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

Posts tagged ‘kids’

BUSYBUSYBUSYBUSYBUSY

If you’d like me to describe my life over the last few months, here it is.

1) Work.

2) Sleep.

Essentially, that’s it.  I’ve actually been so drained after work that I’ve been coming home and crashing sometimes as early as 6 in the evening.  That said, I have been waking up at ungodly hours and getting online because I can’t fall back asleep, so really I guess I don’t have any excuse for not blogging other than I’m pretty damn lazy at 4 in the morning.

But enough of that.  I have managed a couple of life updates despite my job sucking my life’s blood from me.

– For one, my friends and I have finally been getting our finances together enough to be moving out.  We’re looking at being able to go by this weekend, if all our reference checks could return their damn calls.  So, for all intents and purposes, this may be the last blog I type from my parent’s home.

– My gender therapist basically recommended me to move on to the next step and pursue a doctor who would prescribe me testosterone.  That process has been ongoing and I have yet to hear back from her, even though I sent in the paperwork weeks ago and they said they’d get back within 4 business days on the outside.  I have to give them a call.

So, that’s where I am in a nutshell.  I can’t think of much else to update.  I pass probably 30 percent of the time consistently with people who didn’t previously know me, and closer to 70 percent of the time with people who haven’t heard me talk yet.  My voice pretty much breaks any preconceptions, and it makes phone communications pretty much suck the life out of me.  If no other reason I’d like to get on T for that.

OH!  I had my first child misgendering experience the other day.  I hear of it happening all the time to other transpeople, but it seemed so cliche to happen to me.  A client with a little boy came in for an intake the other day, and I had them follow me back to the conference room.  From behind me, I heard the little voice ring out-

“Mommy, is that a boy or a girl?”

I almost cracked up right then and there.  And then she answered- “That’s a girl, honey.”  I didn’t even know how to respond- I just pretended I didn’t hear them.  How do you respond to that?  “Actually, ma’am, I think your boy was closer to the truth than you…”  How do you even humiliate someone like that, cause a scene, etc.-

And I feel ashamed for not standing up for myself.  I feel like I’m demanding so much of the people who have to deal with me every day, but I’m letting other people slide, and it’s not fair to this person or that person-

It’s all just stupid.  Why can’t people be okay with the fact that sometimes, the gender drama just isn’t worth it to me and I don’t give a shit what people call me, as long as it doesn’t become some stupid drawn out soap opera?

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.

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