The last little while

So, here's something some of you might not consider as a cis person (don't get me started on that term, I could be here for forever!! Perhaps in another post) what happens to your period as you start to transition?? We!l here's what happened with us...

Previously, M had had the WORST periods ever, we're talking PMS, cramps, suicidal tendencies, you name it, M had it!! I felt so sorry for him until I inherited the bastard's bleeding (pun intended) hormones! Anyway, I digress, but it was because of these extreme hormonal shifts, M wisely decided to go on to progesterone, which worked like an absolute charm. We pontificated a lot about what going on to T would mean with regards to that, and neither of us could find anything conclusive online. And so, when Dr. Google doesn't have the answers, who better to ask than the gender specialist herself? M did and told me that realistically everyone's different, so it was simply a case of wait and see. So, what happened you ask? Put simply, M had a period. Now to the ordinary Josephine, this means a few grumbly days of complaining about bloating and so on. Not for M.

In order to explain this, I think we need to look at our attitudes to our bodies. I'm assuming most people have lumps, bumps and skinny bits they hate right? I mean, for a few days every month, I detest being female, and when that happens I don't my binder and packer and that appeases me a little. OK so, really think about those bits, and think about how you would feel if those bits went in to shaping your identity... So you have big love handles? That would make you 'Grabbable' for argument's sake. Now think that everyone judges you based on being 'Grabbable'. Everything you do is relatable to what other 'Grabbables' do. Starting to feel uncomfortable beyond measure about your large love handles yet?? 'Oh you must love this sort of film, other Grabbables do!' - you hate the movie... You can see where I'm going, right? The more M is relishing living as a man, the more he's starting to hate being reminded of the fact he's a bio-girl. This period knocked us both out of sync. I mean, even now it's over, he doesn't like me touching him in certain ways and places. I think he feels self-conscious about those areas again, so I'm back to being a bit of a pillow princess, because I don't know if what I'm doing is right, so I tend to leave well alone until I'm told otherwise. This technique works well for us as it means he's in control and I won't freak him out by straying in to uncomfortable territory. It does, however, mean that my dominant nature is having to take a step back, which is hard, being the switch that I am, but I have to deal, his feelings far out weigh my sexual needs right now.

BTW, in case you don't know, a cis person is someone who is biologically the same gender as they identify with. The term has become problematic over the years, for many reasons, as you can imagine. Also a switch, in this context, is someone who switches between dominant and submissive. This does not have to relate to BDSM, it just means sometimes you like to be on top, and others you don't. Simple!

Right, kids, I have 2000 words to add to an essay tomo, so I'll bid you goodnight! Much loves xx

Right, here comes a bit of a bigger post

So, M started his testosterone - yay!! Or so you'd think, but no I was numpty enough to talk to him about going in to counselling (he's on a waiting list, but can seek counselling privately) as I am having difficulty coping. Not with him, but in general, and I can't help but feel that he needs more support than I may be capable of giving at the moment as I have fairly bad mental health issues. Naturally, I did not explain this well, he felt like I was giving up on him and there was a MASSIVE meltdown. However, I have since explained things to him in better detail and I think he feels better, and I feel like less of an idiot.

So any differences to note? Yep. He smells different. I can't explain how, he just does. And the effect on his sex drive was almost instantaneous, but I won't go in to too much detail about that as it feels like I'm somehow betraying his trust by posting stuff like that all over cyberspace. And his temperament is much better. He's less tetchy and back to being the cuddle monster I love so much. It's like one of the biggest hurdles has been attacked and now he feels, well, to use his words, he feels like he's had superpowers injected in to him. I can't help but feel that it must be a bit like having steroids pumped in to you, or something like that. I think I would feel a bit like I could run around lifting cars and shiz. I'm slightly jealous!!

Fairly soon I'm going to start updating with little pictures for all of you, I can't help but think that this must all look a wee bit bare :/ For now, I shall try and find a bunch of pictures to show you the effects that T can have on a person *hops off to google-land*

There are tonnes out there, but this one shows you what can happen, even in 6 months! It's NUTS! I can't do anything but admire this guy's bravery for posting something like this out there.... There's something really beautiful about it!!

Anyway, gotta scoot for now chaps, see ya later!!

E xxx

P.S. This is his link - cool, eh? http://genderoutlaw.wordpress.com/evolution/

Well folks, I realise that it's been about a month since I last posted. We've had a month of existing, and stress about our show, as well as me having my assignments. I don't have much time right now to write much, other than M had his first shot of T today *dances*. It's a great day, but with an edge of angst. More later!! I'll keep you updated on how everything goes, and any changes we see.

E

So... I met the parents

Just over a day ago, I met M's parents for the first time. Now, this is something I've done many times before, and I'm not normally bothered by that sort of thing, but this time would be different, or so I thought at least. I've never met the parents of someone who is transitioning, let alone it being the first time they were meeting M, after knowing him as R for 30 years! Nervous is not how I'd describe the way I was feeling. M was so stressed and I wanted to take the weight off of him, but I couldn't. So I cleaned and built IKEA furniture (some of you will already know I stupidly used my hand as a hammer - now it's all swollen and sore!!)

Anyway, I became fiercely protective of M - I'm secretly a Mumma hen - and worried about his parents getting names wrong, pronouns muddled up etc, and how that'd affect him, AND I was worried about convincing these people that I'm good enough for their now son? So I cleaned and tidied and cleaned and tidied, right up til the last moment, when I hopped in the bath and waited for M to text and tell me he was on his way with his parents in tow. I washed and scrubbed, trying to soothe my nervous knots in my back, checked my phone one last time before slipping deep in the bath to rest my aching stressed head. Then, two mins later I hear a knock at the door so I checked my phone... 'It can't be M,' I thought, he's not text to say he's on his way, and went to sink my head under again, only to hear a key in the lock and voices. Now, I have forgotten to mention that when we're alone, M and I don't usually lock the bathroom door, so I had done the same on this occasion. I don't think I've ever moved so fast as I did then! I hopped out the bath, locked the door, towel dried myself horrendously, put my PJs back on and came out of the bathroom with the biggest fake smile I could muster, I was COMPLETELY thrown for a hoop. Still, after a dashed few mins of drying off my hair and so on, and changing in to something more suitable, I came out grinning with words of reassurance to M (he thought he was in the doghouse) and welcoming noises. The afternoon proceeded with relative ease. I charmed them (I hope) with tales of Africa and my family, and they talked to me in turn about horses and trips to Hong Kong. I found a well of forgiveness in me for each stumble they made as a) they were SO apologetic about and b) I still get it wrong from time to time!!

Anyway, the whole thing was lovely! I feel so damn blessed sometimes!

**another anouncement** along with some fears... :/

Well, dear reader, it seems another announcement is to be made. After the last one M had a call from the doctor and it seems that he has been given the definite go ahead for his testosterone treatment. Once again I am filled with excitement. I am deeply fascinated by medicine and the effects drugs have on people - just last night I was googling metronidazole - and am keen to see how this will effect him. I cannot wait to see how his bodily hair will come in (if it does) and how his face will change, and his voice will drop. I think he's nervous about this, as he is concerned that I will reject him as he grows in to his masculinity. I can't say that I won't, all I can do is reassure him of how I feel now. I love him. Simple. I don't think that that will change. I don't think that it can. To put it simply; I'm hooked on him. I cannot stress this enough.

That said though, I am tortured with the constant image of him turning in to some sort of werewolf-like being. That he will become over-run by his sexual appetite and that I will become consumed by a hairy beast. This is ridiculous and I know that he will not become like that, but I have a vivd imagination that's prone to terrorising me with dark mental images, and sometimes I lose my sense of reality. I just need to remember that he and the doctor will be heavily monitoring his T levels and that he will not turn in to a barbaric beast. Certainly not over night anyway!! Although ( and forgive me for this) it might be fun to have my own little werewolf in some ways, if you get my meaning!! Having only ever had a few sexual experiences with men, I have mixed feelings about the changes to our bedroom life. I mean, I've heard tell of transitioning men who become incredibly horny for the first little while at least. What if I can't keep up? I'm not the sort of person who has sex out of obligation, not really. I've done it once or twice and I've been left feeling more dissatisfied than if I'd had a cold shower and gotten on with my day. It is so much worse, trying to scratch that burning itch, if all you're getting is a rigorous tickling at the wrong part, you know? There might be so much sex that I might get bored or feel a loss of myself in it. Or, I might thoroughly enjoy it, who knows? I hope so.

A few months ago, in August, I had a terrible experience with a man in which I woke up next to him, not knowing which end was up, naked and sore down there. I was sore because he had inserted a roll on deoderant inside me. M took me to hospital and I had to have it removed surgically. There was police involvement and all sorts and, while to look at me you wouldn't think it has left its mark on me, I am definitely scarred by the whole thing. I wanted it to go away. I wanted to curl up, hide and to leave myself. To leave the body that had betrayed me. But I didn't. I am a stubborn wee so and so, and refused to let him win that way, so I picked myself up and soldiered on. To a degree. This was not the first time something like this had happened. Back in 2007, I was pinned down and raped by a man. I remember all of that. But again, I picked myself up and got back in the saddle of life. I moved on - though this time I didn't end up in hospital, just weeping in bed, terrified.

However, I still suffer aftershocks in the bedroom, from time to time, and am often reduced to a tearful mess when M tries certain things that in the past I have thoroughly enjoyed. I think this is my biggest fear in this whole thing. That I won't be able to forgive the gender he is choosing for a the terrible things that have happened to me. I don't see why I should not be able to do that, and I get angry when I can't, but the truth is is that when he shows signs of masculinity in the bedroom, I get frightened. He knows this, and is incredibly respectful, but what if he loses his ability to control that? I know that, as it stands at the moment, he won't but I'm scared. Genuinely.

However, I often tell myself that if this is the biggest worry I have, then I'm ok, you know? There are therapists out there that can help us through the difficult patches and we'll get there, I'm just not overly convinced of my own strength. I have very little confidence in myself, but I often pull through and come out up not just smelling of roses, but of chocolate and other delicious things. I have to remember that I am truly blessed, and not to let a few blips trip me up on the road to happiness.

Ok. The last couple of days have been hellish for the both of us. My period has been due and my hormones have been going crazy, so I have been a snippy little madam. That and Max, while he's on progesterone to prevent his own periods, he has been on what seems to be a hormone dip. I didn't realise and nor did he, I think, until I mentioned babies. I joked that one of my friends should father our children, and he went quiet and curled in on himself. I thought that this was because of some issues we'd had in the past, rather than anything he's going through. I thought I had done something wrong. I can be a little self-centred.

It's these things that I think I don't consider while I watch him changing. I see his confidence blossoming and blooming. I see his posture changing, and I see his smile growing and growing. And it's because of all this that I don't always think about the sacrifices he's having to make in order to become the man he wants to. He sees himself as having to give up carrying children. I know it has happened in the past where other transmen have carried children, but I think he feels it's not for him. It'd be too weird. No amount of my reassuring that I will carry our children (should we get that far) will quieten this sore wound, so I'm letting him breathe it out on his own. Or at least I'm trying to. I'm unfortunately the sort of person that, if you tell them not to talk about something, I will want to talk to them about it. It's needling at me. And with the period hanging about, the temptation to push it got the better of me. I know he really needs his space to feel, and I am trying to hard to give him what he needs. But sometimes my own needs push his out of my brain and so I pushed it.

I pushed him to see whether his quietness was my own fault. If I'd brought the question of children too soon, even though it was a flippant remark. I feel guilty for the tiniest things, and it gets worse when I am hormonal. The little voice would not stop pestering me. It was beginning to hurt, so I eventually asked why it was he didn't want to talk, and whether or not it was my fault. Then the stream of tears burst forth from his eyes and he just gently shook his head. This beautiful man was breaking, crumbling in front of me. My heart burst. Then the real guilt kicked in. After a bad attempt at comforting, we just lay beside one another in silence, with my mind reeling. I was an asshole. How could I not think that this would hurt him? I knew that in the past he'd planned to carry children with partners before me. How could I not think that this was something that he'd wanted to do, rather than just taken on the responsibility? How?

I'm currently feeling decidedly foolish and angry with myself. I just wish that I could make it all better, but I can't. So I am going to give him a break. I'm spending my whole evening out of his hair. I think I have to stay away, otherwise I'll want to pester him, and pestering him will just make things ten times worse. I feel awful. Just awful. I know that we'll come across more storms than this one (and we've weathered worse in the past) but this one is because of me. While it is not all my fault, the fact that he was faced with thinking about it is.

**Announcement!!***

Ok so, M's psychosexual thingummy has gone ahead, blood tests done, we are now just waiting for M to get the go ahead for testosterone. Basically, we need for the psych lady to tell his specialist that she agrees he's a boy (which she does) and then they need to look at his hormones and see how they can bring down the amount of oestrogen in his system and then bring his testosterone levels up to that of a mans. This fills me with excitement and trepidation. Let us not forget I am used to M's hormone balance as it is. I am a little concerned that this will mean that my lovely, soft, sweet-natured boy might turn in to some kind of horny, aggressive tyrant (I had an older brother who went in to 'smash it' mode when he hit puberty - which meant that nothing was safe, including me and my little skull). In reality, I don't think it will happen, but you hear some real horror stories. In truth, I think the specialist he's seeing will help regulate his testosterone levels so that he's not getting too much, and so will not become a horror.

Things I AM looking forward to are as follows: getting to document his bodily changes (he's agreed to let me take pics every so often, so hopefully you guys will get to see the journey too!!), learning how to inject him (yes folks, he's trusting me with his hormone administration!) and seeing how happy it will make him.

Also, I do have to remind myself I'm not in an Iain M. Banks novel, and that these changes won't take place immediately. This, though frustrating, is a comforting thing. Trust me. The last thing I want climbing in to bed with me is a suddenly hairy man, not after being used to having a delicately fuzzy bio-woman next to me. It'd be too much of a shock. I mean, I'd love it if the process could be dead simple and fast, for his sake more than mine. It'd be less painful and mean that he wouldn't get called 'Miss' all the time. But it does mean that the extra hair (if it comes) will come in fairly slowly, making the adjustment process more staged and simple. Which will also mean that learning to shave will be easier, from M's point of view. We have often sat, giggling, talking about how to shave. My dad taught me from a young age. There's photographic proof and everyfink. One day, when I feel brave enough, I'll post it. 'But S, why did he teach you?' you may well ask. Purely and simply, I was a Daddy's girl when I was little and wanted to be just like him, including shaving. He didn't question it, and purely smeared shaving foam all over my face, and kindly donated a disposable razor to me (with the safety cap still on) and showed me how, explaining about going with and against the grain. I can still remember this all very clearly. So, perhaps, when it comes to it, I can pass this knowledge on to M. Though 26 years of not shaving may mean I'm a little rusty!!

Anyway, I digress!! So, currently M is looking to start T in March, and then will (hopefully) be going in for surgery later on in the year. I actually can't wait for him to get his breasts removed. This sounds funny coming from me, but, well I want to be able to touch his body with (pardon the pun) gay abandon. I don't want to be constantly worrying whether or not my touch is upsetting him.

So, to sum up... he's one step further up the ladder and I am nervously excited about it all. As always. :) :) LET THE FUN TIMES COMMENCE!!