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Would be great if Washington DC was spelt correctly. But otherwise. Nice
Yet another reminder of how badly I want to move back to Colorado. And possibly Washington at some point.
(via artoftransliness)
And closing it again is long and painful, a bit more each time.
It always gets better until it gets worse again. I’m just frustrated because things are moving too slow for me and I just want to start to live. It will get better, it has to.
[Ma dysphorie est un montre dans une boîte. Une petite. Vielle. Boîte en carton.
Elle est toujours là mais pas visible, juste là.
Toujours
La plupart du temps ça va. Mais des fois… Le monstre fait des trous.
Des petits trous, pour la plupart. Ou des gros trous.
Des fois… Le carton s’abîme. Le scotch aussi.
Des fois la boîte s’ouvre. Et le monstre s’échappe.
Et la refermer est long et douloureux, un peu plus chaque fois.]
(via roystoosexyforhisshirt)
I was repetitively asked “Are you a boy or a girl?” throughout childhood and adolescence and usually followed by “Fucking dyke!” Very recently, all of these wounds resurfaced when I saw this comment left by a woman on a video I posted on Facebook to raise funding for a tour for my band The Cliks. Don’t shame me for speaking up for myself. Shame those who hurt me.
This is exactly the point I’m at now too. I’m tired of hiding. It’s time to start living.
(Source: mtfconfessions)
I have plans to go to a local PFLAG meeting tomorrow with my mom. I decided on it about two weeks ago, and have been mostly excited about it. But now that it’s tomorrow, I’m nervous.
Before I go any farther, in case I accidentally say the wrong thing, I just want to say that I don’t mean anything inflammatory against PFLAG. Just the opposite. Truth is, I’ve never really understood PFLAG. I mean, I know more or less what it is and that it’s got ridiculous amounts of allies who “support me” in the vaguest sense possible, and I have a general idea of its history and an understanding that they push for change for everyone’s sake, but I’ve never got much beyond that. The individual chapters. The actual people that attend support meetings or put on educational events or lobby for political change. I feel like those are other people. Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians And Gays. Parents. Families. Friends. In other words, not me.
I know it’s not true, but because of that, I feel like I’ve become an other to them. Like my presence would be almost more intrusive there than it already feels anywhere else in society. This is the club for those of us who are affected by knowing you. We’re rallying for you, but don’t want you around.
Thing is, I can’t be anywhere else. I’ve tried. I’ve gone to transgender support meetings. I’ve gone to pride events. I’ve tried lgbtq young adult groups. I’ve tried just wandering around in public, hoping someone would appear. Every single time has left me feeling like more of an alien or a freak than I felt before I went. Outside of one friend I went to high school with, there’s not a single person I’ve physically met like me.
Well, that’s a lie. There was one group that I liked with people my age who were going through the same thing I was. One. With people I could’ve been friends with. And, after the first meeting I went to, I had to move 1,600 miles away.
I know that PFLAG is made up of the people that are like me too. The gays and the lesbians and the bisexuals and the transgenders and the Q’s and the I’s and the H’s and the Z’s. But I’ve been shut down so many times, and every time I am, I broaden my net just a bit hoping to find someone who gets me, someone I can relate to, but the odds go down every time.
So if anyone out there can tell me that PFLAG isn’t just a bunch of soccer moms and worried dads who are proud of their kid or struggling with the issues themselves, please. I’m so nervous and scared of being disappointed again. I need people who understand me. Or at least support me. People I don’t have to hide around. People who aren’t hundreds of miles away. If I don’t find it tomorrow, I may as well give up.
tl;dr - I’m nervous about my upcoming PFLAG meeting tomorrow and hope against hope that I’ll meet some people.
I had an appointment today to get my pills again out here in Georgia. It went… okay.
The guy wasn’t too bad. Vaguely creepy and a little overly direct in telling me how he thinks I should be living since I’m trans. A couple of the questions didn’t entirely seem necessary and he was very thorough in his checkup. Apparently, I need to get my name change taken care of and come out at work, since it’ll make my life easier, according to him. As if I don’t know that. My situation’s just a bit more complex than that. Soon, though, I hope.
And they took blood samples. Which sucked. Hard. They had to stick me twice, get a head nurse, and take about fifteen minutes, and it still hurts twelve hours later. Word of advice: eat before going to an appointment they may take blood. Apparently, it makes it easier to find the veins.
On the other hand, he worked with me pretty well and was fairly genial. He bumped up my estrogen dosage and added progesterone to my regimen. The only real issues I had were finding the damn place and getting my spironolactone filled, since apparently the pharmacy’s changed policies or something and needs to double-check before breaking my 100 mg pills into four 25 mg pills since it’s cheaper.
Oh, well. At least I’m back on ‘em.
Apologies if this is old news to many of you, but if you’re mtf and haven’t heard of Chrysalis, you should, because Chrysalis is a lingerie line for trans women.“Speaking from personal experience,” said Cy Lauz, founder of Chrysalis Lingerie, “I found no products that specifically cater to transgender women. There are some things for cross-dressers and drag queens, but they’re all sexually exploitative.
“I wanted a product that actually celebrated who we are, something that made us feel beautiful but is also practical.”
Their panties are designed to aid tucking, and bras feature pockets to hold inserts.
All in all, I feel this is something to get really excited about. The simple design (though a couture range is apparently also in the works) balances out a market that—as pointed out by Cy—seems to cater primarily to the interests of drag queens, and products which are consequently highly sexualised.By contrast, Chrysalis offers practical solutions to the everyday issues faced by trans women, while focusing on our beauty as real people. The name serves as a metaphor for the process of transition.
The company apparently ran into some difficulties with customs, delaying their initial launch schedule, but is now expecting to start selling their basic line this Spring. Products will be available through their online store.
(via vizzzibility)
Dysphoria.
After a while you begin to imagine yourself, as you. Not as how you look, but how you are. In your own mind each thing you do, each movement you make is being done by her. She is beautiful. Not because she is attractive, but just because she is right – she looks like how you feel, her movements match your thoughts and her curves and touch feel so real in your mind that when you reach down and touch your body its takes you by surprise. She isn’t perfect, but neither are you, her flaws are your flaws, she is how you see yourself, the good and the bad.
She walks in your footsteps, haunting you through the day. She follows you around, not reminding you of the beauty you have inside you – but rather the disgusting shell on the outside.
You look down at your body. It’s not her.
You look to the future, and it’s never her. It’s nearly her, but not.
It’s the best they can do.The best you can look forward to.
The closest you can get
The nearest you can come
You can change your face; you can change your body. You can change your voice and you can change your clothes.
Change your friends, change your home, change your job. Change your family, change your life.
But it’s not her.
You’re the pale imitation of your true self, a representation that’s taken years to come to. Thousands of dollars and thousands of hours – crying, hurting, sitting, praying, dreaming, shouting, screaming.
All to reach the end, to become- nearly you.
Then you get laughed at – you get mocked, you get teased, humiliated, attacked and rejected. You’re treated differently for not looking quite right.
It’s not your choice though. Don’t these people realise that if you could look right, you would? That if she walked around the street, they wouldn’t bother her.
This isn’t your choice.
You are not choosing to be different, you just can’t quite be normal
And that kills you inside.
That makes every single glance in a mirror, and every single comment reminds you:
How many years do I have to do this?
Hoping for the impossible, whilst trying to forget the present. This is not life.
This is not life.
This is time spent wanting a life.
Wanting your life.
Wanting her.
And that hurts.
More than you could imagine.
It just hurts.
(via artemissian)
I’m basically out of pills. But! I have an appointment to get my prescription renewed.
Next month.
Is that depression and suicidal thing still an option? Because I’d rather go back to that.
I feel this way occasionally myself. You’re not alone.
(Source: mtfconfessions)
