Frustrated by the reflection

Walk into my home and you may notice there is not one full length mirror. I dodge them. If I could get ready without having to look in any mirror I would be happy. When I do see myself it brings about the thoughts of just how far away I am from the real me.

I see all these people in the process of transitioning; it also frustrates me. This dysphoria is painful. Over the last couple of years I have had issues with my breast, having to have a mass removed it has left a scar and has left the area very tender. This has only increased my dysphoria. The tenderness brings them to my attention and it screws with my head even more. I won’t them gone. I told the surgeon to just remove them since I have these issues, but he just blew past that desire. The results were that I have Atypical ductal hyperplasia which means I will have to endure even more screenings. I am just done with them. You would think that after having lived within this body for 48 yrs I would be accustomed to it, but it seems that each year I dislike it more and more.

I did reach out to a couple of therapist. At this time I have other things that I am obligated to take care of before I can focus on making steps towards correcting my body to match what I know I am. I am so afraid that I am going to be stuck living this life within this hell.

I am just frustrated!

Tip Toed from my closet

There is one person that really knows this struggle of mine. I thought I would venture a little further from my closet one evening. I slowly opened the door, looked around and found one of my co-workers. She is MtF and I knew that this was going to be an easy coming out. I was right, she gave me guidance to some contacts for when I am ready. I really wish I could just step out and dance in the freedom.

My fear, my Father. I worry about him having to face this so late in his life. He just reached the age of 80 and I struggle with even needing to drop this in his lap. I love him dearly and I know he loves me as well. He has accepted my “lifestyle” as it is now. Telling my Father that I am gay/lesbian was hard for me because I do not see myself as a lesbian. I am a straight male, but he would not grasp that whole idea.

After my conversation with my co-worker, I spoke to my hairdresser. She was totally okay with everything. Funny, I felt that she needed to know because I have slowly over the past 5 yrs of her cutting my hair have gone shorter and shorter with my cuts. I wanted her to know the presentation I was after so she could stop trying to make my short hair cuts look femme. Which to say the least I was never pleased with anyhow.

So who knows about my closet now? My current girlfriend (embraces), a co-worker and my hair dresser. Short list.

I have a group of gals that are close friends and one of those is my girl but the other 5 do not know- well at least I haven’t told them. My co-worker said she suspected all along, but figured I would approach the subject when I was ready.

I have emailed a couple of therapist to see if they had any openings and to see what the cost would be to start going to therapy. See, I struggle with this part because I an 48 yrs of age and I know who I am. Needing a piece of paper that validates that I have gender dysphoria is …well, like a scam to me. Pay me money to write down what I already know so that I may actually go see a doctor to give me what I really need to align my body to who I really am. Yea, I struggle with that concept a lot.

I have been thinking that I would like to have the group of girls meet up with me and have a discussion. We just have gone in our own directions lately because of schedules and two live out of town. I really do not fear what they will think because I know they have my back after all, I am their “Token Butch.”

The Baptist and Me

I was brought up within a southern baptist household which looking back were the most judgemental people I have ever encountered in my life. As I have grown older, I do not comprehend how my Mother fit into that category. She was a kind person and had love for everybody. She and I did struggle with the “gay” thing, but she was not a judgemental person. Every Sunday we attended church, I knew my bible scriptures and I trembled in the pew as I listened to the pastor speak about what happens to those that practice homosexuality. He was the one that actually labeled me. I had no idea that I was a “homosexual.” Yes, I knew that physically I was a girl that was attracted to girls but within my mind and soul I was just a boy liking a girl. I did not understand really that I would stay a girl. I thought that I would grow into the boy I was meant to be and I just hadn’t reached the age that it happens.

At night, I would say my prayers, within those prayers, “Dear God, please change me soon.” This never happened. Childhood passed into teen years and I still had this deep desire that he would see fit to go ahead, answer my prayers. I knew that you should be earnest in your prayer and I can’t think of many things I was more earnest about.

As we all know high school years are very hard to those that are “normal” the complexity of being so confused when you look into a mirror simply added to the overwhelming feelings of awkwardness.

Though I began to realize that I needed to “date” a guy to be accepted and a part of the crowd, I still begged that the change would come soon. He was a great guy and fun to be around but I just felt as if I was a guy dating a guy. It felt so odd to me. I can’t explain how ashamed I felt. It was there and that is all I know. I found ways to avoid situations. My Mom seemed to be happy that a young man was coming around, but I just couldn’t find happiness for myself. In the mix of all this the pastor’s daughter and I became friends. It changed at some point that we began to hug longer and then one day it happened, we kissed. Long story short- he and I are still friends to this day and she will not speak to me at all. I guess I was a “sin” she can live without. I wish her, her husband and children a good life.

After high school, I was sent to a baptist college to help me figure out all this stuff. It was to bring me closer to God. To be very honest, I wasn’t too happy with him at this stage in my life. He had ignored my request. He has forced me to live within this shell. My second year, a roommate and I ventured down the same path as the pastor’s daughter only to be confronted by her mother on the church grounds. Her mother came after me and she told me, “I am praying for you a slow and painful death! My God hates people such as yourself and you are going to burn in hell!”

I have attended enough bible studies, church ceremonies to know that “anything that keeps you away from God is a sin,” I realized at that point it was the Baptist that were keeping me away from God- they are one of my sins.

Here I am at the age of 48, still tonight when I lay down…”God, please let me change.”

The Letter

When you get around others that are GLBT there is the passing of your “coming out story” I always struggled with this because I really do not have a story. I would always settle to tell the story that I realized that how I was born was going to be something others did not accept too easily.

My story, is the letter. The letter takes place in first grade, I can still see the classroom. Rows of desk, 6 across and about 7 deep. I was settled in my desk which was in the 3rd row and about 4 desk down and the girl that I liked she was sitting a row over and up about 2 desk.

As the teacher is talking I am putting together the most awesome note to send to the girl that sat a few desk over.

Dear Joni

I like you do you like me?

Check Yes or NO

I signed it …..

Jerry

(I have no idea where the name Jerry came from, think it was because it started with a “J” like hers)

I tapped the person in front of me to pass my letter to Joni. I sat back and watched as she turned to grab the letter. My heart was racing. I watched as she took her pencil and wrote something and she passed it back. Just as i get it opened and see her response, the teacher calls on me to tell me to stand up and read the note. I do as the teacher instructs me to do and the next thing I know the teacher has me by the arm and we are walking down that long wooden floor hallway.

My Mother is called and a big discussion began about if you do not do something about this…she is going to be “THAT WAY.”

I really do not recall much after that point but I do remember….she checked…..

YES