Neue

I was feeling down today. I'd spent most of the day sitting around the house, doing nothing, eating a little too much; basically mixing all of the common elements of sloth. I realized that remaining inactive any longer would probably make me depressed, so I went out and took a bike ride. It was great; I worked some of my tension off and I found a pair of super-cute angel wings lying in front of a Salvation Army drop box. Well, I guess that's technically stealing, but I'm not above stealing the inconsequential from the oblivious.

I've been wavering between determination and melancholy as of late. The revelation of my desire to transition from man to woman has had a lot to do with it. I feel so happy that I'm finally on the road to understanding a large part of myself that went mostly ignored, and that's improved my mood. But whenever I think about how very far I have to go to really put my decision into action, I get down on myself. I try to make strides every day, but many times I avoid certain essential elements. For instance: electrolysis. The only reliable method of permanent hair removal, and absolutely necessary for any male-to-female transsexual. I'd love to start; it's a painful process, but I know that I have an extraordinary tolerance to pain. The problem is that it's quite expensive, and I have no inward cash flow to speak of right now.

Of course, that's just the cosmetic side of things. I need to see a therapist, both so that I can get a referral to an endocrinologist for hormone therapy, and so that I can work out a lot of issues I have surrounding the big transition. The mind is a web, wholly intertwined within itself. I have issues, this I know. I want to work out as many of them as possible before beginning an undertaking of the magnitude that I am about to. It takes bravery, determination, and a clear sense of purpose; I know that I have the first two in spades, but the amount of old issues I'm dredging up merely by acknowledging my feelings of gender incongruity is large.

I'm having doubts, too. Part of this is due to the classic definition of Gender Identity Disorder in the DSM-IV (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th ed.) - it states that one must have a persistent, unavoidable feeling of their current sex not being right. I feel an unhappiness with the role I've been given to play, certainly. I know that, were I to have have a choice, I'd prefer to be a woman. But I wouldn't say that I've regretted my time as a boy and then a man; I've learned a lot of lessons that I might not have had I been born a girl. I feel more complete to be and feel both man and woman.

But if I were told in no uncertain terms that I had to live the rest of my life as a man, I know I would survive. I'm strong enough inside that I can handle anything. Ah, but do I want to pursue the rest of my life as a guy? Isn't that the question? Well, yes and no. On one hand, when I thought I'd be a guy forever, I expected to die early and violently. I felt this unreasonable, violent presence within myself, always fighting with my happy, loving, giving side. Every so often one or the other would become dominant for a while, and I'd become the bastard within or the redeeming healer.

Eventually, I decided that, to keep myself from being torn apart, I'd stike a deal between the two: I'd utilize my lust for violence to help others, somehow. As time went on, I realized that this was mildly unfeasible, as the only group regularly given opportunity or license to use violence for the greater good were the police/military, and I don't think I could enforce anyone else's ideal of justice. Now, I'm beginning to realize that the conflict of the aggressive and passive was partially the unspoken, subconscious conflict of the male and female pieces within me. The process of resolving this conflict is achievable alone, but it would be expedited and the confusion would be lessened if I were to seek the aid of a psychiatrist/psychologist/counselor/headshrink's relative objectivity.

The real problem is finding someone well-trained. Transgenderism, transsexuality, et. al are not common in-depth subjects necessary for a degree in the psychological disciplines. I don't want to be my shrink's first transgendered patient; it will limit the advice and care s/he will be able to give me, and I may run the risk of simply not being understood. I've asked around, and I've found a couple people in my city who are well-recommended, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to afford their rates. My alternative is to go through my HMO, which leaves the question of finding someone qualified to help me within the limited pool of doctors it makes available to me. So far I've been too afraid to go forward on this matter, even though it is most vital to my transition and my very survival. But the great advantage of the blog-as-psychotherapy is that, after writing my fears, I can get past them. Tomorrow begins the hunt for help. My fingers are quite crossed.