Shit kickin' boots.

I channeled my inner redneck for Ladies Night.

I dressed for the part, right down to my dog tag I wear every day with utter pride.  It's the one I received from the Queer Arts Festival this summer.  You remember the one?  The Queer As Fuck award!

One this day, I felt it was the perfect accessory for my power suit.

Every day, I dress in my prettiest clothing, sometimes wackiest colours, to make my femme presence known.

This time, I didn't want to wear it for shooting guns.

I did the last few times.  It's fine to wear a skirt, but from this point forward, I feel that I must don my jeans and boots.

I pulled every little eyelet of my 'Sidekick' Dayton Boots taut.  I exerted myself, as I wrapped that stout leather around my ankles and shins.

That of course was after I'd slithered into my tightest, most badass jeans I have.

This was not a night for my Dominican jeans with rhinestones on the ass pockets.

No, this was a night for Diesel Indian, Bootcut jeans.

They pull my figure into a tiny little package of strength and 'don't mess with me' attitude.

You could never pull the femme from me, so I still felt pretty with my locks hanging down around my shoulders.

In order to fit in the with the bio-boys, I especially chose my camo sweatshirt to wear nice and snug under my riding leather.

Of course, I no longer have a license to ride my motorcycle, or any other vehicle for that matter.  Even if I did, my dearly departed bike was killed in the motorocycle accident.

Still, I kept my leather jacket.  Only problem is, as I went into the closet in Our Closet, I realized it's in storage!

I had to settle for my black jean jacket with a few lacy bits behind the buttons.

No matter, because all together, they give me a certain amount of strength.

My boots hold my feet firm on the ground, with their sturdy heels.

Not to mention their pointy tips, that are seriously good for the off-chance that I may need to kick someone in the balls.

Strength.  I'm searching for my strength.

It's my power suit.

She means business.

When we arrived at the shooting range, I walked in with confidence.  Every boot step sounded as I crossed the floor.

It was like I was wearing a red dress.

It was my space.

My night.

When I shot those tiny silver bullets from my .22, the gun ranger realized he didn't need to help me, saying, "you're really doing good!" then turned his focus on My Gratitude Buddy and my friend I got to know a little better.

They're another member of the Pariah Club.  They fit in just fine.

The only thing I needed the gun ranger to do for me, was load me another cartridge so it was ready for my next round.

Of course, my two buddies were in it for the fun, as they shot their 357 Magnum.  I stuck to my .22 and 9mm.

If you didn't see the outcome of my new shooting expedition, you have to take a peek at it from yesterday.

I'm getting better.

I'm finding my strength.

I'm finding more confidence.

I'm finding that I WILL be protecting myself without any hesitation.

With that, I'm finding more peace.

I'm also finding a new bond with my shit kickin' boots.

i have only positive mental pictures

clearing things up.

So, yesterday, I was really hurried in my writing and was also on a hefty dose of pain killers first thing in the morning and I created a bit of a wave in TransLand.

I believe the combination was a bad mix, and I unintentionally hurt people by my words.

I hope to clear things up for you with the 3 topics that have been brought up on my Facebook page both publicly and in private messages.

topic #1

I was speaking about how I am attracted to butches, but that I see I am also attracted to trans guys.

I am not attracted to bio-males, where as some women and men are.

We are all different, and I brought up my baby sister, when first faced with my coming out of the closet, was trying to learn from me.

I used my past of dating only butches to segue to the present and people thought I was saying my love is a butch.

My love is no longer a butch, and I'm still as attracted to him as I was the day I married that butch.

Presently, I am seeing that I am attracted to people with multi-leveled energies, like my love.  I am attracted to the beauty in people's vast differences in being.

topic #2

When I said 'people ... blah blah fucking blah ... freaks', I was really talking about the zealots who like to picket our lives with their signs of Jesus burned to a crisp on a cross at our Pride Parade in the great U S of A.

'They' call gays and lesbian freaks.  'They' call trans people freaks.  'They' call me a freak because I'm attracted to butches, and trans guys.

They can fuck off, because from what I've seen at Gender Odyssey, there's a whole lot of love and acceptance in this world, and their hatred will soon be squashed by the love the world has.

Really, all I wanted to say was, I'm in that boat with all the people I fit in with.  We're all in this together, and it has nothing to do with what anyone else sees us as.

For instance, I am not a 'straight' woman, but I'm seen as such.  Papi is not a woman, and he is not seen as such, luckly for him.

He is seen as the male he has always felt was there, and I'm attracted to my love, but I was afraid I wouldn't be.

I found attraction for another person who carried that energy.  A male being who had a spark of different energy from another part of him.

That made me feel so good, that I could recognize this, and I tried to write about it.

Not everyone would be attracted to the same people I am and I do not think that everyone who is trans has both energies.

I am at peace with my queerness, and see the pattern in my life where, in THE PAST I've had so much attraction for trans guys when they were a 'butch'.

There is no malice meant from my post yesterday, but there were feelings that I had insulted people, because I didn't see others as the beings they are, which is incorrect. 

topic #3

Now.  About the 'tranny' word.  I will continue to stick to my guns and call dykes, fags and trannies as such in a general way, as long as they don't want to be personally called that.

Papi likes to be called that.  The dudes I met at Gender Odyssy like to be called that.

Some people don't and I would never call them that, yet still, as general blabbing here on my blog, I am not using the word in a derogative manner, but more like I would use dyke or fag.

We have taken back dyke and fag, and we use it with adoration and pride.  Why the hell can't tranny be taken back and used for strength?!

I'm not spitting venom when I use the word, and I use it pretty much the same as I would use dyke or fag.

new business/bonus topic #4

Perhaps I shouldn't write my blog in a hurry on pain killers?

I hope I cleared things up from yesterday, and if not and you're still pissed at me, well, as much as I love you stopping by, all I can say is, you are the one making the choice to be here reading.

today's daily mantra comes from my gratitude buddy:

mastakes teach you important lessons.  every time you make one, you are one step closer to your goal.

Aping the apes.

A wedding with guns!  Well, the groom had a knife, but the rest of them had guns.

I felt so much for Papi, as it was a difficult social time in the 'man zone'.  He's still learning how to fit in with the bio-males.

He relates more to the women, and sometimes, the man on the arm of a woman will react a little adversely, confusing my love's 'relating' with more than friendly chatter.

My love expressed his feelings about his strife and all I could come up with was, "I think you should just ape them.  Whatever they do, you do."

He had good practise with the suffering addict at our reception table.  That poor soul was so hammered, he just kept giving mi esposo fist bumps along with the occasional, "Dude!  Right?!"

Sometimes, for no reason at all.  He'd just come out of his stupor to join in the conversation for a moment and agree with whatever was being presented at the time.

None-the-less, he was a great practice person for Papi.

My love looked so handsome.  I was proud to be on his arm.

Especially, when the typical 'mean girls' in the parking lot didn't like the fact that my dress was hugging and exposing every curve of my healthy figure.

Oh, how I had my booty out proud yesterday.

I suppose those catty girls didn't like it, and when they were being the usual 'point and gossip bitches', my love silenced them with an aggressive, "Knock it off," in Papi's way of meaning business.

I couldn't be bothered to look and see if they adhered to his warning.  All I cared about was that my love was proud of how I looked as well.

I'm getting more accepting with being seen as the straight couple.  At least we're donned in tattoos, and don't look like the 'normal', conservative couples that were looking toward us with curiosity.

It will definitely make life easier in the Dominican Republic.

On our last visit, I was accosted by homophobic bible thumpers who told me if I prayed, their god would take away my being gay.

It took everything I had not to fight with them.  I know that this will be my biggest challenge when we're there.  The religious zealots are everywhere.

Even at the wedding last night, I had a very difficult time, when before we ate, they gave a prayer for food.

They asked us to stand and bow our heads.  I cringed, sarcastically sighed and rolled my eyes at their 'oh heavenly father' thanks for food.

I would rather thank The Chef Extraordinaire for their hard work.

I seriously just found my ability to understand my own spirituality over the past couple of years.

The accident woke an aspect of my belief system, but when faced with the crap I had to grow up with, I get a rather repugnant taste in my mouth.  Not to mention the little grunts of 'oh for fucks sakes' will sneak out when I'm not paying attention to my mouth.

My love will give me the eye of 'don't be a bad one, honey', coupled with a nudge, that will nip my discourse in the bud.

So, I stood.  I bowed.  I behaved.  Still, I cussed them all in my mind, while concealing it with a smile.  I find it quite offensive that anyone would force another person of a different belief to pray to their god.

That's another reason I'm grateful to have found such connection with Judaism.  Their belief is that you don't actually say 'god's' name.

That's perfectly fine by me.  I'm happy when I don't have to follow the rules of my upbringing.

I remember being knocked upside the head for saying the usual teen phrase of, "Oh my god!" with that valley girl drawl we would all have.

"Don't you use the lords name in vain," I would hear as my head took a whoopin'.

Anyway, I survived their prayers to zombie Jesus and ate their amazing meal, appreciating every bite with my own gratitude for food, and the enjoyment of sharing a beautiful day with two people who allowed Papi and I to hear wedding vows all over again.

I found us nodding our head to some of the words during the service.

For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

Love is all you need.

i feel fulfilled and joyful

Broken Cat Dream

So, there I was, enjoying my coaching for Ladies Rock Camp.

Seriously. 

Really, really enjoying my coaching.  I feel like Momma Bear helping her cubs.

They are amazing!!!!!

I can't wait to see them perform their song for an audience!!!  The audience is going to love them!  The buzz of energy within them reminds me of why I enjoyed music so much from the beginning.

As we become professional, sometimes, we think too much about what we're doing.

I saw that I can calm down a bit and just enjoy myself.  I don't need to worry about being the best.

All I need is emotion.

... lord knows i have enough of that to spare ...

Anyway, as the gregarious singer sang this one line, "You're just a fucking man!!!!" I giggled at the voice emoting the angst that so many women feel.

Yes, this line was sung with the most feeling.

It was a bit silly and angry, yet bonding with the strength of super glue for all the band to sing along to.

A short while later, it was time for quiet practise.

We left the dark, dank bar to the outside picnic table to hash out formula and lyrics, and I immediately had thoughts of what I started to deal with recently.

You see, right beside us, there were about 10 men building a skateboard ramp.  While it was pretty cool to see their creation, I was grateful I wasn't a young, 20-something, pretty, young girl alone amongst them.

I have been thinking about things I avoid because of fear, anxiety or P.T.S.D.  One thing I avoid?  Being around a group of strangers, who happen to be bio-males.

I won't go into details as to why, but being a girl, I am sure you can figure it out.

Well, here was my band, outside and oblivious to the men beside us, growling 'You're just a fucking man!!!'

I started laughing and they really didn't get the punch line, until I commented, "Seriously.  I can't even tell you what this means for me right now.  You have no idea how this is making me feel."

Ladies Rock Camp is about empowering women.

If there was a woman who needs reminding of empowerment, it's me.

I'm always looking for more strength in this world that seems to be a man's world for so many of us.

Not today.

These girls reminded me that we have so much power.

We can sing together and enjoy ourselves.

These women really made my heart feel elation.

They made me part of their journey of music.

They made me feel like I was a big part of their experience.

Really, they don't get that they did everything on their own.

All I did was lead them there a little faster with my experience.

They did it all.

Never having picked up an instrument, they started Friday afternoon to learn their chops and wrote their own song that they will be performing today.

This.  This is worth my time this weekend.

This has made me see the power of music and the simple, pure joy it brings us.

Oh!  The name of the band I'm coaching?

Broken Cat Dream.

Very serious.

Very, very serious band.

... taking my tongue out of my cheek now ...

we are only limited by our own imagination.  let it fly!

Hello PeeCock!

May is here!!  Still, that doesn't mean the warm is here yet.

You know, people all over the USA believe that we live in igloos and they're not far off.  We live in houses here in Vancouver, but dammit, I'm still donning a fucking parka.

There are ominous clouds outside that look like they're preparing for the climax of a Stephen King novel.

My bitch of a back told me the black billows of 'brrr!' were rolling in without me even needing to open my eyes this morning.

Lord knows I won't be doing anything for The Great DR Purge today.

However, I did get a lot done yesterday. 

We're going through things and getting rid of stuff.  I'm also finding little gifts to give away as I come across my nice things that people may want.

As Papi and I were going through the jungle of shelves he has, we were re-arranging things to be more organized.

Well, I was trying to organize.  Papi was just interested in being a Tranny Terrorist for the day.

"What do you want me to do with your tampons?"

I'd prefer if he'd just leave them where they were, but quite quickly after asking his question, he answered it for me.  "I'll just put them on my penis shelf."

All I could do was calmly negate his offer, "Sure sweety, because that's the first place I'd go looking for them."

... seriously?!?! leave those fuckers where i had them!! ...

The last thing I need is to be wading through penes to find what I need to put up that hole in that monthly emergency.

Or in my case, my every 3 weeks emergency.  How the fuck did I wind up with a body that likes to torment me so often?!?!??!

... sorry if that was tmi for ya boys ...

Anyway, one of the reasons the penes were out to play is because Papi is going away for a week to his sister's wedding in Mexico.

Remember that happy dance?

Anyway, he's going to be a needing to get his PeeCock action going again, because he has to pass as a bio-male when he gets into that male washroom amongst the drunken college boys in Mexico.

It's time to practise once more.

I've got the handy dandy clean up wipes ready for action for when the bathroom gets messy again!

My love is out of practise since all the surgery hell begun.

He's afraid that he'll make a mess all over himself in the washrooms at the resort.

There's a simple way to deal with that and I told him, "If you make a mess, just jump back into the ocean!"

Besides, at resorts, people are half cut by noon anyway.  As if they'll even notice a little leak here and there.  They'll be too busy waiting for the bar to open.

My love was packing to get ready for his week of R&R last night.  He's not even leaving for another 2 weeks.

Anyway, seeing my love get up and move around for his exciting week away from reality was lovely.

I spend every second I can with Papi while he's up.  He is still sleeping so much from the pain, healing and depression, that I miss him, even though I can look at him while he sleeps.

He's now working on his diet, because he's found out he has food allergies.

I'm working double time to try to find foods that I can make for my my love to keep him on the upswing and eating properly for his new regimen.

Apparently, I did well with the gluten-free, dairy and egg free banana bread I made him.

I'm thinking his little burst of energy this week was because he took those nasty foods out of his system.

I'll keep you posted on that one I'm sure.

Because we all know I love to talk about food.

i am healthy since my practises are healthy

Crying Sucks.

Sometimes, it really hurts.

Basically, my mother has chosen her husband over her daughter.

Can't blame her.

She's had such a rough upbringing being beaten by nuns and living with certain dysfunctional family members could really screw someone up.

Then being knocked up by my deadbeat dad would've given her more issues.

So, she met Mr. Homophobia and they're living happily ever after.

She's not even so much as allowed to speak her dirty disgusting dyke daughter's name, or the man of the house who rules the roost will start a fight with her.

She can only see me when she has managed to get out of the house without him knowing she's coming to see me.

So, I don't really have a relationship with my mother.

But it still really hurts when I see my baby sister talking about going to her house for dinner tonight.

I should know better than to be hurt by it.

If I allow this to affect me each and every time, I'll only be harming myself.

I get to go to Swiss Chalet with the most wonderful spouse there ever was, and a crazy old bird who will make it quite interesting.

Why the hell would I even want to be over there with Mr. Homophobia?!?!?!

My love doesn't hold grudges like I do.

... yup. another one of my shortcomings that i have to deal with ...

However, my love would never disown his own daughter because his spouse told him to.

Good god!

It just happens everywhere to me!

In my 'community', within my friends, in my family life and even strangers who believe the lies all of the above say about me.

I'm lovely goddamit!

Why do I get ousted all over the fucking place!!!!!!!

No fucking wonder I want to run off to some 3rd world country and start new.

I would rather be with goats.

Knowing my luck I'll get the only fucking goats that know how to judge me as well.

So, while I sip my coffee, hoping that my artificial happiness will stop my tears from burning my skin, I have to remember that my life is what it is.

Never ending extremism.

Either really, really good, or really really painful.

It's been like this since I was a kid.  I should be used to it by now!!!!!

But I'm not.

My sperm donor left me with abandonment issues that are still harming me today.

I see that this pattern of being banished from various groups and people really needs to be looked at.

In life, when we have something to work on, life passes it to us non-stop until we learn how to deal with it.

Any fucking suggestions on how to deal with constantly and consistently being ostracized and banished?

I have started my Victim Support Counselling.  I hope that in the 6 months they allow me my counsellor, that I can deal with as much as possible.

However, I'm really only supposed to be dealing specifically on the sexual abuse of the hands of bio-males.

Does abandonment fit in there?

I fucking hope so.

Because this hurts.

Someone told me crying is good for you.

Fuck you.

i am attracted only to those people and situations that support and nourish me

change

I just had such a lovely lunch with a lovely friend.

Like I said, my friends will fill me with as much love as I need.

She also reminded me that these same 'mean girls' haven't learned how to grow up yet and subsequently, don't know how to communicate around adversity.

What if they lovingly told me what I wrote at the beginning of this journey was 'wrong' in their eyes?

Then I would listen to their side and they would never have to be horrid toward me.

When a friend suggested I use a disclaimer, I saw her opinion as a great way to begin my learning.

Her point was completely valid.  These were my feelings, and not everybody feels this way.

It was my way of working out how to deal with such a huge issue in my mind.

I understand that a lot of what I've written in the past, especially at the beginning, could be taken as very hurtful to Papi and others who are in the process, or have gone through the male transformation.

However, my views around everything have changed and are continuing to change for the better.

I understand the I have P.T.S.D. from past assaults and abuse at the hands of bio-males.

I see where all my fear was lying.  I had to wade through a lot of mixed up feelings to get to the crux of the matter.

But hey, I'm starting my therapy for all this pretty soon ...

... although i'm sorry to say i was supposed to already have an appointment and forgot ... brain injury ... so much fucking fun all the fucking time ...

I'll have more healing and learning to share with you.

I also understand that hearing things that are hurtful would place a certain amount of fear in those who now choose not to trust my feelings.

I see that.

I also see that the hearts that surround me have never done too much to really 'side' with my feelings, they just 'sided' with my heart.

They supported my heart until I could support it on my own.

They told me when I was wrong.

They didn't try to hurt me for already hurting.

These are true friends who are familiar with honest feelings, and didn't disown me for them.

They are open honest hearts who recognized when it was time to lift someone up, not bury them further in their hole.

However, the biggest part of this that we needed to talk about was the fact that I really believed I was the only person they did this to.

Yeah, yeah, narcissistic, I know.  But I couldn't fathom these people being mean to anyone else.  I think I almost thought I deserved it for a while there.

Yet, it's not just me.  They kick others when they're down as well, so it has absolutely nothing to do with me.

I only hold my own responsibility for my own actions.

Like allowing them to hurt me to the point of tears in public.  Or, allowing my pain of being rejected to grant my suicidal thoughts to start yacking at me.

... nobody invited the suicidal girl to the party!!!!! ...

That won't be happening from their harshness anymore.

Also, I'm responsible for learning from my weakest moments, so that I may heal my fears.

I am really amazed at how far I've come in 16 months.

I know I've changed for the better.  My friends know I've changed for the better.

Anyone who doesn't think people can change, has never had anything about them that they've felt needed changing, and they stay stuck in their own shit.

For their sake, for the sake of all the people who hate me for my honesty, I hope one day they too will change.  I hope they will see their responsibilities in the pain they've inflicted upon myself and others with their bullying.

It's possible.  Change is possible.

i am healing the past, while living in the present

Let's get this clear.

For the most part, throughout my life, I've been called a man hater.

I've begun to see what this means from the outside world now.

I've had some amazing males in my life that I would never in an eternity want to live without.  These are people like my band mate, and chosen brother for HECTOR.

He's the longest male relationship I've ever had.  I adore him.

He drives me crazy, but I love him.

Hey.  Isn't that what brothers are for?  I'm pretty sure that makes him my true kin.

Anyway, there are some amazing men in my life, and I would never want them to be hurt by my actions or words.

Being a survivor of a few different forms of abuse, I've had to work on my fear of men, which turns into something else entirely when we over compensate, and it will be seen as hatred.

Of course, some of these men that inhabit our planet are worthy of this feeling, but I have to attach different words to it.

It's not 'men' that are horrible beings.

They are human beings who happen to be male.

There are some nasty women out there, believe me.  But, I won't go there right now though.

... there's plenty of time to bitch about you too ... trust me ...

So, yesterday, I found myself bashing men in front of my love.

I had to quickly retract my words and specify that I was generalizing about bio-males.

Then I realized that this is an insult to the good men in my life.

It was at that moment, that I realized what people were talking about all these years.

I would never want to hurt the good men out there.  There are good men out there.

When I find them, I hold on to them for dear life, because they're what gives me hope.  These are the ones who make up for the rest of the crud of the earth.

As per usual, I learn from my mistakes.

This transformation has opened up so much for me in my life. 

I see love easier, now that I've found the people in my life I can trust.

I see my fears and have come to understand so much of my past feelings and why I am the way I am.

I'm being taught huge lessons that have begun to enrich my life.

I've learned that true love is unconditional.

This man:

... is my teacher.

I now see that I can only place hatred for the people on this planet who use their power for evil.

Be it a woman, a man, or a transgender person, these people don't deserve to sway my emotions to negativity, nor do they deserve to have power over me, to the point where others will see me as a male basher.

I love men.

I love good men.

I love you, Papi.

And you look oh so cute in your new glasses.

... no mantra for you yet, because my gratitude buddy is sleeping a well deserved sleep in and hasn't gotten it to me ... it's her turn today ... but perhaps, today is your day to make your own?  i will update later if you'd like to come back and get ours ...

Here we go!

Yesterday, I had an opportunity to hear a male's side of being here on planet earth.

We all know I'm leery of strangers, but most of my fear is toward males.

What I got to realize yesterday, was that I'm in great company in this department.

We went by a friends house yesterday, and both he and Papi were talking about how women are afraid of them.

I mean really, it just takes a few assholes to ruin it for us gals for life.

However, listening to two people whom I know are good people towards female strangers, it was really quite sad.

"I can't handle walking down the street and watching a woman cross, because they think I'm a scary dude."

It really hit me.  Now that my love is looking more male, he can't make googoo faces at kids, or the mother will pull them in closer for fear that they are a pedophile.

And I don't blame them.

There are some sick fucks out there.

I have my own proof.

Still, I feel sorry for F-M people who are having to learn the ropes of becoming a man.

They have to change their demeanor towards other men.  Gregarious males get started at strangely by the bio-males of this world.

Mi esposo has had to keep his chatting to people he knows, or he feels comfortable around.

That's just so brutal.

Everywhere my love goes, he chats people up, and wins their hearts in an instant.

I'm not like that.  Even though I can stand on a stage and belt out songs, when it comes to strangers, I'm not quite the same.  Most of the time I just smile and giggle, because in all honesty, I'm nervous and shy.

So, I just watch and smile at the way eyes light up when Papi is goofy, chatty, charming and just himself.

However, that's something that he feels he has to curb.

That makes me sad for him.

How can you just change that extrovert to an introvert?  I don't think it can be done.  My love is just too friendly for that.

I'm sure he'll figure it out.

Anyway, it was really sad yesterday to hear them both talk about the changes in how women automatically assume they're male predators.

I get it.

Not too long ago, I was running into a store, and Papi parked in an alley next to it.  When I was about to return to our car, there were two men walking down the alley behind me.

Of course I freaked and continuously turned my head to see if they were gaining on me like those in the past who have attacked me.

They figured out that I was terrified and backed off in a very obvious way to make sure I knew they weren't coming for me.

They were the good ones, but that didn't matter when I was walking down an alley alone.

No male behind me in an alley will ever make me comfortable.

Unless it's my bodyguard.  Damn I wish I had one of those!  I'd be a lot less frightened.

But you know what?  Because of how I explained to both Papi and our friend about how much fear a woman can have, our friend wrote probably the most touching email to me I have ever received.

He asked me to help him with his body language so that women wouldn't cross the street anymore.

In reality, that's never going to stop, yet I can still show him what those of us with P.T.S.D. are afraid of and how he may be able to lighten his presence.

It just made me feel so good inside that someone saw a person in me, that could help them.

I am loved.

And now I'm off to try on that dress.

Jeeeeeezus ... wish me luck.

Butterflies

So, these last few days that I was without 'you', my imaginary friend, were quite the blur.  There was so much work, joy, stress and blah blah blah ...

Do you ever just look at ...

... ahem ...

... life's lessons and you get figure out the moral of the story right away?

It's always nice when that happens.

Maybe I'm speaking cryptically, but it's because my brain has not quite opened up to what day it is right now.  I really pushed my injured noodle to the limit with this fucked up adventure I just went on.

I will get there and tell you a little bit more about my whirlwind of the film score mania week, but let's just say, one of the lessons learned is that we should always take time for our lovely friends.

In the meantime, I will talk to you about my love.

i mean, that's why you're here anyway, isn't it?! it's not really about me ...

Papi is healing very well, and it's been nice getting to have my love awake and laughing, even if it does hurt.  I mean really, laughter heals, doesn't it?

So anyway, I'm a hypochondriac, and Papi teases at me about it.

seriously ... i'm positive i have my mother's cancer even though it hasn't shown on any tests ...

Well, Papi was also convinced that there would have been cancer in my love's woman bits.  It's not really too far off the cuff to think that, considering my love did have pre-cancerous cells.

I do believe this is part of the reason why I'm doing so much better with this most recent surgery.  I, too, was also afraid that Papi would have had something going on there.  Plus, I didn't have to experience the gore of changing dressings on this round.  It's all hidden away, tickity-boo.

phew ...

And besides, Papi's fear is warranted, not only because my love lost his mother at the impressionable age of 10, but also because my love has a horrid pop addiction, and probably the worst diet second to The Beast.

oh ... don't bother asking about the beast ... that's way too long of an epic life lesson to share ...

So, when they did indeed remove that last portion of woman bits from mi esposo, I was probably just as relieved as my love to get that bitch gone!

Something that I'm really learning about my life with a transgender person, is what being in love really means.  Papi really is that same person I married, minus a few less 'bits'.

So, when people commented on Papi's 'changing' voice this weekend, I had to look at them like they just might be imagining things, because I just don't see it.

You see, in the beginning, when I was all fucked up about this transformation, I was thinking I wouldn't be very appreciative of the Helium Voice.

The Helium Voice is a rite of passage that every bio-male and transguy must venture through.  The cracking of the voice is definitely not music to my ears.  However, there is a lesson in this.

When people say my love's voice has changed, I just don't see it.

It's possible that if I wasn't so adept in Papi-land, I would hear it as well, but when you live with someone day in and out, some of the changes aren't as apparent.  I really don't notice my love's voice being any different than it was before.

Oh, here's another one!  A week after Dr. Scissorhands had his way with my love's uterus ...

and ovaries ... fallopian tubes ... and cervix ...

... I was looking at my love's side angle face and I noticed side burns.

Yes.  Sideburns.

I thought I just wasn't paying attention before, and they just popped up to flaunt their tentacles at me.  However, my love said, "Have you noticed how all of a sudden my side burns have come in since the surgery?"

No.  I just don't accept that removing that womanly body part would change mi esposo into the male my love sees in the mirror, but there is evidence, and you know what?  It's kinda cool in a fucked up reality kinda way.

We, who are in love with the transgender person, really have a world to exist in that not many others get to experience.

Through the tears, fears and anger, we get to watch our morphing butterflies reach for freedom.

I guess that caterpillar fuzz on my love's upper lip is no longer going to be a fledgling.

Phobia.

I remember thinking how crazy it is that people are afraid of dogs.

People would cross the street when they saw me coming with my Dearly Departed Gypsy.  She was my doofus of a rottweiler who left me for that fire hydrant in the sky 6 years ago.

i still miss my baby every day ...

She was the sweetest soul who needed to be loved by everybody to feel whole.

sound familiar?!

So, when people would be afraid of her I couldn't understand it.  I would think to myself, "If they only knew the soul inside of the brute physique, they'd see that all dogs are not fear worthy."

Hell, my drummer was terrified of dogs from a childhood trauma, but he loved Gypsy.

Anyway, I spent years thinking that people were ridiculous for being afraid of these wonderful companions.  Granted there are a few who have been brought up to be vicious by their owners, but they're not all corrupt.

One day, my friend sent me a picture of a massive spider that was making it's way to Canada.

It was a hoax, but having a phobia of spiders, I couldn't get into the shower for a week because I was afraid they'd come down from the ceiling.  I haven't eaten grapes since that day either, because I found one in my grapes. 

Yeah.

pho·bi·a

 [foh-bee-uh]

noun

a persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it.

Stress the word irrational.

So, from that point forward, I understood how people can be afraid of dogs.  I had a little bit more appreciation of their irrational fears.

Well, Papi doesn't understand my fear of men, and more specifically, male body parts. 

Ok, that wasn't so specific.

Penes.

So, the other day, my love thought it would be funny to stand in front of me, lift the lower edge of his boxers a tiny bit, and expose the tip of the Plastic Penis.

I almost crawled out of my skin and was pretty grateful that I'd just had a dose of pain killers to numb my senses.

It affected me greatly.  I haven't stopped thinking about it for days.

sorry i didn't tell you papi ... 

Yesterday, my love informed me that I got my thoughts wrong in the blog.  You can't pee out of the Lifelike Penis.  Mi esposo then announced that he would indeed be buying the LifeLike Penis.

I couldn't really talk about it.  I would just continue to fondly slice Papi's veggies for a turkey sandwich made with love.

"Why do you always stop talking?" my love asked.

I answered honestly, "I don't know," because I've been like that since I was a kid.

if you ignore it it will go away ...

I was silent and scared.

Papi pressed on with the topic, and asked, "I don't understand why you can't see that it's me and not be afraid.  You know that I would never hurt you.  Has every single male you've encountered been horrible?"

Well, not every one.  But the ones that really fucked me up did a damn good job.

So, I recognized the phobia last night.

It is indeed a phobia.

a persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it.

Well, as they say, admitting it is the first step.

It's a wobbly step, but it's done.

Now give me my fucking counseling appointment so I can wash that bitch outta my Honky 'Fro.

Shaking in my boots ...

It's hard to see what someone else is experiencing if you haven't been there already.

My love wanted me to read more of the myths and transgender information.  Papi asked, "Do you want to look at them some more and see if there's anymore questions you have?"

I'd really had enough when I thought my love was trying to hint that he was gay.

"No, not right now.  Maybe another day, but not right now."

I have enough to chew on at the moment.

My heart is trying to deal with the fact that I need to revisit old demons.

I never would have thought this would come up.  I've already done so much work around it.

None-the-less, my love just can't understand that when there was phony penises before, they didn't bother me.  Now that they're attached to a person who's giving of an air of male-bodied-ness, it is a different story all together.

Papi could never really see why I am triggered by this.  Mi esposo is one of the lucky people in this world who hasn't suffered the trauma of another person's offense.

However, it's not much different than me not understanding being transgender.  I could never really get it.

I am learning though.

We were discussing how I don't really know much about the process.  For example, I didn't know that the whole process takes 5 years to complete.

I really thought that there would be a new person in my bed in a heartbeat.

It's slow enough that I can work out the changes one by one.  They affect me, and I need to deal with them, but so far I've gotten through.

Then my love told me, "The most ignorant thing you've really thought was that transgender people are a third gender."

I just couldn't get past this thinking.

I suppose I really am a black or white person.

Male.

Female.

Third gender.

It's the only way I could process it, but it's not true.

Every person is not a cookie cutter of the next.  There's no way to generalize with every person.

However, I am now seeing why I've had an aversion to being in a relationship with an F-M.

The whole male thing really gets to me.  Being in the closet for so long has taken it's toll on me.

If I wanted companionship, then I'd have to appease my homophobic, religious family.

I had to date males.

It was very difficult and I spent those years obliterating my mind with drugs and alcohol just to deal with the fact that I didn't really want to be with male beings.

When I finally decided to come out of the closet, I thought I was home free and never had to deal with a male being in my bed ever again.

Here I am.

I get it now.

I understand why I am closed minded to the transgender world.

I need to feel safe, and the only person who could help me get through this phase is Papi.

I wouldn't have been able to get there with anyone else.

My love has made me promise that I will work on this to get past it.  Mi esposo wants me well, and in turn wants our relationship to be well also.

Of course, I would do anything for Papi.

That includes working with my ghosts so that I may have a relationship without fear.

It makes me shake.

Detachable Penises.

My friends are people who will tell me to my face if there's something on their mind, and I love them for that.

One person has caught up to my life and feels very defensive for me.  She still loves Papi, but she is thinking the same way I used to when the transgender bomb was dropped.

Every word that came out of her mouth were the exact words I felt in the beginning.  It is strictly one sided thinking that I can now recognize, by looking back at where I was 9 months ago.

She helped me realize how far I've come.  I have changed those thoughts and would like for her to see another side as well.

It actually blew me away when I saw my mirror image and didn't like what was in front of me.  Her defensiveness for me made me defensive of my love.

I remember thinking, all those tumultuous months ago, that I would need to defend Papi at some point down the road.  However, I knew I couldn't do that until I had enough strength to defend myself first.

Looks like I found that place.

In that same day, another friend made me really realize another side of a story.

It was about how protective I was of my love when the Hen Peckers went on to a forum and discussed what mi esposo should do in his life.

Not really any of their business, but none-the-less, I was hopping mad that they could discuss how they think someone should live a life that doesn't belong to them.

She said she just wanted to play devil's advocate.

What she did was open my mind a little more to where some other people may be coming from.

Her perspective was; if they grandfather in Papi to allow a trans-man to work there, then it must open the door to others, not just one person.

If they open the door to trans-men, then they can't close the door on bio-men.

If they open the door to bio-men, this 'safe house' may not feel safe for the women who have suffered from the violent hand of a male predator.

I thought about this in terms of my own survival.

Papi says he's never met someone who is such a man hater as myself.

In my defense, I'm not a 'man hater'.  I'm a 'creep hater', and not all men fall into this category, just as there's women who do.

In the same way an offender can smell a victim, I can smell an offender, and my instincts are usually right.

In this way, I trust my senses, and I follow their feelings.  No different than a dog that can smell someone with ill will and their hackles will stand on end.

Oh, trust me.  Mine do as well.

I have many male friends that are so much sweeter than any woman could ever be.  There are beautiful bio-male people out there.

Which brings me to the third opinion that opened my eyes again yesterday.

My love and I were taking care of a friend who was a little ill yesterday, and we stayed with her until the partner came home.

Papi asked her, "Do you think I should leave my job?" from a place of true curiosity from someone whom we admire for their honesty.

Her opinion was that Papi's boss really thinks it's for the better of the women that my love stay at the house, because they don't see my love as any one gender.  They see Papi.  They see a good person who is there to brighten the day of a world where there is so much darkness.

Then she went a little further.

We discussed how there are some amazingly beautiful men out there who would be a good person to have in such houses, as it would be a great place for them to really learn that not all men are offenders out to break their spirit.

Earlier, she thought of a way for me to heal from my ghosts.  She suggested that I come by and make penises.

yup. you read that right.

Her and her partner make silicone penises for trans people, and for those female bodies who feel it's hot to pack.  She recommended that I get to know them while they're not attached to a person.

If I make one from a place that won't bring me fear, I could possibly see that they're not attached to an offender.

So.

Looks like I'm going to be making some detachable penises.

What a world I live in.

politics, politics

Our home has been invaded by Americans!!!!

And it's nice to have them.  Especially when one of them is on your Trust List, and the other is an honorary Trust List newbie as of last night.

I see myself as transphobic a lot.  I assume this is because I have adverse feelings about my love's male transformation.

I'm reminded time and again that there are other people out there who would feel the same way if their love decided to switch camps.

It was really nice to be understood last night.  I forget that when I'm overwhelmed with feelings about the transformation that I have people to go to.

time for a trust list pow-wow i think!

It was not a berating of F-Ms.  It was an honest 'this is my opinion' or 'this is my feeling' or 'this is my veiwpoint' bull session.

We went from the slip of a pronoun to me making my claim again, "I can't call E a male, because all I will ever see is my butch," to "the M-Fs who want to be at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival don't want to come to bond with women, they only want to make their politics loud."

Women's spaces are a touchy subject in our community.  For many reasons.  The Yanks told me about some F-Ms who will go as 'she' to this Festival just so that they can find the femmes and get laid.

Yes.

There is a reason it's a touchy subject.

When Papi and I go to play parties, there have been numerous occasions where we will engage in sexy time.

hey, what can i say, i'm an exhibitionist.

I only feel safe to do so if there are women in the room.

Just like the times I would partake in the art of stripping for our yearly women's strip show, Diva's Den.

In front of women, I am free to be and do whatever and whomever I want.

However, this year, the organizers started allowing bio-males into the play party.  I understand.  It's a business, but it certainly put the halt on my sexual escapades.

I am completely uncomfortable with anything to do with sex around bio-males.

I imagine this is because of issues from my childhood.

duh!

Regardless, I just don't feel comfortable.

This is where it gets messy.

I know F-Ms want to be seen as male, and to the general straight community, they are.  Yet to me, I can spot one pretty fast and all I see is an F-M.  Not a male.

I feel bad for this the moment I see them as such, because they want to be seen as male, but you can't hide those female eyes and female interactions.

You won't see an F-M pissing on a wall in front of a femme who is saying, "Really buddy?!?  Do ya have to do this right here?  There's a washroom right inside the hospital!!"

This bio-male told me to, "Fuck off," and continued wagging his willy right in front of my bus and the clients.

No, this is not the action of an F-M.

This is because an F-M is still a third gender.  They are neither.

I only wish my love could be comfortable as such, and not feel the need to swing the pendulum to the other side of male-ness.

dream on hard on

Anyway, this rant was a leftover from my Trust List and honorary Trust List newbie.

It felt good to be understood and told, "No.  You're not transphobic.  You have a certain taste of what you find attractive."

One more little stone to build my wall of strength.

Say hello to my little friend.

I have to rationalize about why there hasn't been any sexy time.

First it was the braces.  I didn't want to get locked into Papi's brace face.  That could be scary.

Then it was the top surgery.  My love was so fragile that I couldn't even get a hug.  That left me longing for mi esposo's cuddles, but was another justification as to why we weren't having a romp.

Well, last night Papi ordered me into bed.

i like it

Yet, that didn't stop me.  I tried another excuse.  I felt like I had to share that my stomach wasn't top shape right now.  Perhaps we didn't want to 'scents' the wrath of my issue?

Oh, no.

That wasn't a good enough reason for my love.

The truth is though, ever since the 5 Foot Clitoris moved in, I'm very uncomfortable with sex.

It wasn't like it was before, where I knew my love's body and could just jump on in with no hesitation.  I knew what to do and when to do it.

Things have changed.

Papi has changed.

It's like starting all over.

My love was adamant that I'd get a little up close and personal time with the 5 Foot Clitoris.

you're really going to make me do this now aren't you?!?!

At first, all I wanted to do was look at it and introduce myself.

"hey how are ya?  i'm new in town and i thought we could grab a bite to eat?"

But I quickly realized that this exploration wasn't really sexy.  It was more like I was a gynecologist looking at a specimen.

No.

Not sexy.

So I dived in.

I didn't know what to do.  Honestly!  The 5 Foot Clitoris is intimidating!  It was beyond that little nut I'd play with with my tongue.

It really did feel more like a miniature penis.

It was so difficult not to revert back to the dislike of the bio-male anatomy that I had to endure in my stint of oh so many years in the closet.

I would have to be snap drunk or sky high to go anywhere near those man bits, and here I was, face to face with the mini-me version who was sticking out it's own tongue, taunting me.

My love's smell was also different and will take some time to get used to.  It wasn't like the Man Stink that occurred near the beginning of this roller coaster, but indeed it was not what I was used to.

time to get out the chocolate sauce?

None-the-less, I did my best, and dammit, I just felt like I was flailing.  I have no fucking idea how to work with this.

I guess I'll have to practise.

*******

A side note to Tricia, one of my blogger friends, here is the updated photo of Papi, the Tranny Terrorist.

And no, this was not taken after sexy time ...

Commence Countdown.

My cats are pouting.

They've lost their freedom, as the killer cat has returned home.

I've found all my clothes, I've made it through a 6 hour shift and everything is slowly getting put back in our basement dwelling.  The journey of the sewage flood is coming to a close.

Life is getting back to where it was 5 months ago.  Part of the proof, is that Psycho Kitty has come home.  Now all doors must remain shut, or he will stop at nothing to kill my cats.

All that's left, is for the 95 year old g'ma to come home.

hopefully she doesn't stir things up by burning us down this time

Well, most of life is returning.

In some cases, things are changing.  We have a new kitchen, and I'll have a new model of spouse.

extreme makeover ...

It's now time to prepare myself for mi esposo's top surgery in 6 weeks.

6 weeks.

44 days.

Only one and a half months until my love no longer has breasts.

The 2nd phase of this male transformation will begin.  I've managed to make it through the hormones by setting rules, then breaking the rules, then dealing with the fact that this truly is happening.

No denying it now.

There is no possibility of Papi possibly having a change of heart once that scalpel hits that silky soft skin.

In my new reality, I will caress a pair of matching scars.  That is of course, after the tubes, bandages, marking down of secretions from said glands and administering of pain medication.

It will be a test for my heart.

change ... she is a comin'

My love was supposed to get lots of exercise in for this surgery.  So far, I've seen a lot of pudding being eaten since the tooth, but not exercise.

Actually the pudding was in place before the tooth extraction, but it just seemed to flow right through with a perfect excuse as to why there can't be healthy food ingested.

I learned a long time ago that I can't change anybody.

My love has to learn lessons without my help.  If Papi doesn't exercise enough, or keeps on eating the pudding, ...

which seems to be swapped for the ice cream and cookies ...

... then there could be a few problems; the surgery could turn out a little less than desired, and the hormones could help the cholesterol increase just like in a bio-male.

I could be suffering grief a 2nd time around when mi esposo drops from heart failure, but that's just my 'what if' thinking coming into play.

Right now there's enough to deal with thinking about the next 6 weeks.

one fret at a time ... we also learned that, didn't we?

In 2 weeks, I'll be at full time work.

In 4 weeks, my love and I will be on vacation.

In 6 weeks ...

Suddenly, I don't feel so well.

I'm pretty sure it's not the baby food that's done it.

Don't worry, be happy ...

Someone called me strong again.

It's a strange feeling for me when I'm called strong, because honestly, I feel like I'm 10 years old again.  A little girl who has no coping mechanism to deal with the inexperience of life.

At 10, my parents split.  Well, more like my mom kicked out my dad.

With reason.

He was a drug dealer, which meant there were a lot of not so 'desirable' creeps around.

which one of you bastards is the pedophile that destroyed my joy of sex?!?

My dad wasn't the best father or husband, so it wasn't a huge loss, other than the fact that I felt abandoned.

a common thread for the rest of my life ...

At 10, my way of confronting fear was to believe all the words my family told me about being fat, and so I began the cycle of anorexia.

if i lose just one more pound, i might just die ... just like karen carpenter ... please let my heart stop

At 10, my anxiety took over and I became the most worrisome child anybody could meet.

Worrisome.

Anxiety.

Here I am feeling like that little girl again, and people will tell me I'm strong?

Well, I'm strong for living through a brain injury and coming out on top.  Yes.  I can accept that.

But in this case of my love going through male transformation, I feel weak.  I feel scared.  I am in survival mode.  I will have fear of impending doom and not have any idea what it's attached to.  It is deep and dark and all I can do is try to run past the catastrophic cloud, but it just catches up to me every time.

get busy ... just get busy ... and your mind will leave you be ...

The funny part is, when Papi is around me, all that fear seems to be weakened.  I just have so much joy when looking into my loves eyes.

So much pride when I look at this person that I have been so fortunate to have in my life.

But I can't be around Papi all the time.  Co-dependency is not sexy.  So, when people tell me I'm strong, I really have to shake my head and look at them like they're nuts.

Not unlike when people tell me I'm thin.

if you could only see what the mirror tells me ... if you could only be in my head with this fear

I would so love to be this person people see me as.

I would love to be that amazing woman on stage who exudes presence of power.  She is one that most would look at and say, "She's so lucky."

No, when I'm on stage, I am also a person I would love to be.  If you talk to me 10 minutes after a performance, you'll be sorrily let down.  I am a meek child who just wants to be happy and loved.

Fortunately, it's not a lot to ask for.  I do receive it every day.

I really do have a glass half full life.  I just wish that half empty part would leave me the fuck alone.

Survival.

Men scare me.

There.

I said it.

They scare me, but really, now I have to say bio-males scare me.  I've been thrown into the realm of politically correct terms for transgenderism and must use the right words.

Bio-male.  Not trans-male.

I have every reason to be afraid of some men.  Not all men, but when I have memories that even make me afraid of the smallest things, I really have to look at it.

One memory in particular is of one of the rapists I've encountered in my life.  He was the Barnet Hwy rapist.  I don't know if he ever got caught and institutionalized, but he was attacking girls a lot during my teens.

My walk from the bus was like any other walk down the isolated alley, which has a park on one side and houses on the other.  Nobody was ever around.  I was just a lone kid accompanied by her innocence.

Barnet Hwy area is a great place for a sexual predator.  It's nothing but trees and hiding places, and cars that go by so quickly, nobody would ever see you being abducted.  I'm sure the predator knew it was a great place to rape then drag someone to the trees, leaving them for dead.

As I got halfway down the peaceful alley, I heard a noise beside me.  It came from the garbage can, then my heart pounded when I saw that man stand up from behind it and come out at me with intention.

At first, like any other kid, I didn't really realize that my time may have come, so I doubted the experience and looked behind me to see if he truly was coming for me.

Yup.

There he was, with his hood up over head so I couldn't see his face.

Oh I ran.  I ran faster than those injured knees gave me the right to run.  I looked behind me to see if I'd made any distance between myself and this creep, and he was reaching out to grab for my long blonde hair that was flying in the wake behind me.

My survival instinct kicked in and I did a hurdle over that fence like no other olympian could ever do.  I flew.

I ran to the door of my boyfriend's house ...

yes ... i was still in the closet as a teen

... and hammered on that door as if I could break it down with my might.

I cried and screamed telling my boyfriend and his pal what had just happened.  They ran out after the guy, but I knew they wouldn't catch him.

All I knew was, I wouldn't be walking down that alley alone anymore and that I was the lucky one who got away.  I knew there would be more rapes, as I couldn't identify the slime.

And there were.  The rape kept happening.

Fast forward to the 'now'.

I went into our 'cold room'.  It's a room with our freezer and storage; spices, extra toilet paper, tools.  Right now our cold room is overfilled with boxes, because of the sewage flood.  It's really hard to get in there.

I needed to find something ...

honestly can't remember what it was now ... thank you brain injury

... and as soon as I reached to pull things around I heard something from below the rubble.  I screamed at the top of my lungs and ran to get away from the rapist who was crawling out from behind the boxes.

Rapist?

Sure.  A rapist that is 2 feet tall.

There was no rapist.  Rat maybe, but not rapist.  I'm still in fear of that man.  I'm in fear of the bio-male.

Could this be part of the fear that I'm feeling about my love?  The 'woman' I married is leaving me, to be replaced by a 'male'.  Not a bio-male, but more of a male just the same.

Fear is crippling.

The boss in my bed.

I ventured out again yesterday to have another visit with a trusted friend.  I'm beginning to find my strength.

Thank you my friends.  Thank you for the sushi date 2 nights ago.  Thank you for the support last night that was abruptly halted by a tea mob that took over our space, leaving us to giggle as we fled.

The tea people stared at us in confusion as to how we could exit!  There was a slide show about those wonderful, drinkable, water staining leaves!

Before we were interrupted in our fantastic sharing each other's feelings, I was reminded that I haven't been allowing myself to feel safe.  I've forgotten about the adult who has learned the lessons of safety that could comfort that broken little girl.

I am understood in the fears of Papi's male transformation, because my dear friend is dating an F-M and has very similar feelings about the need to be with a woman, or at least an assemblance of a woman.  We both have had rather unsettling experiences with bio-males in the past.

We both have had the feeling that men can cause anxiety, degradation and repulsion.  It's not about us feeling that all males are this way, it's just the ones that have the ability to make you feel you are nothing.

We've experienced those male beings before we took that grandeur step out of the closet with fervor.

As we made our grand entrance to that gay world stage, our boas and hair were gently being swept by a fan's forced air, helping us look the part of the powerful, amazing femme.  We promptly strutted center stage, allowing that awkward entrance door swing forever shut.  We granted the waiting audience their time to stare in awe.

Here we are world!

Behind that door, we leave memories of being trapped beneath the bio-male, our hearts breaking as we live the lie of authorizing that male to take our body.  We dream of what a wonderful world it could be if we were to step out on that stage.

We kept those dreams to ourselves as the body holding us down was pumping madly.  It was merely for their own pleasure.  You may as well have been a blow up doll.  Or for that matter, a hole in the wall.  Hell, the palm of a hand.

They can use any of the above because it's not about the heart.  It's not about the soul.  It's about an object deemed for their pleasure.

The only difference between those holes and our bodies, is that we are moist and warm.

As you lie suffocating beneath this being that is larger than you, you feel like your air is that of the blow up doll.  It is being forced out of you and all you can do is disassociate from the moment and count the tile holes on the ceiling.

You try to ignore the fact that there is a body part invading your sacred space.

There is no pleasure.  

Once you just let it be over with, you can carry on with your body as your own again.  However, after this feeling of being regarded as nothing more than a cavity, your body may be your own, but your mind certainly doesn't see it that way, and your psyche has decided to shut off.

Don't think about what just happened, or it may make you realize you're having feelings of horror.

You wouldn't want the wet streaks to roll down your face, for if they did, that bio-male beside you may mistake them for joy; that they've done such a great job that it brought you to tears.

There is no you.

There is revulsion of this physical body that has stolen your sphere, and there is fear that it might happen again.

The feeling of my love turning into this monster that inhabited my life prior to finally coming out of the closet is upon me.  I'm in search of tender touches from my love who would do anything to make me feel good.

I need the presence of mind and body that intends on making sure we both have an experience of enchantment.

I realized through my words here with 'you', my imaginary friend, that my desire in sex must adjust.

Papi and I enjoyed our aggressive encounters for the past few years.  We have had animalistic sex.

Now, with that fear of being triggered by the possibility of a male inside my love, I must change how I receive my intimacy.  I need the soft touchings of the woman I married.  The gentle reminder that my love still has a woman inside.

An assemblance.

There is also a possibility that I may switch from a bottom to a top.  Perhaps it's time to be the boss in my bed?