I've finally reached a point my life where I'm not scared to walk out the front door. I'm no longer afraid to interact with people. I'm not afraid of what people will think when I *do* interact with them. The people around me don't know my past. They aren't clouded by that. When I introduce myself I am just Ali. No one questions it.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
New Laptop
So finally, after 26 years of life, I got my own PC. Of course this means that I may be able to blog more. Or not. Only time will tell. I'm moving to Stansbury Park this month. So after all that is done and everything has settled down MAYBE this girl will be blogging more.
Until then, enjoy thoughts of bunnies nibbling on carrots. ;)
Until then, enjoy thoughts of bunnies nibbling on carrots. ;)
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Catching Up
I suppose I have done a really poor job of keeping up on what's happening. Since my last post was on January 3, I guess I should start there...
Around that time is when I found out that my Doctor was arrested for performing late term abortions in Maryland. Honestly, I didn't think it would last long, but I started freaking out. What was I going to do? I only had one month left of my meds. Then, by chance while searching the internet I found a place offering to do a monthly clinic for trans* patients. So I called them up and made an appointment for January 27th, which happened to be the first clinic.
Between going to the clinic to meet my new Doctor and just waiting for the days to pass, I decided to get in contact with the Transgender Program Coordinator for the Utah Pride Center. We exchanged several emails and she gave me some contact info for one of the facilitators of a support group for trans* adults. After emails with her for a couple of days, I was scheduled to go down to the pride center and meet with her, then afterwards, stay for my first support group meeting.
The support group was great. I met some new people, whom I could relate to. Due to my anxiety I went in feeling like I was going to be completely out of place, but after a few minutes I was completely comfortable and we all just spent the next hour and a half sharing our thoughts on random topics. It felt a lot more like hanging out than anything.
About a week later I had my appointment with my new doctor. I really like her a lot. She was great to talk to and she just made me feel so comfortable. And the nurses are so nice there. She ended up raising my dose of estrogen, so I was pretty excited about that. Plus, she gave me a prescription for progesterone which is supposed to help breast development and growth.
A week later I was supposed to go to the support group again, but I ended up having a 102 fever and I just felt awful. So I stayed home and passed out kind of early, forgetting that I had parked my car out on the street. The next morning my car was gone. Towed. The neighborhood we live in has a policy that you aren't allowed to park on the street between 12 am and 6 am. Normally it is only patrolled during the weekends, which leads me to believe that one of my neighbors called the towing company. Either way it was $220 to get my car back. OUCH!
Nothing else eventful happened up until today. My phone rang and apparently my old doctor was let out of jail. She left a message about the office moving and that I was due for more meds. I guess she just expected those of us that went to her to not have any kind of back up...
So there we are. All caught up for the random events of January.
Around that time is when I found out that my Doctor was arrested for performing late term abortions in Maryland. Honestly, I didn't think it would last long, but I started freaking out. What was I going to do? I only had one month left of my meds. Then, by chance while searching the internet I found a place offering to do a monthly clinic for trans* patients. So I called them up and made an appointment for January 27th, which happened to be the first clinic.
Between going to the clinic to meet my new Doctor and just waiting for the days to pass, I decided to get in contact with the Transgender Program Coordinator for the Utah Pride Center. We exchanged several emails and she gave me some contact info for one of the facilitators of a support group for trans* adults. After emails with her for a couple of days, I was scheduled to go down to the pride center and meet with her, then afterwards, stay for my first support group meeting.
The support group was great. I met some new people, whom I could relate to. Due to my anxiety I went in feeling like I was going to be completely out of place, but after a few minutes I was completely comfortable and we all just spent the next hour and a half sharing our thoughts on random topics. It felt a lot more like hanging out than anything.
About a week later I had my appointment with my new doctor. I really like her a lot. She was great to talk to and she just made me feel so comfortable. And the nurses are so nice there. She ended up raising my dose of estrogen, so I was pretty excited about that. Plus, she gave me a prescription for progesterone which is supposed to help breast development and growth.
A week later I was supposed to go to the support group again, but I ended up having a 102 fever and I just felt awful. So I stayed home and passed out kind of early, forgetting that I had parked my car out on the street. The next morning my car was gone. Towed. The neighborhood we live in has a policy that you aren't allowed to park on the street between 12 am and 6 am. Normally it is only patrolled during the weekends, which leads me to believe that one of my neighbors called the towing company. Either way it was $220 to get my car back. OUCH!
Nothing else eventful happened up until today. My phone rang and apparently my old doctor was let out of jail. She left a message about the office moving and that I was due for more meds. I guess she just expected those of us that went to her to not have any kind of back up...
So there we are. All caught up for the random events of January.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Questions
Before I begin it is important to note that to my knowledge the people I work with do not know I am trans. Or that I am female. It just doesn't ever come up. I would love more than anything to just be open and myself, but I need a job. I am terrified that if I come out at work, I will lose my job. It is, perhaps, an irrational fear, but I can't seem to shake it.
However, while sitting at work doing my job, it occurred to me that my employer and co-workers probably already know. I was thinking back on things from a year ago, and even farther back up to 5 years ago. They don't treat me the same way anymore. For example, if I were to complain that I was too cold, a couple of years ago, I would have most likely been met with the sentence, "Stop being a pussy."
Lately, when complaining about the same thing, I am told nothing more than "Turn up the heater." It isn't just these things that causes me to question whether or not they actually know. Basic human curiosity should be at play here. "Why don't you ever cut your hair?" "Why do you paint your nails?" "Why do you look so different?" I have been asked all of those questions. Just never by the people I work with. People are curious creatures. They have to have some sort of curiosity about it...
Especially when I talk about why I can't drink. That it's because of my meds. No one ever bothers to question this. I still have people, who know and now only know me as Ali, ask me why I can't drink. Or maybe they really just don't care. I have kind of a hard time with that, though. I've known these people for 5-7 years.
Curiouser and curiouser...
However, while sitting at work doing my job, it occurred to me that my employer and co-workers probably already know. I was thinking back on things from a year ago, and even farther back up to 5 years ago. They don't treat me the same way anymore. For example, if I were to complain that I was too cold, a couple of years ago, I would have most likely been met with the sentence, "Stop being a pussy."
Lately, when complaining about the same thing, I am told nothing more than "Turn up the heater." It isn't just these things that causes me to question whether or not they actually know. Basic human curiosity should be at play here. "Why don't you ever cut your hair?" "Why do you paint your nails?" "Why do you look so different?" I have been asked all of those questions. Just never by the people I work with. People are curious creatures. They have to have some sort of curiosity about it...
Especially when I talk about why I can't drink. That it's because of my meds. No one ever bothers to question this. I still have people, who know and now only know me as Ali, ask me why I can't drink. Or maybe they really just don't care. I have kind of a hard time with that, though. I've known these people for 5-7 years.
Curiouser and curiouser...
Thursday, December 22, 2011
My World
"Welcome to my world, where everyone I ever need always ends up leaving me alone" -Sick Puppies
This seems to ring true. Not for my family, although apparently my sister seems to not want anything to do with me, but for people I meet in normal situations. I feel like I have a very easy time of meeting people and getting to know them, but then when I drop "The Bomb" on them my feelings, and even existence, are suddenly irrelevant.
For me it is important to let people I might want to get involved with that I'm am transgender. I'm being honest with them up front. In general no one cares at first, but you can always tell when someone backs off because they found out something they can't get over. Honestly I don't mind. It's better to have them back off before there is a chance for attachment.
I just didn't realize that it would be so difficult to find someone who was okay. Who could see me for who I am and not what is between my thighs. I get it, you aren't gay, but I'm not a gay man either. I'm a pansexual woman. It isn't rocket science. I want to be held and kissed just like any other woman. I would love it if someone wanted to make a fool of their-self by singing an off tune song to me.
Yet it seems like everyone I meet that damn little bastard is a deal breaker. Go figure. A fighter to the bitter end.
Anyway, rant off. Enjoy my theme song:
This seems to ring true. Not for my family, although apparently my sister seems to not want anything to do with me, but for people I meet in normal situations. I feel like I have a very easy time of meeting people and getting to know them, but then when I drop "The Bomb" on them my feelings, and even existence, are suddenly irrelevant.
For me it is important to let people I might want to get involved with that I'm am transgender. I'm being honest with them up front. In general no one cares at first, but you can always tell when someone backs off because they found out something they can't get over. Honestly I don't mind. It's better to have them back off before there is a chance for attachment.
I just didn't realize that it would be so difficult to find someone who was okay. Who could see me for who I am and not what is between my thighs. I get it, you aren't gay, but I'm not a gay man either. I'm a pansexual woman. It isn't rocket science. I want to be held and kissed just like any other woman. I would love it if someone wanted to make a fool of their-self by singing an off tune song to me.
Yet it seems like everyone I meet that damn little bastard is a deal breaker. Go figure. A fighter to the bitter end.
Anyway, rant off. Enjoy my theme song:
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
I Just Want My Daddy
A few days ago Ayden lay in bed talking to his mom. I could hear the murmurs, but couldn't make out the conversation. A little while later Amanda yells for me to come into her room. "Ayden thinks it's his fault that you are a girl," she says, "He says you should cut your hair and just be his daddy."
If you heard a shattering on December 12th late at night, it was likely my heart breaking for my child. I had to lay down next to him and explain that it was in no way his fault. I added that it was no one's fault. That I just need to be a woman. With tears in my eyes, I had to explain to a five year old that he has an Ali. And she loves him very much.
The next day several things went through my mind as I cried to myself at work. Maybe I could stop. Stop my hormones, unlearn any feminization that I have picked up, purge my clothes and just go back. To make my son happy. Why not? I already spent 26 years hiding my feelings, hiding ME. What is another few years for my child?
Of course, that was absurd... He is only five. He has no way of knowing how broken I was, or would be if I went back. To me, it is better for him to have a transsexual parent than no parent at all. Because, surely, if I were forced back into being male I would be catatonic with depression. I've had a taste of happiness finally, and that makes me better able to be a functioning parent.
Still, it makes me sad. If only it were as simple as cutting all my hair off, and just being a daddy... I know that in time he will better understand. For now, I suppose that I will just have to be the best Ali I can, and show him that there is no one on this planet that I love more than him.
If you heard a shattering on December 12th late at night, it was likely my heart breaking for my child. I had to lay down next to him and explain that it was in no way his fault. I added that it was no one's fault. That I just need to be a woman. With tears in my eyes, I had to explain to a five year old that he has an Ali. And she loves him very much.
The next day several things went through my mind as I cried to myself at work. Maybe I could stop. Stop my hormones, unlearn any feminization that I have picked up, purge my clothes and just go back. To make my son happy. Why not? I already spent 26 years hiding my feelings, hiding ME. What is another few years for my child?
Of course, that was absurd... He is only five. He has no way of knowing how broken I was, or would be if I went back. To me, it is better for him to have a transsexual parent than no parent at all. Because, surely, if I were forced back into being male I would be catatonic with depression. I've had a taste of happiness finally, and that makes me better able to be a functioning parent.
Still, it makes me sad. If only it were as simple as cutting all my hair off, and just being a daddy... I know that in time he will better understand. For now, I suppose that I will just have to be the best Ali I can, and show him that there is no one on this planet that I love more than him.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Not The Momma...
I love my son more than anything. I do so much to try and keep him on a path to being a happy young person. This includes being the "Bad Cop" when the situation calls for it... This means that when he doesn't get his way he hates me. Or I'm not his parent. Or he's not my son. That is all fine because I know he's upset and doesn't mean it.
What gets to me, is when he is totally fine and in a good mood, yet he insists I'm not his mother. He says his mom is his favourite. That I'm just his "Ali". That he doesn't care what I think or feel. I never even asked him to call me mom. In fact, it was my idea that he call me Ali. I will admit that I hoped he would want to call me mom, and that it would be okay with his mom. So I guess I can't really complain...
It just hurts to know that my own child cares so little for me. It also hurts that his mother doesn't ever help with the Bad Cop role. I don't always want to be the one to tell him he can't have a toy everytime we go to the store...
What gets to me, is when he is totally fine and in a good mood, yet he insists I'm not his mother. He says his mom is his favourite. That I'm just his "Ali". That he doesn't care what I think or feel. I never even asked him to call me mom. In fact, it was my idea that he call me Ali. I will admit that I hoped he would want to call me mom, and that it would be okay with his mom. So I guess I can't really complain...
It just hurts to know that my own child cares so little for me. It also hurts that his mother doesn't ever help with the Bad Cop role. I don't always want to be the one to tell him he can't have a toy everytime we go to the store...
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