All posts by tearsnotweakness

Menstruation

I started my hormone treatment in August 2015 – got my first injection of testosterone August 26 to be exact. Thereafter I got an injection every 12th week.

I was lucky – very lucky, I’d say – in the sense that my menstruation/period decided to leave me alone right after that. And it stayed away too, I never had any trouble in that area. Until now…

Took some blood samples at the beginning of this year – as ordered by my doctor, to check that the treatment doesn’t mess with anything. A few (one?) values was a bit higher than recommended, so my doctor thought I should try taking the next two injections every 14th week instead – the next injection then landing in week 17, instead of week 15 – and then I’ll take new blood samples before the second injection (that’s week 31).

Something in their paperwork ended up wrong though, so I got information for taking new samples during week 21 – and a scheduled phone time with my doctor a week later (June 2) – instead of before week 31. I didn’t get any helpful answer when I tried to contact them about this, so I went and took the tests and talked to my doctor. Which I’m glad for right now, since it saved me the trouble of trying to get a time to talk to him about my new problem.

Five days ago (three days before the phone call with my doctor), I started to feel weird and I couldn’t figure out why – I wasn’t sick, so what was going on?

My stomach was slightly upset, bubbly if you will, my acne was worse, my back hurt without reason, and I had to go to the bathroom all the time and switch underwear too often (or try to clean/dry them with paper during work, when I didn’t have extra underwear available). Thursday night it hit me. I knew what was wrong.

My period’s back. These days I’ve been menstruating – with all it entails, except the blood. And I mean all; I need to use pads, because I’m leaking whatever that’s usually mixed with the blood during a period. And yesterday and today, the cramps decided to join the party too…

So, it’s good I got to talk to my doctor. I’m going back to taking my injections every 12th week again – so next time is week 29 – and before the second injection from now, I’ll be taking new blood samples.

Unfortunately, this probably means I’ll be having my period again in about a month – and if the injection doesn’t work miracles, I run the risk of having it at the end of July, beginning of August too (which would be really annoying since that’s the only time durint the summer I have plans to be away a few days).

So, I’m not the happiest person right now. I’m nearing two years on hormone treatment and haven’t had any mestruation problems, until now. All because my doctor thought it’d be a good idea to try switching up my injection schedule.

Am I allowed?

Am I allowed to be not completely satisfied?

I finally had my mastectomy – just a week and a half ago – and I oscillate between being thrilled and being not-quite-satisfied. And the second feeling usually leads to feelings of guilt and anxiety.

I couldn’t be happier about having had my mastectomy – and I’ll get another visit with my surgeon in a few months, during which we’ll see if there’s anything more that needs to be done, like e. g. liposuction. But I can’t help not being completely satisfied yet, even though I know I should give it more time before I make a final judgement. I’m still healing – my chest is yellow and blue, and it’s still a bit swollen. I’m not sure how much is swelling that will go down as the healing proceeds.

But.

As it looks right now, I’m not completely satisfied. I still have boobs. They may be tiny, especially compared to before, but it’s still boobs. I don’t want boobs. Not even small ones. I want to be able to wear a tight shirt, or no shirt, without feeling self-concious about boobs I shouldn’t have.

And yes, I know. Not all guys have flat chests. Most people have some padding (or whatever you want to call it). But trust me, this is not padding. This is boobs. And I’m skinny. I’m the underweight kind of skinny. So even small boobs – that might be small enough to just be natural padding on some people – will not feel, or look, like padding on me. It will look like small boobs. I’m feminine-looking enough that people won’t even question it. They’ll probably just see a regular girl with small boobs.

“Why care what other people think?”

I try not to. And a lot of times, I don’t. But it’s not only about what other people thinks. It’s about what I think and, more importantly, what I feel. And if I don’t feel right, if I feel that my chest is more boobs than just a chest, that will affect my confidence around other people. And when your confidence is playing against you, it’s hard as hell not caring what other people think.

It’s hard going against the norm when it comes to a thing like gender – most people grow up with the notion that you don’t need more than to look at a person to know their gender. And it’s exhausting to find the courage to correct people all the time – most exhausting is to correct those you see on regular basis, like co-workers. It’s not easier if you’re not satisfied with your own body, on top of that.

If your body doesn’t conform to the norm and you’re satisfied and happy with that, I couldn’t be happier for you!

I don’t care how somebody else’s body looks, no matter gender or non-gender. But I care about how my body looks in relation to how I feel it should look. And I’m not talking about whether it’s fit, healthy and with good skin, and the like – believe me, I couldn’t care less about calories, lotions etc – I’m talking about body parts.

I need my body parts to make sense to me. And boobs does not make sense on me, they’re unnecessary, in the way and just useless blobs of fat. I’m in no hurry to even make a decision regarding whether or not I want genital surgery – that’s not an area anybody else has any business being – but my boobs I’ve wanted to get rid of since my teens. (I’m close to 30 now, so it’s been a while.)

But I’m seriously nor sure I’m actually allowed to feel not-quite-satisfied-yet – I’m not unsatisfied, far from it, and I definitely don’t regret anything, and I know it might look different in a few weeks time. Not everyone gets the opportunity to even do a mastectomy, despite wanting to. And I’ve gotten no negative comments on my decision to do it, not from friends, family or work. I’ve been away from my work almost two weeks now, without problems, because of the surgery. I’ve gotten a lot of positive words and feelings from friends, family and work, during and after the surgery. A friend travelled to me and helped around my place the first few days after the surgery. Everything’s gone pretty smoothly over-all during and since the surgery.

So I should be satisfied.

I should feel satisfied just with having had it done.

I should at least feel satisfied with all this until the healing is done, and then see if I’m not-quite-satisfied.

But I can’t put the feelings off. I can’t help feeling them. I don’t want to feel anything but happy and satisfied right now. But I can’t help it.

It’s hard to have patience and not feel too much too soon, when it comes to major points in your life.

Hopefully it becomes less and less boobs as the swelling goes down. The dream is that it won’t look at all like boobs, and just like a chest, when the swelling’s disappeared – but I’m not counting on it. I don’t believe in that kind of luck.

Well, I’ll stop complaining now and go back to trying to stay on the happy side of things.

Have a nice weekend, everyone!

We’re all individuals!

I think there’s a huge misconception about trans* and ace people (including, but not limited to, asexuals, aromantics, demisexuals…) out in the world – despite more and more people trying to educate the masses, and more people being willing to listen. There’s still too many out there that think they know more than they do about individual, or all, trans* and/or ace persons. They know the “reason” behind why trans* and/or ace people are the way they are. It’s obviously because they’ve been raped or sexually assaulted in some way earlier in life…

I’m a transguy. I’m also ace, asexual to be exact. And I actually suffer from childhood trauma of the sexual kind – I wasn’t raped, but I was used in ways a child never should be used. It happened on several occassions, over a span of a few years, more exactly from around my seventh living year until I was around ten years old. I’ve written shortly about it in an earlier post (Dreaded appointment) and I have plans to write at least one other entry focused on it, when I feel mentally strong enough.

So, I have the kind of background that many believe is the norm for trans* and/or ace persons: sexual trauma.

But just because I am a transguy with trauma, doesn’t mean every other trans*person has a similar background!

But just because I am ace with trauma. doesn’t mean every other ace person has a similar background!

And my trauma isn't the reason for my gender or my sexual orientation!

Sure my childhood, and therein the unwanted sexual attention, has a lot to do with who I am today as a person. The trauma is probably the biggest reason for my social anxiety and my near-fear of body contact with other people.

And I can’t know if it’s had any impact on my feelings when it comes to gender and sexuality – but I know it’s not the reason behind my gender or my sexuality! Even if I can’t prove it or be sure of what kind of person I would be today without my experiences.

And if I can’t know for sure which impact the trauma has had on me, then you as an outsider sure as hell can’t know either. And this applies for every other trans* and/or ace person out there too – as an outsider you can’t possibly know more about them, their gender or their sexuality than they do themselves.

So just stop assuming things. Not everybody has the same kind of background. And one’s background – trauma or no trauma – isn’t up for discussion or there to be used to “explain” or “excuse” a trait of a person that differs from your norm.

I’m done for now. Have a nice weekend everyone!

Special day cancelled

Today was supposed to be a special, wonderful, scary day. But it didn’t go as planned.

I was supposed to finally have my mastectomy – but the hospital called on Friday last week and rescheduled it. Because they don’t have enough beds.

Sure, I only have to wait until March for my new time, but it’s still annoying. And it’s definitely affected my mood these days.

The weekend didn’t really help either – I went to visit my family (parents, siblings, nephews, the-like) – and spent most of the weekend being misgendered and dead-named.

Well, I can’t say the whole weekend was bad, because it wasn’t. I had fun with them to – played games among other things and we celebrated my little sister having finished her studies becoming a teacher – and I met up with a couple of close friends.

Enough about the weekend. It’s not really important. Or relevant. I just don’t like thinking about the cancellation to much, since it gets my mood very much down. But at the same time, I need to get it out of my system. I don’t like bothering my friends over and over with the same thing. And I don’t seem to be able to get stuff out with just talking and complaining about it. I need to write it down. And I need to start utilizing this blog more for that purpose. It’s not always as helpful as I’d like it to be to just write for and to myself. Here I can write for and to myself, and at the same time writing for and to whoever feels like reading.

Anyway…

I was supposed to get rid of the bothersome clumps of fat called breasts today. But now I have to wait for March to get rid of them. So I have over a month to agonize and worry about them rescheduling again. Yay…

I spent most of last week’s evenings sewing a few new shirt to use after the operation – since I probably won’t find it too comfortable pulling a shirt over my head for a while afterwards. I’m pretty happy with them and looked forward to using them. But now that have to wait. Technically I could still use them, but they’re made for no breast so using them now would mean; tight over the chest and breast too visible. So not a comfortable option.

Well, I’m going to spend the rest of the evening watching shows and ignoring my sadness as much as possible.

Hopefully you’re all having a greater night/day/week than I am.

Good night!

Anxiety

I haven’t updated in a while now, but since last I wrote here, I got my apartment to myself again. R moved in with his girlfriend on trial during the second week in March – he planned to stay there about three weeks, then come back for a couple of weeks before staying there a few more weeks – so they could see if it worked for them to live together. During the first weekend in April he came and picked up his things, apparently it worked between them and they decided to properly move in together right away – fine by me.

Today it ended between them. So R wrote to me and asked about coming back here in the beginning of May.

And I’ve spent the whole day after that near an anxiety attack. And every time I really think about having somebody else living here right now, I end up shaking.

Reason: I’m quite comfortable right now, with the apartment (that I’ve given a thorough cleaning), with my work placement (that’s going really well and I love), with my social situation (that’s pretty chill and completely on my own terms at the moment), with my personal projects (baking for my up-coming birthday, cosplay planning and making, costume making, other small stuff in the process of being created) – I’m not at a place right now where I want (or can handle) constant interaction with somebody else, I need to be able to be in my own world, my own space, without the presence of other human beings. Otherwise everything else – including my mind – will end up suffering. Because I can’t handle that right now. And I really don’t want to end up backtracking my well-being.

So I did one of the hardest things for me to do: I put myself first. I told R that I don’t think I can handle him moving back here right now. That I need to think about myself for the time being.

It took me many hours to send him my response, because I have trouble with putting myself first. I feel guilty and like I’m doing something wrong, even though I’m not.

He’ll get to store his stuff here, and I told him I’ll tell him if the situation changes.

It’s now the middle of the night (give or take a few hours, depending on your definition of “middle of the night”) and I can’t muster up the energy to get tired enough for sleep. My anxiety levels are too high, and I feel really bad about basically being part of R being homeless again. But I need to think about myself, about my own mental health, put myself first for once.

There’s nothing wrong with that, right? I’m not being too selfish, am I?

Stop having sex on my sofa!

Seriously? Again? In the middle of the day, with me in the room? Sure, I’m in my bed area, the shelves between us, headset on and watching stuff on my computer. But, really? Come on! Show some fucking respect! You told me yesterday that her being here wouldn’t disturb me or inflict on my day and space. You really think I’m comfortable moving around in my own apartment when you’re on the sofa bed having sex!?

Come on! I might like sitting in my little space with my computer, but that doesn’t mean I like not being able to leave the area whenever I feel like it – because I’m scared to let you know I actually can hear you!

I don’t like confrontation. Especially these kinds of confrontations! Just stop having sex in my apartment! Save that until you’re at her place! Please!

You’ve been together for a day or two. You can’t wait until the weekend to have sex? Or at least wait until you’re somewhere alone?

I’m glad I have early plans tomorrow. That’ll help me a lot in not letting her stay one more night. I need proper sleep tonight, after all.

So, how about you two stop having sex on my sofa bed and get dressed? So I actually can move around my own apartment freely?

Sexy times…

R’s girlfriend spent the night again. Well, I allowed her to do that (it is my apartment, and I’m letting R live here for free, so it is my decision only).

She went home yesterday as planned, but wanted to spent today with R (and see my cats again), because it’s her birthday today. I don’t see a problem with that, as long as she doesn’t stay too late since I need to get up early Tuesday. I’ll just ignore them and keep doing whatever I want to do (again; my apartment). Since she lives a couple hours away (or something like that), she asked if she could come back during the evening/night and sleep here again. Okay. That’s fine. I’ll just deal with not sleeping as well as usual one more night – I have trouble sleeping properly with strangers in the same room.

I live in a one-bedroom-apartment (with a small kitchen, hallway and a bathroom). The only thing separating my bed from the rest of the room is bookshelves – I’ve put them so I get an almost-bedroom and a livingroom around/outside it. R is sleeping on the sofa bed on the other side of the bigger bookshelves, so not really more than a couple of meters between us.

I regretted being kind a bit after going to bed and trying to fall asleep.

They started having sex. And this time I’m sure about it. Amongst the breathing and quiet moans, I heard things like “Can I come?” and “Is it good for you?”. I had to listen to her having four or five orgasms – not something I like listening to!

I don’t know what exactly they did. If it was just hands, oral, or full out penetrations. But that really doesn’t matter! Who the hell does something like that? I think it’s pretty respectless to have sex in somebody else’s apartment, on their sofa bed, in the same room as the one letting you stay over! Am I alone in thinking that?

And I’m too fucking chicken to make them aware of me still being awake. And too fucking chicken to tell R that I don’t want them doing that in my apartment – especially when I’m still at home. Doesn’t matter if they think I’m asleep.

It would be different if I was the one staying over at their place. Then I would have to accept them doing whatever they want. Since it would be their place. Not mine. But now it is my apartment they’re having sex in. With me almost right next to them.

Right now they’re laying on the sofa bed, still under the covers, talking. Naked. Yes, I know that they’re naked. They’ve showed enough of themselves for me to be sure about that. And they weren’t really discrete when undressing last night either.

Hopefully they’ll respect that I need to get up early tomorrow. I have work again and I start earlier than last week. I don’t want to have to remind them when it’s starting to get late. I want them to respect me enough to actually realise when it’s getting time for her to leave.

But I guess I’ll just have to wait and see…

Moving out?

So, my temporary roommate (let’s call him R) went out and spent some time with a group of people yesterday evening/night. When he got back, he had a friend with him – he asked if it was okay before bringing her. Apparently she’d missed her bus and couldn’t get home. They spent the night whispering and, I think, did some mild sexual stuff. Can’t say for sure, wasn’t really like I checked or saw them, it just sounded like it on her breathing from time to time.

(And who does that shit with someone else in the room? It feels so disrespectful.)

Today they’re apparently a couple – they decided to try it out, since they clicked and seemed to fit together. Whatever makes them happy. R will be spending some weekends at her place during the following weeks, and if everything works out he will be moving in with her instead.

If they work out, that would mean I get my apartment to myself again. And earlier than expected, since that would remove the need for R to find his own place. But time will show if they work together or not, in the meantime I’ll just keep on as if R will stay here until he finds an apartment (or until it stops working for me to have him here).

Happenings

There’s been a lot happening these last few months.

A couple of weeks before Christmas I had a conversation with a stranger at the bus stop near my apartment – a stranger that turned out knowing a friend of mine here, and somebody from my small hometown too. He is an older man, around 50 years  old, that’d become homeless that day. The person he’d been staying with wanted to be alone again – they’re still friends, just not able to live together anymore.

We ended up talking on the bus. In the end I offered him my sofa bed, so he didn’t have to live outside and hope to get a bed at the homeless shelter every night. He’s been staying here since then, while looking for his own place.

It’s going quite well – we’re pretty alike in some aspects, which helps I guess. Some times I miss my space (I have a pretty small apartment after all), but overall it works. I think it has a lot to do with him being very respectful of it actually being my place, and helping out with buying food and other things. He often tells me how grateful he is for being allowed to stay here.

During the first month, he told me he loves me. That threw me some. But he made it clear that he doesn’t expect anything back – no answer, no reciprocation, nothing. Which is good, ’cause I would not be comfortable saying it back. Because I can’t say it’s true, and I don’t believe in saying “I love you” without really meaning it – and knowing that I mean it. I actually have a hard time with love, I’m not sure I know how it feels to really love somebody (but I’ll probably write a proper post about that subject later – I started writing about it on paper a few weeks back).

Aside from getting a temporary roommate, I’ve been looking for work placement. Found a place that was willing to take me on, so I started earlier this week. Part time. But if it works out, it’ll expand to full time after a while. I’m placed at a school where I’m helping where needed in the hallways, class rooms and the school’s youth club. I’ve helped out in a few sewing classes, and from next week I’ll probably have a few sewing classes where I’ll be the “permanent” help.

Yesterday, I had my first meeting with the surgeon that will do my breast reduction. I’ll probably get a time for the first operation some time during the following three months – and I say first operation because there might be a second one, if there’s something that needs to be adjusted after the first one.

I’ve been on the hormone treatment six months, by the way. So there’s been some changes for me. I’ve gotten more body hair – pretty much everywhere – including more stubble (I’ve shaved a few times already). It’s not really going on a beard yet, but I can see that it’ll get there in the not so distant future. I’ve gained about 8 kilo, and my breasts have shrunk somewhat. One big downside is that I’ve gotten a lot of annoying acne, on the face and shoulders.

Oh yeah! My voice keeps changing, and breaking. My friends notice it more than I do, but it’s nice that it’s happening.

Well, that’s all I want to write about right now…

Boring life?

I live a pretty boring life. Most of my life I live through reading. I read almost all the time. It’s a great way to experience different things, without having to do anything. Without having to spend money I don’t have. Without becoming a victim for my social anxiety. Without having to really live.

But it’s a terrible way to live life. Because I don’t really experience anything. I don’t do anything. I don’t live. I hide away and ignore.

I don’t want to live a boring life. I have a lot of things I want to do. The thing I want to do soon, is travel to London and stay there 3-4 weeks. And I want to do this alone – or at least mostly alone, wouldn’t complain if someone I know is there only a few days too – because I want to enjoy it my way. By walking around and do nothing. By being able to make up my mind as I go. And at the same time, live, experience and make to most out of the trip. If possible I’d like to do this next year. But I don’t really think I’ll be able to do that, since I don’t have an income that allows for me to save money.

So, I live a boring life. But my life hasn’t really been boring, if you see to things I’ve been through (though I haven’t been through anything if you compare to others, but I try to not compare myself or my life with others). I’ve lived through being bullied, being sexually taken advantage of by my uncle, depression, moving far away by myself several times, being practically homeless, lost one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, coming out as transgender, and in over the years I’ve found a great community, rekindled a dwindled friendship, made great new friends, become stronger and developed as a person. And I’m currently working on my transition.

I might not have lived through big events or changes, or had an eventful life if you compare to some or if you look at the lives people live in books and movies. But I’ve been through both good and bad stuff, and if I were to write it all down, I might see that I’ve had an eventful life – even if it’s been smaller events. And I’m young still. So I’ll probably live through a lot more good and bad stuff.

My life feels boring, it feels like nothing ever happens and like I don’t even live sometimes, but if I really think about it? My life’s not really boring, it might be in a slump at the moment, but that’ll change. I’ll just have to do my best and work through it in the meantime. And look forward to the time when I actually can do the things I really want to do.

Until then, I need to learn to enjoy the lazy days and to let go of the pressure to find a job and to do this and that. Even as unemployed, I have the right to not think about it all the time. I have the right to do things, no matter how small, without feeling guilty or stressed over it. And it’s also alright for me not to have the energy to do things, or to not have the money to do things. I have my reading. And I have friends who understand my situation. I can live a boring life at the moment.

I just need to understand that boring isn’t necessary bad. And a day spent reading, doesn’t equal boring either. It is what I make it. And if I want to make my boring life less boring through reading, then that is what I’ll do.