[depressive blithering] Running out of steam

[Asche]

I'm beginning to think that the "am I trans?" emo I've been doing for the past year or so was really just yet another way of distracting myself from the Black Hole inside.

It's not that I've suddenly decided to turn myself into an ANSI standard male, or that I've thrown out my dresses and skirts.  It's just that it all has started to feel meh.  I started making a dress, but got stalled trying to figure out to do the placket and the fabric and the partly done pieces have been sitting in a bag for a week.  The flute and the guitar and the piano are just gathering dust -- I tried playing a tune or two, but once I'd finished them, I just felt meh, like: why bother?  I do stuff because I've committed to it -- I show up at work because I've agreed to do stuff.  I show up at chorus rehearsals and try to sing well because I've signed up (and we have so few tenors, sometimes if I don't show up, we don't have any.)  I dragged myself off to a local (100 mi. away) ski area because I didn't go last year and wanted to convince myself I still could.  I enjoyed it while I was doing it, the way you (well, I, at least) enjoy skiing: it feels so good to do something terrifying and see that not only do you not die, you actually manage to get to the bottom in one piece.  When I'm doing it, at least, it takes my full concentration not to go shooting off into the woods or do an involuntary split and fall over and pinwheel head over heels a hundred yards into a snowbank.  But as soon as I got in the car to go home, I started feeling: why did I bother?  It's like the song "Is That All There Is?"

For a while, I was thinking about who and what I wanted to be.  I was thinking how I feel (felt?) that I would have been happier as a woman.  I was trying to imagine what transition would mean to me.  Or at least to be a more authentic self, which means first figuring out what "a more authentic self."

But now it feels like, no matter what I do, it'll all be just meh.  It'll all be "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."   I continue to wear dresses and skirts because to stop doing so would feel like killing the rest of me, but I no longer feel like I'm more me for doing it.  I'm not sure there's actually a me to be more of.  Maybe I was pretending, and got so caught up in the pretense that I actually forgot I was pretending -- for a little while.  Maybe I'm really dead, but am too clueless to realize it, so I keep walking around as if I were still alive.

[Devlyn]

Big hug! Anything I can do to help?

[stephaniec]

sorry I wish I knew what to say, I'm going through a life debate myself, but I do keep rebounding somehow.

[suzifrommd]

Search for gender identity definitely CAN distract you from the things that give your life pop.

Maybe concentrate on finding the things that make you feel true to yourself. (For me those would be reading, walking, listening to music, writing, and talking with friends. For you, they would be different, of course.)

Also helps to try find ways to bring other people joy.

I hope this helps, Asche. It's all I got.

[helen2010]

I'm beginning to think that the "am I trans?" emo I've been doing for the past year or so was really just yet another way of distracting myself from the Black Hole inside.

It's not that I've suddenly decided to turn myself into an ANSI standard male, or that I've thrown out my dresses and skirts.  It's just that it all has started to feel meh.  ......  I started feeling: why did I bother?  It's like the song "Is That All There Is?"

For a while, I was thinking about who and what I wanted to be.  I was thinking how I feel (felt?) that I would have been happier as a woman.  I was trying to imagine what transition would mean to me.  Or at least to be a more authentic self, which means first figuring out what "a more authentic self."

But now it feels like, no matter what I do, it'll all be just meh.  It'll all be "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."   I continue to wear dresses and skirts because to stop doing so would feel like killing the rest of me, but I no longer feel like I'm more me for doing it.  I'm not sure there's actually a me to be more of.  Maybe I was pretending, and got so caught up in the pretense that I actually forgot I was pretending -- for a little while.  Maybe I'm really dead, but am too clueless to realize it, so I keep walking around as if I were still alive.

Asche

I am pretty sure that you are still alive and kicking.  Perhaps you are a touch depressed.  Perhaps finding that your destination has changed has thrown you a little.  Perhaps the importance of appearance and presentation has waned.  Perhaps you are just reassessing, questioning and contemplating.

All of the above seems pretty normal to me but a good therapist would give you better counsel and support.  Some time ago I worked out that presenting as more than a binary alpha male was the direction to take.  Funnily with low dose hrt the importance and headlong flight to full transition or even full female presentation felt less critical, less important and I realised that it was emotional peace, equilibrium and richness that I sought and was being provided almost exclusively by the hrt.   From there I felt compelled to at least signal to the world and to acknowledge to myself that I was non binary so I removed my facial hair, shaped my brows, had ffs etc, but always with a determined andro intent.

I am not sure whether I will stay where I am when I finally shed a lot of weight and muscle but hell, life is a journey and being non binary I have many options and much to explore, experience, understand and embrace.

In some ways I am not sure that you are asking the right question!  Rather than asking whether you are trans, perhaps you should forget about labels and just focus on what works and doesn't work for you ..  labels can wait.   If you enjoy dresses etc then great.  If there are other things that you like and enjoy,  regardless of how they may be gendered by others,  then have fun with them.   Sometimes things that you have had fun with previously no longer gives you the same kick.  This applies to old hobbies, ski fields, restaurants, friends etc ..  if they no longer work for you, then not a problem, try something else.  There is a lot to try, a lot to see, to read, to experience and folk to meet.   Perhaps even service to others may help - I have always found most meaning when I have stepped out of myself and focused on helping and supporting others.

Our search for our truth, authenticity and a self authored life does bring unexpected and sometimes unwelcome or discouraging twists and turns, but I have always found that just around the corner, over the hill or in the near future there is an unexpected gift, much joy, growth and self-acceptance.  I have found that language is also important.  Positive, affirming language certainly makes a difference to me.

Sorry for the ramble, but I don't often post here anymore but saw a fellow traveller in a funk and hoped that I could help.

I wish you well and look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Safe travels

Aisla

[JulieBlair]

Hi Asche,
I'm kind of a trans adrenaline junky.  When I am pushing the edges of who I am, I'm all jazzy, almost hip hop to misuse a music metaphor.  But life doesn't cooperate very well.  The edge becomes the center, the new and exciting the normal and mundane.  Then what?  Most of my life I have struggled against the dark, created chaos to stay alive, and sought the novel to supplant the mundane.  Then it's like meh all over again.  A shrug, a sigh, and energy goes out for deli somewhere.

Even my search for an authentic life has worked that way.  For me the change is too profound and the challenges too remarkable to sink into the commonplace yet.  When it threatens to, I make a few phone calls and find somebody worse off than me who needs an ear, a ride, or maybe just a sandwich.

I am by nature ADHD and sans stimulus, become restless and discontent.  Perhaps one day that will leave (and take my dysphoria and self criticism with it I hope) but till then making myself useful is a good proxy for growth.

Peace,
Julie

[Asche]

I think (bad idea, that "thinking", I know) that what's going on is that I have other stuff I'm dealing with.  Not entirely separated from the Gender Drama, but mostly.  (See my post How to get in touch with my 11-year-old self)  When they've convinced you at an early age that you're intrinsically bad -- as in: the world would have been a better place if you hadn't been in it -- and you can't remember a time when you weren't convinced of that, it kind of complicates the process of figuring out who you really are underneath it all.  It's like the "real? not real?" game Peeta plays in Mockingjay, except there's nobody to say "real" or "not real."

Some things I'm fairly sure are real, at least right now:

• I like to wear skirts and dresses and feminine/pretty (as opposed to feminine=sexy) clothes.  I feel more like me (whoever that is.)
  
• I don't feel male, in the sense that when I'm around men, I feel like they're some other species; like Temple Grandin's phrase "an anthropologist on Mars."
  
• In fact, the whole "being a man" shtick has always repelled me.
  
• I would rather not look at or think too much about my (male) body.  I think I would like it better if it looked like a woman's body.  (But who knows?)
  
• I can't imagine saying "I am a woman," even if I imagine myself as fully transitioned and 100% passing.  I'm not even sure what it would mean.
  
• I like, I long for "gentle."
  

One thing that I'd have put on the "real" list a few years ago is "music," but lately most of the time, the music spring in me is dry, pretty much for the first time in my life.  I still sing in the choir and the chorus, but when I'm home or otherwise on my own, music no longer bubbles up inside me.  ("Silence like a cancer grows.")  When I do sit myself down to play something, the notes just fall "like silent raindrops" on drum-dry earth and vanish.

Under "not real" would be any evaluation I have of who I "really" am.  Every time I try to look at myself, inside or out, things grow, shrink, change form, and flip from evil to saintly in back from minute to minute.  Reminds me of the "Pink Elephants On Parade" sequence in the Disney movie.

Another "not real": most of my feelings, because they can go from overwhelming to "huh?  did I really ever feel like that?" and back in what seems like minutes.

On another note: I went to another support group session in the city.  This was a fairly large group (30-40), all M2F.  I didn't feel like I belonged, maybe because so many people were talking about "becoming the woman I've always been" and about how many months they've been on HRT and when their SRS is scheduled.  Also, I particularly didn't feel at home with the people closer to my age.  First impressions, I know, but so many seemed kind of hard and like I wouldn't feel safe with them; my WAG is that trans women of my generation faced a lot of really nasty stuff which leaves scars.  I felt a lot more in common with the 20-somethings in the group, or maybe I just liked  being around them more, as they seemed more open and less defensive.  I kind of went away wondering if this whole trans thing is maybe not really me, but just another attempt to squeeze myself into a narrative that doesn't really fit.

I've got a few names of gender counselors, but actually calling one feels like too far to reach.  Part may be that I can't face having another disappointing experience like the first person I tried, part is that it takes all I have to keep dogpaddling enough to keep my head above the muck.

I have this vision of myself stumbling around lost in a dark wood (like Dante at the beginning of the Divine Comedy), blundering through undergrowth with briars tearing at my clothes, unable to figure out which is North, South, or whatever, unable even to keep in a straight line for more than a few paces.

(Sorry for all the odd allusions.  It's what I do when I get scared -- imagining I'm in a story or poem or song makes things feel less immediate.)

[suzifrommd]

OMG Asche, nearly everything you said here I could have written a few years ago. Right down to the support group of MtFs talking about being their real selves and I couldn't relate.

Don't know if it helps, but my GT is very big on not trying to define myself, and instead deciding what kind of life I want to live. That really helped me, because I was focused on my own reality and not names and words and judgments of others.

[Emmaleigh]

Yeah, that whole 'am I really?' question. That was my complete-meltdown just last weekend. Up until a few weeks ago, I always thought of myself as simply 'broken'. Ive never felt actually happy, never felt 'complete', I feel I've always just slogged through my life doing what was necessary to pay the bills, to advance my frequently-changing career-path, to keep up appearances. Standards were set, by others mostly, but therefore also by myself. I've never felt I've lived up to any of them.

And then along comes this whole brain vs body gender issue thing in a cheap-shot body-slam no-sleep weekend kind of move. And after reading and exploring and some support group and a bit of therapy, I begin to question my own sanity. The "girl" escaped her cage last weekend. Im suddenly having an argument with an individual who lives only inside my head, who's 40-55 years younger than me. Ive always believed I probably had some barely hidden mental disorder or other. So maybe Im manifesting dissociative? Or schizoid? Or MPD? Ive always believed Im pretty malleable, by others, but especially by myself in fringe ways. And Ive always felt alone and lonely, despite wives and kids and family (and supposed friends I didn't believe) - so maybe I'm so starved for attention, that Ive latched onto a group who will accept me and maybe listen? And Im really just making all this up for the drama, for the attention?

I don't know yet, maybe I truly am headed toward a padded room and EST. The question still seems up in the air. All I know for sure is Im unhappy, Ive always been unhappy, everything I read about all of this resonates a vibrant chord within me. And I know without a doubt if I had been offered a choice way back at 4 or so, I would have immediately without question opted to change my body to fit who I thought I was supposed to be. And at any time in my life thereafter.