Therapy Day

 As luck would have it, today was another of my twice a month therapy sessions at the Dayton, Ohio Veterans Administration. 

I put it that way because in some ways I needed therapy after last night's Cincinnati Bengals Super Bowl defeat. Oddly, outside of Connie and Paula here on the blog, the only long time acquaintances I heard from were Pittsburgh Steelers fans. One almost wished me good luck and the other was rooting for the Los Angeles Rams. Which I found odd after all those years of beatings the Steelers had laid on the Bengals. 

As far therapy went, I think my therapist "studies" up on certain sporting events because we will undoubtedly be discussing them. 

All went as expected as we talked about the usual suspects...mood swings etc. Today though was different in that I had time to take the usual infamous test/survey they give about your mental health. Questions include how is your concentration, how much sleep are you getting all the way to have you thought about self harm to yourself or others.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

For once, the question concerning self harm became specific. She asked if I ever tried to commit suicide. When I said yes, the overall tone of the session became much more serious. I told her the experience I had with a bottle of Jägermeister I used to wash down a whole months supply of anti depressants. Needless to say I am happy it didn't work. 

Sometimes I think self harm is just something which comes hand in hand with extreme gender dysphoria. When I think of all the crazy self destructive actions I did behind a wheel of a car, I feel I must have had some sort of guardian angel riding with me. I call those incidents passive attempts at self harm.

The ironic part of all this is, I grew up around suicide. My one uncle, my father in law and a couple other acquaintances committed suicide. You would think I would realize the loss to all of the others left behind. These days I do. On the brighter side also, years ago I tried to call the Veterans Suicide Hotline and got essentially nowhere. I hope today that is not the case and I don't think it is. Plus, my therapist and I have been together so long, I can quickly get ahold of her and use her as a resource.

Looking back at how this post started, I didn't mean to connect the dots between a football game and self harm but here we are. 

I am aware also of the exorbitant number of transgender women and men who try self harm as a coping mechanism. Back in my dark days before I developed a new group of supporting friends it seemed my only real friend was my dog. During my dark periods she would sense a problem and come up to me. 

I don't know if therapy helps to dredge up all of these dark moments but it does help me to see again life is but a circle. If you can live long enough to see it. 

Another First

Not that I really do much of it, this won't be a post revolving around frilly heels and hose, Today kids we will be writing a short post about sports and this transgender woman.  Probably many of you know I used to play football instead of being a cheerleader like I always envied. However, I was never very good and took solace in the fact I really wanted to be a girl anyhow. But, to the topic at hand...

 Today is Super Bowl Sunday, the pinnacle of American football. 

Being a long suffering Cincinnati, Ohio sports fan, I have been through more years than not following teams that do nothing but lose. The only exception was The Ohio State Buckeyes. For years the standing joke was, the Buckeyes were the best professional team in Ohio. Better than the Bengals or the Cleveland Browns. 

This year times have changed and Bengal fans everywhere are super excited to be playing in only the third Super Bowl in the team's history.  

By now you are probably thinking so what? 

The biggest difference is I am now a fully out transgender woman.  So, I count this as my first Super Bowl. Even though the power of estrogen has leveled out my competitive edge, I am sure I still have enough edge to me to more than interested in the game.

However my authentic self still wants a Super Bowl trophy in Cincinnati! 

Who Dey think gonna beat dem Bengals!!!!

The "Capable" Transgender Woman

 I received several wonderful comments on a recent post concerning an ill advised attempt to clean an ice covered car. By doing it I subjected myself to several days of pain filled life including today. What I liked about the comments was both of them went into the influence of their Mothers on their lives.

The first comes from Georgette:

Photo Courtesy Georgette 

"

I think some of that gets to ones background and at what the times were like when one transitioned, 

In the 70s there was the new idea of TG instead of TS started to be used by some, Some used it to divide rather than unite us together. TG was used by some that wanted no part of the medical and surgical that most TS did,

So maybe it does give me a certain idea on that "transer" than others, But I am working on that,

When I transitioned at work I would get from the guys of why would I want to become a "2nd Class Person" as many women were treated.

I can't recall many that would want to hear about the physical part, Men get weird when I would describe what the surgical meant.I guess I was a "Feminist" that I learned from my mother that I refused the idea that a women was somehow less than a man.I have always been a very affirmative women, Maybe that is a little leftover "man" except I was never an affirmative "man".

As I never went completely "stealth", Also never used those image filters and such back than, I see no point in using them, As I have learned to accept myself as I am."

The second comes from Connie:

"One of the unspoken conditions of the new relationship my wife and I have had since the onset of my transition is that I continue to perform some of the more-manly chores around the house. I can still take some pride in the fact that I have managed to keep the house in working order, without ever having to call a professional (except for a total roof replacement). I can’t say that I ever really enjoyed being Mr. Fixit in the past, and I dislike, even more, being Mrs. Fixit. Nevertheless, I do it because we can’t afford to pay professionals, anyway. Rather than Mrs. Fixit, then, I prefer the monikers of either “Connie Can-do” or “Capable Woman.” I’ve found that, although I don’t feel overly feminine while doing these tasks, I certainly don’t feel manly, either.

Photo Courtesy Connie Malone

My father died of cancer when I was eight-years-old, and my mother learned how to do many of the maintenance jobs around the house. I suppose I learned from watching her that a woman can be feminine and capable at the same time. I also learned from her how to live comfortably on a limited budget, so why call a professional when one can do it herself? These days, though, it is not unusual to see women doing some things that were deemed to be a man’s job in the ‘50s and ‘60s.

I think that age has more to do with limiting activities than anything else. I know that I had beaten my body up quite a bit in the past, endeavoring to prove my physical and masculine prowess – so as to hide my underlying femininity. My feminine-self is much wiser than was my masculine-self, however, so I now know to pace myself. Old injuries seem to pop up just about every morning, whether I did anything the day before or not, so I don’t need the added residual pain from having overdone some chore the day before. I am “Capable Woman,” but I don’t want to end up being “Incapacitated Woman.” :-)"

My Mom was also very assertive and worked for years outside of the home as a high school teacher. I suppose I learned from her a woman could be strong and independent . Little did she know it but I learned the same lessons from my second wife. Even though we fought continually about the type of woman I was becoming. My Dad entered the picture when he built his own house in the 1950's. In my younger years I tried to measure up to him by restoring our vintage 1860's brick building. 

I suppose both of my parents contributed to me being a "capable" transgender woman when my brain catches up with my body...as Paula wrote.