Binders

I have two binders.  One of them is... more comfortable but does nothing much to reduce my persistent knockers.  The other... is harder to get into than Mother Teresa, but it reduces the DDs to barely anything.  Tonight I went dancing with some friends, and I had the best night, with the least dysphoria, since I was wee.  Fifteen or earlier.

T-Kingdom is good, but it's built for smaller guys, or for those who need less binding than I.  There may be a time in the future when a T-Kingdom binder is right for me, but my DDs are perky still, and haven't yet got the message that they need to cut it out.

The one I wore tonight was a Double Panel Compression Shirt from Babeland's Gender Expression section.  Putting it on is a hell of a challenge, but once on, it's comfortable and I spent the whole night free of dysphoria.  That's worth a bit of fighting to get into it.  I LOVE my new binder.

Frustration

Okay, so... My dad's been great, but my stepmom and my real mom have proven to be kindof jerkwads lately.  My mother insists that I was born into a female body for a reason related to a former life, and need to learn some kind of 'lesson' from it.  And the worst part of it is that I'm such a pushover to her that she's making me doubt myself.  Undoubtedly, that would please her.

The point is, reader, that I don't want my mother to hate me for making a transition.  But I want her to care enough about me to read the materials I send her.  She says that the issue is mine, and that she doesn't need to read the material to understand.  But the point is, gender dysphoria is my issue, but the transitioning process requires support and love from people who will respect my decision.

I am nearly 30 years old, burdened by debt.  I've been called a rapist, I've lived alone and with friends.  I've been to college and failed.  I've faced crushing depression and blazing happiness.  I have lived much of my life and continue to do so.  The thing that gets me the most is how happy I am right now.  Even though I'm angry because my own mother is not supporting me, it's anger.  Not depression.  I'm cheerful, wanting to go outside and play.  But... despite that cheerfulness and that internal peace, I'm antsy about my body.  I'm working out and getting healthy but I don't look the way I feel, and I won't until I have hormones and surgery.

I feel so much better when I get accidentally 'Sir'ed.  I want to pass fairly well before I go on T.  I've ordered a second binder, in hopes that I will look slightly more masculine with it on.  I'm slowly changing my wardrobe over, as well.  I have a therapy appointment next week on Tuesday, and I'm pleased to report that it'll be my second one.  Hopefully I'll be able to make some kind of breakthrough.  I am looking for community, trying to find the transguys in the area that can tell me about what they went through and can help me deal with my mother's lack of support.

Pronouns

What is in a pronoun?  Not much, really.  My computer's dictionary defines it as 'a word that can function by itself as a noun phrase and that refers either to the participants in the discourse (e.g., I, you) or to someone or something mentioned elsewhere in the discourse (e.g., she, it, this).'  'He' and 'she' are third person singular pronouns, used to refer to those of a particular visible sex.  That said, how many times a day is it unclear what to call someone?  The dictionary even uses 'is that a he or a she?' as an example of one of the uses of 'he'.  Our desire to categorize and understand what's under somebody's britches is as important to us as living near others of our species.  I think it's a primal drive, one feels one must know so that one might react to an individual accordingly.  Is that person over there competition, or a potential breeding partner?  If we don't know, we're instinctively curious.  I think in many cases the curiosity is translated rapidly into fear.

I am not comfortable addressing a person presenting a gender as the opposite pronoun.  For instance, a person who was born a woman, who is presenting a female body and female attributes, is in my mind 'she' and 'her'.  Which is why I don't mind at the moment being addressed by those pronouns.  At some point, my skill at binding and my weight loss will have shrunk the breast tissue and I will feel more comfortable with the effort to pass.

Working on weight loss and muscle gain lately.  So far, everything's been more or less equal as far as weight loss goes.  I'll choose to interpret that as my muscle gain equaling my weight loss.  

Confidence and Guilt

As the days go by, my confidence both grows and shivers under blows that I deal, or that other people deal without understanding.  I understand the dysphoria now, and that was a huge step for me, but I can't just stop there.  I've decided on a new name, and I think that in many private circles, people will begin to use it. I think that's a new thing about myself that I never allowed before.  Progress must be made.  My room, which has been consistently cluttered since I was a child, is clean.  CLEAN.  That's 24 years of clutter, gone.  That in itself shows the confidence I've grown.

Guilt is another matter.  I don't feel any yet for desiring to transition, but what I have felt is a release of guilt for not being 'lady-like'.

Sense of Self

I have been feeling waves of overwhelming emotion lately.  I suspect it's from the sudden ability to self-discover after 9 years of silence.  But anything will make me choke up, from watching my dog recognize me from across a field and come when I call, to a TV show featuring Chef Boyardee that talks about how they supported the soldiers in WWII.  It's been almost exactly one month and it doesn't seem like it's only been that long, because for the last month I've been free to live life fully.

I have been exercising.  I lost a few pounds already, but more interestingly, I am fairly toned now.  I've got lots of weight to lose still, but I've been more productive.  I've been looking for houses for my mom, taking the dog out for walks, finding myself bored without the urge to open World of Warcraft.  I've been doing more reading and talking more to friends and family.  My sense of ME and what I like is becoming more defined.

Along with the sense of self comes a freedom from guilt.  The guilt from not shaving my legs or armpits, the guilt from not wearing feminine clothes, the guilt of disappointing everyone I know and everyone I don't know with my failure to act feminine.  That's gone now.  I'm even almost okay with having a D-cup and trying to pass.  Well, that's not quite true.  There's going to be an initial learning period during which things are WEIRD AS FUCK (mens rooms... oh man... not looking forward to those...) and I make a few dumb faux pas.  I guess the best I can do is to have friends with me and get in lots of practice at home.  Which is still funny to me.

Basically what I feel happening to me is the slow merging of two different images into the reality of now.  I should draw it, I could do that more effectively than express it in text.

Appointments

Today I had an appointment with a local clinic.  Pike Market Medical Clinic is a local clinic that can treat people on a sliding scale, and treats folks of all walks of life.  I worked with Rachel Beda, who is new there but is very accepting of trans stuff.  She was incredibly nice.  But they don't do mental health counseling for gender issues there.  She told me to go check out Seattle Counseling Services, which I'd submitted an application to a bit ago.  I'll be going back to PMMC in few weeks to get the ol' undercarriage checked out, since it's been about 9000 years since my last general health appointment.  Plus it will be good to build a repoire with a trans friendly doctor, for later.

I called SCS, and inquired about my application.  They found it, reviewed it, and it turned out they had an opening at 4pm.  I had an intake appointment, which was full of questions.  I set my goals for the therapy as... being comfortable with transitioning in front of people.  And to make sure that I was fully aware of all my options, and fully comfortable with all the side effects and medical knowledge before making the long term changes.

To be perfectly frank, I prefer being fully, fully informed to jumping in with both feet in this instance.  It's important to me to understand the effects of the changes, and what will be happening to my body and mind with every step along the way.

Working Out, De-cluttering Life

Oh my gaaawd, I haven't worked out in a thousand years.  My arms and stomach are killing me and I spent barely 20 minutes alternating between pushups and situps.  SO I DIDN'T FEEL LIKE WORKING OUT WHILE DEPRESSED.  SUE ME.  I really should have done... something.  Holy god, I'm like some kind of lard ball with a skeletal structure, buried deep inside.  Video games, man.  They'll kill ya.  I spent ages playing World of Warcraft.  Do you know how damn many level 80 characters I have?  And how many 85s...  And how much time I spent playing it.  And not exercising.

Well, I feel good.  I cleaned a little, which always cheers me up.  It was also so I could have some unobstructed floor space to do my situps and pushups.  I used to be able to do situps the manly way, from the toes to the arms, but I'm weak from years of video games.  Now I'm doing them the girly way, from the knees.  But I've heard that weight training not only makes you feel good, but it also boosts metabolism and testosterone naturally.  ALSO, if I lose weight, my boobs are probably going to get smaller.  Greatest plan.

I've come up with a great plan.  In preparation for moving out (which will happen eventually) I've decided to make a list of Must Haves and Nice To Haves for my future minimalist household.  And the rest of the stuff I own will get donated, sold, or thrown out.  I'm good with lists and systems, and having something to check off to de-clutter with would be helpful.  I have so much crap, and if I'm ever going to move out/get surgeries/pay for hormone therapy/move to England, I'm going to have to get rid of most of the stuff I've accumulated over the years.