Susan's Place Transgender Resources

Hi All

My MTF girlfriend recently has been undergoing a very bad depression stage. I have always been here for her sometimes perhaps a bit absent minded but I do and will always love her. I have stayed up countless nights trying to support her through this depression. Lots of fights ensued about wrong doings in our relationship, but all in all our love stays strong.

After all this we are at a crossroads. She has lost all drive to live and is constantly triggered into depressive mood swings. She does not want to seek professional help and nobody will convince her otherwise. So I am left with the only choice of fighting this battle with her, by her side.

At this stage we have at least figured out a root cause to her depression and loss of drive.
She is really struggling to accept the fact that she will never be a cis woman. That she will never be able to birth children, that her hands will always be a bit larger than most girls, that her shoulders will always be wider than most girls, that she will always have a bigger face than most girls and that no matter how much money you throw at it that those things will never change.

I posted on here last week and got some great replies. At least me and my girlfriend are moving forward now and trying to figure this out. I fear I may not have much time left as she may commit suicide any time soon. I want to know from you the people how did you come to terms with knowing you will never be a cis male or female. How did you overcome those facts staring right at you. I really love my girlfriend and i really will not be able to bear losing her. I need some advice help please!!

Are y'all seeing therapists?  Sounds like your girlfriend needs one badly.

When it got too bad with my wife, I took her to the emergency room.  I urge you to do the same, if your girlfriend is getting suicidal.  This is super scary stuff... and lots of mental health "professionals" are pretty transphobic. :(

Personally, I've come to embrace my status as a visible transgender person.  My body is pretty darned masculine; I've got my grandpa's plumber hands, big feet, a ludicrously strong jawline, big shoulders, no butt... and you know what?  I still find feminine clothes that flatter my body.  It's hard work... but almost every woman has trouble finding clothes that fit!  I get called "sir" no matter what I wear or how much make-up I put on or how I do my hair.  But I think I look pretty cute, and that's all that really matters -- changing my appearance is sufficient to manage my dysphoria -- I'm lucky in that way... that's something I was only open to consider because I have a good therapist.

I suppose I focus on my positive features and the things that can be changed rather than dwell on the opposite, which is useless.

I am in a very similar situation -- except that I am the girlfriend, and my boyfriend is the patient, supportive one -- and I am completely stuck. Try as I might, I want to give you some sort of cheery answer, but I can think of nothing comforting. Still, reading what you have written makes me think of my boyfriend ... I want to be able to say anything, something that may be helpful. To that end, I will simply write what I think, and hope that it offers you at least some glimmer of insight.

Some days, it helps that my boyfriend can see beyond my boyish "flaws" and love me all the same. Other days, I simply feel ugly or defective and it isn't at all about how anyone else sees me. It is more so about how I am obsessed with acceptance, and how I have demented my interpretation -- my definition -- of what is acceptable.

If I had to express it in words, I would say that what is acceptable to me is what I think society sees as acceptable. I fall into the trap, the very same that many women of all walks do, and define this notion of "When will I look okay? When will no one judge me?" on a nigh-unreachable media beauty standard.

The important distinction here is that I take this extreme definition of aesthetics and make it my standard. A standard that I am readily disqualified from because some of my features are slightly unusual (size 12 feet, hands that I convince myself are too big, slightly wide shoulders, so on and so forth). I can never reach this standard of mine, by my definition. Not ever. It is simply not possible.

In my mind, on my darkest days, "not ever" translates to "You will never be okay. You will always be judged." Of course, in turn, this sends my mind on an even darker cascade, convinced that I am not lovable, which makes me feel that life is simply not worth living. I do not want to be unsightly, untouchable, unlovable -- alone. I would rather die.

It is easy enough for me to blame this on being transgender, but many other women (and men, honestly) walk a very strong parallel of feeling that they can never be good enough. Those women will always blame those features of theirs which they deem are the least acceptable.

As it follows, I suspect that I am not necessarily unhappy with what I cannot have. I think that I simply grew to believe that some of the harsh treatment I have been through (as a child and onward) was predicated on my failure or some deficit in my desirability. Somewhere, along the way, I began to believe that a better appearance would help alleviate some of the rejection I might face in the future. That, somehow, the more I could surpass normal in a positive way, the more value I would have -- and that fewer and fewer people would want to discard something so valuable.

None of the above is true, of course. Some of the people in my life have been selfish and horrid. These people caused me enough distress that I began to chase after the impossible, searching for an escape from the pain of not being good enough. It has become a subtle and pervasive obsession with all that I do -- the undercurrent of my life, if you will.

I can reason all of this out in my mind. I can, upon reflection, recite it to you, here, in writing. I can acknowledge that, in my current life, I have all of the love and acceptance that I need. Still, those are only words and recognition. For whatever reason, these things have never been enough to help me through my problem. I often wonder if this self-destructive malady of mine is even curable.

Tomorrow, I may forget all of this introspection. I could very well be balled up, under the sheets, at 4 in the morning, trying my best to conceal my distress from my boyfriend because I do not want to chase him away with my 379th nervous breakdown.

I don't know how to help your girlfriend get by her problem any more than I know how to help myself. What I do know is how to give you my perspective, hopefully from a similar position, and hope that you see something we do not.

I have reached a point where I believe one of the best options I have to save myself is to trust another person. I trust my boyfriend. I listen to him. He does help me. I'm sure he can and will see answers that I do not. In fact, I don't know that I could have written this honestly a few years ago.

I don't know that this will help. I genuinely hope that it does. I know it is a very difficult process for all parties involved.

I wish you the very best of luck, really. If nothing else, please continue to take care of her. If there is an answer, I am certain that you can help find it.


(I do realize that this reply is quite late, but the situation struck from such a familiar place that I felt the need to share my thoughts and cross my fingers that the TC would eventually read)

I think getting professional help is of the upmost importance.