Time Marches On.

As I was talking to my therapist yesterday, and brought up how quickly the Trans Ohio Symposium was approaching, I said it seems like it was only yesterday when I applied for my workshop.

She asked if Liz (my partner) was going again and I said most certainly. She even takes a couple extra days off around the week-end and makes it a mini vacation. Then she asked me what my workshop would entail.  As I have pointed out here in Cyrsti's Condo, I plan on speaking on "survivor" mechanisms for transgender women and trans men as we make our way through life. Such as cross dressing.
Oldest known picture.

I also plan to attack the "I'm more trans than you fallacy" as well as levels of transition.

Now though, after my latest support meeting, I'm thinking of adding "hitting walls" into my workshop. After, the so called self appointed "social director" of the group was not her usually "bubbly"self. Personally, I think she has hit a wall. She is just starting HRT (hormone replacement therapy) has divorced her wife and spends nearly every night out with a close knit group of trans women and/or cross dressers. As I have often said,  sooner more than later, we all find out that being transgender women is more like being cis women in the world. All the pretty clothes can't make you happy all of the time. Life goes on, and yes sometimes it does become rather mundane.

Plus, after you climb one wall, you have to rest and decide when and if you are going to climb the next one. Which invariably could lead you to genital realignment surgery, if you desire it enough. Even SRS though, seemingly hasn't satisfied some of the trans women I have known over the years.

I just may be adding "walls" to my workshop! 

Comments

Connie said…
Your mention of levels and walls reminds me of my daughter's mastery, a number of years ago, of the Mario Brothers video game. I remember so well how I spent all night trying to figure the game out before giving her the Nintendo, thinking I would certainly need to show her how to play the game Christmas morning. Of course, while it took me all night to figure how to get through the first level, she was through the third level before the day was over. I was the one who learned from her that some walls need to be jumped, some crashed through, and some climbed. Between the walls are things you must learn to avoid, as well as others you can use to your advantage to take you to the next level.

My twisted mind makes parody of things, usually through analogy and metaphor. I re-imagined the game as "Mario Sisters," with the object of the game being the transition to finally becoming the Princess, rather than saving her. Revisiting that idea, now, has me thinking that my own becoming of the princess was, at the same time, saving myself.