I've had this theory for quite some time that transsexualism has similarities in experience of being like a soldier in war.
Contrarily, some of the scenes in Ken Burn's "The War" were so achingly horrific that I thought, "Man, I'm just a woos compared to those people who REALLY suffered." I truly don't mean to diminish soldiers' achievement or horrors by comparing us to them -- Yes, they are heroes. On the other hand, bottom line, DEAD is DEAD. Many transsexuals, as evidenced by many posts at Susan's, face death every day. I feel ANYONE in severe mental pain shares that knowledge of what trauma FEELS like. Often, soldiers feared the night, not knowing whether they would be alive the next day. Then, they feared the day. Fear and depression can, and often does, seem endless, no matter what the cause. Some soldiers in World War II, like some transsexuals, lost hope of life.
Like many here, I felt a huge need to "go to war" against my transsexualism and travel across the sea: transition. And, to keep the analogy between war and transsexualism, I noted that many friends and coworkers called me "brave" when I transitioned. But, like the soldiers in battle, I greatly underestimated the difficulty, if not horrors of this battle. Oh, of course, there'd be many days where I'd conquer my "hills" of societal bigotry and my own paranoia. Other days, someone would stare at me in a restaurant and I'd feel like jumping out of my skin.
A TS psychologist once told me that, in transitioning, I had to do what soldiers do in battle: HAVE CONTROL. It's a natural inclination to run like hell when someone, in a real battle, shoots at you. Somehow, soldiers are trained to dismiss that natural instinct. It's usually dismissed because they fight, not for themselves or their country, but for their platoon. One advantage soldiers have is the benefit of going through traumatic life-threatening incidents TOGETHER. We, as transsexuals, are usually (save for places like Susan's) on our own. We're unlike other minorities such as African-Americans or gays who, in person, have one another to lean on.
Then there's what happens after the war. Soldiers came back from World War II (and, obviously many others) and, yet, the war kept going in their mind...post-traumatic stress. Though I'm post-op, I still have stress from being transsexual. Like with the WW2 veterans, I don't feel trauma from actual daily experience: I don't encounter "wars" out there. But feelings of depression and trauma do linger in a form of what I unofficially call my form of post-traumatic stress. I've seen some psychologists, one of which suggested a mantre: "I'm proud to be transsexual." I can see the doctor's thinking. Blacks had the mantre "Black is beautiful." Why not us?
I'd read something during transition that did worry me and seemed to "fit": Once you get severely depressed, your brain may change, making you vulnerable to "churning" over and over that depression -- that is what, essentially, "post-traumatic stress" is all about. I've read medical websites that state depression is "curable" most of the time. A few chemicals (drugs) and some cognitive therapy and you'll be good as new. I wonder, though, when you go through an ordeal, how you erase it. Ken Burns' documentary, at one point, had a veteran say that he'd felt trauma from the war for THIRTY YEARS after the war ended. Finally, he said, "The Japs, they don't care about me. They've moved on and so should I." And, finally, after so long, he let go of the trauma...
As we should. And we shouldn't wait thirty years to do it. While Susan's is good as a shared-experience which builds our strength, don't linger here too long. Sad tales (like mine above, lol) can add to your depression. Don't let the internet become your life. Distract yourself. Being in NATURE is good for that. Find other passions. Take up some hobbies -- I've taken up sailing and movie-editing. Hug or kiss some friends or loved ones. Tell them how much they mean to you. Often friends and family are at our self-defined center of "why we're here on earth." And, as a song suggests, "Don't stop thinking about tomorrow -- it'll soon be here."
Live.
Teri Anne
