Acknowledging my privilege

I am sure in the ensuing days that I am going to rant, rave and cry here about my transition. There is so much that sucks, so much that isn’t talked about that you could fill a book (and I probably will).

That being said, with the debt/transphobia/dysphoria and other problems I want to acknowledge my privilege at the outset. I am in a much better place then many of my trans and non-binary people and I don’t ever forget it.

There are multiple areas where I have privilege starting with my skin color. I am white, which starts me at the top of the privilege pyramid when it comes to transitioning concerning ethnicity. It is still absolutely dangerous for me, I could be stabbed, shot, beat up, fired, etc. However, the statistics show that out of all of my trans and non-binary people I am the least likely to suffer that hatred. It still can happen, but I start out with a weighted advantage.

The second area I have privilege is access to credit. I do not have money to pay stuff outright. I don’t have the ability to just buy things and walk away with no consequences. I do however have an education level and a professional field that gives me better access to white collar jobs, and much better access to credit.

I will still have to pay this all back. Right now we are at approximately $32,000 for my face left after paying back almost $8000 already. I have spent more than $10,000 in electrolysis on credit card that I have been able to pay back (and just dumped another $1500 today for flight down to Phoenix). There is an additional $25k I will be spending as we move forward (not counting my portion of the cost of SRS if I get it) for lip feminization/facelift/tummy tuck. I can access that credit right now if I wanted, but I really can’t afford the payments.

That being said I do have to pay this all back, but I am in a much better position then a lot of people transitioning who can’t even get access to credit. In the end maybe they are better off if their not hitting $50k in negative value, but the depression and dysphoria I suffer from is only worse for others who can’t touch it, so no I don’t think they are better off even if they aren’t in debt.

I have another set of privilege, I have insurance (this goes with the white collar work/education privilege). I still have to pay, but having the insurance gives me access to doctors, HRT treatments, surgeons and lab tests along with a very good therapist to work on my childhood PTSD.

Finally, and the most important privilege I have is my husband. I am married to someone who dedicates their life to me (as I do to them). They are devoted to helping me through transition. They are there when I cry, when I laugh or when I am just confused and scared. Wolsey is the highest point of my privilege and without him I would be dead (and that isn’t hyperbole). Too many of my trans people do not have someone else (whether they have class/ethnicity privileges or not). For this last privilege I am the most grateful and without it I couldn’t do this.

I know I have privilege, and I know even with that I am going to have hateful days of crying. I will come here to cry, just understand that I realize this privilege even if I use this platform to vent.

Finishing Off 2019

This last month was supposed to be mostly vacation and medical appointments. With Christmas coming and this being the first Christmas where I am not so depressed that I was numb, I knew it might be a little rough emotionally.

It was a lot worse than expected. On Christmas Eve I got a call from my sibling. They had a broken leg, had decided to run off to Vegas to marry someone and within three days of being there it was broken off. I get a call saying they are stuck there with no money, no flight and no place to stay. They literally only went to Vegas wearing pajamas (although they did get some clothing when they got there).

I spent the next three days on the phone with them, other hotels and airlines trying to arrange a way for them back. To make it worse, the sibling wasn’t behaving very rationally and was having some issues of their own. They wouldn’t just take the next flight home and had to wait a day and a half (meaning I had to pay for an extra hotel night). They yelled at me (but stopped when I hung up and I think they knew I was going to leave them if they didn’t cut that shit out), and finally they got home.

They are doing better, which relaxes me. However, I haven’t slept more than 4 hours a night until last night since this whole event. It has set off my own mental health issues, but fortunately my hubby and my therapist have been really good (more about my therapy in the future).

The end result is a lot of extra money on a credit card, mental health flare and a continual worry that my sibling is going to hurt themselves as they are currently homeless back in Bellingham. It wracks me with guilt because I can’t afford any more money, and they have been nice about it not asking, but I still end up feeling like a failure.

None of this even counts the emotional grief I am not able to process because of this for the death of my parents and my missing them.

That is ok, this is a new year, new outlook and a new girl who is establishing boundaries. So don’t pity me too much, I will be fine. I just needed to write down a very abbreviated version here.

2020 – Looking ahead

I will probably post a roundup of 2019, but I figure I will let that digest a few days first. As for 2020 I just wanted to outline my plans overall.

Resolutions are not the same as goals. Resolutions are the things I truly want to task myself with for the year. Things I expect to call myself out on. Goals are a lot more flexible. My life is hectic and I am trying to be ok with not achieving goals. The resolutions though are more important.

This list is mostly for me to work out over the next couple of weeks what I have time for and what I don’t. I will give updates to these subjects as the year progresses.

RESOLUTIONS

The only resolution I am going to try and keep is to be kind to myself. This has always been hard for me to do, and I would use whatever I could to be harder on me than I should. I have a great husband, a great therapist and a lot of great friends who are supportive. I will use that support this year to be kinder to myself.

This kindness also means to be more accepting of how I look. I have anxiety attacks about my transition, about what I look like, and about the fact I am changing shape (and this is good, more feminine). I know my body is shifting and its good. I know I may go up a little bit in weight and that is also ok.

2020 GOALS (NOT RESOLUTIONS)

I have a lot of goals for the year. I am hoping I can keep the majority of them but most of them are not required.

A LOT OF MEDICAL GOALS

  • Engage with as much of the transgender surgical procedures this year as I can.
    • Electrolysis (probably at least three trips in 2020 to Phoenix, unknown number locally for lower electrolysis). This includes the scheduled trip down to Phoenix in two weeks. Senza Pelo are awesome for this.
      • Breast Augmentation, aiming for April 2020. I am currently involved in consultations with three surgeons this January. Very excited by this, as it is covered by our insurance!!! Seeing Dr. Mangubat, Dr. Sajan and Dr. Ueno for the second time. I can go with Dr. Ley as well, but I would prefer not flying down and staying in Phoenix for two weeks, for something as simple as boobs.
      • Voice Work. I want to work on feminizing my voice. I have some resources, I just haven’t had the brain space to start.
      • Lip Feminization. I have consults with two of these same surgeons for lip feminization (probably the next biggest bang for my buck after breast augmentation). Currently considering Dr Mangubat, Dr. Sajan and I have already consulted with Dr. Ley.
      • Tummy Tuck. This is more optional, but I am fairly sure it might be done this year depending on our finances and the surgeons (we are seeing same surgeons for lip feminization as we are for this). I hesitate on this, and if it was only fat on my belly I might try losing more weight, but its a whole hell of a lot of skin from losing 100+ pounds and it sucks.
      • Lower face lift/feminization. This is also very optional. We have found it isn’t very expensive and I may consider lopping it in with Lip feminization (they already will have me under the knife).
      • Looking at possible procedure for Peryonie’s Disease. Unfortunately the side effect of dropping testosterone still hurts in full moments of passion and I may start pursuing “unkinking it”. That way if that fails we can always tap down the other side. I would like this done this year, this is painful, but it depends on everything else.
      • GRS… Gender Reassignment Surgery or the infamous “Bottom Surgery” is still very much on the table. I still have dysphoria, but it is always weighed on the risk of losing orgasm… however now the risk of my penis hurting when erect is also being considered. I suspect no matter what this isn’t even a consideration this year. I am just starting electrolysis for this in February. However it is now a possibility on the horizon.
  • I will have to look into my teeth this year. I need a crown at some point, I do have an FSA as well. I am going to see how much of my FSA I can use to spend on the above transgender items, but if I have enough left over FSA on what I can spend, I may go in and have a dentist do it.
  • I need to have my hearing looked at. It is steadily getting worse and we don’t know if I still have tubes in my ears. The prior ear doctor sucked, so we will have to start with a new one.
  • Get my stomach checked. I throw up pretty much daily, none of my medical questions have been answered and there hasn’t been much concern. I suspect it is a combination of hiatal hernia, greasy/bad/too much eaten food, and my anxiety. I am working on anxiety already with therapist, the rest still needs to be addressed.

NON-MEDICAL GOALS

There is a lot of stuff here, this is all optional and some will be done, some won’t. r

  • Put together my D&D World (2.0 baby)
  • Reassess all my websites, condense where I can and determine what I truly want to continue forward with.
  • Write at least 10,000 words a week. It seems like a lot, but I have done it before with minimal impact. This doesn’t have to be on a specific book, it can just be writing exercises or anything. This is just to get me back into it.
  • Get ahead in my self teaching of digital art.
  • Get ahead of Things You Should Know Youtube channel. For some reason this has been really hard, not in process, I have it super simple, but I am having some sort of anxiety/almost dysphoria about it. Might fall into my concerns with my voice.
  • Do more Photography.
  • Take more time with the hubby. I want to establish a regular weekly date night. We do this on and off, but things get stressed. When I say date night I don’t mean every time going out. I think living room floor picnic works for me, or just holding him.
  • Learn to not care about work when I am not at work.
  • Learn ASL (this falls under my failing hearing above). I am honest though, I have so much transition stuff that ASL is probably not in the cards. However, it is something I hope for.

I am sure I have a lot more goals, but those are all the main points I can think of now, I just don’t want to dig too deep as many of these deserve their own posts.

 

Hubby Nightmares

I figure it is one thirty in the morning and I would relate what happens when my husband has nightmares.

He has these nightmares every so often. The external noises start off distant and scattered, some sort of faint noise coming from his throat as he sleeps. In the beginning I didn’t know what that meant, he was a small girl who doesn’t make a lot of sound (pretty much the exact opposite of me). Yet these screams would build up and becoming terrifyingly loud. Now after his transition the sounds aren’t any less bad, just a deeper tone.

The starting whimpering sounds are not pleasant. They come in waves actually, I have them figured out now. If I am not awake enough at the very beginning I am sometimes unable to move as they continue to grow louder. I end up panicking trying to move knowing it will be worse the longer I wait. They become this horrifying nightmare scream that totally fucks me up. The kind of sound someone watching something truly terrifying would make.

I immediately will lean over, rub his arm, hold him, kiss his head and reassure him and he whispers something like he loves me or something else small and rolls over to go to sleep. Usually that is it for the night, he sleeps and half the time he doesn’t even remember anything.

Yet here I am at 1:30am not going back to sleep at all because that noise freaks me the fuck out. His being in pain has always freaked me out and made it so I couldn’t sleep or do anything else but worry on him, but the nightmare sounds are the worst and I lay in bed terrified after waking him up and him going back to sleep.

The funniest part is sometimes he surfaces in his dreams after the nightmare and he doesn’t remember, he will pat me and ask me if I am ok or if I am sleeping well… My thoughts are usually “I was… til you had a nightmare”. I don’t say it though, but I do usually give him a hard time the next morning when I am looking exhausted and he is usually his normal self.

Fried Bologna and Spam Sandwiches

I woke up missing my father terribly this morning. I have always meant to talk about him more here, to share both the good and bad (and there was definitely both), but it has been hard with the transition, with the changes in my life and just how tired I have been.

Dad and I in 1972, always had a tight bond.

This last couple weeks have been really bad, I have wanted desperately to call him and talk to him and my mother. I did it daily until I was 45 and he passed (I talked to mother multiple times a day for five months after that until she passed). However I never got to tell them about my transition fully (we talked a little, that is its own story).

This morning though I really missed the quiet times we spent together. It wasn’t super regular, but it happened regular enough that it was an expected feature.

He would come in and wake me up at a very late/very early time (somewhere between midnight and four am). He would be drunk sometimes, stoned sometimes and sober a lot of the times. He would sneak into my bedroom and have me get up and take my blanket (even at the age of 14 or 15) and we would go out into the living room. Even though he was my father, we snuck around like we could get in trouble. He tried to do this with both my siblings, but neither one of them were ok with being awoken at one in the morning, I have always woken easily and I loved these moments. So other than a few exceptions, it was generally just me and him.

An example of late night watching tv with my sister and brother. They definitely weren’t as fond of it. Sorry the image is not retouched yet. That colored blanket/bedspread is the one I remember the most and I think we were watching Legend of Hell House.

He would just talk to me about the day, he would ask me all about my day, if I was in sports, chorus or orchestra he would ask me about that. We would watch a movie (usually a horror movie) together. Often he would make me a snack, one of his famous fried bologna or spam sandwiches, maybe some bratwurst or kielbasa, or if it was a good day one of his (and mom made this too) no-cook peanut butter oatmeal bars. We would sit and watch the movie and it was pretty spectacular for me, even as I became a teenager. Weirdly enough the movies I remember the most were Telefone and The Legend of Hell House.

These were quiet times in what was a very stressful life of violence, drugs, bikers and homelessness. I never complained or minded doing it at all. This morphed when I moved out, but never went away. I have horrific insomnia that wakes me up after midnight or one am anyways, and my dad would sometimes call me at super early hours and we would talk. I never had my ringer on so if I wasn’t up I wouldn’t’ wake up. I would just notice in a morning a call had happened and a voicemail that said simply “I love you Lucky.” I so miss those voicemails, and I am so angry I didn’t save them. It is hard to think of a world where your dad isn’t in it with you, before he is gone. I never fully considered that in time, funnily enough even though I stressed about him and mom passing for decades.

In a very rare blue moon before we moved out of Bellingham, but after I was with the hubby, I would go over there and we would sit in the living room watching tv early in the morning, with a single lamp on one of the side tables. While we drank coffee and had something to eat. In the last few years before I moved to Seattle and this was only via phone I had begun to bring his favorite donuts, Hostess raspberry filled powdered donuts, along with myself cooking the meals. He wasn’t able to get around like he did when I was a kid. I never thought my fried bologna sandwiches tasted as good, but he promised they were better than his. Maybe they were for him.

Dad and his dog Nikka

We still talked though when we didn’t meet in person. He would just chat with me, tell me things he was worried about, he was proud about with the other kids, or just how our family friends were doing. I would do the same. I think he liked talking even more when I was an adult. He didn’t have a lot of support network and when I could be there as well as an adult I think it helped. It helped me because he would listen to me as well.

So I woke up this morning in an unfamiliar hotel missing my dad. I feel guilty that it is only my dad I woke up missing. I love my mom, but our relationship was more complicated and it was my daddy I was missing.

Mom and Dad

I just thought I should start sharing more about my feelings and what I am thinking here. So here you go, the reason I spent most of this morning crying. That is hard because I never cried pre-transition, I am still not sure how to handle it. You would think that three and a half years later after his death this wouldn’t happen, but that’s isn’t true. You don’t get over people, you just adapt to the new circumstances.

I love you dad, and I really miss our late night/early morning tv watching.

Tired…

This was originally a Facebook post I posted earlier this morning, so if it isn’t cogent… I blame Facebook.

People make me tired. This is a long rant so please scroll on by if you are inclined.

I was in a line at Safeway yesterday standing behind this older looking guy (but probably not really any older than me). He is a little shorter than me and I am dressed in my blue skirt and a black top (with red under shirt). I am grumpy, but I am feeling fairly good with my look.

He stares at me, looks away, turns back and stares again but this time makes some sort of “hrummph” sound, looks away, looks back and makes a motion with his hand and mutters “what?”
Continue reading “Tired…”

Highway to Hell and my dad (music/memory)

ACDC has always been part of my life as far back as I can remember. My parents listened to bands like ACDC, then others like Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Queen, etc.

My strongest memory of ACDC though is one Sunday morning we were getting ready to go to church. Church was a rare event for us, my father always had issues with religion after going to Vietnam, and this was one of those days where he was deciding he didn’t want to do it anymore.

My dad a year later, still with that rolling cigarette tobacco sitting next to him, and my little brother.

I was 13 years old, living in our Lombard street apartment with my dad cranking up ACDC at 8am. They had been on a party binge and we all knew my dad wasn’t going with us to church (secretly I was hoping I didn’t have to go).

There had been an argument between my mom and dad over this fact, and my dad said “fuck that, I am staying home and listening to music”. This meant he would probably start drinking while we were at service and that Sunday would be a continuation.

We got dressed and were getting ready to leave, with my dad rolling his cigarette and sitting in his chair. ACDC’s song, “Highway to Hell” was blaring out and my dad was singing to it.

Just before we left my mom started yelling at my dad again. Then something strange happened, and I am not making this up, I watched as the stereo system starting making a clunking sound. Within a few seconds the cassette mechanism spit out the tape and Highway to Hell stopped playing as spooling cassette tape was everywhere.

I watched my dad just stare at the tape deck quietly for a moment. Without a word he stood up and got his coat, then he said, “C’mon lets to church” and we went.

This never permanently effected my dad, the religion problems continued, but he never played loud music and told my mom he was staying home to listen to music again either on a Sunday.

For your listening enjoyment, an oldie but a goodie!:

Jessie’s Girl and Wolsey (music/memory)

See bottom of post for pronoun disclaimer (note 1):

Jessie’s Girl has a special place in my heart. It reminds me of my husband and the time before we got together (before he was my wife, or even girlfriend). The song fit pretty squarely as part of the soundtrack of my life. This was because when I first met Wolsey and fell in love, Wolsey was dating my best friend Doug.

I met Wolsey when I was 17 years old and had just moved to Bellingham WA. I was a virgin, going to my fourth high school in 2.5 years and I had just found a group of friends to hang with. My best friends at the time was Doug  and Jay.

We had met in a geeky Dungeons and Dragons game (and this was summer of 1987 I believe). By the end of that school year (so summer of 1988) my friend had shifted from being a geek to being a stoner/punk (I didn’t, I was sort of my own thing… think older brother from Stranger Things but from a biker family but who is a geeky gamer).

The advantage of Doug and Jay shifting from geek to stoner/punk was meeting new people and one of those new people I met was a very beautiful young lady who eventually would change her name to Wolsey after we had been married for decades (original name is classified as Wolsey hates it).

Wolsey was friends with another girl named Colby and they were also in the punk scene. Colby dated Doug for awhile, and I met Wolsey a couple of times. I thought she was pretty cool, and I was attracted to her. The better part though was I felt like we could be friends.

From R to L: Rob, Colby (laying down), Doug, Wolsey. (yes there is a censor line, the photo reveals a little too much).

Fast forward through teenager drama and Doug and Colby broke up and Doug started dating Wolsey. This meant I saw Wolsey constantly and we became best friends. I introduced Wolsey to Dungeons and Dragons and while Doug and Jay would play but fuck around, Wolsey and I both enjoyed the role-play, the story telling. I learned that while Wolsey looked punk as fuck (and hippy sometimes, Wolsey would float between the two) Wolsey liked reading, stories and was super creative.

Doug and Wolsey moved into their apartment together and I was there all the time. Doug would bail on us and a lot of times it was just Wolsey, myself, with others in our social group hanging out. It was fairly soon after we started hanging out with each other like that, that I fell in love with her (him).

It really was angst with a happy ending!

However, Wolsey was dating my best friend and I absolutely would not do something like try and break in on that. Funny enough the next time I was in this type of relationship situation with another woman I went the other way and not sure that it was any better a result.

Funny enough my parents both knew Wolsey well by this point and tried to get me to pursue her (him). I told them there was no way she was interested in me, and both my parents shook their head and said that Wolsey would be perfect for me (they were right in the end… damn them 🙂 ). Although I still to this day wish I had listened to my parents and done it. I didn’t realize they were right and she had a thing for me at the time.

The first time I noticed Jessie’s Girl as a song (it had been out for awhile) was when I was sitting in Wolsey and Doug’s living room. Doug had just been an asshole to Wolsey and stomped off. Wolsey was sitting there looking annoyed and frustrated and the song started playing. That was the soundtrack of how I felt about her for a couple of years. For some reason the song kept playing that summer too, even though it had been out for a few years.

I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship though. Even with how fucked up my childhood was (or maybe because of it and what my dad did try to instill) I tried to remain the paladin, true to my word and to my friend.

The other large part I didn’t act was that I truly truly loved being Wolsey’s friend and I never felt like I was in the “friend zone”. In fact I valued our friendship above everything and didn’t want to jeopardize that.  It is why I can’t stand friend zone people and incels. The other person owes you nothing (and Wolsey absolutely owed me nothing, I was just happy to get Wolsey’s friendship).

That is how it was for nine months as my best friend (well he had sort of drifted away as being my best friend to be replaced by Wolsey) and his girlfriend lived together and I would go over and visit. As a side note, in all fairness Wolsey was interested in me, showed me several clues but I was too shy/resistant I didn’t follow up. My romantic soundtrack for that time period was Jessie’s Girl.

I do realize now as a fully mentally formed adult that the song can be problematic, but I still like it and it reminds me of when my husband Wolsey was a pretty girl dating my best friend before she (he) usurped that spot and replaced Doug as my best friend.

Disclaimer Note 1: Let me get a clarification out here, I do refer to my current husband in historical terms as my friend, partner, etc. I also refer to him as my “wife” or “girlfriend” sometimes when talking about a memory when I was younger that happened before his transition. Sometimes I do this because it gets hard tracking who is who in those stories.

He is ok with this, as I am ok with him referring to me as his husband or boyfriend when recounting memories. It is hard with pronouns, especially when in context memories and of referring to us both as people we no longer are (myself as a boy back then and my husband as a girl back then). Just a FYI, he is ok with the pronoun use.

Music

I had forgotten how much I liked music.

I couldn’t honestly tell you when I stopped caring about music. When I was young I loved music, hell I used to sing in the shower (albeit not well). However, at some point I stopped. I am sure it was the depression from dysphoria and a traumatic childhood, but I couldn’t tell you when.

I wasn’t ever really good at music either. In elementary school I played the violin for a few weeks before they took back all the “loaner” instruments. Turn around five years later and I did play the bass in middle school. My parents couldn’t afford a violin (I was super poor) but there was an extra bass that the orchestra teacher had access too.

At the time I didn’t like it, I thought it was the secondary equivalent of being a wallflower, I hadn’t realized it was the same fingering as a bass guitar. That lasted a year and I was pretty good at it. Not orchestral good, but good enough I didn’t get booted out of the orchestra.

Eight years later, at the behest of my girlfriend, I auditioned for a choir. They loved my bass voice and wanted me in, but I ended up breaking up with her the next week so that never went anywhere (sadly, I do still have a pretty deep voice with my transition, that will need to be worked on probably).

Up to age 26-27 I would collect music, listen to it a lot and just enjoy it. My music taste runs from Russian Opera, to rap, country, rock, metal and folk. Pretty much I liked everything but R&B, and to be honest I like R&B now (I disliked it then for no obvious reason). Somewhere around that point I entered my depression and didn’t touch much music. I listened to a lot of audio books, podcasts, or when I listened to music I didn’t notice it.

Fast forward to age 47 (right before I turned 48 in August) and all of a sudden I love music again. I want to listen to it constantly, it triggers a lot of memories (each song almost has a theme, or memory associated with it). I also have been thinking about doing something music wise, maybe learn to play the keyboard or something. Not to be a “musician” but to just learn something new.

I am sure my transition and my depression cracking and releasing me are what caused this. I even want to go dancing with my husband, and I have NEVER wanted to dance as a boy. Not a single time, even when I went with my husband (my wife at the time) I would watch from the table when they would dance.

I think the weirdest thing is lately the memories and associations with songs (sometimes with brand new songs I have never heard before as well). My therapist once mentioned music sometimes can unlock things, and my survival trait growing up was to forget things, a habit I do even to this day.

So the music now effects me not only emotionally, but also my memories. I think I am going to start posting songs here, with a brief memory/association I have with them. It lets me work through things, remember both good and bad things, and maybe deal with all the shit I packed away for 48 years.

So there is that, you are all stuck with future posts with me and music. If its transitioned related association I will crosspost to Suddenly Straight, but otherwise it will just be here.

I am just thankful that I like music again. I think it means things are changing below the surface, not just on the skin level, and that really gives me hope.

Heartbeat… TERF Fuckery

I will be honest, before my transition I was so shut down that I would see articles like this, they would make me mad on behalf of the target, but it didn’t truly bother me. Now it does.

The short story is that the lead developer’s girlfriend of Heartbeat, a game well loved by the LGBTQA community went on a TERF rampage on twitter. It turns out that the lead developer herself is also heavily TERF and they are both hateful creatures. You can read more about it here: https://www.dailydot.com/irl/heartbeat-trans-suicide-rate/

I won’t go into the whole sordid stupidity. What this post is about is my frustration at people like that and people in general (such as my previous transphobia post). I read too much around the Heartbeat drama and now I am anxious, unhappy and really debating limiting my exposure to certain subjects. This doesn’t do me any good to read this shit at 3am and definitely not be able to go back to sleep.

As a side note, I am not a lesbian (I am sure my husband is relieved to hear that) and I am attracted to both genders. While I have dabbled with boys before transition before my husband, I never had a standard relationship with one and I wasn’t sure if I would seek someone out that was male to begin with. So I assumed when I was younger that if I ever transitioned I would have been a lesbian (this is before my hubby transitioned). Although I think that identity had more to do with my dysphoria and inability to deal with my own penis situation then being actually only into women.

As for the developer and her girlfriend (lesbians), I am ok with people who don’t want to touch me because I still currently have a penis and they don’t want to touch a penis. I can separate my genitals from my personal identity, after all pretty much everyone else has already done that. All I ask is that the recognize me as a woman. Maybe not talk about me, or avoid me.

What I hate is the spiteful rage I hear, and even worse yet the quiet behind the back talking. This is why I hate this at work as well, the silent judging, the whispers at the next table, or the silence when I walk into the room.

I just feel tired all the time from attacks from religious people, then from our government, and the worst… from our own LGBTQA community. I didn’t understand when my husband said he felt tired, or when other trans people said it. I thought I did, but I had no clue. However now I do feel it, a constant picking at me by external sources. I can only imagine this must be what its like (and maybe worse) for people of color or who follow Islam. I always had empathy for that, this just makes it more. It also means I think I would step even further out (even if it endangered me) for the other minority groups.

I just don’t get why TERF’s think my existence is taking away from them. Then again I never understood minority groups who find even smaller groups to pick on, doing the same thing to those smaller and weaker groups that is done to them. I get that it is a power thing, and a way to make themselves feel better, but it isn’t something I have ever done and it is frustrating. You don’t have to date me, but why do you doubt who I am even after science, psychology and myself tell you who I am.

This has gotten me to thinking though, after reading the lesbian TERF hate from the Heartbeat dev and her girlfriend, it dawned on me that the demisexual I thought I was, may have been more of dysphoria reason then I realized. I am not sure why it came to me now, but I think I am less demisexual and my desire was impacted more by dysphoric feelings.

I like boys, girls and nonbinary (or any other combination). What is in someone’s pants doesn’t make me hesitate for a moment. I used to think I only liked people I connected with, but more and more I am thinking I was only interested in people I felt safe with. My gender has always been an issue (as has my genitals), I just hadn’t realized until more recently maybe I am pansexual with dysphoria then anything.

I realize I just mixed topics, and I will explore the sexual identity later, I just felt it kind of dovetailed with the lesbian hate for some reason and I wanted to share both.

Mostly I wanted to say I am saddened by TERF thought patterns, but in the end they are garbage and can go fuck themselves right along with the religious fundies, both are irrelevant and wrong.

FINALLY: