Trans what? Trans who?

Oh Mother Dear,

This is a delicious can of worms, and not something to be said and completed in one post. Like a hydra, this shit just keeps expanding and growing, infecting my life, pulling me into the underworld of emotions and ripping out thoughts, forcing me back into this shit. You may have noticed the word shit used twice(now thrice) and that is what this whole trans thing is: shit. It is a life ruiner. It can be a phoenix. People can fall to the lowliest of lows only to be reborn and find some peace. More times than not, there is only disgust and pain and hatred and death at the end of this rainbow. The pot of gold is tainted with shit.

Just think of it. First of all, who wishes for this stuff. Who wants to be trans? I mean, who wants to be trans and have to deal with all the stuff that comes with it. It can be a marriage breaker(I know this). I don’t even have to go in to the…wait, maybe I do. I just assume that whomever reads this(and the BIG assumption is that somebody will) will automatically speak trans. If you do not speak trans, well, there is Google. http://www.glaad.org/transgender/transfaq

Also, a good linky.  Anywhoo, I suppose a story is coming out of all of this. I guess. I’m not sure I can concentrate enough, long enough to form a cohesive story. Just know that mine deviates from the typical “knew since I was 4” type of thing. I don’t remember much of my childhood. I remember playing soccer ALL THE TIME. Other sports too. But not a lot about interactions, friends, yada yada.  I do remember being into girls. Like really into girls.  Yeah, I was one of those boys who liked lesbians. But, and I think rather quickly,  it wasn’t the thrill of a boy enjoying two girls going at it. Nope, it was like a total mindfuck! You can tell where I’m going with this right? It seemed to me that it should be ME with those girls, but that maybe I should be a girl too. Now this was pretty gradual. The pain of seeing lesbian movies and movies with close girl friends, which by the way is called dysphoria(not a complete definition, but the pain I experience when I see two girls together because I get the sense that I am missing out on something that I should be having. Not the sexual stuff, but okay, yay to that. But more the sensation of being a girl loving a girl. You get it? No? If I were assigned female at birth, I am positive I would be a lesbian. Anyway, suffice it to say, my relationships with my girl “friends” were special because, even though at that time it wasn’t a concrete thought, the feeling was there. Almost like being one of the girls.

I was never a crossdresser. At least, not as a needed and neccessary means to an end. Sure, I wore dresses, I painted my nails, I wore ladies jewelry and carried purses, but I never crossdressed with the idea of crossdressing to be female. I was just doing what I wanted. It satisfied a need that I obvs didn’t know I had. Yeah, I carried a purse for two years 1991-1993. It was one of those guatamalan hippie purses, but at the time, there were no guys carrying them. But to me it was normal. A lot of my girl friend had them, they were practical, and I liked them. So i got one. Years later, I asked my mom about it, and she was like straight up, that was a purse you were carrying. Didn’t phase her too much i guess, because that was just how i was. NOthing overtly feminine, mind you. But come on, I wasn’t the most manly person in the bunch. Anyway, that is enough for now.

 

p.s. my friend is the bomb dot com. she is cross referencing bipolar and crohn’s and coming up with results!  There is a correlation. Now, I don’t have and episode every time I have a flare, but these two matched up perfectly this time. Ah, but that third piece. Hmmm…what will her science say about that? hehehheheh

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s