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."