What's up family,
This is where I am at: I'm 25 and I began transitioning when I was 15. So I have spent the past decade very successfully transitioning, ftm. I am legally male in MA, had top surgery 6 or 7 years ago, full hysterectomy and the ovaries out as well, all that. It was extremely important to me that I was "RIGHT" and "SURE" about my trans identity. Especially because I was a-typical. I liked girly stuff and the thought of being masculine was always revolting. In the beginning I explained this phenomenon by identifying as gay. Today, most people still assume I am gay, but I actually go with girls. Anyways, I put my life and soul into my transition, to consider I was wrong would be suicidal. And that's just about what happened.
I also have a vicious drug problem from which I have managed a 5 month clean-reprieve for the first time.
But for the last few years, ever since I considered my transition good and done, when I was at my absolute highest, and I mean MANIC, out of my mind, clinically insane, I would start dressing like a chick and suddenly understand myself to be a woman. But when I sobered up all that was gone. Then, in the last 5 months, since I got clean, I was severely depressed. I lost 30 lbs, I walked into the ER at 95 lbs, and announced that I sincerely intended to kill myself. A few days later an incredible and terrible thing happened to me. I had to most explosive epiphany of my life--that I should never have stopped being a woman. In fact, when I chose to perceive my body as female, I could start eating again.
My life has imploded. I was so so passionate about my conviction that I was a boy. But right now I'm wearing mascara and leggings and I feel more embodied than I possibly ever have. Fortunately, though I always passed, I only really only need mascara and leggings to suddenly be a woman. The 30 lbs gone took a lot of muscle with it, so that help too. And having no breasts just makes me look extra thin. All I need to do is shave and not speak.
Anyways, I'm a little pissed because it's stupid obvious that I've got a crackin hot case of borderline personality disorder. I've got it all, the identity disturbance, the heroin problem, impulsive spending, sexual stupidness, the CONSTANT and agonizing anxiety over Who I am and What defines myself in this world and How I should present to people to show them that I am ME. I'm a manipulative, cunning, and cold romantic partner who writes you poetry that illustrates that you are my magic-moon-mermaid and then I'm revolted at your attempt at physical affection. I refuse to gratify their need for sexual validation because I am consistently in secret turmoil over my sexual identity. It's not a social thing. It's truly impossible to tell because I know I am attracted to women but then I'm not turned on sexually and the thought of men disgust me but in the moment I find out I'm game. Because I cannot decide, I rationalize not caring one way or the other, through feminism, through Greek philosophy, whatever, that there ARE NO genders, and people are oppressed socially in some way who think they have a definitive sexual preference. And I alone am undeluded.
I have been empty and bored for so very long. Maybe I decided to be transgender to entertain myself. Agony is distracting at least. I turned to it again when I starved 25% of my body away.
And I have to tell my parents that they signed off on a mistake. My myself. I feel like I really let them down. I think I have always felt this way though, in one way or another.
But when I was 12 I was taken to therapy for the first time because I was cutting myself. I describes to them a hard-to-describe sensation of not really being in my body all the way, and a preoccupation with how I perceived my hands. No idea at all, they said. And the next guy. Never heard anything like it. Maybe you have ADD. And the psychiatrist I was sent to by my Gender Therapist for a second opinion said NAY. He thought I was just struggling to establish a stable self-image. What a dick, everyone said and dismissed him as a little anti-trans. He's usually so excellent, my gender therapist pondered.
But you know what. It's only my fault. Every now and then I get a dirty glimpse at just what a Master manipulator I am. I am excellent at what I don't know I'm doing. Or do I kinda know and kinda know too that my conscious is severely under developed.
My world is so freaking black and white, but I pretend to believe that truth is in the perfect Gray. Perhaps it is. But I know I don't care much about what's true if it's in the way of something I feel will further solidify my sense of who I am. This is so clear that it ACHES me. I will not be surprised if I do kill myself soon. No matter what I intend with all my heard I may very well do the utter opposite in 5 min. I just turn off the old intention. Black and white. I'd give my right arm before I hurt my sister anymore by picking up the needle. I ought to be terrified of myself. I know what I am capable of. And what in God's name could possibly untangle this massive-Me-snarl?
thanks,
kaleb
