Next step: Motivation

I'm like an elephant.

I never forget.

I can forgive quite easily, as we are definitely not perfect beings.

But forget?

No.

It's part of the reason why I'm so sensitive to cliques actions, and why I have social anxiety.

I've run into the issue of being ostracized by mobs since I was a little girl.  Over and over again these throngs of people prove how mean they can be.

I really thought that it would get better at this developed point in life.  I mean c'mon!  We're adults here, are we not?

some of us have that nattering teenager inside ...

But just like elephants never dismissing a memory, some people are like feral cats and never change their loathsome habits.

I sat with a Trust List friend the other day, whom I told about my issues with 'learning'.  How I prefer to ask questions and learn from my mistakes to educate myself.

I mean really.

My biggest lessons have come through the err in my imperfect ways.

However, she looked at me with sympathetic sincerity, while asking me if it really is a method I would recommend sustaining.

I reminded myself, at the same time I told her, "I usually do these things until I'm sick of the pain, or finally realize they don't actually work."

I'm wondering if perhaps I should take a look at my scarcity of wisdom in the transgender world.

I've been so pig headed about the whole thing.  I've only been letting in what I can handle, to be honest.

Yet, I really feel that I'm much more secure now.  This allows me to be much more inquisitive, and simultaneously, more willing.

i am the queen of denial ... and denial ain't a river in egypt ...

Papi and I went to a movie the other day about transgender people.  3 people told their stories and one of them was a very young child.

The parents of this child were so supportive of their kid being trans.  It was really quite beautiful.  They fumbled through this new world, learning as they went.  All the while, they supported their offspring by allowing this person to decide who they wish to be.

Next came an F-M who had a struggle all through his life because everyone else could see that this 'girl' was not the same as the other 'girls'.

He spoke about his upbringing, the first person who accepted the male inside as 'Tom', and his isolated voyage in this quest of finding who he really is.

We didn't get to see the third person, because Papi's stomach erupted from a bad case of 'alfredo sauce from hell'.

It didn't really matter that I didn't get to see the third one.  The first two were enough for me to feel so deeply for my love, and the titanic trouble Papi must have endured to finally get to a point of acceptance of the male within.

My love had said to me early on in the drop of the bomb, "The reason I found strength to come out about my need to change genders, is because I knew I could trust you to keep loving me, and that you wouldn't leave me."

Papi was right.  I'm not going anywhere.

But damn!  I've got a lot of learning to do, opinions to change, and fear to overcome.

Nevertheless, there was one comment that stood out in the verbal exchange of femme to femme love with my Trust List friend the other day, that still reverberates in my mind.

I had blurted out, "My love is stronger than my fear."

My friend was jubilant to hear these palpable words, and stressed that I should place this bold statement around the house.  That way, I could see these words when I fret about my future with my soul mate who is becoming another gender.

There's really nothing to be afraid of.

I've gotten past that point.

So now, the work must begin.

Anyone feel like giving me a loving nudge?

Back off bitches!

The Hen Peckers are at it again.  Only this time, they're attacking Papi.

don't you fuck with my baby, bitches!! i don't care if your a he, a she, both or none of the above, your behaviour grants the title 'bitches'!!

The Trans Clique is spewing their defamation about my love on forums.

They have no idea about mi esposo's situation, but they feel that Papi should be following their orders.

like tiny little soldiers we all fall in line ...

Papi's job is a difficult subject that my love and I have spoken about numerous times, and mi esposo doesn't take this job for granted.  Papi is very aware of the transition being discussed amongst management at this company, and is waiting for them to figure out this issue on their own.

You see, my love started working at a transition safe house for abused, mentally ill women a few years ago.  Only 'women' can work there, and only 'women' can be housed there.  However, there has been an M-F who was taken in.

The women were uncomfortable with this transgender person at first, because she still had a penis and walked around with a short house coat.

Yet, over time, they became used to the soul inside and accepted her as one of their own.

Stress the words; over ... time ...

The women there adore my love.  Rightfully so!  Papi has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known.  Mi esposo is perfect for the job, because of this.

Abused, mentally ill people need to have this love in their lives, just as much as they need consistency.

I know that these souls would be heartbroken if my love were fired from this job, or even if Papi left by choice.

My love has been slowly telling these broken souls in a sweet way, that they have to be prepared for the day when mi esposo must say, "Farewell."

Slowly ... over ... time ...

It's giving them a chance to mentally prepare for the day when they have to let go of Papi, when it's my love's own time to depart.

Papi knows that time is ticking and that there will come a day when mi esposo must say goodbye, but just like in a romantic relationship, right now is not the 'right time' to break up.

Well, when my love was written about in the newspaper, the trans mafia read it, and are now spitting words of venom over the fact that mi esposo is still working in a facility that employs only 'women'.

What ever happened to free thinking, not being labeled by society, and supporting one another by understanding each other's own journey is just that; their own?

Nope.

The clan is saying that my love is double dipping and being a woman when it's convenient, and being a male when it's advantageous.

One of the biggest ring leaders is adamant that nobody label them as male or female, so how dare they label my love as only a male?

Papi shed a few tears from the hens pecking at my love's beautiful skin.

Cliques.

They are just insecure, scared beings who can't be alone from the clan.  They don't allow free thinking.  They demand you be just like them so they will accept you.

Papi and I are both one in the same kind, who allow each other to think how we feel.  We correct each other when we're too far away from PC thinking that may hurt another.  We love each other and the friends we have, because they, and we, accept each other for who we are.

We don't fit in to these mobs.

We and our friends don't fit in together.

So, in an essence, we are doing our very best to weed out the cliques one by one, find the real friends that we deserve, and feel the pain when the Hen Peckers break our skin.

My love is not hurting anyone by being at work.  Quite the contrary.  Papi's presence would be terribly missed.

If Papi triggered anyone into feeling that my love is an intimidating male, mi esposo would ask to be moved to a different facility in the company.

It's not the pack's choice.

Go on then.  Live your own life.

We'll be living ours with the people who show us love.

Looks like Papi will be making his own Trust List.

and yes.  it was difficult for me to type 'his', so shoot me.

Shhhhh ...

'after all it’s just another way society has of sticking you in a box and controlling you'

I read these words in my comments box from a new face in my manic world of mind to paper, BlackLOG, and I remembered why I'm here speaking to my imaginary friend.

Lest I be judged.

It just so happens that people read my words of discord.

I never set out to harm anyone, rather to be good to 'me' and give myself some healing around what I find difficult.

I am not evil, because I didn't intentionally set out to hurt anyone.  I am working things out, and I'm behind the eight ball is all.

I mean really, Papi was trying to get across to me why people would choose not to have anything to do with me anymore, but not all people diss me.  I am still loved by those who matter.

I now remember why those of us who are struggling with the fact that our soul mate has exposed their true gender don't speak; lest we be judged.

But, this is my journey.  I am not a cookie cut out of every other person.

It is true that because of my words some folks will choose to disapprove of me, just as it is true that I don't think the same as other people.  Honestly, I've been this person all my life.  I think for myself, not the way others would have me do so.

It is the reason I am friends with the underdog.

It is the reason I've never been akin to the 'cool kids'.

I will not be muzzled by the imperial masses who, as a new member of my Trust List said, 'put politics before humanity'.

I will openly continue my journey, albeit there may be many tears along the way due to being the 'odd' one out.

I will continue to be the last called for the basket ball game, and I'm sure there will be a lot of gatherings I'll be deliberately left out of.

wouldn't want to be associated with me ... you may be dissed for doing so...

However, it's my journey, and I have hope that these words will reach the many out there who are feeling the same discord.  I am hoping these words will find those who may relate to my feelings.

Our feelings of difficulty around our partners re-arranging their genders is unique.

We don't fit in.  Instead, we all 'don't fit in' together.

What you read yesterday is true to my feelings of the inner battle with myself.  It is my inner struggle I live with every moment.  It is my healing journey that began at the age of 10 when my father let me know that I wasn't good enough to be in his life, by choosing drugs over his children.

if i don't eat a crumb, i will vanish ... if i just lose 5 more pounds, maybe i'll die ...

It is why I am here at this very moment probing to find peace, to learn, grow and heal in my way.

I only speak the truth of what's in my head, and unfortunately, those without any psychological cacophony will never understand.

The beating I gave myself was only because Papi spoke to me from the other side of the fence.  It was my love's way of showing me how I am seen from another's perspective, and in mi esposo's words, "I like the fact that your non-PC.  It's one of the reasons I love you.  I also think that being racist is not quite the words I was looking for.  It's more like homophobia.  It's transphobia."

And it's my transphobia.  It is not for someone else to tell me how to get past it, all that really matters is that I'm trying do so and not stagnating in my filth.

Yesterday, I took an elephantine baby step and referred to my love as 'he' on Facebook.  It is a great place to start, as it's coming through my fingers, not my mouth.

Two people recognized it and gave me a pat on the back.  I needed that.  I needed to hear from someone else that indeed it was a big step, and that they're happy for me getting to that point.

One of these two souls is an F-M who would never silence me.

It is someone who is witnessing my growth from start to finish, much like I get to witness my love's changes in becoming a male born in a female's body.  It is a person who hasn't decided to follow anyone's lead, but only to support and love me through many of my words that may seem unloving to the politically fueled.

There may be many tears to accompany my truth.  There may be many days where I feel like the person those who dislike me make me out to be.  There may be days where I beat myself up with my inner struggle, yet I will not be extinguished.

Those who wish me to be mute and invisible, only make my voice feel the need to be heard all the more.

(roar.)

I guess I asked for it.

"You have to understand that all the things you post in your blog will be seen by the politically correct.  You're not politically correct.  It's kinda like you're being a racist."

These genuine utters stung, bringing on an anaphylactic crying session.  To know that Papi and all the other transgender people, Rah-Rah Tranny folks, Tranny lovers etc. would think that I'm that evil, and that my expressing a cacophony of antipathy could hurt another, stopped me from being able to show my face, even to my love.

My love continued, "I don't see why you don't read more about this so that you're informed." 

like tiny little soldiers we all fall in line ...

I had to be honest with my love, "I really have trouble reading online to better my life.  I have files of links on my computer for things I need to read about from the music industry, how to market better, and learn more for my music production.  I don't even read those, and those are things that are part of learning more for my music.  So, if I haven't even read these things, then I won't get to reading up on transgender issues and how to be politically correct."

No.

I don't read online and learn. 

i didn't ask for this to be my life ...

The only things I like to read are stories that take me so far from reality that I can't come back.

dragons, wizards and magic ... just like magic, sometimes i wish they could wave a wand and poof! i'd disappear ... never again to harm another ...

I cried tears thinking of all the people who have read my instantaneous feelings of the moment.  My fledgling ramblings of how I perceive the transgender world.

My political incorrectness that harms others, when really it stems from ignorance and fear.

Yes.

Same damn thing as racism.

So.

I'm evil.

The very thing that I fear in other people, that is what I am.

I will ask more questions so that I may learn to be what everyone I've bruised wishes I would be.

It won't bring back the haters that have already made their minds up about how hideous I am.  But I can learn from this, so that I may not damage another living being.

It was never my intention.

I'm aching thinking that another person would be injured I through my words.

The lashing of Papi's tongue has put me down to the dog's mat.  I'll just curl up here for a while and lick my wounds.

One thing that changed last night.  As the tears fell so hard that i felt it coming from my toes, reaching through every vein, strangling my throat until they finally reached my eyes to fall, Papi finally held me.

I haven't been able to lie upon my love's chest since the top surgery.

It used to be my favourite place.

It used to be how we'd end the day.

It used to allow me to hear my love's heart beat and feel that it was beating for me.

I haven't felt that in months.

However, because of the tears that were so obviously painful in hearing the truth about how hideous I could be, mi esposo finally gave me back my chest.

Definitely not as cushiony as it used to be.

Not the butch's breast that I could lie upon for support.

Flat.

Barren.

Yet still that heart beat could be heard.

And so could the echos of my love's prior verbal beatings.

It was Papi's truth.

Never meant to hurt, but only to be heard.

And so, I see how I've hurt another.

Roots of my Willow

Papi's still going on about the inane he said/she said conversation.

But you know what, if it's my reality, then that's the way it is in my blog.

So there!

**sticks out tongue**

In last night's cozy hang out, my love tried to tell me the 5 Foot Clitoris is only 'x' amount bigger, by way of the distance between mi esposo's thumb and index finger.

Again, I corrected Papi, "Nope.  It's bigger."

"No way, it was big to start with."

"Nope.  It's huge."

And again went the batty back and forth comedy skit that is our marvelous life together.

Our life.

Like an old married couple, we watch Wipeout together and in tandem will burst into deep belly laughs, while peoples' flexible limbs are being thrown this way and that after bouncing off the big balls.

I snuggle into the side of Papi, spooning my love's arm.  I'm still only able to get this close.

Apparently, the pain is still too much to allow my head on mi esposo's chest.

Between each 'oof' and squeal of the contestants dense enough to be on the show, I evaluated a conversation I had during the day with one of the first people on the Trust List.  She was the 'responsible person' at the QAF that I was volunteering at.  She sweetly asked me, "How are you coming along with all this?"

I knew what she meant.  She didn't have to elaborate.

"I'm doing better.  I'm no longer defiantly saying, 'No, No, No, No," I said as I emulated a child stomping her feet, clenched fists articulating every 'No' with a slam to my lap.  I continued, "Now I find myself saying, 'Ok I think I can open my mind a little more day by day."

It was actually surprising to me to hear those words of substance come out of my mouth.

Between every whole hearted guffaw from one of the show's hosts, Jill, I thought about where I was in November, and how all the pain that pummeled my head and stabbed my heart seems to be dissipating.

I didn't know that I'd even get this far.  I remember when Papi said, "I'll give it one year, and if you're not on board with this, I'll stop."

or something like that ... enter here: papi correcting me while my love dissects my blog ...

Well, we are at 9 months, and my arduous issues are really all about pronouns, and hearing about the loss of another butch to the F-M world.

Seems manageable.

However, there is a run off that is more painful than the aforementioned.  I would say struggling with people's hatred is harder than my dealing with mi esposo's male transformation at this point, but they actually lie in a different category.

So, I sit here, brazenly amazed at how my mind could actually calm itself down to this point.

I can put these paltry issues into a tiny brown paper bag.  I can roll the top closed and wait for that moment when I'm hungry enough to open it, and eat it for lunch.

Pronouns.

Missing butches.

Haters.

Seems feasible that I could take these fuckers on, don't you think?

I feel like a willow tree, swaying from the force of the wind.  My branches may get blown too far in one direction, and it seems I would fall.

I never do.

I just right myself and wait for the next blow.

My roots are strong.

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.

Purge.

The Papirazzi is on full force today.

A very sweet reporter we met the other day just so happens to be doing an article on transgender people in the work force, and asked if my love would like to be interviewed.

Papi has been trying to get a date fixed with her to have this dialogue, but their schedules didn't really work out to do so.

This morning, however, I woke up to hearing my love on the phone with the reporter, answering questions about being transgendered from up to down and all around.

Papi said, "I don't know how personal you want to get about this, but other things happen, like the clit getting bigger."

I giggled while I prepared my Dominican Republic Coffee.

yes ... still some left ... almost out though ... maybe if i tap my heels 3 times, 'there's no place like home'

Then Papi yells out, "Hun, do you think it's gotten bigger than 5 centimeters?"

Oh great.

Don't drag me into this!

"It's bigger."

Papi chuffed to the reporter, "No, it's not.  Don't listen to her.  She has issues with it."

They started to talk about a penis, and my love said, "They don't make one that is like the real thing, so forget it, and besides, my wife would leave me."

ok. so we've got that down. phew.

Papi doing the interview made me proud.  Not that I wasn't already.

In the same realm that I've walked along side my love through this male transformation, Papi has also had to stand beside me in my conflict.

This also means defying the haters.  Those beings who have read about themselves here in my blog and decided to despise me for my honesty, instead of proving me wrong.

Those who bury under the blanket of protection of political ideals, then judge me for my openness about my strife.

Those who say to their followers, "Ok, so now we don't speak to Andréa anymore."

And those who heed the demands who can't think for themselves.

Haters.

I looked to Papi's Facebook page, and under the 'things that inspire me' shout out, I found: My Wife.

For my love to blatantly propel the repugnance of those who resent me, by saying I am an inspiration, made all the pain float away.

For all the support I felt I was needing to give to the person going through male transformation, there is also a balance in our world of love.  The need to support the partner.

My love does this.

Then proceeds to wave the 5 Foot Clitoris at me, "It is not that big."

I answer, "It's huge."

"No it's not."

"It's huge," I repeated.  Then true to any debate in marriage, this mundane back and forth colloquy went on for a good 2 minutes.

"Are you ok with me having my picture in the paper?"

you have to ask a performing extrovert this?

"Of course!  Why wouldn't I be?!"

"Because if people who don't know see it, then they will know your spouse is going through a male transformation."

"That's ok.  It'll weed 'em out faster."

Truly.

Purge.

Get over it.

"Your blog has been boring because it hasn't been about me.  But I guess that's ok, because it means you're getting better."

And within the same heartbeat I heard, "I think my nipples aren't healing properly, one doesn't look like the other.  I'm afraid the outer skin is not going to fall off and they'll look weird.  Hey, do I have ass hair?"

ass hair ... really?

Papi then proceeded to bend over wave the one eyed, stark white orb in my face.

"No, sweety, you don't have ass hair."

thank gawd!

When we were out the other day, someone mentioned that they'd like to have a camera and just follow us around.

The Papi & Andréa show.

I told her, "We already have that.  It's my blog."

There's plenty to go on about here.

I have issues, and I write about them.

Most people hide their contention out of embarrassment, but I prefer to let people know that if they have the same problems as I, then we are are no different and it's really ok to talk about it.

Rather; it's really important to talk about it.

Here's one that I need to deal with.

'They'.

We're back at the pronoun dilemma folks.

Being a persnickety officer of grammar and spelling, when I hear that people don't want to be called 'he' or 'she', but prefer to be called 'they', I get uncomfortable.

It's not proper grammar.

'They' refers to 2 people, and transgender people are beings of The Third Gender.  So, unless someone has dual personality disorder, then this is only one person.

I cringe whenever Papi informs me that another butch has denounced their gender of female.

But here's the real problem; I get a look of disdain, or roll my eyes when I'm told a transgender would like to be referred to as 2 people.

'They'.

So, I've been thinking about the question that Papi asked me, "What does it matter to you what they want to be referred to as?"

Really?

I don't know.

What does it matter to me?

Nobody is hurting anybody by asking to be referred to as 2 people.  It doesn't change the fact that someone is a nice person with a big heart, or, an ego-centric asshole.

It really doesn't matter.

So, I had to come up with a way to deal, or it will continue to be the same conversation with Papi over and over.  I wouldn't want that, because it could become too much of a debate in our relationship, and I prefer the communication and giggles we use to talk 'things' through.

Here's where I got to:  A transgender person really is dual gender.

Dual.

2 genders.

Going through male or female transformation never really makes that person become a bio-male or bio-female, it really just helps someone have the 'appearance' of the gender they feel.

the dysphoria ... being unsettled with what they see in the mirror ... like my eating disorder ... who is that big girl in the mirror?

So.

Then.

That makes someone indeed be 2 people.

'They'.

Now I just have to convince the bratty fucking teenager in my head to get over it.

Wish me luck.

Is 'selfish' one of the 5 stages of grieving?

Soooooo ...

I'm still screwed.

Not that it's really anything out of the ordinary in my world of re-occurring back injury flare ups, but the timing on this one really couldn't be worse.

Remember I was talking about the Gender Odyssey and how they actually accepted me for a subsidy?

Well, there's not a hope in hell that in 48 hours I'll be strong enough to handle a 3 hour drive to Seattle.

Hence, I've missed the Pride Parade, missed being in Dykes on Bikes, and now I'm going to miss going with My Person to Gender Odyssey, even though I've already paid my subsidized entry.

permission to have a temper tantrum now, please?!

What's interesting to me however, is the fact that I was really looking forward to going.

yes. you read that right. i was looking forward to going.

It's a strange phenomenon, because never in my life have I even stopped to consider much about the third gender.  I've been burrowed in my bubble, never thinking that for a second that I may need to take the time to think about the topic.

Really!

I mean, if I'm not going to date an F-M, because it's not what I'm attracted to, why would I need to grow and learn around this?

ahhh ... the irony

No.

I'm just going to date someone of the third gender, be in denial about it for a couple of years, marry them, then 4 months later, sit in a La-Z-Boy for 6 weeks straight sobbing because my soul mate dropped the transgender, male transformation bomb.

So, when I think about the fact that I was looking forward to going, it shocks me.

Now I do want to learn more about my core issues, so that my mind will open further, and there will be acceptance and love around this topic.

this also means I have to learn to love the hairy legs that have popped up on mi esposo.

I actually am grateful to Papi having thrown me into the pit of doom on this one.

There is nobody else in this world that I could love this much, and stay with throughout this.

So in turn, I'm forced to find a place within my heart where this male transformation can fit, and I can be more of a loving person, instead of fighting this every step of the way.

I feel horrible when my love has problems with injections and I'm not there emotionally to help.

Oh, I'm around, but I'll be in the other room, trying to pretend it isn't happening.

if you ignore it, it will go away ... wait ... i've been trying that for almost 9 months now ... how come it hasn't worked yet?!?!?

The other day, my love asked with sincerity, "Honey, if I'm having trouble with my injections, do you think you're able to help me now?"

I wanted to say, "No," like I have from the beginning, but this is my love!

I stopped the bratty teenager from blurting out her negativity and took a look at mi esposo.  I saw the pleading look in Papi's eyes.

I can't keep hanging this sweet soul out to do everything without any support, so I said, "Yes, I can sweety."

This is the person who has been my care-giver since the accident and does everything for me when I need support.

How could I ever not help mi esposo?

How selfish can I be?!

Yes, it's hard, but damn!  It's time to get off the pity pot and start being there for Papi.  If I'm sticking around to see this love through to the end, then I should act like it.

I guess that's why I was excited to go to Gender Odyssey.  It was to be fresh steps into the rabbit hole of my own mania.

I want to learn more about myself and my clandestine contention around all this.  I really want to be of support and giving of love.

I have to remember that if it were reversed, Papi would drop everything to help me.

Clique.

My performance went great!

thank you coffee

Only problem with my voice was the lower part of my register.  If that's all the fever took, I'm cool with it.  For now that is.

I'll be keeping the chatting in the ice box at work today.  Gotta make sure my voice is up to snuff for the next 2 shows Friday and Saturday.

It was just wonderful to see so many people last night and receive so much love.

My Person was there.  I told her I was going to the Gender Odyssey and asked if I could catch a ride.

Again I was one upped.  "Sure!  There's even room for you to stay with us if you want!"  This sounds like a great idea, considering the fact that it's right near the conference.

I had asked The Yank if I could stay there, but it may make more sense for me to be somewhere I don't need to take a cab to.

When My Person asked if it was just me who would be attending, I confirmed that it was, only to hear My Person squeal like a teenager with joy!  She took my hands and we were having a moment of bonding and allegiance to the femme club.

She told me about all the different kinds of people we will experience in our workshops.  She told me there would be Rah-Rah-Trannies, there would be Tranny Chasers, and that there would be tranny haters that will make me look like I'm carrying the pom-poms for the Rah-Rah-Tranny cheering foundation.

I told her I just want to find more love and acceptance, and perhaps more allies.  She told me that even she is still at odds.

She told me that there is really nothing wrong with living in both worlds.  Take one hat off and put another hat on.

Sometimes, she's seen as straight, sometimes she's seen as queer.

I just hate the straight part.  I'm so angry that I get thrown into the closet against my will.

When Papi and I go into public, I'll just be the normal straight girl that I fought so hard to leave behind all those years ago.

Then there's the Trans Clique.  There's a very large clique in the transgender community who support each other.  Which is needed.

However, when Papi told me I need to start hanging out with the Trans Clique, I felt uncomfortable.

I don't just accompany femmes just because we're femmes.  I convene with femmes who touch my heart and fill me with strength.

I pal up with straight people who are the sweet souls whom I've loved since before I came out of the closet, and more that I've encountered along my journey of life.

I get together with trans people whom I've watched go through the changes and loved them along the way.

I buddy up with butches that I adore, who have hearts bigger than most people, even though they look so tough on the outside.

There isn't just a clique of people I consort with.  I don't want to hang out with the Trans Clique just because Papi is trans.

I collect my hearts one by one.  I connect with souls who are like minded, sensitive and intuitive in our hearts, and keep them as a prize I've won.

So when Papi told me I need to support mi esposo by hanging out with the Trans Clique, I got very uncomfortable indeed.

Cliques scare the fuck out of me.

They have done damage to me like no other humans on the planet.

Time and time again, they attack the weakest chicken in the coop.  They segregate and plan their attack behind my back, "Ok, so don't talk to Andréa anymore."  They just whisper into one another's ear as they cast their death stare toward me.

Over and over they gang up on one individual and oust them with no effort.  They laugh as a group, pointing from the balcony as I meekly walk away from the home they stole from me.

Repeatedly, they find a way to ostracize one individual to make themselves feel power.  They confirm my fears, and add to the torment of my social anxiety.

Dearest Papi, don't bring me into a place that could take away all the strength I've worked 8 months to build.

I'm still at a point where I am the weak hen who could be pecked to death.

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.

One eye open.

A beautiful thing happens when you're willing; your eyes will open a little bit more at a time, granting you visions of skylines you wouldn't normally see.

What I saw yesterday, was compassion for the transgendered person behind the counter.

From me.

Yes, me.

A Blogger Friend, Dirty Cowgirl, had me thinking about the reversal of the transformation.  As example, if I was in a straight relationship and I had a husband who was going through female transformation.

The support would all be for me.  My spouse would then be the one being ostracized, and quite possibly harassed to a state of depression, fear or even suicide.

I'm not being shunned to my face, but I have lost a few faces off Facebook.  Which is fine by me.  Those who don't understand my grieving over the loss of my butch can go elsewhere and keep their eyes closed to my side of the fence.

this moment brought to you by the strength of my trust list

Here's where the compassion came in though ...

We were out getting a last minute wedding card for this upcoming weekend, and I was having a sugar crash.

this moment brought to you by not taking care of myself by remembering to bring water and a snack.

I went into the nearest store to buy some protein of some sort and the line I chose to buy my chicken leg was being tended to by an obvious F-M.

However, I say obvious, because I have gaydar.  It's possible that the straight folks might not have caught on to this one.

and ... i digress ... sheesh ...

As I listened to this transgendered person speak, it made me realize he has what Papi desires; a lowered voice to pass as a male.

papi is also getting that in between 'teen' voice that sounds like helium ... o good gawd!

At the same time, I saw this person had a caterpillar moustache.  It was about the same fuzziness as Papi's when it's all grown out.

I stared.

I dissected.

I compared.

And after all that, the only thing I saw was a person who is on the same path as my love.  I immediately felt this warmth of caring and wondered, does this person have the same support as mi esposo?

Does this person have family members who would disown them?

Is this person being ridiculed by people in public, because they're going through their male transformation and they're in that 'in between' stage?

I adore people in my life who are F-M.  I love their hearts, and that's all I see.  I've never really cared that they were F-M, I just know I love their souls.  Hence, I've never asked what difficulties they may have had to endure while trying to find themselves.

I felt I needed to be extra sweet to this person, because I just don't know what they've been through during their transformation.

Then as I was leaving the store, I was so grateful that even though my love is going through the 'in between' stage, Papi is so damn handsome.

My love's personality shines through any 'imperfections' mi esposo may see in the mirror.

Occasionally, Papi will express the feeling of insecurity that I might leave because I'm going through such a turbulent time during the transformation.

I now know, and verbally confirm to my love, "Well, if I've made it past the worst of my grieving through this, I think it proves that because I'm still here, I'm going to stay.  Don't you?"

I still have some work to do around acceptance ...

and the 5 foot clitoris!!!

... but overall, I do believe Papi's joking of, "Ah, she'll get over it," does have some truth to it.

It also doesn't hurt that I got my hugs back from mi esposo now that there's been more healing from the top surgery.

I have one eye open and it's really enjoying the brightness of this day.

Wallflower

I usually don't get the chance to be out at a social gathering with Papi.  Our schedules really do clash.

Last night, I had the advantage of arriving with my love to a Trust List friend's birthday party.

It was so wonderful to have mi esposo there, however it brought some difficulty for me in the evening.

You see, my love has all the support in the world.  Every person in Papi's life is very loving towards mi esposo ...

with the exception of the 95 year old g'ma ...

... and the changes.  They are very curious or interested, and there are some people who find the camaraderie in another transgendered person.

None of that changed last night.  Every person who was in contact with Papi was asking my love how it was going, starting with the first person we saw at the door, "How are you doing with all of this?!  Is it all moving very smoothly?  How are you feeling!?"

Of course, Papi answered with glee that things are going better than expected, that my love is healing from the surgery and can lift arms a bit more now, and going back to work etc.

As the banter continues with joy and excitement, I shrink.

I want to disappear.

So much so that when they look at me, you can see it in their eyes.  The look of pity.  There is an air of tension and they stroke my arm or simply say, "I'm sorry."

Papi usually jokes and says, "Ah, she'll get over it."

There's also the part where I just stay silent.

I can't go in to detail with my oral words like I can when I'm speaking to 'you', my imaginary friend.  Here I can tell you right down to the face muscle as to how I'm feeling.

Speaking about my feelings out loud is not my forté.

Papi and the person asking questions will speak for me, speak about me, speak as if I wasn't there.

I stand with my shoulders caved in, in hopes that if I try really hard, I could just vanish.

please don't bring any more attention to me

At one point in the evening, a very nice person came to sit with us and was genuinely interested in my love's progress.  I couldn't handle another moment of pity, so I felt I had to leave the circle.

I had to go somewhere.

Anywhere.

I casually, invisibly walked over and stood beside the birthday girl and waited for her to finish her conversation with an obviously intoxicated chum.

someone i used to have a crush on ... interesting how our tastes change over the years!

Good things come to those who wait.

This dear friend has a heart bigger than one could ever imagine.  Her soul is an innocent, youthful, magical entity.

She looked at me after saying goodbye to her ex that is still haunting her and said, "I just need to hold your hands."

I needed more.

I took her head into my bosom, and held her as if she were my own child.

Funny part was, it felt as though she was doing the same for me.

We took one another's pain and exchanged it with love.  We crawled into the same balloon of air and breathed away each others stress.

This interchange of energy was so beautiful that I felt filled.  I felt I could return to my love.

This is one of the beautiful souls in my life that I am so fortunate to have as a Trust List friend.

I really am one of the luckiest people in the world to have so much love.

Truly.

I love ya, tomorrow ...

It's always better 'tomorrow'.

I'm feeling a lot more 'human' today, vs. perfect.

A few of my blogger friends reminded me that I am hard on myself, and that it's important to remember I'm human.

I'm pretty sure that my recent back injury flare up is responsible for the weakness that let the demons in to play.

I had a dream last night that the G'ma left the house and Papi and I were free to paaaaaar-tayyyy!

wooooohoooooo!!!! **fist pumps the air**

I think that's what the demons do.  When my brain can only handle so much pain, they come on in like rats searching for a meal, and I am the morsel they have a food fight with.

None-the-less, I am feeling much better emotionally today.

time to jump the next hurdle?

Papi asked me if I want to go to something called Gender Odyssey.  They have closed workshops for the spaz of a spouse/partner/lover who just can't find 'happiness' during a gender change, yet is secretly a Tranny Lover.

yeah ... that's me all right

Everyone in this particular workshop must be the gender they were born with.

So, while Papi will be out flashing The Great Breast Disappearance with all the other F-Ms, and everyone is patting each other on the back, "Way to go bro!" I'll be wallowing and sobbing with all the others who have healing to do.

I hope they're ready for me.  Oh, I'll be there in full force.  I'll more than likely be the loudest one there, but if there's one who is as frantic as I, then I will have found a new BFF.

I will also gather more people for the Trust List.

I really have a great Trust List going now.  It's actually to the point where I was confident enough this week to tell people on Facebook just what it is I've been going through for 7 months.

I posted a note inviting people to come here and ride the roller coaster.

It is mostly to reach out to people who are in the same place as I.

7 months ago, I was completely alone searching for someone, anyone who had been there.  I received closed doors and it caused me to shut down emotionally.

and perhaps burn a few bridges ...

I'm truly hoping that there is someone out there who is in need of support, and I want to be the one to give it to them.

unlike the 'support' line i called who didn't call me back for a month

However, something else happened.  Not so close friends started reading, and now it's like I've come out of the closet all over again.

hello ... i'm andréa ... and i'm a tranny lover

Here is where I realized that breaking the silence has done more for me than the aching soul I was reaching out to:

Now I don't have this green ogre of a secret to hide.

Now I can speak freely and actually tell people what the hell has been going on with me for 7 months.

and why i've been such a maniac

Now I have support in the most unlikely places.

Now I can breathe.

now i can weed out those who are beyond trans-political people who will hate me for feeling this pain, the religious zealots who already freak out about me being a lesbian, and transphobic who will delete me off facebook

The only reason I was able to do this was because of my Trust List.

I have the feeling my Trust List just grew faster than the heart of The Grinch.

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.

I'll see what I want

Another added Trust List friend.

She came over last night to keep me company, have a chat, just be with me.  She had seen me on the never-ending day, and asked if I'd like to hang out for a talk.

This is someone who has a very similar heart to mine.  I almost called this gem in December while I was feeling suicidal.  I knew she'd understand, because she has also frequented the Pit of Doom.

More than once.

We are kindred hearts.  I've always been attracted to her energy, yet somehow we just have never bonded.  It's just the way it goes.  Right place at the right time brings what you need in life.

You never really know what you need until it hits you.  It's at that point you have the 'ah-ha' moment.

Last night we talked a mile a minute without so much as a break in the conversation.  We could barely catch our breath in our repartee, because there was too much to share.  There was too much to agree with in each other.  There was so much in fact that we really need a few more of those hangouts to even catch up to each other to get on the page.

You know the page.

The one where you don't even have to say anything to know what the other one means?  We were almost there last night.

We have just been waiting in the wings for the opportunity to come together and now is that time.

She is very much like me in the sense that she will upfront ask a butch if they intend to transform into an  F-M.  She's attracted to the androgyny just as I am.  She wants the anomaly of this beauty.

She doesn't want to be with a transgendered person who will change into someone else before her eyes.

Papi just doesn't understand this.  "But, I'm still me," mi esposo will plead.

Yes, my love, inside you are.  But outside you are becoming a stranger.  I married the perfect butch.  I was ready to live happily ever after with my butch.

I got to be married to my butch for 4 months.

enter the morph ...

I adore my love.  I cherish every piece of that sweet soul that I'm so fortunate to love, and be loved by.

As my tears fall, Papi's will well up with the sorrow of hurting me.  "I'm so sorry I'm doing this to you."

"You're not doing anything to me my love.  It's just our path in our relationship."

I will always see my love as the butch I married.  Papi can become as masculine as the next, but I will always hold the wife I married in my heart.

This is the reason for my resistance.

I battle all notions of this male I must accept, so that I may win the fight to see what I want to see.

My butch.

This person behind the mask.

When my added Trust List heart and I spoke about The Countdown, she made me realize something.  I was actually ok with Papi have top surgery before the news that there would be a transition.

I suddenly felt the removal of my love's breasts would negate the feminine side of my dear butch.

No, this is not the case.

My love has never had a true feminine side.  My love has always been a masculine woman.

The Countdown is really about the finality of loss.

I'm mourning because it is the signification of the end.

I have to accept this ending.  I have to say goodbye to my butch.  It will be at this point that people will see Papi as more male.

Me however?

I'll see my butch, minus a bit of chest fat.

The Silence of the Lambs

She said, "It's not that we didn't notice you disappeared, it's just that we wanted to give you your space.  I wouldn't want to taint you with the pain I felt when I had to go through it, because maybe your experience was different."

maybe i'm a rah-rah-tranny and you're afraid i would judge you adversely?

My response started my tears, "But I needed to know you were there.  I needed to hear that I'm not horrible for the feelings I have."

Like a big sister who had walked my path before, I heard, "We're taught NOT to speak about it.  We're taught that the person transitioning needs support.  We're taught that we need to be the strong one, because we're not supposed to be hurt by this."

My fire grew deeper, "I will not be silenced."

No, I will not stay dormant while my love changes into the person I didn't marry.  I will be there when another person feels there is nobody to talk to.

I will scream from the mountains, "This fucking hurts like hell!"

You Rah-Rah-Trannies will have another thing coming if you think that you're the only ones that get to be heard.

My time has come.

All of those that feel that I should be the supportive wife, the person who just 'takes' it with a smile, the quiet mouse who must grieve in silence, lest I hurt the transgendered person's feelings will not win.

I'm hurting.

I'm terrified.

I'm grieving.

I'm losing my sweet butch I married.

No, this I can promise you; I will not be silenced.

I received another email last night from a sweet soul who saw me on that day that lasted an eternity.  She wrote, "I've never seen you looking so fragile and so sad before.  I just want to know if you're ok."

I wrote back in honesty that I was not ok.  I'm hurting, and that day was an awful day to live.

Another one that may be added to the Trust List.  They just keep coming.

Maybe it's because I need the support now that the countdown has arrived.  Maybe my energy is pulling those toward me because this will be a difficult time.  Maybe I need them.

Maybe I pushed everyone away for those 6 weeks.  Maybe they were my first steps to laying down and commencing the wanting of death.

Maybe now I'm learning to ask for help.

maybe?

All I know is, I thought the hardest part was over.  I thought that acceptance would be the biggest hurdle.

Oh no, it is not.

I'm counting the days until the symbol of my love's femininity has been torn from me.

Papi is starting to get Helium Voice.  The voice that all F-Ms get when the hormones start to transform them into more of a male being.

I've told mi esposo how much I hate that voice.  It's coming and my love is excited.

I'm doing my best just to ignore it.

It's hard however, when Papi is jumping up and down like a child on X-Mas morning, "Can you hear it?!  It's coming!  You have to admit it's coming!!"

No my love, I don't have to admit it.

I have to deal with it.

you DON'T want to get me angry.

Well, last night the time came where I decided to watch the videos and prepare for Papi's top surgery.

It really wasn't what I expected.

I thought I'd be looking at a clinical documentary about how to care for the person who's had top surgery.

Nope.  I got the Rah-Rah-Tranny people and their fucking pom-poms.

The F-M patient had little more than "Umm ..." and "What not" in their vocabulary, which drove me nuts the most, so I didn't like him right from the start.

jeeeezus people!  if you're going to make a video, fucking well get used to public speaking to keep our fucking attention!!!!!  being cute does fuck all on a screen!!  fucking wall flower!!!!

It was the Rah-Rah-Tranny people's experience on the expedition.  Not the reality that I'm living in.

All I wanted to see was how to take care of Papi.  I didn't want to see 2 people jumping up and down in the transgender glee club.

I felt disconnected.  I felt anger.  I felt that yet again, I am alone in this.  Everyone on that screen, and my love sitting in the room with me, were enthralled.

The wife of this F-M said, "I'm so excited!"  She didn't say, "I'm so excited FOR HIM!"  She is excited for the lack of breasts on her husband.  She obviously hasn't had the grieving process that I've had for the past 4 months.

She obviously didn't sit in a La-Z-Boy for 6 weeks crying and catatonic.

she's a tranny chaser who got her prey.

I was devastated.

It felt like my love was the child with a new toy.  The child is so delighted about it they had to show it off to the world.  Not much unlike when I make Papi sit through animal YouTube videos.  I'm elated and Papi is a little more than bored, staring at my exuberant laughing as if to say, "You're a loon my dear."

When it got to the point of the person getting their bandages off, it was the saddest moment for me.  I didn't see the scars covered in tape.  I didn't see the gruesome details.

I saw a lack of something beautiful.

All I could think was, "How can you do this to yourself?"

I could imagine what should have been there.

I saw Papi.

I saw mi esposo lying there with a Cheshire Cat smile.  I couldn't even see myself in the background, because I am a wilting flower.  My petals are browning from lack of nourishment.  All I am is a flower who's time has passed, and my stem is buckling over a vase.

I saw myself disappear along with my love's breasts.

The tears fell and the sobbing began.

I have a Trust List, and a few people on it who understand my sorrow and grieving for losing the 'wife' I married.

It's time to make plans with them so that I'm not alone amongst the Rah-Rah-Tranny people.  They are loud and proud.

Papi suggested I make my own video of MY experience in this.  So that other people in the world get to see the other side.  I know there's more people in my predicament who are feeling as lonely and broken as I.  It's the reason this blog is here.

Fuck the Tranny Chasers and their fucking glee.

How about some real emotions of LOSS you mother fuckers?!?!

Fuck the tears.  Now I'm angry.

You DON'T want to get me angry.  I'll get all creative on your asses!

Detachable breasts?

Day one back to work.

I was a bit nervous, but I only had to work 4 hours as my gradual return.  At least they didn't stick me with the bible thumper.

phew!

It hardly brought up pain.

double phew!

But I'll tell you, I am not a morning person.  Getting up at 6:45 is not an ability of mine.  The snooze button was my best friend this morning.

It was good to wake up however, as in one of my dreams I was being raped by this intimidating bull dyke that's in our community.

YIKES!!!!

I may be a little nervous the next time I see her.  Ah, my dreams.   NEVER a dull moment.

So, I have to tell you, I am starting to find humour in the strangest places in my journey.  It's a good thing.  It's the only way to heal.  Especially when it's time to think about Papi's top surgery.

It's all about my love's top surgery.  Shit!  Even the fucking calendar is about top surgery.  Remember the calendar of F-Ms I spoke about?  The one where I pasted on mi esposo's face on every page, so I could actually look at it?

Do you remember that April was supposed to be a bad thing to look at and that all I thought it could be was that picture that scarred me for life?  You remember the pic don't you?  Well, if you don't, you'll have to do some forensic reading and go back a few months.

Anyway, I digress ...

This month's pic is not the one that scarred me for life.  It's one of someone who still had their fucking tubes in from the top surgery.  Why the hell anyone would want to have that as their pic of pride, I don't know.

But it's all about top surgery.  Papi said, "I feel so sorry for you.  These breasts are so nice.  It's really too bad.  Some pictures of people I've seen in the gallery are just not so nice."

I nodded.

memories of hairy breasts ... horrible scars ...

Papi continued, "Why can't they be detachable so I could put them on and you could have your way with them?!"

I laughed, "Maybe they could sew them on to me.  I'd rather have yours."

Detachable breasts.

Maybe one day they'll come up with this option?  Then when those who have gender dysphoria experience a day where they feel like they could have breasts, they could wear them.

Not sure how many people are feeling like they're both female and male, but I do know they're out there.

I like my love's pillowy fun bags and I really wish I could have them.

It's such a shame.  They really are gorgeous.

One of my blogger friends told me that upon looking at pictures of Papi, that they just couldn't imagine breasts there.  That it didn't suit my love.

I suppose so.

But damn!  Couldn't I have them?  A breast transplant?

If you're going to just hack 'em off anyway ...

the incredible shrinking woman

"Night baby.  Sorry u have to go through this," was the goodnight text I received.

I have been told by others that a person going through the transition will be the most selfish they could ever be.  It's not on purpose, or vengeful, it's just a rite of passage.

Yesterday, I really got to see what this means.

I don't even want to look at my swollen eyes yet.  Let me have my coffee first, then I can sift through the rubble and see what crying myself to sleep has resulted in.

I usually get an I love you text from Papi at the days end, but all I got was an apology.  I was torn to pieces so small I felt I could vanish.  I felt all the words I'd said prior were ripped in half and then again to shreds, so they no longer exist.

The tears rolled as I let a piece of myself fall to the pillow where I laid.  I just wished to have my veins crimped so as to stop the flow of oxygen.

please just let me disappear

I wrote back, "Take the ring."  I'll find another way to have my jaw surgery.  I've got a year to save.  It will be fine, and Papi is really good at paying off credit cards.

The money isn't the reason for my tears.  I know we'll both get what we need.

The tears fell because I know I now have to step aside and allow my love to do whatever is needed.  If I stand as an obstacle in any way, shape or form, I will be the resentment in a marriage.

Papi needs me to be the caretaker after the surgery, but after taking 2 years off work from the motorcycle accident, then another 4.5 months from a simple fall at work, my neck is already on the chopping block.

If I take anymore time off work that isn't scheduled, the Americans will rub their hands together with glee, in anticipation of axing one more full time worker.

Then I won't have braces, never mind jaw surgery.

Ergo, I can't take care of my love if the top surgery is done anywhere other than right here in our city.

I could feel Papi's resentment of this already.  That my love couldn't get what was wanted right here, right now.

I feel I'm the one holding back mi esposo.  I am the irritant that created Papi's ire.  I am the massive boulder in the path of an addict who always get their way.  My love is not used to thinking about the other half and admitted so in a text.

I believe this is what hurt the most.  That my love would have had this done yesterday if it weren't for that pesky little marriage in the way.

This truly is a time of 'it's all about me' for Papi.  I really have to respect that I am not in the equation.  I must step aside and allow my love to do whatever is needed.

There will be no room to fight for my importance right now.  I see it.

Why this is so hard, is there is a second addict in this relationship that wants what they want as well.

Me.

All I want is a normal, "I love you, goodnight," text.  It's just what I want.

Instead, I got an apology and then, "I think San Fransisco is the best bet."

I am so small.

The transgendered person's world is so large.

I am a shadow in an afterthought.