Sorry, the fact that my mother died 3 years ago does not automatically free me from the abuse that she did. There could be things that I don't remember, but still influences how I act. Such as my tinker toys thrown into the stove because she accidentally stepped on them and got angry. This was after she sent me out to get wood for the stove.
Michelle

So sorry to hear you grew up in an abusive home. I to felt abused growing up and for most of my life. The fights at dinner where I wasn't allowed to leave the table till I ate my Brussel sprouts or some other vegetable. When I was young she would hold my nose then shove food in, when I gasped for air. I could go on and on. At 62 now and she has been dead for a few years but the memories haunt me every day. I wish there was a magic wand to make it go away.
If you find a solution let me know.

Lucky me, I don't remember anything like that, but I did see my mother do that to my nephew. I was abused by my mother. I even got my face slapped a few years ago for wearing a woman's ring.
Sitting in front of a female doctor, my anxiety was up and I had trouble talking. I did not give the right answers to get any hormones. Makes me wonder, too old. Why didn't you do this 20 years ago.
My head is too messed up, I need psychiatric therapy first.
Michelle

It seems that things are unbalanced. I should not expect my posts to be read if I don't read other posts. I could take it a step further, I should not expect my posts to be read even if I read other posts. I'm not important enough, I grew up in a family where my sister was more important than me. She was a real girl, and she never lied. Quite literally, she stabbed my cousin in the legs with a hay fork, and I got punished. My dad did not see the marks on my legs, so to him they did not exist. He did not want to hear what I had to say because he believed I would lie. Do I have to say I was punished because I was a boy?
I think I did say it once, my mother raised me as a girl. I don't know if I became the replacement daughter when my sister died, and then became the evil son when another girl was born.
There was a tv commercial where the milk drips from the table and there is yelling. I just dreaded that. There was more than yelling in my life. When visiting, and told to sit there, I moved as little as possible, for fear of being punished. If I dared move my sister made sure my mother knew. My mother got complemented on how well behaved I was. I trembled in fear.

The Idea of me being both may have started in an effort to protect myself. Of course I had been raised as both. Kind of like taking on the identity of my dead sister, but still remaining myself.
What was the word, psychosomatic, The menstrual cramps were not real because boys don't get cramps. Then why was my mother giving me pills for menstrual cramps?

Those aren't real breasts. Sorry, the person at the swimming pool didn't see it that way. I got banned for swimming topless. I ask myself why I didn't put on a t shirt, because someone convinced me they weren't real.
Really, I grew breast because I thought I was a girl, or was it I thought the growth of breasts confirmed the idea that I was both.
Michelle.

Isn't that the way it goes. It says male on my birth certificate, so it is not possible that I am intersex. I'm sitting with the therapist, and he is telling me it never happens (can't be both). I am hiding a pair of breasts under my shirt. I should accept what he says as the truth, when the breasts are very real. There is no more discussion because it never happens.

Can you understand, further discussion may have revealed to me that there are other reasons breasts grow on a male.
Michelle

@Michelle K
Dear Michelle:
Please know that you are indeed an important person and an important and
active member here on the Susan's Place Forum.

Also please be aware that members including myself read your posts as evidenced by
the fact that your various posts on the Forum have been "Thanked: 97 times" and
"Liked" even more times"

Many of our members post prolifically but the don't always receive reply comments. 
Usually if a member reads a posting and then does not feel that they have anything
significant to say or can not contribute in a positive way, they will read a posting,
maybe even "Like" it  or "Thank" it ...but may not respond.

Ever since you returned to the Forum 7 months ago on May 2nd you have posted 175 times
and have been "Thanked" for more than half of your postings....
...so you know for certain that your postings, thoughts and comments are being read.

I am sorry to read of the personal troubles that you experienced at the beginning of your
transition journey, rest assured that you are not alone with those kinds of difficulties.

As you continue to actively involve yourself here on the Forum by interacting with other
members that leave reply comments to your postings here on your Blog thread or on other
various postings that you submit you will undoubtedly become familiar and even develop
friends with other like-minded members. 
This does not usually happen quickly, but the more that you involve yourself in the
 various topics and threads on the Forum, you will see more progress in that regard.

I am glad that you decided to start your own "Life Of Michelle K" blog thread and
previously your "A Girl Named Boy" Blog thread shortly after you returned and then
introduced yourself.

Please continue to be involved here on the Forum, there is not only a lot of useful
information here on Susan's Place but also the other postings submitted by our members
can offer great insight to the transition journey questions that you may have.

You can consider your Blog thread as your HOME here on the Forum where your readers and
followers can  find you to leave their comments and to share with you.

Also your Blog thread is your shared personal journal that you can use to write down your
thoughts and comments as you navigate your journey and life endeavors.

If you have any questions regarding the Forum or issues with finding things here always
feel free to write to me and ask.

I eagerly look forward to seeing and reading your future postings as you continue to share
regarding your life journey.

Many HUGS and wishing you success and happiness,  ❤️❤️❤️
Danielle [Northern Star Girl]
The Forum Administrator

                  cc: @Sarah B  @Lori Dee  @Jessica_Rose  @Devlyn

I agree with Danielle.

I ALWAYS read your blog posts, even though I may not always have time to respond. I think you know that because we have discussed your access to care at the VA.

We might only have a dozen or so members who are logged in at any one time, but we have over a thousand guests who are reading the various posts and looking for information. Since you post regularly, I would guess that your posts are being read by those guests too.

If your therapist is not being supportive, it is time to find another therapist. Being supportive is their job. They get paid to be supportive and help you figure things out. If that is not happening, fire them and get someone who will do the job.

Transitioning is not a quick and easy process. We all have ups and downs. Just take it one day at a time. You got this.

I should have put it another way, I feel guilty about not reading all the other posts. Unfortunately the eye surgery didn't exactly go the way it should have. separately, each eye sees very clearly. Together, my vision is blurred. So, I have to close one eye to read the computer screen.

The fog yesterday did not help anything. Sometimes I need to close one eye. That was a 2 hour trip just to get there, and I was an hour early. By the time I got into the doctor's office my anxiety was way up and it got difficult to say what I wanted to say. And then the throat pain got to me.

I think I should go back to St. Cloud and demand that I get my asthma inhaler, even though I have never been diagnosed with asthma. The report of the results from the CT lung scan should be enough.

20 years ago I was on medication for panic attacks. My truck broke down on the way to get a refill, and I never got it refilled. If it is the same medication for ADHD and autism, see if I can get a new prescription.

Thinking about how the spray on my breasts from the new shower head made my legs tremble, I thought back to an accident back in December, 1967. My legs felt like they turned to rubber and I went down. I think a recent head scan showed evidence of an old head injury. Something else that my mother denies happened, and blames me for ruining Christmas by running away from home. Nobody asked me what happened, I got put into therapy.
Michelle

Edit: A quick joke--A side effect for the panic attack medication was possible breast growth.
If it fixes my head maybe I will see better.

A long time ago I came up with a crazy idea. I don't think I decided that it would not be possible.
The idea was that I would start out in New York, and watch the ball drop. I would then head to the airport and fly across country to California, where I would watch the Rose Parade.
The problem I found in my research was getting a late night flight.

I was reading on face book. Just before midnight raise your left leg, to start the year on the right foot.
Michelle

What do you mean that I need to tell you what I want the hormones to do so that I get the proper dosage?
My understanding is that there is no guarantee that the hormones will do anything. I would like my body fat to be moved to make me look more feminine, and I am asked from where to where.

Why didn't I do this 30 years ago? 30 years ago a Psychologist told me that I enjoyed being a male, and that meant I was not trans.
Why didn't I do this 20 years ago? 20 years ago my mother showed her disapproval with the palm of her hand across my cheek.

If you didn't understand the joke, as a trans I am having trouble getting the hormones, but for panic attacks I got medication that had the side effect of reducing testosterone and causing breast growth.

Interesting thought, the medication would cause infertility, and that would cover up the fact that it was there prior to getting the medication. Never having a sex partner, infertility would never become an issue, and I would never get tested.
I was trying to tell the doctor that side effects of low testosterone will not have any effect on me because I am already suffering from the effects of low testosterone.
Michelle

Quote from: Michelle_K on January 01, 2025, 10:18:49 PMWhat do you mean that I need to tell you what I want the hormones to do so that I get the proper dosage?
My understanding is that there is no guarantee that the hormones will do anything. I would like my body fat to be moved to make me look more feminine, and I am asked from where to where.

You're not wrong, there's no guarantee with hormones since everyone's body reacts differently. I think the doctor asks this question because everyone has different priorities for their transition. IIRC, they asked me the same question when determining my initial dosage.

Quote from: Michelle_K on January 01, 2025, 10:18:49 PMIf you didn't understand the joke, as a trans I am having trouble getting the hormones, but for panic attacks I got medication that had the side effect of reducing testosterone and causing breast growth.

Haha, you got me. 

Quote from: Lilis on January 01, 2025, 11:19:45 PMYou're not wrong, there's no guarantee with hormones since everyone's body reacts differently. I think the doctor asks this question because everyone has different priorities for their transition. IIRC, they asked me the same question when determining my initial dosage.

It is also part of the gender dysphoria diagnosis. After the Psychologist diagnosed, my Primary also asked, then my Endocrinologist. As Lilis said, everyone's transition is different. Some people feel better taking low doses that do mostly nothing. Others want surgery.

The answers they are listening for confirm the diagnosis. Specifically, a desire to be rid of certain secondary sexual characteristics, and to have the secondary sexual characteristics of a different gender. If the only trigger is facial hair, that can be treated without medication. But for other things, like breast development, then a prescription for hormones would be necessary.

I'm so messed up. Maybe from having a mother that would slap my face if I said the wrong thing. Just saying that I'm transsexual would be enough to get my face slapped.
Would it surprise you if I stated that my mother slapped my face before I could even walk. She made a comment once, that she hoped my problem with women was not because she slapped my face while breast feeding. Knowing that breast feeding stopped at six months, I thought to myself, hoping that was not her technique to stop breast feeding. Put it this way, I don't remember it, but I can feel the sting when I see someone wearing a low cut dress.

I wonder if my nephew grabbing me was to see if I really was a male. That would really be something. Wondering why grandma insisted that he call his aunt, uncle. I freaked, I did not need an underage boy telling people that he touched me. I don't know if that was the reason I ended sitting on my bed without pants and a knife in my hand. If it was gone there would be no more false accusations.

Imagine a male that has been so abused that he has to create an illusion that he is a female in order to survive. But there is a bit more to it, as this male was gendered female by others even before he created the illusion. I think the earrings stopped the harassment by the guys where he worked.
Part of that abuse was to teach the child that he could not be trusted around his own sisters, and was not allowed to be near his own sisters.

I remember a tv play back in the 1950s. The husband was so jealous, that he hit the man that was sitting with his wife. The wife tried to get the man to look at the face of the man she had been sitting with. It was his own son.
Imagine a man so jealous, his son is to stay away. I'll drive you to work, this way I know you can't drive home.

To get the truth, do not ask him if he did it, instead ask him why he did it. Advise from my mother.
They didn't want the truth, they just wanted a confession. Another excuse to abuse me.

Just now checked my phone. I had a voice mail from before I woke up. They want an appointment for mental therapy, and it should be covered by the VA.
Michelle

About 20 years ago, I was in female mode discussing with another woman, the fact that my bra was filled with living flesh. Another coworker discussed with me, her plans to get breast reduction surgery.

Did you know old women talk about old men? Sisters will discuss their sex life. I was at the same table.

In some of the videos, they claim to be fem boys. They discussed the idea behind the low dose estrogen. Did I ever explain that for whatever reason, I already have breasts, and soft skin. I've already been told that I have beautiful blue eyes. It make me wonder if estrogen can even do anything for me.

I now have an appointment set up for mental therapy. I think maybe I should do a print out of my previous post to take with me. The first appointment is in person, afterwards will be via internet.
Michelle

I'm going to try something different. See if I can get a timeline.

I grew up on a farm. It was less than a quarter mile to a garbage dump. At the garbage dump I could find dresses and bras that people had thrown out. It was about 1964 that a house from the cities was moved onto our farm, and I'm sure this happened after the house was on the new foundation.
That would make me about 15 years old when I put on a black dress that I found in the dump. I know I went to my mother wearing the dress and she did not approve. Somehow the dress survived and currently is in the closet in my bedroom. There was a box of bras that I hid on a shelf in the barn. My mother found them while cleaning out the milk room to move the freezer to the house. The box got tossed into a bonfire, and my mother stood by the fire until there was nothing left of the bras.

I may have posted this already. About 1984 I decided to change my name. Using all kind of research, such as my nickname was Mike, and an actress on a tv show had the name Michael. Michael can be pronounced Michelle. I doubted that any witness would approve of me getting a female name, I settled on the name Michael.
Something I heard just recently, it is so difficult to remember a name change unless it is because the person got married.
At the time that I changed my name, I was in mental therapy sessions. Unfortunately, insurance was not paying and I had to drop out. The hospital refused my payments so that they could send it to a collection agency.

It cost money to have garbage pickup, so my receipts just got put into boxes or bags. I was not about to take them down to the stove where my mother could go through my papers as she disposed of them. Later I went through them scanning them into my computer. Prior to having barcodes, most receipts only had the prices marked on them, unless it was an order form to be mailed.

Just to mark my timeline, it looks like it may have been the weekend of July 4th,1990, when I first broke my left wrist. A note here that by that time the collection agency has been paid off and I can again go into therapy.

I have a sheet here from June 1993, showing my blood tests were normal. I think that was when the doctor made a comment about my red painted toenails.

I have a receipt from Frederick's of Hollywood for Jan of 1993. It shows suspenders, and suspender hose. Here, suspenders would be the same as garters, suspender hose being thigh high nylons.
Gives new meaning to Monty Python's lumberjack song.
Quite likely I was wearing this under my clothes where I worked. I had to head to the rest room to straighten my socks, which means I was wearing the stay up hose that didn't want to stay up.
Another receipt shows that I ordered a bra from them in march of 1994. I don't have the receipt for the high heel shoes.

If I was wearing this under my clothes at work, quite likely I was wearing it under my clothes to the therapist.
I'm guessing that it was in 1993 that the therapist denied that I was trans. I'm showing that in May, 1993 I started going to a different therapist and insurance no longer covered.

I found one receipt for a Halloween costume dated Oct 15, 1997. That should be the Dorthy costume.
A receipt for two bras dated may 26, 2000.

I don't remember when the wedding was. I think my mother volunteered me to be part of the wedding party.
Hint: The day before the wedding, the fire trucks left the fairgrounds to put out a fire at the school.
When I got my Tuxedo, I also bought a tiara for myself.

Anyway, at this time I was also using moisturizers, and face cleansers.
A receipt for women's special vitamins dated Sept. 14, 2002.
A receipt for costume dated Sept 29, 2002. It could be the Gothic Witch.
A receipt for ladies shirt and jeans dated April 4, 2003. If I bought them, I must be wearing them. The shirt might be the pink t shirt with the cat, worn under another shirt.
Should be the receipt for shot glass labeled Michelle's Bar dated Sept 01, 2003.
Michelle

It is amazing how things with dates on them can jog our memories.

I have a piece of ceramic that my daughter gave me. She put her handprint into the clay and they fired it in a kiln. (The clay, not her hand). She also scratched the year into it. 1987 and I know that she was five years old because she made it in kindergarten class at school.

Now she is grown and married with four kids of her own.

Quote from: Michelle_K on January 03, 2025, 11:09:01 PMI grew up on a farm.

When I was a child, I used to keep some of the animals at my paternal grandmother's farm as pets. Grandma wasn't happy about it and often reminded me that the animals weren't for playing or forming emotional attachments and they had their purpose.

One night, a hen I had been caring for a long after its mother was killed by wild animals didn't return to perch on its favorite tree at dusk. I was around six years old and devastated when my hen never came back.

Some time later, during a game of hide and seek with my five girl cousins and two sisters, I decided to hide under the bed in my grandparents' bedroom. As I lay there quietly, trying not to be found, my grandparents walked into the room. I overheard my grandfather asking my grandmother why she had made a stew with my hen. He wondered aloud how he was supposed to break the news to me, especially since I'd been bothering him to help me search for it in the bush.

I couldn't hold back my emotions. Bursting out from under the bed, I cried hysterically. I grieved for months over that hen, refusing to eat anything my grandmother cooked. I hated grandma for a little while, but then I got over it because she made a deal with me to cover up and let me get away with some things that my grandfather hated. 😅

Michelle,
   Many of your stories are painful for me to read. I grew up on a farm and had many similarities growing up. Mom would spank with a paddle. Dad would just go ballistic and hit with his hands. No matter what happened it was always my fault. Brother slashed my car tires, my fault. Brother hit me over the head with a shovel and knocked me unconscious, my fault. Brother chases my beloved cow with pickup truck causing her death, my fault and parents asked me not to come to the house on Christmas. List goes on and on. Mother finally changed her will at the end and gave the farm to a niece instead of me. Now I'm stuck living in a house on this GD farm and want to get as far away as possible. I grew up with bigger breasts which I would be teased about by the other kids in school. At home I loved them and always dreamed of being a girl. In my teens I seriously contemplated castrating myself.(I had castrated pigs before) I tried to live as my parent wanted. After their death I transitioned but it doesn't help the pain of a lifetime of abuse. Yes I like my body and feel its right to have a vagina and boobs, that I don't have to hide. Sorry I got into a bit of dumping my troubles on you when you already have a full plate. Hang in there sister. I'm always here though I don't always reply.

If another word for chicken is raptor, then I have raptor scars on my forehead from when I was a child.

Having written this out, I can now look at it in a different perspective. I just had a thought and it appears that the therapist telling me I was not trans was before the MD noting my painted toenails.

I had forgotten about my cousin Gena, Since she died in 2002, I know this happened before 2002. the haymow in our barn had somewhat become a party place with chairs and tables, and a ping pong table in the middle.
One evening I was in the haymow sitting when my cousin Gena came up. As she grabbed the front of my shirt she said something about what my brother did. She stopped in mid sentence in shock or surprise, and quickly let go of my shirt, and quickly left. When she grabbed the front of my shirt, she had also grabbed the front of my bra.

The wedding: It was my cousin's wedding, so I can go to ancestry and find when he was married. The fair shows that it was the end of June. The internet was too young for the paper to report the school fire.

I think this shows that the reason I couldn't find anything special to show that I was transgender, was because I was pretty much constantly cross dressed.

The hardest part is a lot of this information will have to go into the questionnaire that I need to fill out for my therapy.
Michelle

In my therapy with the social worker, I mentioned that I ran away from home like my little dog. I then realized I was not responsible for my little dog running away from home, it was what my mother did to the dog.

@michelle K
Dear Michelle:
I had several "bra" experiences as you described.

Before I officially started transitioning and went Full Time  I "under-dressed"
almost all the time with a bra, panties, and painted nails.

I am a "hugger" so there were more than a few times that I felt that the person hugging
me was obviously feeling my bra straps...
...and sometimes the straps were showing around the collar of my shirts.... 
the mistake was most obvious when I was wearing a Red or a Pink bra.
 
There were also many times that I accidentally forgotten that I had applied
nail polish and/or inadvertently displayed my painted finger nails and toe nails.
 
I had many unexpected and surprised compliments from my gal friends even before
I started transitioning and was out.
    "nice nails"  "pretty color"  "nice long nails"  etc, etc.

Of course my pretty female underwear showing above my belt-line was embarrassing.

One time when I was in male mode when I went to my doctor for irregular heart beat issue
at the exam room the nurse and the doctor wanted me to have an EKG ...  so my shirt came
off and even though I had previously taken off my bra, the telltale marks on my chest and
back were very obvious.  Another time at a swimming pool with friends, I had forgotten to
remove the polish on my toes.... bright red!!!!... so I stayed in the water a lot but in the
dressing room with my male friends was quite embarrassing for certain.  It was not long
after those encounters that I came out and most of my friends were aware of my "journey"

Thank you for sharing.
HUGS, Danielle [Northern Star Girl]

Quote from: Michelle_K on January 04, 2025, 02:16:39 PM- - - - - -
    {snipped text}
    - - - - - - - -
Having written this out, I can now look at it in a different perspective. I just had a thought and it appears that the therapist telling me I was not trans was before the MD noting my painted toenails.

I had forgotten about my cousin Gena, Since she died in 2002, I know this happened before 2002. the haymow in our barn had somewhat become a party place with chairs and tables, and a ping pong table in the middle.
One evening I was in the haymow sitting when my cousin Gena came up. As she grabbed the front of my shirt she said something about what my brother did. She stopped in mid sentence in shock or surprise, and quickly let go of my shirt, and quickly left. When she grabbed the front of my shirt, she had also grabbed the front of my bra.