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!!

Gender pronouns

This is an unexpected issue on my part. I have become fiercely protective and yet highly confused about gender pronouns. I have found myself speaking about people I have always know to be female as 'him' and the other way round. This was initially quite funny to me, and M and I would giggle over it happily. Now, it's verging on frustrating. especially seeing as I have a MtF (male to female) friend whom I often talk about. I keep panicking that I'm being offensive to her and to M some how by getting this all muddled up. M insists that I am not, but I cannot help feeling that he's keeping these things to himself. It might be easier for him that way, as he knows that if I get distressed about it, chances are I'll do it more, because of my nerves (look at how I was with the wall in the post below). Who knows. Anyway... I've learned not to fuss about it. I will slip up. So will you, if you know people going through a similar thing. The more you relax about it and practise (sounds silly but I have spent the last month saying 'boyfriend' and so on a lot to get more used to the idea) the easier it will sound each time one of those words rolls off your tongue and hits the ether.

However, the protectiveness I'm finding hard to deal with. Initially, as posted, I was ok with my parents using his chosen name, but not necessarily using the right gender pronoun. Now, I'm finding it hard to bite my tongue with them. I know it is hard for them, but I can't help but want to scream at them that this isn't how you get to deal with this. I want M to feel comfortable when we go home, and I can't help but feel that if they don't at least try to use the right gender pronoun, it will eventually crack through his resilience and start to hurt him and knock his confidence. I don't want that. Nor can I cope with it. I found it hard enough when my mother constantly referred to my girlfriends as my 'friend' and this is ten times harder for them and us to deal with. But, I have to keep reminding myself, they do still welcome us in to their home, with an open-door policy and generosity of spirit. I'm just hoping that, as the years go by, this will fade. I think it will. I'm sure it will. I don't sound too confident, do I??

Friends tend to stumble and fall over it. That's fine with both of us. They met her as R and it IS difficult to remember when someone changes their name, let alone changing their name AND gender. But they are always apologetic, and then I comfort them with reminding them that I still get it wrong from time to time. That's fine. I don't worry too much about them, it's not out of some kind of lack of willing to face up to it (which is what I think my parents are doing) but more just habit-breaking. I don't think we can ask for more than that.

So, my advice (if I have any) to partners and friends of those transitioning is to practise and be patient with yourself, it won't come to you over night.

Love and snuggles,

S

What not to do

I had been experiencing a lot of worry about what I should and shouldn't be doing. Initially, I tried looking at blogs and Yahoo answers and so on in an attempt to understand what's right. That was wrong. If you're going through the same thing, then don't. It just confuses you further. M and I have discussed things at great length. Things from whether or not I should be touching his breasts to what I should call him when referring to things that happened when he went by his given female name. Some transmen will hate any reminders that they were born female, some don't necessarily hate it but there's an awkwardness surrounding it. My advice would be just to ask. M has a well rounded attitude to my questions and his past. I like it. It makes me feel like I can do this with him. I was so worried about upsetting him with various things, that I often panicked about things and felt stress when there needn't have been. His approachability makes things easier. We talk through everything, and have a laugh about most of it (esp when discussing sizes of packing dongs, as you can imagine).

I have been blessed, I suppose. But if there are situations that we don't know the answers to, we can resort to either other blogs, google, doctors, or the various groups/meetings that are in our area for help. Like, we know nothing about the legal side of things, so we're looking in to that at the moment. (Anyone know of any legal types working in that sort of area? Might be helpful to us)

Anyway, I must head off now... 

I was sitting, cross legged on the cold concrete floor of H9, listening to the president of the Drama Society spraff on happily about what the coming months had for us, when a strange person walked in. I wasn't struck by anything in particular, more this person's entirety. Even from a distance I could feel a soft warmth emanating from them. And a magnetism too - I was so compelled I didn't even really register a name! This tiny little thing waved happily at us all and talked a little about technical things. 'She's a tech geek,' I thought excitedly, 'I love tech geeks!' I could feel my cheeks burning in anticipation. I wanted to call her aside, to speak to her, to take her in. But I couldn't. For two main reasons. One, being that we were in a room full of 40 odd people, that would have looked odd, to say the least and two, I simply cannot talk to people I like properly. I say stupid things and walk in to walls, panic and sweat. So I decided not to talk to her, but to walk near her to the pub. A quick hello was murmured and on went my jacket and the various warm-keeping items that I had that day (it was two years ago, gimme a break!!) and I thought we could make the ten minute walk to the pub in a group. This would have meant that I would have remained silent and not walked in to a wall, or giggled like mad. However, I received an important phone-call and had to stay behind the gang in order to hear what the lady was telling me. And this enchanting being, not wanting me to be left behind (and also not knowing the way to the pub) decided to walk along side me. Cue panic. The first thing I did was almost walk face first in to a wall whilst talking on the phone (and desperately trying to avoid all eye contact with said lovely) which she dragged me away from said wall by the strap of my bag, then I stumbled in to a small hole, causing me to do an elaborate trip and flail madly about (yes, I'm still clutching on to this phone call and avoiding eye contact with my new companion). Then, as if by some miracle, the pub was in sight. 'If only I can get across the road without further incident then that will be fine.' And it should have been. It would have been, too, if that bloody road hadn't crept up on me, out of nowhere and plonked itself right in front of me. Yes, folks, I tripped on the tiny incline that roads are made with. The camber nearly killed me.

So despite all that (or because of all that, who knows?) she began to warm to me properly. I explained that my conversation with the lady on the other end of the call was about seeking information on dyspraxia. She agreed that this was a good idea after seeing the previously described display of sheer and utter clumsiness. What I didn't explain to her was that her presence was making me worse. Ten times worse. I wanted to die of embarrassment, but I also wanted to kiss her badly. So we began talking and she mentioned the disgusting g-word - 'Oh yeah my girlfriend recommended I join up for something to do with my time and training' or words to that effect. You can imagine my wish to die increased momentarily, but as soon I realised she was off the market, I relaxed. Well that and I had about 3 or 4pints of beer to still my beating heart and calm my flailing limbs. We talked almost exclusively all night about our lives. I could feel a friendship healing the wounds of my chipped heart. That, and I decided to play the long game!! A year of similar nights, break ups, get-togethers and various other things would fly in and before I knew it, we were tangled in each others arms on her bed after staying up all night listening to Amanda Palmer and Flogging Molly and talking.

Sweet, no? There is one slightly awkward twist (as the title of this blog page may reflect) she wasn't really what her biology claimed her to be. I had noticed over the time we were 'just friends' that she came over much more as a little geek guy. But, not wanting to assume anything, I kept quiet and merely expressed my own desires to dress up as a boy from time to time, just to test the water. This was met with curiosity and excitement. Then finally talk turned to gender dimorphism and I could really see the battle she was having with her gender. All I wanted to do was help. My heart lurched in about 42 different directions. So we would talk behind closed doors about packers and chest binders and the various options open to transmen. Then the night of the getting together happened and for me there seemed to be no going back. I was suddenly gloriously happy in this relationship with this gender confused person and it was, as all new relationships are, crushingly delightful. My heart had gone from being a sort of limp purply colour to bursting with skittles and electricity.

As those happy days soared by, it became even more apparent to him that he was indeed him. We wept together, held hands and I furiously swore to stand by him no matter what. I would wander into the fray with my hand tucked firmly in his, and with a set jaw. Nothing was going to knock me. NOTHING!!

And, ladies, gentlemen and any gender-queers out there, I can say that, so far, the only things that have made me wobble are really things like not fully comprehending the sheer amount of stress he's under while I struggle through my last year and a half of university and not really respecting that he doesn't always show his stress until it has been bottled for a while and then pops out and smacks me in the face in the middle of Waverly Station. Our families haven't necessarily understood, but they have now reached a level of understanding. My parents call him his chosen name, but still give him female gender pro-nouns. That's ok with me. And his parents, after some difficulty are coming round.

Our friends are a different matter. The response was COMPLETELY unexpected. I'll show you what I mean in a minute. We had spent time being careful to only mention it to one or two close friends as a tester to make sure that he and I both had people in our corner, and then we decided to make it public by outing him on facebook and the response... well the response was unbelievable, as you can see!! (if I manage to upload the thing successfully!!)

This picture helps both him and me through our tricky spots. Really. It's a constant reminder, that while things are hard and he may feel alone while I support him on his journey, he's not alone, and I am most definitely not the only one along on the ride with him. The support and warmth we feel from our friends is nothing short of over-whelming.

And so I will end here, and keep you all up-to-date with hormones and quibbles/wobbles. Thank you for taking the time to read this!