Monday, September 28, 2015

Let's talk about, you know

So, this is an embarrassing subject for me. I was an early masturbator, like 6 years old early. So I like sex, I like the thought of sex. I'm not a huge fan of the act, but I like the finish. Thing is, I've never cared for my penis. I mean sure I treat it ok, keep it clean, use it when I must, but we have at best been neutral to one another. I like using it on my wife, but that is only because I don't have a vagina to receive pleasure with. I like receiving anal sex, because I again, don't have a vagina, and it can be very pleasurable. I've never had anal with another person present, it's  always been a solo venture, mostly because I don't know how to broach the subject with my wife. I don't want to be crass, and I am already a self-confessed sex-shy person. I think saying "hey hon, you know that thing I do to you, can you wear this and do it to me?" May not be the most tactful way to go about it. She likes gay porn, it's something I am finding a lot of women like, so I'm not sure if this might be a thing for her. I have a hard time letting myself be in a place of vulnerability. (I don't know if you caught that in my last 30 or so posts) it's one thing solo, where I am in my head, fantasizing. But I have had fantasies of her wearing a strap on and those are some great fantasies. I'm wondering if it would completely weird her out.  Any thoughts on this? Am I wanting too much? Would I be asking too much of my wife to ask her to make love to me as a woman? 

Saturday, September 26, 2015

The Verge of Things

I have been on the cusp of telling people, my son, my daughters, my best friend, about me. I don't think any of them would have a problem really, our youngest perhaps would have trouble understanding. The thing stopping me is, well me. If I tell them who I am, I fear they will forget who I was to them. I am a woman, but I am still proudly their father (and in the case of my best friend, still his best friend).

The duality is the crux of being Trans. I remember as a young adult, seeing a person dressed half as a bride and half as a groom on some tv show. It was a mental punch that I couldn't avoid. The symbolism of  who I was, a man on the outside, a woman on the inside, it was not an easy thing to see. I was always repelled by that costuming, a mockery of my situation. In my day to day, I try to avoid recognizing my body, I keep everything compartmentalized. I brush my teeth, focus on the teeth, I shave my face, just keep focus on my eyes. I try not to take myself all in, I don't want to see this man standing there. I don't like photos of myself, I avoid group photos at all costs. I don't hate me, I hate the shell that I am wearing.

Anyway, I have been on the verge several times, telling my family and friend about who I really am. There is this pull to let them know that I am the soul and not the body they see. I don't like lying, I don't like omitting which is just an easy lie. I believe they deserve to know the truth. My wife has been keeping my secret, but now I feel false when I don't acknowledge who I am with others while she is present.

Our youngest just had a birthday and she wants to go to Goodwill with me, she likes to get clothes there. It's become a thing for the two of us, going to Goodwill and searching for cool things for her to wear. I'm really good at picking out cute outfits, she has no idea why. But I wish I could shop with her, find cute outfits together. Just two ladies shopping without some stigma of "the weird guy trying on womens clothes" being the issue. So, we just shop for her stuff, all the while I am mentally marking the outfits I would put together.

I'm all over the place today, sorry. It's rainy and chilly, really my kind of weather. I have a nice hot cup of earl grey, with lots of sugar and it's dark outside. Nice time right now. I wore my favorite dress and slippers for while, went for a short walk before the rain started up again, the little moments of feeling feminine, of feeling free from myself. The air blowing across my smooth legs and the nice swish of my dress as I walked is just freeing.

I love my family, but I look forward to the rare times when they are all gone from the house and I can just be me all day long. I can sit out on the front porch in a cute outfit and read my kindle and watch people drive by. (they can't see my house very well from the road, so I don't feel exposed at all) There are times where I will listen to Selena Gomez who has a wonderful voice, or Christina Perri and dance. I can close my eyes and dance with no thoughts of this body, just me dancing. Just Beth dancing to music.

Friday, September 25, 2015

And I sigh

It's almost 5 am, I'm sitting on the couch in my new favorite dress and wearing a cute pair of ballet slippers. The rain outside is coming down at a faster pace now. I usually like to take a walk but the rain is bad enough that I don't think an umbrella would suffice in keeping me dry at all.
So, I sit here in the dark, going over in my head the ways I could come out to my children. So that I don't have to sit in the dark anymore. I sit here, hopeful that some miracle will happen and I will physically become a girl. I'm a dreamer that way. I still dream of being me, the not this person. Then my time will run out, I will have to get ready for work, which will not include putting on makeup or finding something nice to wear. And I will go into work where people call me "sir" and "man" and I will take a moment of my day to go into the men's room and cry because I am in the men's room.
If there was a test that doctors could have run on an infant me, they could have fixed me, my parents would have known that this is a medical issue not a "my son decided" issue. I would still be this strange body, but it would be less strange and I could have grown into it correctly. I'm a dreamer. One that sits in the dark, on a couch, in a nice dress, just being me.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

The Anomaly in the Machine

http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/transgender-woman-says-she-was-delayed-tsa-anatomical-anomaly-n431326




Anyone who wonders why I am not out, why I hide behind the internet. The responses to facebook postings of this are why. The level of hate, the sheer idiocy and bigoted remarks, remind me why people are not to be trusted. I'm not going to repeat the "arguments" these people made, the point is that they were pretty overwhelmingly against the poor lady. She actually took things rather well considering the treatment she was given. And yet, this woman will be subjected to far worse in the days to come, thanks to media slant and political agenda. People as a whole are mean and vindictive, those with agendas, doubly so.

She deserves to be treated as a person with respect, there is no need to quantify her for this to have impact. If my mom had been treated this way I would have been livid. I am no less livid for the way this woman was treated and is being currently treated.

Sharing is caring

There are times that people surprise me. It doesn't happen often, as most people tend to let me down. I want them, most times, to think like I do, to believe in the things I believe in. It's unfair and over-controlling, I know. But it's how I am and that is one of the reasons why I have few friends. 

But this morning, Michelle (Yes I put her name out there accidentally in a post a few days ago) and I were texting and I told her I was looking for some ballet flats in my size. (an unfortunate womens size 13) And she didn't evade the issue, she was very supportive. I thought she would ignore that part of the text and go on about the other things. We both tend to be passive about things, ignoring what makes us uncomfortable. I was very happy that she was able to talk to me about it. I have read where the spouses don't want to be involved in things, like makeup or all the things they learned as children to do now as women. I don't want to push her away by involving her in my learning to show myself as a woman externally, but I really want her to be a part of it. I want her to help me pick out a wig that would fit my personality. I have very short hair, so a good wig is a necessity. I want her to be involved, I want to share this part of me with her. I want her to want to borrow my clothes. 

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Winter is Coming

So today we go to move our son back to the house. Our daughter is happy, but I think mostly because she is lonely being the only child left in the house. Michelle I think is secretly happy, I understand a mother never wants her children to really leave. I am not happy, I'm not upset, it's just a thing that is happening. I want him to stand on his own two feet, but I don't mind helping him in moments of need. That is what parents do for their children.

I am going to hide the few things that mark me as transgender in the back of my closet. I seriously want to cry. I hate hiding in the first place, I have done it for so long. I have lied to so many people I care about my entire life. So hiding it now breaks my heart. It's for the best, it's hard to explain transgender, even harder to explain the non-transitioning transgender. You come off as false, as not wanting it enough, as a coward. Ok, I am a bit of a coward when it comes to this. But I don't think I would adequately explain this to our children. I think they would believe I am a transvestite, which would be like calling me a man. I don't have any problem at all with transvestites, but I'm no more one of them than I am an oil tycoon.

So I am hiding again. I could put things past our 12 year old, who doesn't notice that my shaved legs aren't naturally smooth, that doesn't realize I am wearing jeans that aren't made for boys. I am hiding again. I hate this, I hate being this guy. I hate this body that I am trapped in. I can work on this body all I want, it will still be him. I will still see me trapped in his eyes. I prayed as a child, for so long, that I would wake up, that I would just wake up and be me. I lost my faith in a god at a fairly young age, prayers never answered, nothing to tell me that it's ok to feel how I feel. I am jealous and hurt, angry and sad. I'm all the negative things I try to avoid, but I am. I hate being me.

Hate, a word I try to never use and I just filled out a paragraph with the word. Ok I have to calm down. It's not the end of the world, it's just me having to hide more, to not be me more, to act as if this is all ok. It's not ok, it's not right. But here I go anyway.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Gravity sandwich

So, I'm in a mostly rural area, that does have the occasional bear, and no street lights. I would like to start running again and get fit. I did very well before we bought a house, in the apartment gym. Then we stopped for several months, getting the house and then getting house things done everyday after work.
I'm not afraid to say I don't like the idea of running down an entirely dark road and into a bear or getting hit by a 4x4 truck in a hurry. So I'm not sure what to do. There is a bank a few houses down, I could run around its parking lot, but don't want to be arrested for trespassing. Any gym is like 40 minutes away. Any ideas? Also I want to exercise to get into a more girlish figure. I've looked at a few YouTube how-tos and may try those. Anyone have any suggestions on the best exercises for this? 

Full House

I received some high-heels and stockings as well as a dress through UPS yesterday. Amazon makes shopping a lot easier. I've done some shopping in walmart, but I always get the stares and I always use the self-checkout and hope no one stands in line behind me. So I've got a nice little clothes collection in my closet and once in a while I get to actually wear those comfortable clothes. 

An issue has arisen, my stepson is losing his apartment this month, so we are taking him in for several months.  I love my son, but he is in his 20's and I know he has a tendency to slack off when given the opportunity. So the time we believe he will be with us will no doubt be off by a great amount. This means that I have to modify the very small amount in which I let myself be me now. I have to hide things and change my habits. It's not really a problem, so much as it just is what is happening and a mild annoyance.

Someone is almost always home, I get very little reprieve. And of course adding an extra person to the mix ensures that I will have to be the "guy" all the time for a while. It's like being forced into a very small space in an very uncomfortable position. I suppose I am just complaining. 

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

A Shaggy Dog Tail

When I was young, and didn't realize what my feelings actually meant, I really wanted facial hair like my grandpa and my dad. They kept themselves clean-shaven, but they obtained a 5 o'clock shadow in a couple of hours after shaving. My grandpa would rub his "whiskers" on my face and I would giggle. So, I wanted whiskers too. I look back on that thought and I cringe. I still think fondly of my grandpas whisker snuggles, but I have this special hate with my facial hair, as you can imagine.

I've used it in the past, to deflect any thought of my true nature from those around me, especially in the military. (mustache, not a beard) But I hardly had to shave anyway, I would shave once a month and still look clean shaven. When I was around 30 things changed, now I can't go two days without having to shave again, the stubble, the ugh. I don't mind my legs, they stay pretty good for about 3 or 4 days, I would like it to be longer but don't we all. It's my facial hair that won't cooperate.

In my 20's I could dress up and go out without makeup and while staying a good distance away from people manage not to get clocked. I couldn't even think of that now. Granted, I've a lot more weight now than I had then, but I was 160 lbs and 6 ft tall, I could pull off a lot more back then. I was overly tall for a girl, but I normally wore flats so I didn't tower above everyone. My shoulders aren't broad, so I could wear almost anything I could get. I never got the courage to get close enough to other people to give them the chance to read me, but I would not even contemplate it now. I would have to cake on enough makeup to clog a sink to hide the stubble that sprouts so damn quickly. 

I will shave, and then the next day almost cry when I see that all that work didn't even last 24 hours. I know there are ways to get rid of facial hair, but I live in a small town so most of those ways are not viable. it's the daily razor and raw skin for me. 

Saturday, September 12, 2015

The anatomy of Dark Thoughts

I want to be clear, thinking about something doesn't translate to acting on the thought.

So, at one time or another we all think about ending it, shuffling off the mortal coil in a force-able manner. Suicide is an easy concept, but a tricky foe. We all have our reasons for wanting to end this life, perhaps the pain is too much, or we hope for a better next life, or we simply see no way out of what seems like the darkest, loneliest road imaginable.

I have had fleeting thoughts of suicide in the last 15 years, nothing defined but still enough to scare me. So I found myself wondering, what is it in me that is causing me to have these thoughts? This is where the tricky part comes in. For me it was a lot of small things, very little issues that come and go in life that never seem to actually "go". None of these things alone seem to be anything at all, barely even registering with my subconscious. But once these little things build up it seems almost designed to cause a singular reaction.

My life is not bad, it's pretty good actually, but I have very intense stress points, my exwife, my transsexual-ness, my pressure from work and many many more things. Over time I have found that you can be happy but still have this shadow hanging over you. I hope for a better life, I really hope that the next life I am in the body I am supposed to be in, that I won't be this stranger to myself. So there is a speck of appeal in ending it now to get to the next. But there is no guarantee of a next life, it's just a hopeful wish. Ending it all would end my issues, but life is not about being completely happy, you find that in moments. It's about the struggle, to be there for your children, for your spouse, or simply to be alive in the world and appreciate all the good things that are in it. I don't have a magic wand to get rid of the feelings, in the end you have to find what motivates you.

Suicidal thoughts are like water, they will follow the easiest path. Soon, it becomes a stream, then a river, then you are drowning in an ocean and it seems there is no shore in sight. This progression is just as easy in a group of people on a sunny day as it is being alone in darkness. How many times have you seen someone who seemed happy and had everything going for them, yet they committed suicide? Finding reasons to live isn't about getting what you want, it's about learning that life is worth the struggle.

These are my opinions, I'm not a psychiatrist, I don't have training. I'm just one of those people struggling in life like everyone else.

Friday, September 11, 2015

It's the little things that get you

I love my Mom. She doesn't know about me, I'm sure at some point she has wondered. But I love her regardless. Love shouldn't come with caveats and addendums. My Mom has lung cancer, she has had it for about 13 years. She goes through good times and bad. She quit smoking the day she was diagnosed and never smoked or has been around smoke again. She went through a relapse recently, so she is still fighting and still trying to stay alive. She is the strongest person I know. Anyway, I love my Mom. Just wanted to put that out there, no agenda, just making the statement.

The dogma of me

A lot of media coverage for the trans community lately. It started a lot earlier than Caitlyn, but it sped up after her show aired. I believe that people will come around to things through immersion, their world being opened up before them. Pushing people, telling them they are wrong for having feelings that don't align with yours, only serves to push them away from you. I'm not saying to not fight for the rights of all transgender, I'm saying there is a better way than shaming everyone who doesn't agree. Doing it the right way matters. If you are going to be taken seriously, if you are going to be seen as a legitimate part of society, acting as a petulant child isn't going to help our cause. And also aligning ourselves as a special interest group only makes us seem more like outsiders.

We all want to be accepted, we all want to be able to walk down the street without fear of being attacked or verbally abused. I can understand that right now, we are at a historic milestone. The momentum has built to a frenzied pace and it is easy to use that for our own agenda, forgetting that there are others out there who are also beaten, discriminated against, killed in the name of bigotry. Let us be the bigger heart, let us be the ones who use the medias attention to do good, not just for the transgender, but our brothers and sisters of all walks of life. Being transgender doesn't have to define us, being a human being with compassion and love can define us. 

Hatred needs a foothold in order to perpetuate. Let us be the ones to break that cycle. Don't hate your fellow human beings for their own identities, don't assume that a man who works on cars and drinks beer will be the antagonist to your story. It's not that you are transgender, it is that non-transgender don't actually understand. Applying bigotry to Cisgender will only ensure the problems we have faced over and over again. There is a difference between guiding and pushing.

That is my take on things, but I'm secretly an optimist, wrapped within the shrouds of a pessimist.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Love and understanding

I spend a lot of time, lurking on different T sites, reading about those who are in process of transitioning and those who are non-transitioning. So, basically, I spend a lot of time crying. Feeling like you are not alone stirs the emotions. I have to start forcing myself to participate, to trust that others are on these sites to learn, to engage. It's hard to trust faceless strangers, since I don't trust my closest friends to understand. 

I know that my wife understands the idea of being Transgender, I know that she can empathize with my feelings. However, she doesn't really know, doesn't really get it. For instance, if I bring up "I am Cait" on dvr, I can sense her stiffen, can feel the silence. So, while she is cool with it, I think she is cool as long as she isn't forced to actually encounter it with me. I can only assume, I don't know her feelings, perhaps I am reading a lot into things because I am uncomfortable sharing my secret, no matter how I trust her. Being comfortable is something I usually do solo. It could be that she is afraid that I will change, that our relationship will change. It's possible, I can't deny that change happens, even in "normal" marriages.

I can't say that I'm not pansexual in my preferences, it's something I've always tried to understand about myself. It's a matter of perspective I believe. For a man to be attracted to me (which has happened a few times in my 20's) it didn't do anything for me because they were attracted to the man, not me. I think that if a man were attracted to me as a woman, I would welcome it, though this is purely speculation. I certainly fantasize about it. Overall, I am attracted to women, and of course my wife. I don't cheat, I am a monogamist. I married the girl I have loved for 20+ years, so I am happy with my love life. If I were to fully transition, I would still want to be with her. I'm worried that even without transitioning, if the little things I do to feel somewhat normal, shaving my legs, wearing clothes that men typically don't wear, may be causing her to push away from me. I don't know, I am a worrier. I still haven't told her about my blog. It seems a passive aggressive way of telling her how I am feeling. Or perhaps it is just my cowardice to engage people who mean something to me. I have so few people I let into just my pretend life, I can only imagine the desolation I would face, if I let them into my actual life.

Monday, September 7, 2015

What it means to be non-transitioning

We all have our problems. I think most transgenders first problem is that they weren't physically born the gender they should be. I don't know of anyone that likes being transgender. Now for non-transitioning transgender, we aren't typically targeted by bigots or the right wing religious zealots. However, we endure the pain of their words and hate. We can get by in the world, on the outside. On the inside we mourn, on the inside we contemplate ending it all at some point. Non-transitioning doesn't mean we accept who we are, it means we have trouble accepting physical changes as a real solution. My getting surgery doesn't make me a girl, I already am, but my body will now be this imitation of a girl in the most shallow of ways. I'm not saying that those who do change their bodies are wrong or imitations, they are brave and glorious for their courage. I just feel this way about myself.

I don't want to be trans, I want to be me, just a girl.

Being non-transitioning means we don't have an outlet. Right now, I am wearing a cute little black skater dress. I can appreciate that I feel feminine, but I can't look in a mirror or the spell is broken. It is currently 5 am and I will have to be careful to change into mens clothes in a bit before my children wake up. I would be mortified if my wife saw me wearing a dress. She knows I have them, I have shown her what I buy. But I don't want her to look at me while I wear them, I am stuck in this male body. So, I have early mornings and when everyone is out of the house to wear the things that make me feel somewhat normal. It's a rare thing. Even then I can't go outside during the day in what I want to wear, I would feel horrible if anyone saw this "guy" wearing a sun dress. I want them to see what I feel, this woman wearing a sun dress on a nice day. On the inside, I curl up into myself in pain.

So, sure we have a luxury, that of getting by as our physical selves, but we die a little more each day for not being who we are. Our entire lives are spent acting like we are this person in the mirror.