Quote from: deviousxen on August 25, 2008, 02:05:11 AMI wanna cry in relief partially cause I passed in a vid chat today and people complemented. I also want to cry cause of a crush I have. They are both driving me insane.

Heyyy. New avatar?

---

I cried a lot today. Why? Because I'm really moody. My dad... whenever I say something that is "exaggerated," he says, "That's the BPD talking." I know I told him to tell me when I'm being over the top, but... every time someone says the word "BPD" I want to punch something. BPD stands for Borderline Personality Disorder, and my parents are certain I have it. That fact makes my life sometimes a living hell. First, they seem more focused on the BPD than my transition. They read books about it and try to use the little "techniques" in the books-- nothing's helping. I keep trying to tell them that I don't think it's BPD at all. I have a lot of baggage. I'm under a lot of stress. I did grow up with a BPD mother. All of these factors can make a person unstable, but not necessarily BPD. I feel that I am moody to the extent that is normal for a teenager that's lived in an abusive environment for many years. I've got my baggage.

It's hard. I really want to express my true feelings to my dad. But I can't necessarily. Every time I try to tell someone close to me how I feel, it feels like they're half listening. "But she really is just a confused girl," they might think in the back of their mind. My dad and step mom completely respect my gender identity. They have given NO indication that they don't. But I still can't help but feel insecure. They accepted it almost too easily. Did I mention they're like super geniuses?

Not really. But they're both very smart and my dad can often be quite manipulative. I know this, so I often wonder if their support is a way of reverse psychology. Maybe I'll share these feelings with my dad; I'm starting to get paranoid over this.

They were a little shocked when I came home from Walgreens with 12 razors and aftershave. My dad said, "How long have you been doing this?" I said, about a month. He was like, "Have you cut yourself?" I said, no, it's not much different than shaving my legs. He said most guys when they start cut their zits. He was very surprised that I've only had little tics here and there.

But yeah. I cried a lot today. I felt like crying for 5 hours. That's right. 5. It was since my dad and I had a small argument. It was something stupid. Most arguments are. I left the house and went on a walk. I say on a park bench and cried. I didn't care who saw me. But then I noticed a guy in a red pick up truck. He stared at me for well over an hour. So I decided to leave. I was afraid he was some sort of predator. My mother's gotten me paranoid about that. Then I went over to a sidewalk about a block from our house. I laid there for about another hour. People who walked by stared. They knew something was wrong, but put it in the "not my problem" box. And I was happy that no one said, "WHAT'S WRONG?" I wouldn't have had anything to say.

What kept echoing in my head was, "I'm sick of being a label to you, dad. Your obsessing over the BPD is making things much harder for me. I want that word out of this house. I am sick of hearing it and sick of it being the focus of you two. I want that to just go away. Notice every time you mention it things only get worse? It's not BPD if you have to say the magic word every time to make it happen."

This "BPD" nonsense represents my greatest fear. That I will have some sort of mental illness that will make my transition impossible. That the doctors will say, "BPD? Bitchy Pussy Disorder? Sorry, we can't give you testosterone. You're a bitch."

Quote from: Elwood on August 25, 2008, 07:37:15 PM

Quote from: deviousxen on August 25, 2008, 02:05:11 AMI wanna cry in relief partially cause I passed in a vid chat today and people complemented. I also want to cry cause of a crush I have. They are both driving me insane.

Heyyy. New avatar?

---

I cried a lot today. Why? Because I'm really moody. My dad... whenever I say something that is "exaggerated," he says, "That's the BPD talking." I know I told him to tell me when I'm being over the top, but... every time someone says the word "BPD" I want to punch something. BPD stands for Borderline Personality Disorder, and my parents are certain I have it. That fact makes my life sometimes a living hell. First, they seem more focused on the BPD than my transition. They read books about it and try to use the little "techniques" in the books-- nothing's helping. I keep trying to tell them that I don't think it's BPD at all. I have a lot of baggage. I'm under a lot of stress. I did grow up with a BPD mother. All of these factors can make a person unstable, but not necessarily BPD. I feel that I am moody to the extent that is normal for a teenager that's lived in an abusive environment for many years. I've got my baggage.

It's hard. I really want to express my true feelings to my dad. But I can't necessarily. Every time I try to tell someone close to me how I feel, it feels like they're half listening. "But she really is just a confused girl," they might think in the back of their mind. My dad and step mom completely respect my gender identity. They have given NO indication that they don't. But I still can't help but feel insecure. They accepted it almost too easily. Did I mention they're like super geniuses?

Not really. But they're both very smart and my dad can often be quite manipulative. I know this, so I often wonder if their support is a way of reverse psychology. Maybe I'll share these feelings with my dad; I'm starting to get paranoid over this.

They were a little shocked when I came home from Walgreens with 12 razors and aftershave. My dad said, "How long have you been doing this?" I said, about a month. He was like, "Have you cut yourself?" I said, no, it's not much different than shaving my legs. He said most guys when they start cut their zits. He was very surprised that I've only had little tics here and there.

But yeah. I cried a lot today. I felt like crying for 5 hours. That's right. 5. It was since my dad and I had a small argument. It was something stupid. Most arguments are. I left the house and went on a walk. I say on a park bench and cried. I didn't care who saw me. But then I noticed a guy in a red pick up truck. He stared at me for well over an hour. So I decided to leave. I was afraid he was some sort of predator. My mother's gotten me paranoid about that. Then I went over to a sidewalk about a block from our house. I laid there for about another hour. People who walked by stared. They knew something was wrong, but put it in the "not my problem" box. And I was happy that no one said, "WHAT'S WRONG?" I wouldn't have had anything to say.

What kept echoing in my head was, "I'm sick of being a label to you, dad. Your obsessing over the BPD is making things much harder for me. I want that word out of this house. I am sick of hearing it and sick of it being the focus of you two. I want that to just go away. Notice every time you mention it things only get worse? It's not BPD if you have to say the magic word every time to make it happen."

This "BPD" nonsense represents my greatest fear. That I will have some sort of mental illness that will make my transition impossible. That the doctors will say, "BPD? Bitchy Pussy Disorder? Sorry, we can't give you testosterone. You're a bitch."

Aye.  It was my mom who did the 'Did you take your medican' every time I was upset that pissed me off.  And my father who basically just said, 'your never going make it in the world like this.  You need to toughen up.'  and I know that, yet he still says it and it pisses me off because I'm trying dang hard to improve to do better and all he can do is make me feel like crap because I can't seem to get over this weakness.  Oh and their deal where they tell me I get upset over nothing.  That I get stressed getting out of bed.  They have no clue what I go through, how much of their crap and other stuff builds up inside of me and refuses to leave and boils and boils till I explode, which unfortunantly is often.   

Or how much I worry about failure, because it's been ingrained in me that failure is not an option.  Failure is punishable.  Failure will get you no where.  Failure means they will continue to barge me because I haven't succeeded yet.  And every time I cry I have failed.  Every time I snap at someone, I have failed.  I feel dirty, like crap, and I often worry that I have hurt someone.  I mean I've hurt people in past without intending to because upset, how do I know if I haven't done it again?

First of all... Thanks... Means a lot.

Second... I know exactly where you're coming from. Everyones perspective is that Im a guy wanting to be a girl, and I DON'T WANNA EFFING DO THIS, I HAVE TO!!!!! BIG DIFFERENCE. Ugh...

My dad now chainsmokes all the time, and the look on my moms face when I walked down in this little get up was somewhere between amusing to me, and terrible.

My mom starts a fight with me at every point, cause she's a belligerent retard with more Testosterone than I'll EVER have. She took offense to me not loving some girl pjs she got me. I left them on the couch, but I said thanks to her. It was apparently a personal offense to her to not want to be 100 percent feminine. I'm sorry if I don't want my clothes to make me look like little Ms. Princess, and I'm sorry if I don't want to be your "Handsome son".

UGHHHH. I hate it. My mom started a fight with me cause I told her I went to a hookah bar once, and now she thinks I'll be a chainsmoking moron like my dad is right now. He smokes more than a pack of cigars a day, and inhales them. He's also older, and much more at risk for cancer and stuff. STUPID. My mom thought I had no right to speak for smoking cloves once, and hookahing every six months or so. I told her I knew it was bad, but I also said I wasn't chainsmoking 24/7, and she couldn't understand what I meant by, "Some tobacco is bad, other tobacco is TERRIBLE."

Cause its true. 1 Cigarette wont kill me. Takes a minute off my life, but whatever? I don't care about my old age. I need some stupid fun sometimes. I've already gotten addicted to pipe tobacco before transitioning, and I stopped. Why? Cause my will is stronger. I don't think it solves problems for me, and that motivates me to stop.

I'm no straight edge at all... But I don't have time or money for anything, and my dad Isn't doing it to enjoy it and celebrate, he's doing it cause his sons, "Dying." and the girlfriend he cheats on my mom with had her family find out. Oh no! That would have NEVER HAPPENED.

Consequences...


Geeze.

But anyway. About my parents. Another thing. Meds...

My Dad effed it all up. He's bipolar. He's the worst kind. He's had two episodes that ruined my family, along with my mom being stupid. I still love him and forgive him, but forgetting is hard when all my college money is basically gone. -_-. Welcome to non credit courses and getting a TASTE of college versus the real thing when you're the most thirsty for it.

So there is a high chance of inheriting bipolar disorder. My stupid mom thinks my mood swings, that SHE causes when she starts something with me, are an indicator of being bipolar. She knows I don't want to be and I'm also not. I was on SSRIs for SO LONG and got no episodes out of it. I actually had to stop taking them cause my muse was being smothered by pillows.

So one year. The year I was mostly questioning reality, and a bit of why I wished I were a girl, she and dad forced me to take Pills. Trileptal. I told them, and that STUPID HICK Dr. Galilee, that I wasn't bipolar. The stupid man put me on it cause he thought he'd rather not get sued than put me on what I really needed, which were antidepressants. He'd ask me irrelevant bull like, "Do you like the blues music? I have a feeling you would." and I'd be like, "That has... Nothing to do with this? You IDIOT?"
So my mom would revoke privileges and punish me for not taking the meds, which muted reality and made me somnolent and insane for a whole year. He finally changed the meds and I asked, "What are the side effects?"
And he shrugged and said 1/1000 will get a rash.
I came in the next time after betting him I had bad luck, "Hey. Look doc."
And I showed him the rash on my butt.

Finally my mom was like, "No more meds!!!!!!1111"

So my muse kinda came back and I was alive again. SHE TOOK A WHOLE YEAR AWAY FROM ME. I became a caffeine addict cause of it and ever since have felt even worst existentially. My breasts tie me down cause they indicate that I'm what I need to be. They're the only purely female thing on me, and it helps. Thank goodness for that.

But she then pulled a 360 on all psychiatrics. So at the start of this year, when my depression came back and ruined my chances for getting my portfolio good for financial aid at art school (later a pointless venture anyway, cause the FAFSAs were impossible), and my friend died, I NEEDED them. I didn't want to be on them. I needed my brain to reset though for its own good. Mom fought me at every point of that, and it was when I was yelling at her to help me with my gender and the GI Clinic of New England told her some stupid info about being 22 and older and she took it to heart assuming I was a fool thinking I could solve the roots of my depression by mourning my friend correctly, and being what I needed to be, which was a girl.

Nothing. FINALLY she took me to the shrink, and I got another idiot I wasted time on. So the delay killed me. Then she told them I was bipolar right before they could give me what I needed, and they were like, "OH MOOD STABILIZER BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE"

and

"SOLVE YOUR PSyCHIATRIC ISSUES BEFORE YOUR GENDER."

And you know what?
They delayed me, and they ruined me, and they took time away I'll never forgive them for. Mom does not know best, doctors don't either just cause of a degree, and no one can tell me what I'm feeling unless they give me a lobotomy. I get depressed, and there are legitimate reasons.

And I'm EXACTLY where I wanted to be anyway. I had to self medicate and risk things, but you know what?

I win. And to hell with all of those who thought they could "help" me on their terms.

I'm now on prescription hormones, and a better kind as well. I'm on and off with my mood, but whatever. I need will and friends and art and sleep. Thats all.

So I know exactly where you are coming from with parents being in the way when they try to help. NEVER take anyones advice without a heaping amount of salt. Humans are ALL fallible. ALL of them. It doesn't matter if your genetics are the same as them. Meaninglessness....


-Xen

Quote from: Elwood on August 25, 2008, 07:37:15 PM

Quote from: deviousxen on August 25, 2008, 02:05:11 AMI wanna cry in relief partially cause I passed in a vid chat today and people complemented. I also want to cry cause of a crush I have. They are both driving me insane.

Heyyy. New avatar?

---

I cried a lot today. Why? Because I'm really moody. My dad... whenever I say something that is "exaggerated," he says, "That's the BPD talking." I know I told him to tell me when I'm being over the top, but... every time someone says the word "BPD" I want to punch something. BPD stands for Borderline Personality Disorder, and my parents are certain I have it. That fact makes my life sometimes a living hell. First, they seem more focused on the BPD than my transition. They read books about it and try to use the little "techniques" in the books-- nothing's helping. I keep trying to tell them that I don't think it's BPD at all. I have a lot of baggage. I'm under a lot of stress. I did grow up with a BPD mother. All of these factors can make a person unstable, but not necessarily BPD. I feel that I am moody to the extent that is normal for a teenager that's lived in an abusive environment for many years. I've got my baggage.

It's hard. I really want to express my true feelings to my dad. But I can't necessarily. Every time I try to tell someone close to me how I feel, it feels like they're half listening. "But she really is just a confused girl," they might think in the back of their mind. My dad and step mom completely respect my gender identity. They have given NO indication that they don't. But I still can't help but feel insecure. They accepted it almost too easily. Did I mention they're like super geniuses?

Not really. But they're both very smart and my dad can often be quite manipulative. I know this, so I often wonder if their support is a way of reverse psychology. Maybe I'll share these feelings with my dad; I'm starting to get paranoid over this.

They were a little shocked when I came home from Walgreens with 12 razors and aftershave. My dad said, "How long have you been doing this?" I said, about a month. He was like, "Have you cut yourself?" I said, no, it's not much different than shaving my legs. He said most guys when they start cut their zits. He was very surprised that I've only had little tics here and there.

But yeah. I cried a lot today. I felt like crying for 5 hours. That's right. 5. It was since my dad and I had a small argument. It was something stupid. Most arguments are. I left the house and went on a walk. I say on a park bench and cried. I didn't care who saw me. But then I noticed a guy in a red pick up truck. He stared at me for well over an hour. So I decided to leave. I was afraid he was some sort of predator. My mother's gotten me paranoid about that. Then I went over to a sidewalk about a block from our house. I laid there for about another hour. People who walked by stared. They knew something was wrong, but put it in the "not my problem" box. And I was happy that no one said, "WHAT'S WRONG?" I wouldn't have had anything to say.

What kept echoing in my head was, "I'm sick of being a label to you, dad. Your obsessing over the BPD is making things much harder for me. I want that word out of this house. I am sick of hearing it and sick of it being the focus of you two. I want that to just go away. Notice every time you mention it things only get worse? It's not BPD if you have to say the magic word every time to make it happen."

This "BPD" nonsense represents my greatest fear. That I will have some sort of mental illness that will make my transition impossible. That the doctors will say, "BPD? Bitchy Pussy Disorder? Sorry, we can't give you testosterone. You're a bitch."

Hi, Deviousxen, been a while since we crossed paths.

I haven't a clue as to why or how I ended up on this thread but it is certainly a learning experience if nothing else. Yes, all humans are fallible and it doesn't matter if it's the smartest person in the world or the town drunk sitting on the town bench over there. Well let me tell ya something, Billy the bum sitting right there next to the town drunk, he is a philosopher, don't you know. That was why he lost in life in spite of his Ph.D. degree; thought he was smarter than everyone else. 

The only way you can learn what is right or wrong is to say a prayer then dive into the pool of doubt and, after many lumps on the head from running into the corners of the pool often enough, one learns instinctively what is right or wrong. Then we try again with the new knowledge acquired from all those bumps on the head. You will find that the bumps will happen less often as you go.

One last little piece of advice: trust more on your own instincts in deducing what is best for you and less on the parents.

Cindy

     

Hello, Devious, Elwood, and Aiden,

I am not an expert in psychiatry or any such thing but I know something about what approaches to a problem can work.  You three have found one of the most useful there is:  peer support.

There are no easy solutions to dealing with transsexualism and how it affects others in our lives.  There are only informed, intelligent decisions on how to handle it, and it seems to me that you are on your way to doing that.  The most useful help I ever had when I was your age (I am now 57) was from the same place you are now finding it, that is, from your friends, both in this group and those you see every day.

Seldom does a child ever do as their parents expect.  I didn't. 

My mother was a royal pain-in-the-ass with her expectations of how I should live my life.  It was as though she was living hers through me, vicariously.  She wanted me to learn to play the piano that was bought for my older sister.  I didn't want to play the piano and the teacher had horrible breath so I avoided the lessons.  None of the other kids, not even my pain-in-the-ass older sister, were saddled with piano lessons.  (My older sister and her pain-in-the-ass husband taught where I went to high school.  That is how much of a pain in my ass they both were.  My dad was cool enough to stay out of the fray.)

My mother made the little dating I did a pure, living hell.  I had to buy into the gender role lie back then.  In 1968/1969 the cure for transsexuality was a good physical beating to change one's mind, usually administered by some guys who also rolled gays, or whoever was around when you tried to touch your dream by whatever way you could.  She figured that no girl was good enough for me.  Translation from her language of vicariously making my life a mess is that no girl was good enough for her.

So what did she want?  That I should qualify for a full university scholarship.  That I should study chemistry and go to work for Sun Oil in Philadelphia.  That I should marry into money.  And that I should make her feel like a queen in the way she understood best, through paper money and paper degrees.  "Look at the brilliant, rich son of mine and his royal wife."  Yeah, right.  She would have had a double litter of kittens had she been sure that I was born with Gender Identity Disorder.

But I digress...

I made my decision to leave home and join the military in 1970 and take my life back.  I realize that is not an option for any of you.  Times are quite different and such a thing is not necessary.

During all of my life, the good times and the bad, I shared my problems with my friends.  They frosted my ass at times, made jokes about the mess I was in, but they never failed to help me by listening and sharing their thoughts and advice with me.  When things got their worst my friends were at their best.  My oldest, dearest friend is also 57 and we have been friends since we were five years old.  He was the first to know when I decided to transition. 

This is all that I can offer you, something that you already know, that the best counsel originates among friends.

May all of you be help to each other, now and for a long time to come.

Wing Walker
Never Flew Alone

Thanks Walker.  And yeh there are times I wish I could hang with some of my friends more often.  Though there are times it probably best we didn't.  I usually only get to hang around most of then about once or twice a month, except of course the one I work with lol

But I dono sometimes it's fun sometimes we are snapping at each other.  And I keep making stupid mistakes that just make it worse.

Quote from: Wing Walker on August 26, 2008, 03:35:23 AM
Hello, Devious, Elwood, and Aiden,

I am not an expert in psychiatry or any such thing but I know something about what approaches to a problem can work.  You three have found one of the most useful there is:  peer support.

There are no easy solutions to dealing with transsexualism and how it affects others in our lives.  There are only informed, intelligent decisions on how to handle it, and it seems to me that you are on your way to doing that.  The most useful help I ever had when I was your age (I am now 57) was from the same place you are now finding it, that is, from your friends, both in this group and those you see every day.

Seldom does a child ever do as their parents expect.  I didn't. 

My mother was a royal pain-in-the-ass with her expectations of how I should live my life.  It was as though she was living hers through me, vicariously.  She wanted me to learn to play the piano that was bought for my older sister.  I didn't want to play the piano and the teacher had horrible breath so I avoided the lessons.  None of the other kids, not even my pain-in-the-ass older sister, were saddled with piano lessons.  (My older sister and her pain-in-the-ass husband taught where I went to high school.  That is how much of a pain in my ass they both were.  My dad was cool enough to stay out of the fray.)

My mother made the little dating I did a pure, living hell.  I had to buy into the gender role lie back then.  In 1968/1969 the cure for transsexuality was a good physical beating to change one's mind, usually administered by some guys who also rolled gays, or whoever was around when you tried to touch your dream by whatever way you could.  She figured that no girl was good enough for me.  Translation from her language of vicariously making my life a mess is that no girl was good enough for her.

So what did she want?  That I should qualify for a full university scholarship.  That I should study chemistry and go to work for Sun Oil in Philadelphia.  That I should marry into money.  And that I should make her feel like a queen in the way she understood best, through paper money and paper degrees.  "Look at the brilliant, rich son of mine and his royal wife."  Yeah, right.  She would have had a double litter of kittens had she been sure that I was born with Gender Identity Disorder.

But I digress...

I made my decision to leave home and join the military in 1970 and take my life back.  I realize that is not an option for any of you.  Times are quite different and such a thing is not necessary.

During all of my life, the good times and the bad, I shared my problems with my friends.  They frosted my ass at times, made jokes about the mess I was in, but they never failed to help me by listening and sharing their thoughts and advice with me.  When things got their worst my friends were at their best.  My oldest, dearest friend is also 57 and we have been friends since we were five years old.  He was the first to know when I decided to transition. 

This is all that I can offer you, something that you already know, that the best counsel originates among friends.

May all of you be help to each other, now and for a long time to come.

Wing Walker
Never Flew Alone

Only problem there is that my friends are rarely physically around. I can't blame them, cause they need to get their careers in order and take care of what they need to do. I mean... Everyones packing and preparing for college again, so drats.

As for the friends who aren't always in college, they all live WAY away from me. I'm moving soon and I'll be less alone cause I'll be taking classes of what I've wanted to take forever. However, the chances of me finding a REALLY good friend when I may or may not be presenting fully as a female at school don't seem amazing to me. And making a new friend who was there and around would make me feel better, but I also would feel bad cause I'd be devoting less time to the friends I already have and care about. I mean... If they could they'd be around me all the time, I'm sure, but they all live hundreds or thousands of miles away. -_-

For me, I didn't cry for years...until I came out.  I cried for an hour or two at that point, just letting out years of tears.  From that point on, I would have frequent crying sessions (which became more frequent with HRT).  Now I don't cry all that often.  Maybe just every once in a while and that's usually if I'm upset about something.  Maybe I'm not being completely honest with myself and I cry more often than I admit, but it's nowhere as bad as it used to be (at least once a week).  Perhaps it's because I'm on antidepressants.

Only problem there is that my friends are rarely physically around. I can't blame them, cause they need to get their careers in order and take care of what they need to do. I mean... Everyones packing and preparing for college again, so drats.

As for the friends who aren't always in college, they all live WAY away from me. I'm moving soon and I'll be less alone cause I'll be taking classes of what I've wanted to take forever. However, the chances of me finding a REALLY good friend when I may or may not be presenting fully as a female at school don't seem amazing to me. And making a new friend who was there and around would make me feel better, but I also would feel bad cause I'd be devoting less time to the friends I already have and care about. I mean... If they could they'd be around me all the time, I'm sure, but they all live hundreds or thousands of miles away. -_-
[/quote]

Hi, Xen,

I see your problem with friends.  I believe that it will not persist.  Finding new friends that you can trust will take some time, but they're out there.  You already know this and I am merely affirming it.

You do have people here whom you have never met and yet they care about you.  Hang onto these friends for as long as you can by staying in contact in these forums.  FWIW, I will be here for postings and pm.

Wing Walker

Hi Melissa, hon I never bothered to count the times I cry but I do quite agree that my first and deepest heartfelt cry I had was the day before I came out full time, like someone I knew had died and then reborn as me all at one time, yea it was weird but it was also so relieving, the decision had been mad and there was no looking back.

I still sometimes cry for what ever reason, a certain song on the radio, something I read in the paper, or hear about, I have always been a caring person caring for others so that when one stubs their toe I cry. 

I also want to share something here that I got from a friend this morning that did bring tears to my eyes.



A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm a woman," she told him.

"I don't understand," he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, "And you never will."

Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?"

"All women cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.
Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the phone, he asked,

"God, why do women cry so easily?"

God said:

"When I made the woman she had to be special."

"I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world,

yet gentle enough to give comfort."

"I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children."

"I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining."

"I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly."

""I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.

"I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly."

"And finally, I gave her a tear to shed." "This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed."
"That tear holds more then men could understand."

" If a man was to shed her tear it

would look enormous."



"For a woman's tear is full of unconditional love, power,sacrifice,beauty,pain,and compassion."

"All ten fold of what a Man is able to feel."

"And that is my son, why I made her as close to being Supernatural."

"She's my gift to the world she's an Angel on Earth. "

"Love her and praise her for there will be no other here on Earth that will Love you like I do then your Mother."
"You see my son," said God, "The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair."

The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides."   




Love
Cindy





 

Quote from: Aiden on August 25, 2008, 07:52:40 PMAye.  It was my mom who did the 'Did you take your medican' every time I was upset that pissed me off.  And my father who basically just said, 'your never going make it in the world like this.  You need to toughen up.'  and I know that, yet he still says it and it pisses me off because I'm trying dang hard to improve to do better and all he can do is make me feel like crap because I can't seem to get over this weakness.  Oh and their deal where they tell me I get upset over nothing.  That I get stressed getting out of bed.  They have no clue what I go through, how much of their crap and other stuff builds up inside of me and refuses to leave and boils and boils till I explode, which unfortunantly is often.   

Or how much I worry about failure, because it's been ingrained in me that failure is not an option.  Failure is punishable.  Failure will get you no where.  Failure means they will continue to barge me because I haven't succeeded yet.  And every time I cry I have failed.  Every time I snap at someone, I have failed.  I feel dirty, like crap, and I often worry that I have hurt someone.  I mean I've hurt people in past without intending to because upset, how do I know if I haven't done it again?

Exactly. Every time I'm upset, I'm "ill." There's no such thing as just being upset. I'm in a really tough situation. We all are. Cisgendered people don't seem to get that.

I wouldn't say I'm as angry or moody as your situation sounds like, but the few times I am emotional I get a lot of crap for it.

Posted on: August 26, 2008, 03:40:27 PM

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Quote from: deviousxen on August 26, 2008, 01:56:59 AM"SOLVE YOUR PSyCHIATRIC ISSUES BEFORE YOUR GENDER."

And you know what?
They delayed me, and they ruined me, and they took time away I'll never forgive them for. Mom does not know best, doctors don't either just cause of a degree, and no one can tell me what I'm feeling unless they give me a lobotomy. I get depressed, and there are legitimate reasons.

That's what I'm afraid could happen to me. And I completely agree with the last part. I am depressed because I hate my body. Everything about it. How I'm so short, how I keep loosing weight instead of gaining, these damn breasts, my period, I'm so weak... all of those things add up and make me really hate my existence and dread my life. I am not some mentally ill lunatic. Anyone who was struggling this much with their body would feel the same. Take fat people for instance. They can't stop eating, can't build the strength to exercise, and they just keep getting fatter. Of COURSE they're depressed!

Posted on: August 26, 2008, 03:44:04 PM

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Quote from: Wing Walker on August 26, 2008, 03:35:23 AMHello, Devious, Elwood, and Aiden,

I am not an expert in psychiatry or any such thing but I know something about what approaches to a problem can work.  You three have found one of the most useful there is:  peer support.

Yeah. For anyone who is in my area, I'm a member of Positive Images. They're a LGBTQQI group, generally acknowledging everyone in the group, but 2 Tuesdays a month they have a trans group.

Quote from: Wing Walker on August 26, 2008, 03:35:23 AMSeldom does a child ever do as their parents expect.  I didn't.

Until now, I always was the perfect kid. I've been a virgin. Never made out. Never did drugs. Never stayed out late. Never got drunk. Never smoked. Never left the house unexpectedly. Never hung around the "wrong crowd." Being a transsexual is my first act of "rebellion." For the first time in my life I said, "No, mom. This is how it is." I'm 18 years old. Most kids rebel when they're much younger, in the tweens.

Quote from: Wing Walker on August 26, 2008, 03:35:23 AMMy mother made the little dating I did a pure, living hell.  I had to buy into the gender role lie back then.  In 1968/1969 the cure for transsexuality was a good physical beating to change one's mind, usually administered by some guys who also rolled gays, or whoever was around when you tried to touch your dream by whatever way you could.  She figured that no girl was good enough for me.  Translation from her language of vicariously making my life a mess is that no girl was good enough for her.

Ah, they tried to "spank the gay" out of you? I told my parents straight up that they could beat me to a pulp and that wouldn't make me a girl...

Posted on: August 26, 2008, 03:49:46 PM

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I am in the same position as Xen. My close friends live 500 miles south of here. I moved. D:

Positive Images eh?

I'm gonna look for a support group where I'm moving in Providence... True...


And awww...

I'd totally chill with you if I could, lol...

Quote from: deviousxen on August 26, 2008, 06:11:24 PMPositive Images eh?

I'm gonna look for a support group where I'm moving in Providence... True...


And awww...

I'd totally chill with you if I could, lol...

Yep. They're great.

If we lived in the same area, I'd so hang out with you. -sigh- Not many transgirls in my area. I like to talk to transgirls more than I like to talk to transguys because transgirls don't intimate me with overcompensation like the transguys often do. Transgirls seem to listen more and put on less of a show, in my experience. I feel really comfortable with them. Then again, I feel more comfortable around girls in general.  Something about guys always makes me feel a little intimidated...

Thats an odd thought, but I understand...

I listen when I can I suppose. I actually get drunk with people not for sex, but for secrets, lol. I guess thats my difference with dudes...

Quote from: Elwood on August 26, 2008, 06:23:42 PM

Quote from: deviousxen on August 26, 2008, 06:11:24 PMPositive Images eh?

I'm gonna look for a support group where I'm moving in Providence... True...


And awww...

I'd totally chill with you if I could, lol...

Yep. They're great.

If we lived in the same area, I'd so hang out with you. -sigh- Not many transgirls in my area. I like to talk to transgirls more than I like to talk to transguys because transgirls don't intimate me with overcompensation like the transguys often do. Transgirls seem to listen more and put on less of a show, in my experience. I feel really comfortable with them. Then again, I feel more comfortable around girls in general.  Something about guys always makes me feel a little intimidated...

Living in a small town, I had never met a trans guy before, for that matter there were no trans girls around either. As  a social worker I did spend more time with women and felt more comfortable talking with them although on the job I treated both equally in accordance to their gender.

The first time I met a trans guy was when Wing Walker and I went to a trans meeting here in Vancouver. I hadn't been involved with anything trans for the past 6 years and I was looking for some way I could be of assistance or of any kind of service to the trans community, and that we are still working on. This was where I met for the first time, two very nice trans gents. I found them to be the most gracious and likable guys I ever worked with. But then I have always been a people person and being trans never slowed me down any from loving to be with people.

Cindy 

Grew up in a town that there basically was no such thing as transgender.  Moving here, I've met a few here and there but none have really been able to talk to.

Quote from: Zythyra on August 24, 2008, 12:08:35 PM

Quote from: The Elf's Miss Lisbeff on August 24, 2008, 11:21:19 AM
I've been crying a lot in the last couple of months, at two or three times a day.

I'm always available to PM if it's anything you want to talk about.

Hugs,

Z

I know. Nothing will help.

Quote
A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm a woman," she told him.

"I don't understand," he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, "And you never will."

Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?"

"All women cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.
Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the phone, he asked,

"God, why do women cry so easily?"

God said:

"When I made the woman she had to be special."

"I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world,

yet gentle enough to give comfort."

"I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children."

"I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining."

"I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly."

""I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.

"I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly."

"And finally, I gave her a tear to shed." "This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed."
"That tear holds more then men could understand."

" If a man was to shed her tear it would look enormous."

"For a woman's tear is full of unconditional love, power,sacrifice,beauty,pain,and compassion."

"All ten fold of what a Man is able to feel."

"And that is my son, why I made her as close to being Supernatural."

"She's my gift to the world she's an Angel on Earth. "

"Love her and praise her for there will be no other here on Earth that will Love you like I do then your Mother."

"You see my son," said God, "The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair."

The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides."

I've had to think about this one for while.

I think I understand the message behind it, but it strikes me as misandronistic, reinforcing of gender roles/stereotypes, reinforcing of gender binaries, and suggestive of a simple-minded God. I've met men who would weep openly and women who wouldn't shed tears if you'd paid them. Being taught growing up that God is omniscient, it seems to me that God would not offer an answer so limited in scope.

But, that's just my $.02 here. Overall, I think I understand what this is trying to say: beauty lies within. This text just seems sexist to me, that's all.

I hope I haven't offended anyone by making these comments, as that certainly is not my intention. My intention is to simply offer my point of view.

Peace.

*tears of longing*

Lately I've not been crying as much, its down to a couple times a month now.