It's two days before the opening night of my show: Sikhandini. It's a show about how much I love my mom and how much she loves me. It's also a show about gender, and how much it gets in the way of us just loving each other. I put together a companion reader for the show, to give to audience members, and found some interesting links which I quoted in the pamphlet:
What is a Stone Butch, by Big Dog
I am *a* Stone Butch by Big Dog
This piece is a hard piece of theater. It's emotionally autobiographical (if not factually so), and I have to reveal my female-bodied chest to an entire audience. And so I have to reveal how painful it is for me to have this body. I wish it fit. I really do. Life would be a lot easier. But on the other hand, I have the opportunity to expand boundaries, as E. might say. If one person in that audience feels less alone, then I have done my job. That's what my mentor tells me, and it's what I'll cling to.
I wish my family understood.
In response to a post from L.: Do I have any regrets about using T?
Answer: Yes and no. No, in that the physical transition has been pretty smooth, my mood swings have not been too unmanageable, physical changes have been gradual, but satisfying, etc. And yes, I regret that I live in a world where people can't look at me, look at my body and everything about me and see a "guy." That's what I see. That's what E. sees. I'm a Stone Butch, a Transman, a guy. I'm also a writer, a lover and friend. I'm many things, and deep inside I'm a bundle of energy with feelings. I regret that I felt that I couldn't survive in the world anymore without doing something so that people would see me more the way I see myself. And perhaps I would have taken the T eventually anyway -- so far I really like how it feels in me; it feels right. But maybe I would have waited a while longer if the world was more like it is when we're with each other. When I see you, L., I see a guy. I see a unique and special guy that I would love to get to know better, but I see a guy. That's how you see yourself, and that's how I see you. If only the world was that way. So it's not my regret, exactly, so much as what I wish for the world. I did what I had to do. And I feel that should I one day want to stop the T, then I will, gradually and under a doctor's supervision, but I'll do it. And if I'm left with a deep voice as a permanent characteristic, I'll love it.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
49 Days
Okay, well things are mostly great. I'm still preoccupied with porn, mostly gay male stuff, but occasionally some straight stuff, too. Needless to say, my sex drive is up, but not unmanageable. Sometimes I need to masturbate more than once a day.
My facial hair seems longer, though still whispy. My muscle tone seems good. I feel a bit stronger, but this could also be from yoga and working out. I want to work out more than just twice a week, and am only frustrated by the fact that I don't have the time for that.
Life is good. Oh. But I'm on my way to see some family (not the folks), and that should be interesting. They are not very good about using the correct pronouns or about the fact that I've changed my name to D. I think I feel mostly sad for them. But under that, I might also be feeling sad for myself, and how estranged from my family I seem to be since I told them about being trans.
My facial hair seems longer, though still whispy. My muscle tone seems good. I feel a bit stronger, but this could also be from yoga and working out. I want to work out more than just twice a week, and am only frustrated by the fact that I don't have the time for that.
Life is good. Oh. But I'm on my way to see some family (not the folks), and that should be interesting. They are not very good about using the correct pronouns or about the fact that I've changed my name to D. I think I feel mostly sad for them. But under that, I might also be feeling sad for myself, and how estranged from my family I seem to be since I told them about being trans.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Six and a Half Weeks
All's well. The only things to report are that in the morning, I definately smell different -- sharper. And I think my body is starting to reorganize itself. E. says that I have more man-thighs. And my muscle definition seems more pronounced. And the hair on my upper lip and chin is longer.
E. seems happier, too. We need more lazy mornings together.
E. seems happier, too. We need more lazy mornings together.
Six and a Half Weeks
All's well. The only things to report are that in the morning, I definately smell different -- sharper. And I think my body is starting to reorganize itself. E. says that I have more man-thighs. And my muscle definition seems more pronounced. And the hair on my upper lip and chin is longer.
E. seems happier, too. We need more lazy mornings together.
E. seems happier, too. We need more lazy mornings together.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The Abridged Version...?
Monday: my sex drive felt more normal; I was self-conscious about body odor.
Yesterday: a bit sad; a little stronger at yoga class; gave myself fourth shot, got light-headed and thought I would pass out (E. took care of me); then felt grumpy and angry (but repressed it).
Today: felt aroused in the morning; then grumpy, angry, hopeless, destructive, then self-destructive, then a few seconds of suicidal; wondered about my relationship, and was it meeting my needs; wondered why I was wondering about that; felt taken for granted; wondered about affairs, and if people had them because they couldn't get their sexual needs met with their partners; felt hopeless again; felt love for E.; felt scared, and still feel scared. But getting better.
Yesterday: a bit sad; a little stronger at yoga class; gave myself fourth shot, got light-headed and thought I would pass out (E. took care of me); then felt grumpy and angry (but repressed it).
Today: felt aroused in the morning; then grumpy, angry, hopeless, destructive, then self-destructive, then a few seconds of suicidal; wondered about my relationship, and was it meeting my needs; wondered why I was wondering about that; felt taken for granted; wondered about affairs, and if people had them because they couldn't get their sexual needs met with their partners; felt hopeless again; felt love for E.; felt scared, and still feel scared. But getting better.
Shot No.4 and One Day
This week has been a bit up and down. Monday was better in terms of not being run over by my sex drive, but rehearsal was difficult, and I was self-conscious about whether I smelled or not.
Yesterday, rehearsal was also hard for various reasons, and I felt a bit low for the evening. I went to yoga, did better in terms of feeling physically stronger, and came home to make dinner (mussels in a creamy sauce). E. came home, we had dinner, then I went off to give myself my fourth shot. It went okay, but seemed to hurt more than I thouht it should, and I got light-headed afterwards and felt like I was going to pass out. E. came in and took care of me.
Then afterwards, I lay in bed, still feeling a bit weak, with a heating pad over my leg, while E. did other things. I felt myself getting grumpy, and I remained so (though I tried to repress it) until I went to sleep.
This morning, I woke up aroused, kissed E, only to find that E. needed to go do other things. I was angry, and then I felt hopeless. We then got into a "discussion" (which is like a fight, but less so, no yelling, but lots of hard feelings on both sides).
The discussion is personal. But what was weird and scary was before we began discussing, when I was still angry, I felt flashes of wanting to punch things, then flashes of wanting to be self-destructive, then a second or two of feeling suicidal. That's not necessarily unusual for me. However, I also felt the very scary thought of questioning our relationship, of wondering if I'm going to move to D.C. with her so we can be roommates who sleep in the same bed at night -- which is wholely unfair, I admit, but it crossed my mind -- and if that's what I wanted. But when I thought of the alternative, there was none, just empty space. And I also thought, regarding the frequency of sex, that maybe that's why some people have affairs... not because they're not in love, but because they don't know how to get what they need from the person they are in love with, specifically sex. (Which is ironic, considering the fact that I would never let another person touch me sexually anyway.)
I don't say these things because I entertain them seriously at all. I want to be with E. for the rest of my life and I'm committed to that. And little bumps in the road are part of the work of a relationship. But that these thoughts crossed my mind, I think, is not just because I'm taking T, but perhaps T intensifies the feelings? Or maybe some of the feelings, like the one about affairs really are a result of taking T? Not that I should write it off or ignore it as invalid, but I should be aware of how that frightens me. For while I was on my bed thinking for two seconds about suicide and being self-destructive and trying to cry and trying not to cry, I was also wondering if I should get off the T because maybe it was going to put my relationship in danger, and that really would make me feel hopeless and suicidal.
Relationships are work, I know. And I love E. Beyond words do I love her.
E. and I are different about fights. She's known security growing up and doesn't doubt us when we fight. I haven't known security, and so I think every fight might be the end of everything, and thus the end of the world. E. has a better outlook than I.
Yesterday, rehearsal was also hard for various reasons, and I felt a bit low for the evening. I went to yoga, did better in terms of feeling physically stronger, and came home to make dinner (mussels in a creamy sauce). E. came home, we had dinner, then I went off to give myself my fourth shot. It went okay, but seemed to hurt more than I thouht it should, and I got light-headed afterwards and felt like I was going to pass out. E. came in and took care of me.
Then afterwards, I lay in bed, still feeling a bit weak, with a heating pad over my leg, while E. did other things. I felt myself getting grumpy, and I remained so (though I tried to repress it) until I went to sleep.
This morning, I woke up aroused, kissed E, only to find that E. needed to go do other things. I was angry, and then I felt hopeless. We then got into a "discussion" (which is like a fight, but less so, no yelling, but lots of hard feelings on both sides).
The discussion is personal. But what was weird and scary was before we began discussing, when I was still angry, I felt flashes of wanting to punch things, then flashes of wanting to be self-destructive, then a second or two of feeling suicidal. That's not necessarily unusual for me. However, I also felt the very scary thought of questioning our relationship, of wondering if I'm going to move to D.C. with her so we can be roommates who sleep in the same bed at night -- which is wholely unfair, I admit, but it crossed my mind -- and if that's what I wanted. But when I thought of the alternative, there was none, just empty space. And I also thought, regarding the frequency of sex, that maybe that's why some people have affairs... not because they're not in love, but because they don't know how to get what they need from the person they are in love with, specifically sex. (Which is ironic, considering the fact that I would never let another person touch me sexually anyway.)
I don't say these things because I entertain them seriously at all. I want to be with E. for the rest of my life and I'm committed to that. And little bumps in the road are part of the work of a relationship. But that these thoughts crossed my mind, I think, is not just because I'm taking T, but perhaps T intensifies the feelings? Or maybe some of the feelings, like the one about affairs really are a result of taking T? Not that I should write it off or ignore it as invalid, but I should be aware of how that frightens me. For while I was on my bed thinking for two seconds about suicide and being self-destructive and trying to cry and trying not to cry, I was also wondering if I should get off the T because maybe it was going to put my relationship in danger, and that really would make me feel hopeless and suicidal.
Relationships are work, I know. And I love E. Beyond words do I love her.
E. and I are different about fights. She's known security growing up and doesn't doubt us when we fight. I haven't known security, and so I think every fight might be the end of everything, and thus the end of the world. E. has a better outlook than I.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Almost Six Weeks
Good god. My sex drive is driving away. Over hills and through valleys to whatever porn sites it can find. It's true, I seem to be getting bit obsessed with whatever free porn I can find on the web. I'm mostly enthralled with the gay male variety. Masturbating once today was not enough... three times! It feels a lot like an addiction. The need to get off is a lot like the need to have a cigarette was when I smoked. It's hard to concentrate on anything until the need is met. I don't like it.
And to go with my growing sexual appetite, I also seem to be growing a little bit down there: The hood of my clit is noticeably larger than it once was. I find that fascinating. Also, my chin hairs seem a tad longer.
My mood has been pretty good for the past few days, until today. But Sundays are always a bit hard for me, and the weather didn't help.
A good quote from Kate Bornstein, from her book Gender Outlaw: "Gender's not the issue. Gender is the battleground. Or the playground."
Another quote, this time from Thoreau (Walden): "Not til we are lost...do we begin to find ourselves" (as quoted in a preface to the Anne Sexton poem "Kind Sir: These Woods").
I'm hungry. Hungry for food, for sex, for drink. I'm also annoyed that these hungers are distracting me from other pursuits, for instance my writing, my exercise, my cooking. Do I feel more of these "appetites" as I get closer to needing another shot, or do they grow the longer that I am on the T? ... Either way, two more days until I get my next shot.
I don't like Sundays. They're lonely. Perhaps masturbating is a way to stave off the loneliness?
And to go with my growing sexual appetite, I also seem to be growing a little bit down there: The hood of my clit is noticeably larger than it once was. I find that fascinating. Also, my chin hairs seem a tad longer.
My mood has been pretty good for the past few days, until today. But Sundays are always a bit hard for me, and the weather didn't help.
A good quote from Kate Bornstein, from her book Gender Outlaw: "Gender's not the issue. Gender is the battleground. Or the playground."
Another quote, this time from Thoreau (Walden): "Not til we are lost...do we begin to find ourselves" (as quoted in a preface to the Anne Sexton poem "Kind Sir: These Woods").
I'm hungry. Hungry for food, for sex, for drink. I'm also annoyed that these hungers are distracting me from other pursuits, for instance my writing, my exercise, my cooking. Do I feel more of these "appetites" as I get closer to needing another shot, or do they grow the longer that I am on the T? ... Either way, two more days until I get my next shot.
I don't like Sundays. They're lonely. Perhaps masturbating is a way to stave off the loneliness?
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
38 Days
It's been over a month. No furry ears yet. I've gained a few pounds, but I don't know where. I haven't lost all the muscle mass that I've been working on since last June, but yoga has gotten really hard: I can't hold up my weight for very long. I'm heavier. 161 pounds. I had worked so hard to get down to 155, and now...
My sex drive, which was mostly murdered by grad school, is resurfacing. It's not like a I have a hard-on constantly or anything. It's more like I'm more aware of that area of my body, and feel the need to rub it up against my pants, or to twist in my chair so that there's a bit of friction, some kind of grinding between my thighs. These things feel good.
I also feel more sexual. I want to flirt a bit more. I want to be flirted with, and that makes me feel sexy, studly. These aren't new feelings, but they are feelings that I had put away for awhile amid the stress and chaos of school, and perhaps within the security of a lifelong committed relationship. I want to go into a bar, and be teased, and to tease, and to have a few beers and to feel good about myself. And most of all, I want E. to be there, to be the one teasing me and making me feel like the strong butch I used to be, that I still am underneathe it all.
Two references:
An NPR program, This American Life, did a program on testosterone. They interviewed a transman who took large doses of T, and his experiences of it. I found it a bit depressing, but educational.
Also, Kate Bornstein's book, which almost everyone has heard of, Gender Outlaw, is a good read. I thought it would be very specific to the M2F experience, but it's not. I agree with her, the system of gender dichotomy has to go. I'm not a girl. I'm taking T. I'm going to have top surgery someday. And to survive in this world, I had to choose a gender, or one would be chosen for me. So here I am, a guy. But really, if you really knew me... if you really knew me like E. knows me...
...well, then I'd be a sexy, studly, sometimes dorky, butch, gay-boy (a different gender entirely).
(smile)
My sex drive, which was mostly murdered by grad school, is resurfacing. It's not like a I have a hard-on constantly or anything. It's more like I'm more aware of that area of my body, and feel the need to rub it up against my pants, or to twist in my chair so that there's a bit of friction, some kind of grinding between my thighs. These things feel good.
I also feel more sexual. I want to flirt a bit more. I want to be flirted with, and that makes me feel sexy, studly. These aren't new feelings, but they are feelings that I had put away for awhile amid the stress and chaos of school, and perhaps within the security of a lifelong committed relationship. I want to go into a bar, and be teased, and to tease, and to have a few beers and to feel good about myself. And most of all, I want E. to be there, to be the one teasing me and making me feel like the strong butch I used to be, that I still am underneathe it all.
Two references:
An NPR program, This American Life, did a program on testosterone. They interviewed a transman who took large doses of T, and his experiences of it. I found it a bit depressing, but educational.
Also, Kate Bornstein's book, which almost everyone has heard of, Gender Outlaw, is a good read. I thought it would be very specific to the M2F experience, but it's not. I agree with her, the system of gender dichotomy has to go. I'm not a girl. I'm taking T. I'm going to have top surgery someday. And to survive in this world, I had to choose a gender, or one would be chosen for me. So here I am, a guy. But really, if you really knew me... if you really knew me like E. knows me...
...well, then I'd be a sexy, studly, sometimes dorky, butch, gay-boy (a different gender entirely).
(smile)
Monday, March 13, 2006
Day 36
I think my voice is beginning to drop. I was in therapy talking about deep, dark things and I kept wanting to giggle, because my voice sounded different in my head.
I'm practically giddy. I keep talking to myself as I walk down the street, testing it, trying it out. I imagine it will keep dropping. I am genuinely happy. I feel like a kid with a new toy.
I'm practically giddy. I keep talking to myself as I walk down the street, testing it, trying it out. I imagine it will keep dropping. I am genuinely happy. I feel like a kid with a new toy.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Four Weeks, Three Days
Tuesday marked my third T-shot, my first (oxymoronically) solo shot with chaperone, my first full dose (1 cc @ 200 mg/mL), the first time the shot hurt at all (I think I wiggled the needle under the pressure of scrutiny), and the first time I have ever brought home such officious-looking drug paraphernalia: syringes, needles, a vial of viscous liquid, and a big, red biohazard-sharps-container-thing. When I got home I iced the site for half and hour, which may have helped. My leg still got sore, though. A buddy from group advised me to massage the injection site before the shot, instead of just after it. I'll try that next time.
I haven't noticed too much in terms of body changes yet, but in the spirit of notating every little thing, my mouth seems a bit ickier in the morning when I wake up, and for the past week, my coffee breath seems a bit more repugnant.
Also, I have been feeling a bit sad the last few days. There are stresses in my life that could account for this -- I'm writing/acting in a difficult theater piece -- but it could also be the T. I'm keeping an eye on it. Also, I'm pretty susceptible to the weather; a cloudy day can make me want to stick my head in the sand.
S. got me a book -- it arrived in the mail all gift-wrapped and special just for me -- called Gender Outlaw. Defining myself is so hard, and I should stop trying. Or, conversely, I should do it everyday with a different definition, knowing that they are all true. Yesterday, it was something like this: By sex, I am more male than my body; by gender, I'm a butch.
(About the drugs: I can't help it, I like the paraphernalia. )
I haven't noticed too much in terms of body changes yet, but in the spirit of notating every little thing, my mouth seems a bit ickier in the morning when I wake up, and for the past week, my coffee breath seems a bit more repugnant.
Also, I have been feeling a bit sad the last few days. There are stresses in my life that could account for this -- I'm writing/acting in a difficult theater piece -- but it could also be the T. I'm keeping an eye on it. Also, I'm pretty susceptible to the weather; a cloudy day can make me want to stick my head in the sand.
S. got me a book -- it arrived in the mail all gift-wrapped and special just for me -- called Gender Outlaw. Defining myself is so hard, and I should stop trying. Or, conversely, I should do it everyday with a different definition, knowing that they are all true. Yesterday, it was something like this: By sex, I am more male than my body; by gender, I'm a butch.
(About the drugs: I can't help it, I like the paraphernalia. )
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Almost Four Weeks
Alas, the Crimson Devil has struck again: another irregular period. But the itching has stopped completely. I think it was a remenant of a month of dermatological antibiotics.
The past week has had some emotional ups and downs, but being a Child of Therapy, it was nothing a good cry and some talking couldn't solve. Then again, though I'm better at crying than most men, it's not something I'm necessarily good at, nor something that I enjoy. In fact, it's something I struggle against, which creates more work for E., since she has to do more to pull the feelings out of me. BUT. I'm still better at it than most. So there.
Between any two points, there are an infinite number of other points. This is a basic mathematical concept. Between male and female, there are an infinite number of in-betweens. There is a spectrum of identities, none less valid than mine.
The voice drops, chest reconstruction is magically paid for, and perhaps happiness will exist right there, in that particular in-between spot. The forced dichotomy of this world is killing so many of us.
It's been told that God created "Man" in "His" image.
I think it was Neitzche who said that "Man" created God in "his" image.
But I say, maybe we should instead re-create ourselves in god's image?
(If you believe in that.)
I believe in pure energy, in the sun, in trees that grow thick with time.
The past week has had some emotional ups and downs, but being a Child of Therapy, it was nothing a good cry and some talking couldn't solve. Then again, though I'm better at crying than most men, it's not something I'm necessarily good at, nor something that I enjoy. In fact, it's something I struggle against, which creates more work for E., since she has to do more to pull the feelings out of me. BUT. I'm still better at it than most. So there.
Between any two points, there are an infinite number of other points. This is a basic mathematical concept. Between male and female, there are an infinite number of in-betweens. There is a spectrum of identities, none less valid than mine.
The voice drops, chest reconstruction is magically paid for, and perhaps happiness will exist right there, in that particular in-between spot. The forced dichotomy of this world is killing so many of us.
It's been told that God created "Man" in "His" image.
I think it was Neitzche who said that "Man" created God in "his" image.
But I say, maybe we should instead re-create ourselves in god's image?
(If you believe in that.)
I believe in pure energy, in the sun, in trees that grow thick with time.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Days 22-24
Tuesday, 5:09pm: W. walks by me, and I know that in his pants he has something I will never have. I think to myself, "I'm a big fake."
I have taken to writing a bit of poetry again, after many years' hiatus. The sun is beautiful, and the air crisp, and it is all so bittersweet. I fear that this might be the onset of my second puberty.
It could also be that I am most eager to get the hell out of grad school. Who the hell knows.
I have taken to writing a bit of poetry again, after many years' hiatus. The sun is beautiful, and the air crisp, and it is all so bittersweet. I fear that this might be the onset of my second puberty.
It could also be that I am most eager to get the hell out of grad school. Who the hell knows.
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