What Came First?

 

Image from Alexander Grey
on UnSplash. 

Today was "patch" day, when I changed out my gender affirming hormonal estradiol patches, which I do twice a week. 

Every time I change out my patches to new ones, I think back to all the changes I went through when I first started years ago. Among other things, I remember how impatient I was to see and feel changes I hoped were forthcoming. I was also disappointed when I learned I would have to start on a very minimal dosage until the doctor and I could see if there were going to be any negatives to the treatment. Fortunately, there were not, and I was given progressively higher doses until I was finally assigned to an endocrinologist for more specialized treatment. At the time, the Dayton, Ohio VA Hospital did not have an Endo, so I needed to wait until they found me an outside provider for my care. After quite a bit of pushing on my part, the VA finally came through and I was set until they came up with their own Endo. Which I have to this day.

In the meantime, I was experiencing many significant changes to my body and surprisingly, to my mind. It was like my body had already been set up for the new HRT hormones and felt very natural with the changes. It is easy to write about the external changes I always mention, such as breast growth, hair growth and the overall softening of my skin. As I mentioned in a recent post, suddenly I was able to present better when I was out in public because I was able to wear less makeup and get my own hair styled and colored how I wanted it. 

Less obvious to the world, but more obvious to me were the internal changes I began to rapidly feel with the new hormones in my body. What came first was I was losing more and more contact with my old male self. I was losing my old testosterone edge and began to really mellow out. I went through puberty again and even experienced my first hot flashes as my body adjusted to the new femininized world it was in. Most certainly, my male self-had come first out of necessity, but the HRT allowed my feminine self the chance to catch up. I even learned women were not making it up when they were saying they were cold all the time, when my thermostat went crazy, and I was too. 

One of the only drawbacks I experienced was I needed to move up my life transition timeline, because changes were beginning to happen so rapidly. I could no longer wear most of my male shirts because of my new breasts and I needed to always be careful to tie back my hair when I was butching it up when I was going out. Also, my facial hair never really changed as I knew it wouldn't, but my body hair nearly completely went away, which was great.

As I said, there were no drawbacks when I left my male world internally. I never missed the actions of my male self who always seemed to be on edge. I became very introspective on what I was going through and could even began to be able to cry for the first time in my life. It was then I learned there were different sort of tears. Tears of sorrow and tears of joy were quite possible. 

I had no choice, my male self-came first and I ended up trying decades of cross dressing to fight him. But as I changed, gender affirming hormones were a huge part of it. In many ways, HRT was the deciding factor in finding my way into transgender womanhood. 

It turned out the second part of my life turned out to be so much more fulfilling than the first part. Even though I was frustrated at times that I waited so long, it was worth the wait. Especially when I learned the hormones did not change my sexuality. I was still attracted to women, and I found some were attracted to me as a transgender lesbian. It was all so exciting and new, I could not get enough of my new life and it did not matter what came first.

Merry Christmas

Leg Lamp from the "Christmas Story"

 Doesn't seem possible another year has flown by and here I am writing another Christmas Day blog post as the "Yule Log" plays on the television behind my wife Liz and me.

Earlier this morning, I cried tears of sorrow and joy. The sorrow came from remembering the times of my life when my family was strong, and we had festive Christmases. Plus, I am old enough to remember how much fun it was when the downtown was vibrant and glowing with its holiday decorations. Now around here at least, the downtowns have been replaced by sterile decaying malls or outside shopping centers. I even cried when I recalled the life my ex-brother and I shared. 

Now, the tears of joy. Slowly but surely as I began to think about the present, I shed tears when I thought of the love I feel for Liz and how fortunate I am to have someone to love me in a season where so many others, especially in the transgender community just don't. When my brother and his family rejected me during the holiday season over a decade ago, I found a new family with my daughter and Liz. I know I am blessed.

On this Christmas, I also make sure I watch a couple of my favorite classics such as "It's a Wonderful Life" and Ralphie's "The Christmas Story." Ralphie is especially special to me because the time period it represents is roughly the same as mine growing up. The only difference is, instead of the BB Gun Ralphie so desperately wanted, in my case I received the gun but did not get what I wanted, a doll baby. It is poetic justice, I guess.

Regardless, I hope you have a Merry Christmas with blood or chosen family and thanks for joining me!

 

The Double Edged Gender Sword

Image from JJ Hart. Wife Liz on left.

The longer we live as transgender women and trans men, often we find many aspects which represent a double edged sword. 

One of the edges of the sword has to be the duress we feel when at first we arrive in public for the first time. To make matters worse, we have no peer group to help us out of the mirror to be judged by the harsh eyes of the world. No one to tell us we looked clownish as we tried the makeup arts for the first time. I can't tell you how many times I hurried home in tears following being stared at at the least, or laughed out of a venue at the worst.

From it all, I learned to develop a thick skin and always go back to the drawing board as quickly as I could to help solve any presentation problems I might have had. Even when I was doing it, the cross dresser drawing board was certainly difficult to figure out. What happened was, I used the very brief moments of gender euphoria I earned and moved forward attempting to tightrope my way along the sharp edge of my sword. I was risking ridicule at the least and the loss of family, friends and employment at the worst. Failure as a transgender woman was a very real pressure.

Once I began to learn how to present in public more effectively as a transgender woman, I began to use my sword more effectively.  Then the world became much more comfortable for me in my quest to live my femininized dreams. In addition, my makeup arts became better as well as my use of hair to enhance my appearance. 

It bares mentioning also, going through the overall transgender experience, made me a more resilient person and set up to battle the more challenging times we face. I learned in my research transgender folk have always been around and always will be, no matter who tries to erase us. Battling the sword all these years helped me be more secure in my transgender identity. 

In all fairness to my sword, it started out very dull. I worked long and hard to sharpen it by going out in public which was the best indicator of my progress.  So I took all the good and bad and did the best I could with it. All my interaction with the public included the dark evenings when red-necks repeatedly kept playing "Dude Looks Like a Lady" on the juke box in a venue where I was a regular. Since management at the time would not support me, I left to find another venue and took my money elsewhere. I was rewarded months later when an employee from the venue I was discouraged from coming to, found me in another venue and invited me back. To make matters even better, the manager who would not back me up was fired for drug use. Excluding a stray bigoted woman in the woman's room, I never had any further problems there again.

Once my gender sword swung back into doses of gender euphoria, I began to appreciate all it had done for me. Transgender womanhood was finally mine to enjoy when I learned I was not a quitter and was in my transition for the long haul. 

Tears of Joy

Image by Anthony Tran'
on UnSplash.

Until I began gender affirming hormones  in my life I never cried as a man. 

Even more foreign to me was the concept I could actually cry three different ways. Of course I cried out of sadness but did not expect the tears I shed when I was emotional and even more so, the most unexpected tears I shed when I was happy. 

It took the layers of change  which began with the HRT femininizing hormones I was taking to enable me to, for the first time cry at all. It happened as I waited for a light summer time thunderstorm to roll in as I sat and waited on my side porch. When I sensed the first soft rolls of thunder, very unexpectedly I began to cry. At first, I tried to hold my emotions in as I was taught to do as a man. Then I realized I did not have to follow those old gender restrictive footsteps any longer and let the tears flow. Even though I did not cry for long, it seemed I cried forever to makeup for all the years of gender repression I had put myself through. 

Little did I know, my experience with tears was just beginning. The more the hormonal changes increased, the less control I had over my emotions. The total range of new feelings I was experiencing was amazing and I found crying out of joy was the most amazing experience I could have. I was even crying when my favorite athletes excelled on television. And had to put up with the good natured barbs of my wife Liz, who seemingly knew I was crying tears of joy before I did. Of course, she had such a long head start on me in the feminine hormone department being born female, she knew what was coming. The standing joke in our house is when did I change my Estradiol patches when I begin to cry.

How different my life would have been if I could have shown any emotions when I was a man. I was even stoic and tear free when my parents passed away. When my wife passed so suddenly, I did not have the chance to grieve or shed a tear with her either and the only time I have cried is recently when she came to me in a dream.

Through it all, the HRT hormones along with being able to express my emotions just re-enforced my opinion women lead a much more layered experience than men. Being able to cry over sadness, joy or even anger led me to believe I was on the right track in life as I sought out the way to living as my authentic transgender self. I sought out the way to be more of a woman and I found it in so many ways. Then again, I was fortunate in that I was healthy enough to be approved to begin the hormonal therapy at all when others aren't. 

Shedding tears of joy was just a portion of the emotional release I felt when I transitioned. Outside of other changes such as resetting my body's thermostat and refining my sense of smell, most of the other dramatic changes were external in nature. 

Sadly, I had no one to talk about many of my changes with as my women friends were fond of telling me welcome to their world when I brought up my feelings and I was discouraged about talking at all of my previous life.  It was not till my wife Liz came along did I finally feel secure enough to express my total feelings. It was still difficult shedding all those years of male life to finally allow me to share my true transgender self to the world. Tears and all.    

 

Patch Day

Image from the Jessie 
Hart Archives

I am on estradiol patches I change twice a week. The hormonal patches help to make me who I am and have been fortunate to be prescribed them for years.

Early on progress was slow as I was prescribed the minimal amount of hormones by my doctor. I remember vividly the night I asked my future wife Liz out on New Years Eve when I started my gender affirming hormones. It was a very big night. Initially I began my dosage on pills which as I said were very minimal in dosage. 

Even on the minimal amounts I still felt changes beginning to take place. Possibly because I was already in my sixties and my testosterone levels were decreasing anyhow so there were fewer hormones to do battle with. At any rate, I was beginning to see (or feel) changes primarily in my breasts. Before I knew it, I was experiencing problems finding shirts which were loose enough to not show my protruding breasts. Little did I know, there was so much more to come.

What happened was, when my doctor determined I was not experiencing any ill effects from the new hormones, I was cleared for a higher dosage. With a higher dosage came more changes which I needed to deal with and the changes forced my hand on when I thought I would need to go public as a transgender woman. At the time, as predicted by my doctor, my hair began to grow as fast as my new breasts. More importantly though were the internal changes which were beginning to take place along with the external softening of my skin and facial lines. 

Of course the internal changes were less noticeable in the beginning because I was still so obsessed with my feminine appearance. All the way to the point of thinking my appearance was the reason I went through with HRT or GAH. 

The more I became one with the new hormones which were allowed to invade my old male body, the more I began to understand the process. I really began to change when I switched my health care to the Veteran's Administration and began seeing a new endocrinologist who almost immediately changed my dosage from pills to patches so the new method would provide less wear and tear on my inner organs. At the same time, we discussed upping my dosage slightly as well as how I used my testosterone reducing medication (Spiro) at the same time. 

All of this was working together to provide me with significant internal changes. Suddenly, I could cry for the first time in my life as well as feel my world around me soften. I was more sensitive to temperature changes as well as noticing a big improvement in my sense of smell. Through it all, I even experienced my first feminine hot flashes which initially made me think I was going to internally combust. Little did I know at the time I was just going through another gender puberty in my life. As far as more external changes went, finally I started to develop hips for the first time ever.

Perhaps I am a little dramatic when I think my estradiol patches helped me to become the person I am today. Plus I never forget, how blessed I was with having the health to undertake such a radical hormonal shift in my body. I know so many who couldn't. I know also, so many other transgender women who prefer injections over patches to deliver their life changing hormones. For what ever reason, I have never had much of a problem having the patches adhere to my skin and seem to deliver an overall smoother dosage over the span of a week. That of course, is only my perspective.

Then again, there are those of you who naturally have a higher level of estrogen in your body and don't require gender afforming hormones at all to help you feel secure as a transgender woman. Whatever works, more power to you. 

Emotional Blackmail

Image from Callum
Skelton on UnSplash

Emotional blackmail is another of those terms or labels which is difficult to describe or understand.

The way I look at it is, the blackmail describes the portion of my life I lived with my second wife when we constantly battled over my increasingly feminine gender identity. In fact, now, in hindsight I look at the time when two strong women were clashing with each other. My wife and the other was me. Every time I was successful when I went out as a transgender woman, the bigger our fights became. Examples included the time when I went to a transvestite or cross dresser mixer when we lived in New York. The gatekeepers who were placed to keep cis-women out made me show my identification to prove I really was a guy. The entire incident put me on cloud nine for days following but on the other hand, made me very difficult to live with. Predictably, my wife and I clashed and my inner woman felt who was my wife anyway. 

As life went on, the emotional blackmail continued and even worsened. Our sex life worsened because I insisted on making love as two women. She hated the idea and all activity ground to a halt until she passed away. It was during this time also when I was sneaking out more behind her back and meeting new people for the first time. Ironically, I was approached by way more women than men and primarily became friends with lesbians for some reason. Whatever the reason was, I was enjoying the new company I had found and was able to learn so many things from them. One night on one of my gender parties I went to I ended up leaving with a single lesbian woman and going to a dance club in Columbus, Ohio. Nothing physical happened so I considered it another case of emotional cheating I was doing to my wife of twenty five years.

Sometimes I wondered if the emotional blackmail I was subjecting my wife to was worse than any other form of abuse. Sadly or not, I couldn't do anything about my quest to understand and be a better woman. Probably, what was left of my old male self who loved my wife dearly and on occasion had enjoyed our life together was the biggest obstacle to changing it all and coming out fulltime. He kept screaming at me to not give up and the ripping and tearing of living between two genders nearly killed me. Plus, after or during one of our biggest fights, my wife told me something to the tune of why didn't I be enough of a man to be a woman. It would have certainly have been the best way out of the torment if I had only listened. Of course I didn't. 

I was one of the fortunate transgender women as I found a soft landing spot with plenty of assistance when I transitioned. I learned to rely on my feminine instincts which had been ignored for so long as my new life began to take shape. And most importantly emotional blackmail faded into my past as something which never really happened. We all know it did. It wasn't right and I wasn't a strong enough person to do anything about it. 

Jealousy

 I could use the kinder and gentler "envious" word but I can't. Yesterday I was just jealous. 

It was grocery shopping day and Liz and I went out to battle the heat and stock up on all the fruits and vegetables we needed for our new diet. 

As we started our journey down the produce isle, I couldn't help but notice a woman in a short romper style print dress. I was entranced. The whole process took me back to all the old days of desiring so many cis women. Not sexually. I wanted to be them. To feel what they felt. 

As all the old feelings came flooding back to me, I told myself the usual. Even though I have achieved more than I ever thought I could in a transgender world, I will never in this lifetime achieve the body and look of the woman I was admiring. 

All too soon she went her separate way in the store, my dreams faded and the reality of the day set back in. 

Transgender Guide for Dummies

I wish I had the time and the patience to write a book on this subject. Since I don't, I decided to steal an idea from a Word Press blog I follow by Clare Flourish  on emotions, which would be one chapter. I read the post with interest since lately I have been over emotional and afterwards put myself  firmly in the "dummy" category.

Why? Because I have been on HRT for about five years now and have more than a little idea how they effect ones existence. In fact, I think outside a a few physical changes, emotions are your biggest change, Like any woman, your emotions can be happy or sad, or a curious combination of both.

An example for me came this weekend when Liz and I went to a well known German Restaurant here in Cincinnati after the Transgender Day of Visibility. Since I served for a year and a half in the Army for AFN in Germany, I still love the atmosphere, food and of course the beer of Germany.

As we were led to our seats, I felt this overbearing sense of sadness mixed with anticipation. Fortunately we made it to our seats before I started to tear up. I was just so happy to have a chance to relive the past. Hell, I even teared up this year during the Cincinnati Reds opening day baseball ceremony. Some would say I should because of the teams they have put on the field lately but my emotional outbreak had more to do with the baseball fun I had as a guy...which was so bittersweet.

The hardest part I have with emotions is the desire to hold them in as I always did (of course) as a guy. Once again, I am being the dummy and Liz always notices me tearing up anyhow.  So, why bother?

I know also, in today's complex male/female gender interactions, women too are coming to view crying as a sign of weakness.  I don't know how they do it. Once I feel a wave of emotions coming over me, there is not much I can do about it.

Back in the day as I was first coming out in the world as a trans woman, my cis female friends always took delight in telling me "Welcome to our world." It's taken me years to understand the layers and richness emotions (among other things) have added to my life.

I was always "the dummy."