Rant

I know this won't make any contribution to this site, or help anyone, still I need to let it out. EC is the only place I can talk freely about my gender issues, and you guys and girls give usually very good advice. This might contain triggers, be all warned...

It has been almost three years since I finally came out to myself, even if I knew it since I was a kid, and many months since I wanted to start HRT, with the idea of getting the surgeries later. HRT would at least help me to endure this body, this voice and everything, it would also improve my mental health and hopefully get rid of the dramatic mood swings and anxiety that kills me every month, the fun stuff that even is endangering my very own job on a regular basis (I'm not out there, probably never will)...

At first, three years ago and until last year, I wanted to get the surgeries, then start with HRT, but I've come to a point I'm just way too desperate for waiting, and I don't think I'll be able to face years of waiting like this before I manage to get all the cash I need to pay at least top surgery.

Three months ago I finally got my final diagnose from a psychologist : Transgender. I was lucky enough that this psychologist listened and trusted me when I described all the years of suffering. There were questions, and lots of them, good questions, none of them annoying or anything, all very respectful, never tried to invalidate or dismiss, and there were many interesting dialogues on men, women and gender expression, but it didn't changed much... Except all the smiles she gave me, and all the good feelings I had as I could finally be honest with someone. I don't think I can forget her kindness, and the way I was received, all the time she kept an open mind, never laughed about what I said, never told me that my biological gender was also my prison, or that it had to dictate my fate.

I was offered hotline numbers, webpages and even the chance of getting sleeping pills if I had again one of those nights when I couldn't sleep, just to prevent coming late for work.
So far EC and reflecting on my own have been enough to keep me ok. I don't need much to keep me just going on, after all those years of learning to deal with shit on my own, it just comes as a second nature. You end up not expecting anything from anyone, including yourself, knowing all is basically just a ton of shit you are trapped in, and unless you manage to kill yourself, you are condemned to go through life, so you do it one day, and the next, and somehow you wake up one day and you are +30 years old, and you wonder how the fuck did you managed, and what the fuck are you still doing around living this shit of a life... But yeah, you do need to go to buy some groceries or something, so you go outside to do stuff like going to work, or buy groceries, or whatever, and so life goes on, same as yesterday, same as tomorrow...


When the psychologist asked me how did I cope with it all those years, I just told her the truth : That I didn't knew other kind of life was possible, that I just barely went through the motions, that even if it all looks quite normal from the outside, that I'm capable of holding a job (at least for a while), and pay my bills, that even if I make jokes and smile and act kind, helping old ladies to cross the road and not eating animals, nothing really matters to me 'cause this is not my life, never was, and if death came knocking my door, I couldn't care less, 'cause I never thought I could have a life, my life, anyways... But now I want to try, try seriously and build a life, my life, where I really care, a life where my name is my name, where my voice is my voice, and where I can have all the things I need to be happy, all those little things like being called 'sir', or at least 'young man', and to have a girl looking at me as a man, and be able to flirt with her as a man, and to face the mirror without the horror, and the wish I was dead, and hopefully one day to get rid of that stuff downstairs, that disgusting stuff that still after +20 years freaks me out so much, I can't even watch it, and to have to clean it while I'm taking the daily shower still disgusts me, so it's not uncommon that I try only to take a shower twice a week, but I never manage for more than three days 'cause I'm someone who needs to feel clean, wearing clean clothes and smelling good, to feel alright, so I end up taking a daily shower, and sometimes even twice 'cause at times I can't stand the smell and all the nastiness, it's like having a trash can between your legs 24/7... And yes, it's all on my mind, nobody told me ever I smell, even the only girl that ever came closer to it told me it's quite nice and all that, and she even wanted to eat me, but I couldn't let her, not even to touch it, I felt way too ashamed she even saw it...

I'm also privileged somehow with my circumstances: I'm old enough to be taken seriously and financially independent. The ones who know I'm transgender support me, and the ones who doesn't know will never know. I stopped talking to them, they are not part of my life anymore. So there is no one there who will try actively to discredit me, or to bring me down. I planned this very carefully, and it went quite well. New people coming to my life know me by my real name, and are aware of me being trans. Depending on how things develop, I'll give them a chance or not, with the idea of eventually go as stealth as I can.

Instead of going for HRT inmediatly after the diagnose, I faced the news with some sort of shock and horror. So it was true, there was no scape from it, that was the problem, I couldn't hide behind my usual I'm crazy...
I should have felt happy, but I felt somehow doomed, even if I knew from the start. I didn't saw the paper as a tool to make myself finally happy, or at least stable enough to lead a normal life. I was aware of how hard a life is for a trans person, and even if being white and a trans man makes a ton easier, it won't save me for the chance of getting beat up by a gang of men calling me freak, and it won't save me for getting discrimination at the workplace, and of course... I won't kid myself about being with girls : I doubt my genetics will turn me into a charming Casanova, and even if I was that lucky, everything would turn into a fuck up as soon as I had to take off my trousers and take care of a man's job. I can imagine how I'd feel when I have this pretty young thing saying that it's alright... How this will destroy all confidence, how I'm going to wish to be dead again, and probably the wish will turn into something else... And I'm damned tempted to add finally.

So even if I see all this in my mind, I'm going to ask my doctor for HRT. I just can't go on like this... Passing not often enough, hearing this voice, facing this on the mirror, carrying around a name that isn't mine, the sudden and unpredictable mood swings, the anger and the frustration, the feelings of failure and being condemned for the rest of my days... I'm not expecting any wonders from this, in fact I'm only expecting more problems, but I'm fucking desperate and I'm just trying to find the exit, you know.

There is a part of me that perhaps only an old transman can imagine. This part that whispers to me 'Alright, so life was this when you didn't gave a fuck... How are you going to face the responsability of living your own, true life? Do you know how that even feels? Do you think you are good enough for this? Do you think you are ready to take care? Would you care at all, are you capable of such a thing?'
And I wonder... Well, if I'm living my life instead of the life of a stranger I don't care about, then yes, I would want it, with all the troubles that come with it, and probably I'll end up being a much better person, probably this is going to change me for good, and probably it's about time to take life seriously, instead of just going through the motions and run away from my true self.

So wish me luck... I just want to finish this by telling you all how much I love you, and how much you mean to me. Thanks for everything.