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.

The Fine Art of Distraction

I'm having a really hard time writing today.

I'm feeling very disjointed.

Yesterday, Papi asked me, "Are you nervous about Friday?"

Of course I answered honestly, "Yes."

"Because you seem like you are," he added flippantly.

Huh?

I didn't know I was giving off heebie, jeebie vibes.

But then, it is me we're talking about.  I'm not really good at hiding my feelings.

We had good news from the benefits.  Papi gets a private room.

this is good, because nobody will see me force feeding papi vegetables.

I figure I can feed my love anything I want, because he won't be able to do anything about it.

There will be a mini Papi cleanse going on!

I'm on a mission to force feed my love different things that normally he would turn his nose up at.

I have the power.

**enter eeeevil laugh here**

The other good part, is mi esposo is having a positive experience using medicinal cannabis for anxiety.

Well, the inevitable will happen and you will get the munchies.  Then we reach for carbs, sugar and salt.

But honestly, when you have the munchies, anything will taste good.

So, in my evilness of health food persuasion, I'll be making sure Papi gets to try new things when those munchies kick in.

See how I did that?

I can distract myself in an instant.

I forgot that tomorrow is the day that mi esposo keeps speaking about as bum-fuck-nowhere doomsday with Dr. Scissorhands.

The only reason I can't completely forget is because Papi keeps talking death talk.

Now that I'm remembering, it's time to distract myself again.

I'm gong to go work on the film score and cook.

healthy yummy treats mwahahahahaha!!!!!!!

Anyway.

I'm nervous.

And I just donned on me that I'll be in the throws of dressings and a stubborn patient.

Yeah.

Stubborn patient doesn't really even come close to what I'll be dealing with.

So, tomorrow is another change.

But that's what life's about anyway, isn't it?

Sleep.

She is such a hurt young lady, and occasionally, she has to have her quality time to continue healing.

She definitely flows through my tears, and lives deep within my heart.  In that place that she calls home.

the pit of doom ... familiar ... still not ready to leave for good ... there's a nice La-Z-Boy down there.

I've coddled her and dressed her wounds that seem to be improving at a stupendous speed.  I sent her off to go sleep away the injury.  We need to have a suspension of consciousness to heal.

Poor thing is exhausted and through her slumber, is indeed erasing the prior molestation of her self-imposed quiet.

Prior to settling her in, I took her out to a few places where she could feel that she's ok to be herself, and trust in the good of people once more.

Now I can have my time back.

Yesterday was a beautiful day full of surprises, as I found 2 more people to add to the Trust List.

Both came completely out of the blue.

A gentle soul told me in a kind way that my language wasn't quite correct.  This sweet person helped me to learn a little more about their transgender world.

I was corrected and learned from him that not all F-Ms are of the third gender, and in turn I thanked him for new found friendship.  I also made sure he knew I was grateful that he didn't try hurting me with words, and that I was welcoming him as a new heart to top off the Trust List.

This person said to me, "I may not be a good friend, I've never learned how to be.  I am here though."

It was my turn to correct him.  "All you have to do is be here to be a good friend.  By making me feel better, you have proven your friendship."

I left the conversation feeling that I was stronger yet again.  Someone didn't judge me for my ignorance, but allowed me to learn through a peaceful conversation.

My vocabulary and knowledge have been reformed.

When Papi said, "If you want to learn more why don't you look online and read about it."

I replied in honesty, "Because I want to learn on my own by asking questions and learning from my mistakes."

It's how I've always done it.

It's familiar.

and we all know how little i like change ...

The 2nd heart I collected was someone I've known for years on end through a secret, anonymous club for drunks.  I just would never expected we'd sit and have a conversation about current day life.

I don't know why I wouldn't expect it.

This ally was there through my toughest years of getting clean and sober.  This friend has been a fixture since I walked into those rooms filled with the after burn of alcohol.

Why would it be so shocking to me that I wouldn't be judged by someone who has walked through the steps of mental health and spiritual wholeness?

I see now that the day I felt the hurt was a day I let my guard down.

I am surrounded by strength and love, but I have to know when to harness it and be honest with my weakness.

I see now that it's not good to be in physical agony, nor pumped full of pain meds that will change the chemical balance of my brain, when I go to these places I fear.

Having my guard down means the hurt teenager will come to play.

She needs her time and she's not finished healing yet.

I can't let go of her hand for a second or she runs around the room with her arms in the air screaming, "Look at me!  Look at me!  See my pain!  I see the hate in your eyes and you can't fool me!  I know who you are!!!"

She's a bugger, but I let go of her hand at the wrong time.

Most definitely, it's good to see where she's at.

It's kinda like stopping the pain killers to actually see how much your injuries ail.

I won't be doing that for a while, and goddamn she needs a definite time out.

Sleep little one, I'm going out into the world again today.

Papi's reality show

Ya know?

I think Papi enjoys being the Tranny Terrorist a bit too much.

When Papi dropped me off at work, and I was harassing my love in regards to the leg hair, "Farewell hairy monster," my love revealed a new area that was growing man hair that I never even thought about.

Stomach.

Not impressed.

I guess if I'm going to irk my love with cheeky words, there will always be a comeback that doesn't even require words now.

Later on, while Papi was changing massive bandaids on still raw looking nipples, I was yet again awarded another look at them.

"Look!  The nipple is going to look like this when the scab falls off!"

Nice.

That's lovely my dear.

I tried so hard to look and have actual interest, but my face unfortunately, cannot lie.

"The look on your face is hilarious!"

Is this why Papi torments me?

Could it be that this is mi esposo's entertainment every day?  The object of the game is to see just how puckered my lips can get, how many wrinkles I can extend on my forehead and how much I can raise my nostrils as I crimp the skin between my eyes.

Maybe my love is enjoying being the star of the blog show.  Really, I say it's my healing journey, but most of the time, it's all about Papi and the ridiculous antics I have to endure.  This is possibly like a reality show you read and mi esposo is addicted to the attention!

Or, perhaps this is my love's way of giving me something to write?  Yesterday I received a review of my blog from Papi, "Your blog was boring today."

Well, damn!

I better get something better to write about then.

the moral of the story is, if my blog is boring, then so is papi, no?

Enter stage left: the nipples.

The doctor appointment Papi had yesterday was great for Papi.  My love came bounding out of the office, "She said they looked incredible!"

I'll have to have a word with my doctor. 

please don't feed the animals

I guess to a doctor who's having one of a very few F-M patients, she has probably seen worse.

I mean, this is really why we flew all the way to Florida; to get the very best surgeon.

There are some that are really awful.

We have seen some really bad jobs where people have gotten tired of the top surgery wait list, and gone to someone they could afford.

Goddam!  You don't want to be mucking about with top surgery!

Anyway.

Just got my paycheck from that unpaid time off from said surgery.

No cash and a kick in the teeth.

There ya go.  Papi gave me something to write.

how many stars will i receive today i wonder

Gravity

Well, it was a good few days of smiles and strength.

On this journey, you never know when the demons are going to come out to play.

They gave me a visit last night.  Through every tear, they stole my breath.

Papi had to keep reminding me to breathe.

It probably didn't help that my back had seized again.

when will this fucking injury be over and done?!?!

My love needed to express some feelings, and it just didn't sit well with me.

no shit ... my, what lovely swollen eyes you have this morning

Before The Great Breast Disappearance, mi esposo kept asking, "You're going to be able to take care of me, right?"

I really took this as being the caretaker.  I really didn't know Papi needed someone to be strong.

I was far from fierce during the week of my love's top surgery.  I was a mess in fetal position.  I couldn't even communicate to my love how hard it was, so I just continued to clean the hotel room, replace ginger ale, prepare snacks, administer drugs, fluff and arrange the pillows and drain the tubes that needed to be monitored.

I kept busy so my mind wouldn't be.

However, Papi needed someone there to be the one to be strong, but my love chose the wrong person, and also chose the wrong wording around 'taking care'.

I am feeling like a failure.  I am feeling like the wife that let down the other half of the relationship.  I am feeling embarrassed.

i am feeling like vanishing

I honestly tried with every inch of my being to be there for mi esposo.  I worked very hard at 'taking care' of my love.  Yet, there had to be time for me as well.

I learned a long time ago that I need to be there for myself just as much as other people.

Being a people pleaser, I had to learn the hard way that you can only do so much for others, then you have to save some time and space for yourself.

Nobody's going to do it for you.

So when all was taken care of for my love, I would ask, "Is there anything else you need, baby?"

My love would look at me with those dopey eyes and just squeak out, "No."

I took that as: it's my time to think.

We all know what happens when I think to much.  Demons ring my doorbell.  I usually answer, because it's a knee jerk reaction.

Tears would fall, I would record my feelings into the video camera and be true to my emotions.

Unfortunately, there was no where else to go in Fort Lauderdale where I felt safe to be a mess.

So, the hotel balcony and bathroom would be my solitude to cry, but being such a small space, it wasn't hidden from Papi.  I exposed my pain to mi esposo.

I didn't know Papi would simmer in those emotions, until the pot would begin to burn.

Communication happened and I crumbled with the weight of words.

It didn't help that the physical pain was searing through me.  Sometimes, when we have bodily pain, the mind will follow suit.

FALL IN SOLDIERS!!

So there I was.  Revisiting every piece of the pain from the Pit of Doom in that hotel room.

How can two people who are so joined in spirit have opposing feelings about the same experience?

Papi has no way of understanding how much pain I'm in, and I am utterly incapable of being the Rah-Rah-Tranny my love so needs in a wife.

We are on opposite ends of the pendulum, but I suppose even a pendulum has to swing both ways until gravity allows it to pause in the middle.

This is where my love and I will finally meet.

It's been 7 months of a journey.  Not a very long time in the scope of things.  We have a long way to go until gravity is our friend.

Wrath of the Tranny

"I don't know why you even expected a phone call from him on your birthday anyway.  How many times has he called you since we've been together?"

I didn't have to think about it very hard, "Once."

I just received a phone call from my sister who got the worst treatment from our sperm donor.  She gets depressed and anxious every father's day.  So we chatted and what did I have to say to her?  "You don't owe him a thing.  There's nothing he did for you in your life.  Please don't feel guilty."

He never calls my sister because she won't pay for his living.

kinda like how you gave us fuck all growing up?

So, in honour of my sister, I will do my best not to feel guilty.

good fucking luck.

Good thing I have the Tranny Terrorist to keep me entertained.

Papi was thrilled, "Look at my nipples!  They're looking so much better!"

My love then proceeded to walk them straight into my face, "Lick the nips!!"

I was cringing in a corner screaming for Papi to stop.

All mi esposo did was laugh.

Yup.

This is my love.

Then I had to help Papi with the dressings, and there was a pseudo compliment, "You did good this time and you're not having a panic attack!"

Not too long after this, my love says, "I have another birthday gift for you!  Guess what day it is?!"

oh for fucks sakes.

Yup.

It's hormones day.

I hid in the bedroom sifting through Facebook friends to keep me occupied while Papi just chatted away, injecting poison into that ass.

Later on, I'm lying in bed with my love ...

feeling extremely bloated and wiped from the horrid food i ate for my birthday

... and there's this fondling of my breast going on.

No, it wasn't sexy time.  It was more like groping and mushing my breast this way and that.

"What the hell are you doing?!  You keep fucking around with my breasts!"

"I don't have mine any more so I get to play with yours."

Oh really?!

This is the new rule?

Papi also said, "You should post the gross picture for your readers to see."

ummm ... why would i want to torture you?

Ok, I suppose if I have to suffer then 'you', my imaginary friend get to see what mi esposo puts me through.  I guess you have to pay something for reading my train wreck every day.

Here ya go:

Yes.

The Tranny Terrorist was in full force for my birthday.

Happy birthday to me.

Oh, and to my dear sperm donor, enjoy your day alone.

patience patients ...

People pleaser.

That's what some of us become when we've felt that we need to be loved more.  It never really works though.  You just come across as needy.

Then there's the other end of the pendulum:

Selfishness.

At that point, you come across as someone who nobody really wants to be around.  However, you attract the people pleasers and your bidding is done.

Balance is really the key to everything in life.  It really is the most important rule to remember.

So, here I am lying in bed because I've put my back out.  I'm pretty sure it's because I tried so hard to keep up with the demands brought upon me that I stressed myself out to a point where my back had to take all the flack.

I know I can't afford this kind of stress.  I know that my injuries are affected by it, but when you're in the throws of insanity, it's hard to recall anything you're 'supposed' to.

hello brain injury. fuck my memory sucks.

I frantically ran around getting everything done.  I was quite grateful for the extra cardio as my heart would pound out of my chest from going up and down the stairs so many times and scratching another item off the list.

Alas, the caretaker has become the patient.

Poor Papi.  My love was thinking that there would be a wife at home who'd be the caretaker.

Wrong.

Now I'm flat on my back asking for Papi's help.

My love has to change all the dressings alone.  But then again, mi esposo told me it's easier without me.

Papi also told me I'm too much of a stress case to be around.

Wouldn't it be fucked up if my anxiety over this transgender journey actually drove away Papi?  Imagine if I wound up single and divorced after all I went through to try to stick this marriage out amidst a male transformation.

I would crumble.

time to take a look at that...

I just need some downtime from this brain.  I really need to have a simple life with a simple job and a simple relationship.

gimme a break

I'm sure Papi could use a breather from my anxiety too.

The common denominator is me.

How do I do this though?  How do I just stop the anxiety and have a hiatus from this brain, which in turn will give Papi some time out too?

My love doesn't understand how this could affect me, "I didn't do this to you.  It's not about you."

My broken record response, "But you're changing my life by changing you."

When you marry someone, two hearts become one.  So, yes, this is happening to me too.

You know when hell has frozen over and you look back and laugh?

I need that time to come now.

I need to get off this emotional roller coaster.  The slides down that hill aren't as fun as they used to be.  How about we just play on the bumper cars for a little while?

one day at a time.

I'm so tired and broken, but I need my beautiful relationship back.

It's hard when you can't even hug your soul mate, because there's a barrier of stitches, gauze, tape and pain.

At least we can hold hands.  I still feel Papi's love through those strong hands.

Next

Flu?

Stress?

Top surgery dressings?

One, or all, of the above has my stomach feeling like I've gone for a ride on the tilt-a-whirl.

won't stop this avid eater from breakfast and my coffee

Everything hit with a bang yesterday.  The 95 year old g'ma is back with full force, and Papi is back with souvenirs from Dr. Scissorhands.

There came my love, strolling out of the airport gate holding bags!!!  For gawd's sake!  Mi esposo is not supposed to be holding things!!!

Then Papi says, "I'm in a lot of pain."

No fucking shit?!?!?

Apparently I told my love to carry things.  If I did, it was when I said, "If you MUST carry things, make sure you have even weight and don't try using anything other than your forearms to adjust."

Papi came out with a camera bag, a computer bag and a souvenir bag all held in front of mi esposo's chest!

Not good.

Something that was awkward for me though, was witnessing the lack of my love's chest.

Flat.

That men's dress shirt was hanging the way it was intended.

My love looked handsome.

I was so thrilled to see Papi and have a feeling of seeing mi esposo as gorgeous.

When we got home, my love needed to change the dressings.  Papi didn't want me to see, "I don't want you to think I'm ugly."

This broke my heart.

As I was trying to get Papi to calm down, I had to stroke my love's arms and say, "I want to heal you.  I want to be the one to take care of your wounds and be the one to heal them.  Please let me help you."

My love is not very good with pain or blood.  I'm fine with pain, I'm getting used to it now, but blood?

Nope.

Not my thing.

However, because Papi's worse at it, I had to step up to the plate.

Papi was wiggling all over the place in anticipation of me taking off the old dressings.  It was so much work getting mi esposo to sit still, that the terror of seeing what I'm most afraid of wasn't even an issue.

When I saw the healing incisions, I was surprised that I didn't have a moment of tears.  I did have a few mini panic attacks, but nothing I couldn't deal with.

Mami kicked in, and I took control of taking care.

I had nausea and was terrified of hurting my love, but I did it and it felt good to help mi esposo.

It looked very strange.

Foreign.

It's going to take some time to get used to, but I really think that helping my love heal will also heal my heart.

On to the next hurdle of denial.

The teenager today had a few thoughts, "Maybe Papi will just be good with this and it will be enough.  Maybe there doesn't have to be a full male transformation.  Maybe it's all done now.  Maybe I can just have a flat chested butch."

I'm sorry little one.

You're still not getting it are you?

You've married a tranny.