Hi, Debussy! (I'm actually a Chopin fan myself, but who would quarrel with "Golliwog's Cakewalk", right?)
I've been keeping an eye on this forum for some time, though I hadn't signed up because I'm not really into forums much. But your post here interested me greatly, and I thought perhaps my own experience might be of interest to you. If not, if you feel I have nothing relevant to say to you, then feel free to ignore my post and kindly accept my apologies in advance.
Here's my situation: I've been out full-time for a year and a half. It was the day that Obama was re-elected that I shuffled off my dreaded masculine coil for good, and I've never looked back.
I've often said that I have to be the luckiest transperson in the history of ->-bleeped-<-. I live in a very small town in Ireland, and I've never had the least bit of hassle. With the exception of some of the schoolboys, but you have to expect that, and I simply have to try to avoid them.
But there' s not an adult in this town who's ever given me the least problem. They've always been perfectly accepting of me—so much so that sometimes I feel a bit guilty looking at how hard so many of my brothers and sisters are struggling while I'm pretty much sailing through life now. Sometimes I almost want to say to people, "Did you not get the memo? Do you not know how awful you're supposed to be to me? Would you please start treating me as badly as everybody else gets treated?"
I don't know what it is about this town. I wish I did. I'd bottle it and distribute it world-wide.
In a way I think I could be a very useful person to the international trans community. I see myself as something of a laboratory rat, the subject of a grand experiment. I'm demonstrating what life could be for transpeople if our enemies would just back off and leave us in peace. We could be very happy if they'd simply allow us to be.
But to get to the point: you were talking about your face in the mirror. One reason that things are easier on me is that make-up does wonders for me. Without it, my face is much like anybody else's. A bit of paint and it's a total transformation. So obviously I never go anywhere without make-up. It makes life a lot easier for me.
But you see, that didn't change the way I saw my face in the mirror without make-up. I still saw what I had always seen throughout my life. You get so used to seeing something, to interpreting what you're seeing, that it's hard to see it any other way.
My son still saw my old face. He, too, was so used to seeing it one way, he still saw it that way no matter how much make-up I had on.
Yet consider this: one day, in a café, I ran into a woman that I knew. We'd done a two-year computer course together and had become good friends, and so she knew me well. But she walked right by me without recognizing me. I hesitated over whether to go over and introduce myself. It's risky coming out to somebody in public because you don't know how they'll react.
But I finally decided to do it. I went over and sat down opposite her and said, "Hi! How are things these days?" It was quite clear from her reaction that she hadn't a clue who I was. So I was teasing her a bit: "You don't recognize me, do you?"
And when she admitted she didn't, I told her who I was. She was thunderstruck. Then she started studying me very closely, and all of a sudden there was a light in her eyes. "Yeah!"
You see, when people know what to look for and when they know to look for it, then they can see it—which is why my friend could see it, my son could see it, I could see it. But when they don't know to look for it, then they don't see it.
But here's another thing I wanted to tell you: I think the day may come when you no longer see it yourself. You see, over the last few weeks, I've begun to get a bit confused. I look in the mirror now and I'm not quite sure what I'm seeing. It's still the same old face. The only thing obviously feminine about it is my plucked eyebrows. That's all that's changed. And yet I look at it now and I kind of glimpse the possibility that it might be a feminine face.
I'm especially confused when I put my wig on, even without make-up. (My own hair is a disaster. As much as I'd like to let it grow, that's simply out of the question.) I look, and I'm not at all sure what I'm seeing. I've been asking myself, "Is it possible I could get out and get by without any make-up?" It would make life easier. Then I tell myself, "Watch yourself now, girl! Maybe getting a bit cocky, are we? You could be running into disaster."
So what's changed? This is what I can say from my experience, and I think a lot of people might agree with me on this. Once you get out full-time, everything changes. Your feelings, your perceptions undergo a total revolution. You're being yourself. You're not changing, you're allowing yourself to be yourself and that changes your world for you.
You know the saying, "Grab 'em by the ****, and their hearts and minds will follow." In this instance it's more a case of, "Grab yourself by the heart and mind, and your eyes and mirror and lots of other things will follow."
When you're out, when you're living as you should be living, your feelings evolve. When you live for so long in the male world, you develop a male image of yourself. Let that male life go, and all sorts of things become different. When I'm out in the world now, not consciously thinking about myself, I'm not entirely sure what I feel, but it certainly isn't masculine. Which is why what I see in the mirror these days isn't entirely masculine.
Now you sound to me like you're suffering an extreme crisis of confidence. If so, this I understand well. In the months leading up to my coming-out, I was terrified. I was telling myself, "You're crazy if you think people will let you get away with this!" But I was desperate. I was about to burst. I finally had no choice. So I did it.
But perhaps you shouldn't try to do too much too soon. You could possibly get yourself in trouble if you did that. Take it slowly. Take it at your own pace. Dip your toe in the water until you feel comfortable with it.
It was easy for me. I dipped my toe in the water twice and I said, "The water's fine!" So I splashed right in and I've never looked back. But some people don't have some of my advantages (e.g., I'm 5'3"), and it's harder for them. So just dip your toe for a while. Then maybe you can get in up to your knees, your waist, etc. Don't worry about it. Don't feel guilty about it. Do it as your own personal needs require.
You might note that I have yet to do laser/electrolysis or HRT, and as for SRS, I wonder if I'll ever get to that. Whatever you do about your body, being out in the world, living as yourself, will work profound changes in your heart. You'll no longer recognize yourself within or in your mirror. And, Debussy, it is a beautiful feeling. It will make you want to weep with joy.
Debussy, this is how I look at things: we all talk about being on a journey, and some people have set goals and a destination in sight. For me, the journey itself is the destination. No matter how far you've gone on your road, just being on the road is what makes all the difference. Because once you're on the road, you're being yourself. Because of my age, I may well not go as far as a lot of people, but just getting up the courage to get out on the road has given me peace.
Don't panic. Don't worry. Do things when you feel the time is right. Do things when you're comfortable with them. The tiniest step you take is a huge one, and it will make you love yourself.
Best wishes, my sister,
Foxglove
