A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)

Archive for October, 2009

Anger management.

I’ve had little to write about lately- kind of been sitting in a pool of stagnation for a while- but I feel obligated to update.  There hasn’t been much change except for the fact that my life has been taken over by a couple of munchkins.  In a sense, that has changed EVERYTHING, but it’s put me on hold.

I’ve been feeling an inordinate amount of bitterness towards the kids, and it took me a little while to figure out exactly what it was that was bothering me.  But now I’ve got it sorted out, and I guess I could stand to get it off my chest.

Just before they came into our lives, I was getting to that point with my dad where I was nearly comfortable enough with him that I could have come clean with him about everything and maybe not even have to leave home in order to start transition.  We were getting really close and he was even on good terms with Jack before he integrated.  I’d just had that talk with him where I explained that integration was happening and a lot of big things were about to change.  I didn’t say what, but I think he had a guess, and I was going to give him time to figure it out and let it sink in before I dropped the bomb.

And then these kids showed up, and he’s completely moved away from me and sunk back into this weird religious hellhole.  Now I’m expected to set the best possible example for these kids, and there’s no way I could start transition with them in the picture.  He wouldn’t allow it.  I feel utterly betrayed.  I was on the edge of finally, finally having something, a place in my life where I didn’t have to hide anymore, and these kids stole it from me.

I’m having a hard time coping with it.  I know these kids didn’t do anything wrong, and I can’t take it out on them.  I know my dad is just trying to do what’s right, and my stepmom loves those babies and wants to see them grow up right.  But I don’t understand why it has to be us.  And maybe I’m just being selfish, but this is the worst of possible outcomes for my transition.

I was so close.  And now I’m back to square one.  I have to leave home before I can even think of starting transition.

Now I’m thinking about having some kind of anger management therapy or something.  I’ve been having the same dream almost every night for weeks, where I get in a fight with someone and I’m trying to hit them, but for whatever reason, my punches won’t land right.  I miss, or my arms feel too heavy to lift, or I’m too weak to do any kind of damage, but it’s always the same- I’m trying to fight some kind of enemy, and they’re just laughing in my face.  I wake up in humiliation every morning.  I’ve always had a good right jab and I throw a heavier punch than the typical female-bodied person, and having that taken away from me every night only makes me more and more frustrated.

And plus, my anger threshold keeps lowering.  I fall into a rage at some of the slightest and most stupid things, and it makes me look like an idiot because there’s nothing I can do about it.  I don’t like people seeing me as this overly sensitive, bull-headed jerk.  I used to be level-headed and logical.  Where did THAT go?
I’m crawling in my skin.  My sex life is alternately eluding me because I can’t deal with myself or anyone else seeing me naked, among other things.  My back is slowly being raped by the binder I’ve been wearing lately- I need to order an underworks binder before I warp my ribs permanently.  There’s a whole new set of people in my life who are learning to address me with the wrong pronouns and the wrong name, and hearing the occasional “Tommy” from the one friend who even bothers to use it does little enough to cool the burns.

I JUST WANT OUT.

Advertisements

Fresh and short blurb.

I guess the most awesome thing that’s happened to me lately is that my best friend was hugging me the other day and she said I smelled “manly”.   As I know it, that’s only supposed to happen after sustained HRT.  Maybe I’m turning naturally, as I’ve suggested in my previous post?

I’ve recently recalled reading on my dad’s bottle of Rogaine (yes, I read the back of EVERYTHING- don’t judge!) that women should be careful using products containing minoxidil and not get it on their faces because it may cause growth of facial hair.  Now, I’m all over that.  I’m considering going and buying a bottle and giving it a shot; the only warning I’ve come across is that it’s not clinically tested, just anecdotal.  But at this point I’m willing to give just about anything a shot, since HRT seems so far off.  Does it seem dangerous?

Dreams and binding.

I’ll have to keep this one short because I only have 20 minutes, but I figured this was worth mentioning.

Last night I had a pretty intensely realistic dream that I was growing facial hair, and what’s weirder, that nobody really seemed to notice.  They just… didn’t mind, and that made me happy.  I wish it were that simple, here on the outside.  The outside of the dreamscape, that is.

Anyway, it seemed so real that, when I woke up and stumbled into the bathroom, I was slightly shocked not to see that patchy fuzz on my chin.  I guess I was still a little asleep.  The biggest thing here, I suppose, is that I’ve got direct evidence that my subconscious self-image is male, if not just yearning for transition.  I’ve so rarely had a consistent self-image while I’m dreaming, I’m usually just watching other things happen, so this is comforting and inspiring to me.  One never likes to admit to these things, but when life hits you over and over with the same avalanche vote of no confidence, one starts to have little moments of self-doubt.  It’s nice to be reminded who you really are once in a while when you start to get lost in what everyone else thinks of you.

Another little news blurb- I’ve graduated from Ace Bandages, finally.  I was getting tired of there being only two choices- moobs, or warped ribs.  So I found something in the family’s costume bag, an old bodice.  I’ve worn it before, backwards, under Halloween costumes and it works perfectly not only to flatten the chest but to arrange the fat in such a way that it gives me totally awesome pecs.  The only problem was that it had really stiff boning, which I ripped out.  It works just the same, if not ten times better, without it, and it’s way more comfortable than anything else I’ve worn so far.  The boning used to give me bruises in my ribs.

And that’s what she said.   😉

Later!

I’m back!

So it’s been almost a month since the last time I posted.  Something happened with my writing where it began to feel like a chore, and I had 59 different things I wanted to write about, and I couldn’t pick a topic, and I sat down to write about five different times and nothing worth posting really wanted to come out, and it eventually just all logjammed to where I just didn’t want to post for a long-ass time.  But I wound up going to a convention, which somehow re-jumpstarted my creative processes.  I have all these ideas for short films and projects and things like that, and I’m really back into the manic phase of my life, which I haven’t really been in for about 8 months.  Taking that into account, along with how busy things have gotten around here, I think I’ll be getting back to posting on a somewhat more regular basis, or at least once a week.

Last time I posted, my parents were THINKING about taking on these two foster children, which I quite unfairly ranted about like a little brat until I was blue in the face.  My feelings towards them have slowly but surely done an about face, and since those kids moved in two days ago, I’ve become quite taken with them.

The two-year-old little girl is absolutely low-maintenance and delightful for a toddler.  She’s quiet, but she talks a little and mainly communicates in nods and head shakes.  And she LOVES pickles.  She’s pretty interesting.

The eight-year-old is another story.  She seems to idolize me, which is awkward because I don’t know how to act around her.  I let her call me by my family’s nickname for me and of course I haven’t said anything to her about my trans status, but since I bind and whatnot these days whether she’s around or not, I’m sure it’ll come up at some point.  She seems young enough to get her head around the idea without judging- I’m not sure how to handle it but I think it’ll sort itself out.  She’s interesting- very intelligent, but kind of bratty and manipulative.  I get the feeling that she was raised in a low-class enough environment to not really have been taught anything about manners, but with enough money around to have a serious sense of entitlement.  She’s already asked if we can go shopping for toys three times, and we’re doing the best we can to firmly but gently reinforce that money doesn’t grow on trees while trying to accomodate her with toys we had in the garage from when I was a kid.  The old barbies my mom tried to make me play with were still almost good as new, so she seems to be satisfied.

Things are going way more smoothly than I ever expected, so I’m just rolling with the times for now.

As to my personal issues, I’ve settled on a full name that I’ll be going with when I get my legal documents sorted out.  I wanted Calvin as my first name because it sounds the most like my legal first name, and my partner was the one who came up with it.  It’ll probably be used in formal and career situations, but not my primary nickname.  My middle name, internet name and stage name will still be Jack, as that’s a huge part of me.  My nickname will come from my last name, Thomasson.  I wanted to just use Thomas as my last time (as in Jonathan Taylor Thomas), but Calvin Jack Thomas felt more like just a string of first names rather than a full name, so I added a -son at the end to give it a little more finality.  For some reason, Tommy feels like the most comfortable name to slip into with my friends and it just suits me the best.

So there you have it- Calvin Jack Thomasson, or Tommy for short.

Take that.  It takes most people 9 months to pick out a name for someone else, and it took me 2 months to choose a full name for myself.  I feel pretty good about that.

I don’t feel too much like going into the issue of integration, other than to say it’s over and done with.  Things are peaceful, and it seems like it’s going to stick this time.  It doesn’t hurt, I’m not uncomfortable and everything slid together like a puzzle- and pieces weren’t jammed in awkwardly because I was being forced.  Everything came together in its own time.

And now that everything is pointed in one direction, one goal has come out.  Transition.  Everything seems to be riding on it.  But I’m not in a hurry anymore.  I don’t need to save anyone’s life, I don’t owe anyone anything, and this is for me.  It’ll happen when it’s ready to happen.

P.S. I PROMISE I’ll get to that STP post eventually.

Tag Cloud