Community Conversation => Transgender talk => Topic started by: Jill F on December 08, 2014, 02:57:45 PM Return to Full Version
Title: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: Jill F on December 08, 2014, 02:57:45 PM
Post by: Jill F on December 08, 2014, 02:57:45 PM
On Monday, Dec. 8, 2011 I got up long before my alarm and hours before the buttcrack of dawn. I gathered my things, put on clothing that was now at least a size too big and was driven to the hospital for what would be possibly the worst week of my life. At approximately noon that day I was awakened after a four hour surgery to remove approximately two feet of sigmoid colon and repair the fistula that led to my bladder. I had unknowingly suffered from severe diverticulitis for a long time, according to doctors, and it had almost killed me. I was probably one steak away from an intestinal blowout at that point, and my odds of survival were merely "probable" with this lifesaving surgery.
Upon awakening, I felt as if I had been clubbed in the belly repeatedly, and I was shot up with a pretty heavy dose of morphine. I had, at this point, pretty much tried all the drugs there were to try. Morphine was one of the very few drugs I hadn't tried to self-medicate with in a futile attempt to mask my dysphoria, but it was very different than the rest. Instead of masking the dysphoria or giving me a place to hide, my denial and coping mechanisms were shut down, and I had to face it. In that hospital bed, I was very conscious of the fact that I was truly female. I hated my rapidly evaporating hairline and beard, and on some level I even knew that I was no longer a candidate for colovaginoplasty. Why did I even know this? I even promised myself that I would explore my "female side" as soon as I got home.
On the second day in the hospital, I found the morphine to be unbearable and demanded to be taken off of it. The mild dose of another painkiller pretty much took my mind off the dysphoric feelings, and my gender issues could be ignored once again, but when I was taken off the intravenous opioids on the fourth day, I sank into a deep depression and began to cry uncontrollably. I could not even tell the emergency therapist they sent in what my problem was. I could not say it out loud.
Back in the closet I went. 2012 was not going to be a happy new year, but it was the beginning of the end of my misery. The truth was finally out there.
My "female side" finally won in November, and Greg was no longer to be heard from again after March 2013.
Upon awakening, I felt as if I had been clubbed in the belly repeatedly, and I was shot up with a pretty heavy dose of morphine. I had, at this point, pretty much tried all the drugs there were to try. Morphine was one of the very few drugs I hadn't tried to self-medicate with in a futile attempt to mask my dysphoria, but it was very different than the rest. Instead of masking the dysphoria or giving me a place to hide, my denial and coping mechanisms were shut down, and I had to face it. In that hospital bed, I was very conscious of the fact that I was truly female. I hated my rapidly evaporating hairline and beard, and on some level I even knew that I was no longer a candidate for colovaginoplasty. Why did I even know this? I even promised myself that I would explore my "female side" as soon as I got home.
On the second day in the hospital, I found the morphine to be unbearable and demanded to be taken off of it. The mild dose of another painkiller pretty much took my mind off the dysphoric feelings, and my gender issues could be ignored once again, but when I was taken off the intravenous opioids on the fourth day, I sank into a deep depression and began to cry uncontrollably. I could not even tell the emergency therapist they sent in what my problem was. I could not say it out loud.
Back in the closet I went. 2012 was not going to be a happy new year, but it was the beginning of the end of my misery. The truth was finally out there.
My "female side" finally won in November, and Greg was no longer to be heard from again after March 2013.
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: Rachel on December 08, 2014, 07:36:53 PM
Post by: Rachel on December 08, 2014, 07:36:53 PM
Congratulations Jill, I am glad you made it, hugs,
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: Eva Marie on December 08, 2014, 09:30:18 PM
Post by: Eva Marie on December 08, 2014, 09:30:18 PM
Quote from: Cynthia Michelle on December 08, 2014, 07:36:53 PM
Congratulations Jill, I am glad you made it, hugs,
^^ this!
I'm glad you made it through all of that sis :)
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: mrs izzy on December 08, 2014, 10:04:25 PM
Post by: mrs izzy on December 08, 2014, 10:04:25 PM
Glad you made the move towards happiness and away from the darkness.
Hugs
Hugs
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: Cindy on December 09, 2014, 01:14:10 AM
Post by: Cindy on December 09, 2014, 01:14:10 AM
I think that means.
" Happy Birthday "
" Happy Birthday "
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: stephaniec on December 09, 2014, 01:22:12 AM
Post by: stephaniec on December 09, 2014, 01:22:12 AM
Quote from: Cindy on December 09, 2014, 01:14:10 AMditto
I think that means.
" Happy Birthday "
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: Ms Grace on December 09, 2014, 04:31:17 AM
Post by: Ms Grace on December 09, 2014, 04:31:17 AM
I find it amazing that it often takes a severe upset to get us to finally admit the obvious to ourselves, to realise that there has to be another way to experience our life. Hugs, thanks for the share. Also, I know the colon is a damned long thing but two feet seems like an awful lot!!
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: suzifrommd on December 09, 2014, 07:47:42 AM
Post by: suzifrommd on December 09, 2014, 07:47:42 AM
Glad for our sake (and yours) that you made it to the other side of that whole crisis. Now you're here to inspire those who come after.
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: PinkCloud on December 09, 2014, 12:54:57 PM
Post by: PinkCloud on December 09, 2014, 12:54:57 PM
:eusa_clap: congratulations! :icon_flower:
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: ReDucks on December 09, 2014, 02:07:26 PM
Post by: ReDucks on December 09, 2014, 02:07:26 PM
You are so strong! So happy for you, Jill!
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: darkblade on December 09, 2014, 02:18:29 PM
Post by: darkblade on December 09, 2014, 02:18:29 PM
Ah, my mom has acute diverticulitis, doesn't look fun at all.
Glad to see how far you've come!
Glad to see how far you've come!
Title: Re: It was three years ago this week.
Post by: Jill F on December 09, 2014, 03:54:45 PM
Post by: Jill F on December 09, 2014, 03:54:45 PM
Thank you all for the kind words. Here's the rest of the story.
By March, 2012 I had lost over 50 pounds, was eating right, walking several miles a day and practically none of my clothes fit anymore. For years my preferred "uniform" consisted of track or sweat pants and a t-shirt, and my wife thought that it was time for a change. I had always hated wearing shirts with buttons, slacks, jackets and ties, but I thought that since I'd look really good in nice guy clothes once again, that I'd give it another shot. My wife kept commenting on how skinny I was, so I went out and bought some really nice designer clothing that fit well. Objectively speaking, I looked better than I had in years and was now paying more and more attention to my appearance. I started to lift weights, and over the summer I remodeled my kitchen, working hours of physical labor every day. By the end of the summer, I had put on about 25 pounds of muscle. Apart from the hair I was now losing at an alarming rate due to an endogenous testosterone level increase, I looked the best I ever did as a guy. I tried so hard to own it. I knew that my beautiful, long hair that I had for years was about to need to be cut short, and it depressed me. Instead of loving what I saw in the mirror, I actually hated it with a passion. My dysphoria was the worst it had ever been. I couldn't look at a woman anymore without feeling the emptiness inside, and I began to think that dream of being a woman someday was over and the transition boat had been long since missed. I figured that I would now have to settle for losing the rest of my hair, remain a guy forever and put any notion of being a woman out of my mind forever. *le sigh*
In early fall, 2012 after having a few drinks, my wife and I decided to play "dress-up". She put on a sexy outfit and some goth-y makeup while I donned nothing but a kilt, boots and leather biker jacket. Since I pretty much looked like an aging rock star, she thought I needed some "guyliner". When I saw myself in the mirror, I just wanted to die inside. I didn't see a guy looking back at me, I saw a sad, sad, woman who never once got a chance.
That moment will haunt me for the rest of time. I knew for sure then and there that I was truly, undeniably some kind of gender variant. I did not think that I could realistically be transsexual material at that time, but I felt the need to explore things further before I could admit anything to my wife and potentially end my marriage. I fell into a deep depression and spent much of the next month alternately researching transgender issues on the internet and crying in a fetal position.
As soon as I could accept the fact that I truly belonged under the umbrella, could say it out loud to myself and no longer cared about the consequences, I told my wife.
By March, 2012 I had lost over 50 pounds, was eating right, walking several miles a day and practically none of my clothes fit anymore. For years my preferred "uniform" consisted of track or sweat pants and a t-shirt, and my wife thought that it was time for a change. I had always hated wearing shirts with buttons, slacks, jackets and ties, but I thought that since I'd look really good in nice guy clothes once again, that I'd give it another shot. My wife kept commenting on how skinny I was, so I went out and bought some really nice designer clothing that fit well. Objectively speaking, I looked better than I had in years and was now paying more and more attention to my appearance. I started to lift weights, and over the summer I remodeled my kitchen, working hours of physical labor every day. By the end of the summer, I had put on about 25 pounds of muscle. Apart from the hair I was now losing at an alarming rate due to an endogenous testosterone level increase, I looked the best I ever did as a guy. I tried so hard to own it. I knew that my beautiful, long hair that I had for years was about to need to be cut short, and it depressed me. Instead of loving what I saw in the mirror, I actually hated it with a passion. My dysphoria was the worst it had ever been. I couldn't look at a woman anymore without feeling the emptiness inside, and I began to think that dream of being a woman someday was over and the transition boat had been long since missed. I figured that I would now have to settle for losing the rest of my hair, remain a guy forever and put any notion of being a woman out of my mind forever. *le sigh*
In early fall, 2012 after having a few drinks, my wife and I decided to play "dress-up". She put on a sexy outfit and some goth-y makeup while I donned nothing but a kilt, boots and leather biker jacket. Since I pretty much looked like an aging rock star, she thought I needed some "guyliner". When I saw myself in the mirror, I just wanted to die inside. I didn't see a guy looking back at me, I saw a sad, sad, woman who never once got a chance.
That moment will haunt me for the rest of time. I knew for sure then and there that I was truly, undeniably some kind of gender variant. I did not think that I could realistically be transsexual material at that time, but I felt the need to explore things further before I could admit anything to my wife and potentially end my marriage. I fell into a deep depression and spent much of the next month alternately researching transgender issues on the internet and crying in a fetal position.
As soon as I could accept the fact that I truly belonged under the umbrella, could say it out loud to myself and no longer cared about the consequences, I told my wife.