The fourth session with my therapissy was a good/bad one. Good because I got all dolled up and presented as Sofia for the first time for him. Therapissy kept his emotions in check. I couldn’t get a read off of him, and that is strange. I usually read people well. Anyway, therapissy presented me with the first of two letters that I will need in order to get hrt. The first letter is one of communication between therapissy and Endo(who is supposed to be top notch, Dr Tangpricha is his name) because of my bipolar and high blood pressure and Crohn’s fuque. That letter alone is $90 and doesn’t guarantee that the second letter will be coming.
Doesn’t matter because the wait for the Endo is currently at 9 months. People come from hundreds of miles away just to see him, so I’m lucky in that respect. However, in anothor respect, it just sounds like a way to keep a rat in its cage, ya know? I talked to Endo’s nurse and she told me that there are usually cancellations and most people get in around 6 months. That is perfect. That would clear us of the family reunion in July. Whew – don’t wanna deal with that.
One of the things that therapissy asked me was which parent I have a closer emotional connection with. I said my mom, and I told him what I’ve been doing. I have been giving mother dearest some recent pics of me, so when and if the changes are extreme or even noticeable, and they are not talking to me anymore, my mother can look back on those pics. Depressing huh? I guess I will go through this little dance many more times; watching my shell break piece by piece until I am raw, exposed meat. I am already scarred? Am I strong enough for this? Am I strong like Amazons? Welp, we shall soon see, shan’t we?
One of the other things discussed, which goes along with the beating and death is safe spaces. I told theapissy about my recent excursions with Friends to a safe space, then a space that was decidely not safe. I realized that I had put myself in a bad situation without even thinking about it. Now, it was daytime, and I had Friends with me; but all of us quickly understood that this was not to be regarded as safe space. What would happen were I to go there by myself? Will I transition only to be a virtual recluse? Live a life behind doors, and is tht enough or okay, or do I need, and want more? Things to ponder, me thinks…
EDIT:: Therapissy is going to be making a bunch of money off me if I have to see him through hrt. Dizzammmmnnnn, how do these broke ass trans people do it? They go to fre clinics, they lie and say they don’t have insurance. They DIY. Fuqque, don’t really wanna do any of those but WOW money is going to be a problem unless I become Lily and Lana!