Number 44

Therapy is Hard F*cking Work

Do you remember a few posts ago (#41), where I discussed getting triggered by something at the end of my therapy session and concluded by writing that we'd probably be discussing it later? Well, today was later. Oh boy was it later.

As honest as I normally am in these posts, I can't go there right now, so I'll have to write about this in generalities. I am raw and unsettled for reasons that I can't quite name. In the middle of the session I found myself seriously breaking down. The cause: doubting out loud if I really was a transgender woman. It was a thought that seemingly came out of no where, and it knocked me for a huge loop. I thought I'd regained my composure by the time I left, but as soon as I sat down in my car, I began to hyperventilate. I've never done that before. Because I feel safe at the doctors' offices, I decided to go back in and sit in the waiting room until I felt more in control. And then I started writing.

Who am I? It sounds like a question for philosophy 101, doesn't it? I thought I was sure of my answer when my therapy session started today, but as we proceeded that question started to get tossed around like a beach ball in a wind storm.

(maybe I should back up a little)

For 50 years I thought I was one thing. I related to the world around me and interacted with people based upon that idea. All of a sudden, one year ago, I don't just upset the proverbial applecart. I go after it with a sledge hammer and a blow torch. "I'm trans", I announced to the world. Internally, my self identity snapped into focus when that happened. Things in my life that never made sense, all-of-a-sudden did. "Peace at last", I thought. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!! Wrong.

Transitioning from one gender to another is many things, but easy isn't one of them. I've said, rather naively as it turns out, that there are three parts of transitioning: (1) physical; (2) psychological; and (3) legal. While that's basically true, the reality is that each one of those three words packs a powerful punch. In other words, there's a shit ton of stuff that happens on all three fronts.

The physical and legal areas, while complicated and challenging, are at least fairly straight-forward. They both have concrete things that have to be completed, but once each thing is done, it's done. The psychology of transitioning, however, is a mother*cker.

(let us now return to our regularly scheduled blog post, already in progress)

Second-guessing yourself is a type of thinking that can be quite debilitating. It freezes forward progress and leads to self doubt. I look at myself in the mirror and thoughts like "you're no woman", or "who do you think you're kidding?," begin to creep in. Their assault is relentless. The fact that it's so ingrained in me to think about myself one way (i.e. as a male), gives those thoughts fertile ground to grow. They're insidious. They require that I go back and remind myself that my decision to transition is true and correct (it really is!) It's hard work, and there are times when the negative thinking holds the upper hand. Like, for instance, in therapy today.

It doesn't help that this negative thinking happens at the same time that I feel jealous of cis women for a variety of reasons; while at the same time I crave the acceptance and encouragement of the same cis women. These thoughts often reinforce my negative self image.

And that's where I stall out today. Right now, this is a puzzle with missing pieces, and I am, in general, greatly frustrated when I don't know the answers to questions I am asking. I know I must be patient with myself, and that I need to treat myself with more kindness than I typically do, but it's so, so, so hard.

Number 43

Friendship

A friend from high school - my oldest friend - responded to my transition news by saying, in effect, that after her initial surprise, she thought it made a lot of sense. I thought that was a rather provocative statement, so I asked her to clarify it. She described a relationship between two teenagers that didn't have sexual overtones, and upon reflection, was almost 'sisterly'. I mention that my friend is heterosexual only to also remind you that I was masquerading as a heterosexual male at the time (very successfully, I might add - I fooled everyone, including myself for 50 years). The funny thing is, I did, in fact, have a huge crush on her at the time. I guess I hid that well.

But here's the thing. She's right. Even though I pined for her, our relationship did not have sexual overtones. We were both horny teenagers in our own right, but that never clouded our interactions with one another. This is not something I considered way back then, but thinking about it now leads me to the following stunning insight: "huh."

Upon further reflection, though, what I think is that maybe this was my first experience of the closeness and intimacy of a friendship between two women. Whether it's nature or nurture or some of both, there's no question that women experience friendships more keenly than men. It's really interesting (and kinda cool), to think I had that going on way back then.