck that. damnit. fuck. parents.
"dear mom and dad: surprise I'm a guy. regards, your 3rd kid."
I can never tell if my mom's jokes about me are because she's scared or just actually amused.
while I was on vacation I was passing left and right. waiters calling me sir (and when they didn't, they just avoided gender-specific language), creeped out women in the restrooms, and, I don't know, I just felt it, most of the time, in the way people treated me, looked at me, smiled or didn't at me. which of course "amused" the hell out of my parents. weirded James out a bit, but I talked with him some, not really about being ts, just about me, I guess. I think I've made it clear that it doesn't bother me to be "mistaken" for a guy.
I came out to my ex yesterday, and that went over really well. She's always teased me about looking like a really young guy (exactly how
young got progressively more insulting, we're down to, I think, 10 years old now), and she asked if I still look 10. Which I guess kind of hurts. I don't really like being reminded how short, round-faced, and not masculine-looking I am. And yet everyone gets a kick out of reminding me.
I guess I'm in another one of my gender dysphoria slumps right now. Which is to say, it's always there in the "fuck I'm a guy, what? body's not?" kind of way, but usually I just work my way around that and live just fine. And then every once in a while, everything's wrong about my body, where I can't look in the mirror without thinking how much I just look like a butch lesbian, and a pretty fey one at that, where I'm fat because the weights in all the wrong places, where I'm deficient because I'm not out to everyone in my life and I'm not passing with everyone else. and it gets me down. I've been saying how great I'm doing to everyone around me, and it's true, I have been doing well, with everything else, I guess this has just been building, starting with, oh fuck, forever ago.
because it's always there. Rebecca calling me by my birth name all summer, calling me the "bamboo princess" when I'm sweating like a pig trimming her bamboo, swearing she'll always call me by my given name. David being the sexist jerk he can be sometimes while simultaneously jabbing at me "It's because she's a girl" "But you're a girl" etc. Fucking asshole. With those two I was on edge all summer. Now I'm back here and no one calls me Elliot, I'm always "she," and backpacking I can't bind, because, let's face it I can hardly breathe binding like I do.
My hair's getting too long, I look shabby. But I don't want to get it cut here, because my folks would drive me, and goddamn that's too much stress.
like I said, I'm too fucking tired. My right eyelid's all swollen, it's gotten worse through the day, my mum says it might be infected or something like that. that sucks.
on a better note, I might be getting contacts before I go down south. I have an appointment with the eye doctor on tuesday at 5 pm. He's going to try to fit in both the checking and the fitting, so hopefully I can get that all squared away before I go back to school. He asked where I study and when I told him he laughed and said "Oh I didn't know they did any studying there." I'm glad my education is such a joke to the rest of the world. But seriously, I like myself better without glasses. Even though contacts will probably make me look 9 years old, I don't give a fuck.
heh, yeah, here's to bad nights *clinks glass*
which is silly because I don't drink Current Mood: gruff
|Thursday, August 18th, 2005|
back in Portland. North is fun. Planes are fun. Family dog is fun, as is the turtle. staying up too late, sleeping in too late, downloading t-progression voice clips, and younger brothers make me happy. Which is silly because I only have one younger brother.
My friends gave me a sendoff quite unexpected. Looking at how...withdrawn everyone was this summer, how much no one cared or felt ok showing it or something, it was good. We went to the beach, Salmon Creek, then we watched awful movie The Crow, then we watched Family guy/Daily Show and a few of them left and then I said "Goddamnit I've been saying it all summer and now we are finally going to sneak into Spring Lake (county park) and go for a 2 in the morning hike!" so we did. Which is why it was awesome, because I have indeed been saying it since the beginning of the year.
And this girl I haven't seen since I graduated showed up, she works with Rebecca, and that was really cool because I wouldn't mind getting to know her better.
I've talked to all my closer friends back home about being transsexual, but that left a few people out of the loop and I didn't really feel like going through the nerve wracking, heart pounding process of bringing them up to speed. I figured they'd put the pieces together themselves. And finally, on my last night, Stephen went ahead and did it for me. The new girl, Katie, was confused when someone called me Elliot (seeing as no one in HS called me that), so Stephen went on to explain "See, we call him Elliot now," at which point David chimed in "Well, I know her as Elizabeth" with his silly smug grin, and I don't really know how the words came around about it, but Stephen most definately put it out there that I'm transsexual, and Pel looked confused and said "Transgender, right?" and at this point I'm kind of embarrassed everyone's attention, but I still blush and mumble "Either works fine" after Pel and Stephen argue uninformedly about the words. But Katie chimes in that if I ever need any help with anything, she goes to school near the Sex-Change Capitol of the World (whatever that means), and I really am much grateful for her support that way.
Anyway, I went off to get some cake in the kitchen, because a whole room focusing on me that long was a little much for me. Then Stephen joined me and I explained how transgender is a blanket term, and transsexual is specific to those who have had or desire to have sex reassignment and/or live as their target sex. Which he, as ever, absorbed without blinking. But anyway, the whole exchange came out to where I think David's rethinking things, and stuff was more clear to Rebecca (hopefully). I'm such a passive asshat.
Anyway, back "home" and my mom only stuttered a little bit about not being able to recognize me with my new hairs. and I think I caught her staring at my chest. Maybe she'll want to talk to me about this, and maybe she won't. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Oregon is wetter feeling.