My counselor doesn't feel I'm "ready" for RLE. She's made it clear that she believes 18 is not the right time to make this sort of a decision. She won't even let me consider "trying on the role," seeing if it really fits. She doesn't think I'm ready for it at all, so I asked her what I was ready for. She doesn't seem to be competent as a counselor because she acts like I am not capable of anything. That seems to be a bit heavy-handed. I'd like to feel like I am making progress in my own self discovery.
She told me to think about it more. But God damn it, I've thought about it for over a year. I think now is the time to start trying things, then sponging from the experiences and thinking more. I want to take action. Heck, that's supposedly what my gender is about, right? I have something in me that drives me to get the job done. And yet I have to sit back and take it.
Today is what exposed me to what is most irritating. My name. I worked at a place where people volunteer to build houses. I had to introduce myself as my legal female name. Ever since then, they were being overly sweet to me, the construction men. Not only that, but the director of the team invited me to "woman's day." And later, my grandma told me, "a girl really should learn about things like construction and mechanics." I've been driving nails into walls, fixing cars, today fixed a washing machine, and instead of people saying, "Wow, that's a nice hobby," instead they congratulate the "young independent woman." It's irritating.
They don't notice my cringes. My, "well..."s. My "yeah... thanks, I think"s. No, they think I'm just shy. They can't tell I'm offended. They don't see my fists ball up, or my legs tense. They don't notice that it irritates me that I'm just some "sweet young girl trying boyish things-- HOW CUTE!"
So my only tank top that flattens my chest out satisfactorily broke. My damn chest broke the tank top. I walked around hunched all day because the shirt I was wearing pronounced my chest (I was borrowing a polo from my step mom... it seemed androgynous enough until I put it on).
I'm biting the hell out of my nails again, because my anxiety is up through the roof. I forgot to call my counselor to tell her when the next appointment would be okay. I almost don't want to see her again, because she's determined, like everyone else, to say, "It's a really long process," and then do nothing. She's MAKING it long.
I'm spiraling into another depression. I'm hating my situation. I'm growing to be very angry. I don't want to go to school and have people keep calling me "princess." I'm sick of all of it. I want to be acknowledged for who I am, but in order to do that, I need to start full time. And I want my full time effort to count. I want it to count so that I can transition before I'm 30. I don't want to shoot all my young years down the goddamn toilet.
For once my trans complaints have nothing to do with my lack of penis! I have more important things to care about.
