This June is not turning out to be a good month for me.

I've been feeling a little fragile, anyway, and there were a couple of events that demanded more self-confidence than I generally have (chorus concert, speech at my church, etc.)  I went to the Philadelphia Trans-Health Conference, which meant three days entirely among strangers.  I think that's why I had an emotional melt-down last Saturday morning, and I've been feeling pretty shaky since then.

Then, last night, I went to a Contra dance.  I've gotten to the point that I can no longer bear to dance the man's role, so I went determined to present as a woman (well as much as I can, which isn't much) and have people dance with me as a woman.  I went to one where I thought I wouldn't know many people, because I was desperately afraid of people who knew me kind of looking at me and going, "who is he trying to kid?  We've known him for years and we know he's really a guy."

Well, it turns out I knew about half the men there and quite a few of the women.  And most of the men I know from these dances have not impressed me as particularly open to even the gender-bending you run into in Contra dance circles (men wearing skirts, men & women swapping roles, etc.)  I was really anxious, and the only reason I didn't just pack up and go home as soon as I looked in the door was that I'd set my mind on going, and my whole life I've gotten through by just soldiering on no matter how awful I felt.  (50+ years experience of using zombie mode to get through things.)  There were enough men there who didn't know me who did ask me to dance, but the way Contra dance works, you end up dancing certain figures with everyone in the room (well, everyone of the opposite sex -- it's very gendered), and I had the feeling the men who did know me were dancing with me the way they'd dance with a guy, not the way they'd dance with a woman.  They definitely didn't look like they were enjoying themselves dancing with me, but, to be fair, most of these men never look all that much like they're enjoying themselves dancing.

It's not like it was all bad -- a lot of the time I was dancing with people who seemed okay with me, and just dancing the woman's role, and especially when I could just forget myself and let the man (or person dancing the man's role) lead gave me a dancing high I hadn't felt in years.  I so much prefer dancing as a woman, especially if they do stuff with me that they do with women -- twirling, pulling me around in the swing figures, even just the gentle tugs and pushes men use to lead the women they're dancing with.  I guess it makes me feel taken care of.

By the time I got home, I was feeling so emotionally battered and drained that a kitten could have beaten me up.  I feel like all I want to do is stay home all weekend and eat chocolate chip cookies and look for cute kitten GIFs and forget about gender -- or the fact that I am a human being.

It's left me feeling really anxious about my transition.  I want to live as a woman and have people treat me as a woman.  But I'm not sure I can really do it.  It just seems so hard.  I don't think I have the emotional resources to keep going.  Over the next 6-12 months, as I come out more and more, I'm going to be constantly encountering situations like last night -- people who've known me for years as a man (or should I say "man", in air quotes, since I never really felt much like one?) and who I will be asking to see me as a woman, and who I have no reason to suppose will be particularly supportive.  And I can't say even to myself "yes, I'm really a woman," how will I ever be able to insist with other people?  Family, co-workers, neighbors.  I envy those trans women who say they've always known they were women.  I've only ever been able to say, "I'm me," and a lot of times not even that.  I'm convinced that the first time someone questions my gender, I'll crumple into a little ball.

People sometimes say, when I come out to them, "oh, you're so brave."  I don't feel brave at all.  I feel like a thin-walled glass sculpture that would shatter at a harsh look.  It doesn't help that I've internalized those childhood messages that I'm a screw-up and not much good for anything, so when things get hard, I not only question my gender, but also my worth as a person, and I just want to blot out the pain by finding a hiding place where I can spend the rest of my life forgetting that I exist at all.

The thing is, I also know I can't go back.  I started down this path because hiding, especially pretending to be a man (even though I wasn't trying very hard) was killing me.  I didn't want to live any more.  So it's transition or die. I'm just afraid it's going to turn out that "die" is actually the only option.

Being afraid and doing it anyway is the definition of brave. There is no bravery in doing the things you are not afraid of. You are indeed, very brave. I aplaud you and envy you. I'd love to do some of what you have done but I'm just too afraid. I hope your fear reduces as you keep doing these brave things. That is how it is supposed to go and the few things I have been brave enough to do, womens blouses and trousers(pants) in public, have become easier and less frightening the more I do them. I still find myself having to change before I can go out as my bottle crumbles at the last moment. I'd love to wear dresses and skirts in public but just the thought turns me to stone. You are much braver than me and it should reward you eventually with reduced anxiety.

Thanks for sharing this and best of luck going forward, because we can't go back.

Hugs
B

Maybe you're pushing yourself too hard? It really isn't a sprint. There's no need to push yourself to the limit of what you can handle just in the name of getting to the next victory, especially when you don't have enough left in you to celebrate that victory.

Even the good times during a transition can be stressful, and often surrounded by some less than good times. Stress takes its toll no matter how practiced we were at soldiering on. For me, it's the difference between a predictable grinding misery and lots of fairly random ups and downs. The downs can be harder to get through than they used to be, being a zombie does have its advantages, but you'll find more and more of the good times if you insulate yourself when you need a break, muster your emotional resources, and then go back out there when you're ready.

Things will gradually become easier, and pieces will begin falling into place for you in ways you didn't expect. It just takes patience, and being a bit more gentle with yourself than you would be with a zombie soldier.

Take your time, you're going to be great

Dear Asche,
I feel as though I have a fair amount in common with you. I have been part time for a while. Today is the start of full time. I know there will be a lot of things that will scare me when I do them as my true self instead of as the zombie. I figure to give myself a bit of leeway in getting used to things. I don't see it as productive to be overly critical for a while. Why not set a pace that will allow you to gain confidence and then challenge yourself a little as you go. Don't bring about your own demise.
Moni
By the way, I felt more comfortable at the Keystone conference in Harrisburg. It is a little more intimate than the one in Philly. You might consider trying it next year.

Quote from: BirlPower on June 18, 2016, 02:07:38 PM
Being afraid and doing it anyway is the definition of brave. There is no bravery in doing the things you are not afraid of. You are indeed, very brave. I aplaud you and envy you.

Is it bravery if you're trapped in a burning building, and you break a window and jump into the darkness?  I don't feel like I really have a choice.  (Well, staying put and dying is an option, I suppose.)

Quote from: IdontEven on June 18, 2016, 08:18:32 PM
Maybe you're pushing yourself too hard? It really isn't a sprint. There's no need to push yourself to the limit of what you can handle just in the name of getting to the next victory, especially when you don't have enough left in you to celebrate that victory.

I've already decided to wait a while before going to a cis-het dance again.  I'll go to the gender-free dance in July and in August (I've been there as Allison twice before, and I know I can handle it), and I'll be at a music & dance camp I've been to before and I have already contacted a few people who will be there who I know will be supportive.  It only takes a couple of supportive people to make a huge difference.

The thing is, I never know what's going to be hard and what's going to be easy until I try it.  When it's easy, my self-confidence goes up a little, or at least it doesn't drain my rather limited reservoir of self-confidence.  When it's hard, that reservoir gets drained dry and I have to withdraw for a while to wait for the "ground water" to seep back in.  That seems to be this month's lesson to me.

The thing about taking it slow is that I'm already having a really hard time with my double life: pretending to be a man at work, but living as Allison everywhere else.  (Not to mention my bank accounts, my health insurance, and my IDs are all in <deadname>.)  It's really hard to explain, but I just feel this weird awkward feeling at work, like I'm living a lie, or wearing an Iron Man suit that doesn't fit any more.  I don't know how much longer I can stand it.  Each day I go into work, my mantra is "just make it until Christmas"  (my target date for going full time everywhere is the end of 2016.)  Or "just hold on until September" (my target date for notifying my company.)  If I had to push it, say, another 6 months, I don't know if I could do it.

I feel like it isn't me -- or rather, the conscious "me" -- that's pushing me, it's the unconscious part of the greater me of which the conscious "me" is only a small part.  That greater me that is who really runs my life (and mostly does it a heck of a lot better than the corner of me that is the conscious me.)  I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a baby being born.  ("Stop pushing, Mom!!  It hurts!")

Another aspect is that I went off anti-depressants a few months ago because all they do is make me feel emotionally anaesthetized, and transition is part of a larger process of trying to feel again.  I've spent most of my life not feeling (and stomping down feelings when they forced their way in anyway) and it was killing me.  So now I'm feeling all this stuff and it's not fun!!!

-- Allison Michelle

I have been watching your posting and seeing you enter the new world. I understand that this more difficult for you that it would be for most people but I am amazed and I admire how you are doing it. My part time consisted of attending a therapy group where your part time is getting out there and attending Contra dances.The last time I danced was in grade school when I attended dance class. I had to google contra dance just to figure out what it was. You should look at where you were a year or two ago and look at where you are today and take pride in your progress. Yes you have a ways to go but you have come so far.

Many thanks to you all who've responded.  I often feel quite alone in this.  (Or like everyone else has it together and sails through.)

One thing I'm realizing: I've spent most of my life convincing myself that I don't care what other people think of me or how they see me, but now I'm realizing that if anything, I'm the opposite.  I really do care.  (I'm what people when I was growing up would disparagingly call "sensitive.")

I think what happened was that back then, my experience of other people was that they'd alternate between calling me a queer, a weirdo, and a failure, and simply acting like they didn't care if I lived or died (but if I died, I wouldn't be in the way any more), so I developed this "I don't give a XYZ" persona to protect myself from the hurt.  (My parents certainly said in words they loved me, when they were in the mood, but in actions they said all they wanted was not to have to be bothered with me.)

So much of what you've said resonates with me; I've even used the Iron Man suit analogy (maybe we both picked it up from here?).

It's weird having emotions all of a sudden, isn't it? Who knew life could be this colorful. And a few reliable, supportive people really does make a world of difference.

Good luck with everything at work, I'll look forward to hearing how that all goes