Quiz Time!

Do you ever wonder if you have Gender Dysphoria?  Are you ever uncomfortable with who you are, but don’t have a name for that feeling?  Are you pretty sure there was a mistake somewhere?  If these questions and more are on your mind, look no further!  We have developed a short test to determine how dysphoric you are about who you are.  Without further ado, I present to you…

Gender Dysphoria Quiz!

Time limit: 50 minutes.  No books or notes allowed.

1) Draw a picture of the person you feel you should be.  To the right of that picture, draw a picture of yourself currently.  Finally, draw a circle around who are currently and use a red marker to cross out the person you feel you should be.  Points will be awarded in proportion to your feeling of entrapment.  Maximal points awarded if you can not cross out the picture of who you feel you ought to have been.  (10 points)

2) Describe in two hundred fifty (250) words a memory from a time when you simultaneously felt closer to being in the body you wanted and pushed so far away from who you ought to have been.  This should include the feelings of 1) moving slightly closer only to be reminded of the seemingly impossible goal 2) anger 3) self loathing.  Points will be awarded in proportion to your sense of futility.  Maximal points awarded if you start crying.  (10 points)

3) Write down your all of your feelings in two hundred fifty (250) words.  Difficulty: everyone is watching and judging, so feel pressured into saying the right thing.  Points will be awarded in proportion to the feeling of distance between how everyone sees you and your true feelings that this creates inside of yourself.  Maximal points awarded if you begin to see yourself in third person.  (10 points)

4) Write two hundred fifty (250) words describing the body you should have been born into.  Describe in painful detail the aspects that you miss, even though you have never had said aspects.  Points will be awarded in proportion to the intensity of the crushing feeling in your stomach.  Maximal points awarded if you begin to feel nauseous because of this feeling.  (10 points)

5) Write down the name you feel you should have in the space provided.  Ensure that said name makes you feel closer to yourself and more comfortable despite being in a body you never wanted.  Now, cross out that name with a red marker.  Points will be awarded in proportion to your feeling of defeat.  Maximal points awarded if you are unable.  (10 points)

6) Remind yourself silently of all the time you’ve lost not feeling congruent.  Write two hundred fifty (250) words about your alternating anger at unseen forces that made you incongruent and subsequent depression that comes in more and more powerful waves.  Points will be awarded in proportion to the length of time you can do this before feeling suicidal.  Maximal points awarded if you do this all the time anyway.  (10 points)

7) Write two hundred fifty (250) words on what steps you need to take to be happy.  Difficulty: every word will be spelled wrong because you are not right and should be ashamed for wanting this.  Points will be awarded in proportion to your shame for wanting to be happy.  Maximal points awarded if you know the words are spelled right, even though everyone tells you different.  (10 points)

8) Write two hundred fifty words (250) on a dream where you had the body you wanted and describe the disappointment upon waking to find yourself still stuck in a body that shouldn’t belong to you.  Points will be awarded in proportion to how much you hated yourself at that moment.  Maximal points awarded if you didn’t sleep for the next three days to avoid that inwardly pointed anger.  (10 points)

9) Write a single sentence on how you feel when referred to as the person you shouldn’t be.  Points will be awarded in proportion to the unease you feel and overwhelming desire to correct them even though they are right.  Maximal points awarded if you have given up.  (10 points)

10) Imagine having the body you want.  Describe in two hundred fifty (250) words how you believe matching your outside with your inside would feel.  Points will be awarded in proportion to your attention to detail and the pain associated with said details.  Maximal points awarded if you can’t imagine having the body you want because it actually, physically hurts too much.  (10 points)

When finished with the quiz, please mail it to us along with a self addressed stamped envelope for grading!  The best part of this quiz is that if you answered any of these with that sick, stabbing feeling just below your heart and with the same anger and confusion you’ve had your entire life, you probably already know the answer!

Point of Order!

Hey!  New rule (excepting the super secret club, of course) regarding pictures.

If you want pictures, you have to ask.  I don't want to, at this juncture, be passing out pictures willy-nilly for a few reasons.  I don't want to force pictures on anyone who isn't ready.  Second, if people aren't ready, then they are not in a position to provide feedback.  Feedback is important.  More than that, feedback that isn't just ‘what you think I want to hear’ is far far far far more important.  Please do not send general platitudes.  They just make me cranky.

That’s the scoop!  Now, back to my froot loops!  They so tasty!

Norms!

So, how about those gender norms?  Men do this and women do that, right?  Men watch football or whatever and women ought to do the dishes and clean up.  See, I’ve always kind of thought of that whole system as, well, horse hockey.  This is especially true when, from a few sides, I am being told that it isn’t up to me and I will be doing the cooking and vacuuming, whether I like it or not.

See, I refuse to trade one type of oppression for another.  Not gonna do it.  As a boy, I spent enough time being forced into a role against my will, trust me.  I see no reason to free myself from that just to be forced to adhere to other ideas, simply because I’m changing.  You know what I mean.  I will not iron pants aside from my own.  I ain’t doing no dishes just because some dude is too busy watching TV or whatever.

Besides, I am switching sides and spanning the shades of grey in between.  I am mostly without label right now.  Do you really think I have any respect for gender norms?

I really don’t, trust me.  This doesn’t mean I wouldn't help out if asked, but I won’t feel obligated because it is ‘my place’ to bake brownies or what have you.  But hey, who am I to say?  However, I would like to imagine that if someone did insist that my place is in the kitchen or next to an ironing board and that it wasn’t up to me and it was my new obligation, I’d probably break their jaw.  Of course, that seems a male thing to do, to resort to violence, maybe you say.  If you actually thought that, I’m not entirely sure you’ve been paying attention here.  I do not intend to ‘take the bad with the good’ I very much intend to ‘have my cake and eat it, too.’  I do not believe that to be as impossible as some may think, mostly because it’s my happiness on the line.

Besides, if you ain’t happy, change things.  I’m not saying you have to take it quite as far as I am right now, but you owe it to yourself to mix it up a bit.  Of course, maybe certain folks say they can’t change, for whatever reason.  It is also the case that even a brick wall presents an opportunity for decision.  Inaction is just as much a choice as action.

Anyway, the happiness post is scheduled for later.  We’ll get there.

Also, I might be changing my future name.  No, you don’t get to know it yet.  Not even you.  If I have to be more patient with everything, you must do the same.

This post brought to you by not quite enough sleep and the letters S and Q.

Those two letters may not be a coincidence.  Just throwing that out there.

More Words!

There are a couple other things I’ve seen/heard recently that maybe, help explain things a bit better.  I worry quite a bit about this, you know, that I have not explained well enough.  I really worry that I missed something while telling people about it, or that people will fill in details in their mind because they are afraid to ask questions.  Another concern is the idea of a surface understanding.  Like, yeah, ok, I understand that you are switching teams and I understand how, but I don’t understand completely why.

Basically, I worry that I explained the ‘how’ and ‘what’ too much, and that I missed out on the ‘why.’  Probably the best reason I have for not explaining why in as much detail is that I didn’t have that much detail in the first place.  I mean, I could hardly explain it to myself, but only because one does not always need words to communicate solely within one’s mind.  However, when it comes down to it, eventually, words have to be formed and ideas have to be spread, mostly because waving your arms real fast and grunting and smiling doesn’t really get any point across too well.

It is getting easier to make those words, but it also helps to have some other folks pick up my slack and say nice things.  In fact, lets start with a simple one that I’m sure will make sense.  How often, in our interactions, have I made consistent eye contact?  More or less some small fraction of a percentage of time, right?  I think it makes sense to say that I was afraid to make eye contact because when I look at you, dear reader, I see you.  When you look at me, really look in my eyes, I felt like you weren’t really seeing me.  I know this is simplified a bit, and maybe inaccurate in the first part, but the former makes a great deal of sense.  I wanted to be understood and recognized, and I couldn’t put together why I couldn’t be seen as what I needed to be seen.  So, I invoked the Ostrich Defense.  If I don’t see you, you can’t see me.  If you don’t see me, well, I don’t have to worry about being seen and misunderstood.  I could just float along, as a cloud or a ghost, and no one would see.  This is getting better, trust me.  It ain’t easy to break a habit that has lasted this long, but I’m getting there.

So, also, I read recently, which inspired me to write this, actually, that ‘invisibility is indivisible from visibility.’  The philosopher Berkeley had ideas about this, that ‘to be is to be percieved.’  I know that is probably technically a metaphysical idea, but it spills into the epistemological side very well.  To boil it down a bit, when you are seen, you are real, and what you are seen as is what you are.  We are indeed social creatures, but we are what we are in our minds.  We are also, in some part, what we appear to be to others.  So, maybe we could look at the current situation.  It’s almost like being without an identity right now.  Either going out as a boy and lying to myself and others, or going out as a girl which is, for practical reasons, not possible at present.  Being in a binary-leaning society, I can’t just take six of one and half a dozen of the other and go out like that.

If the outside, perceived me is one thing, and the inside, true me is another different thing, well, it makes sense that that particular situation doesn’t really spawn great happiness.  These two selves, as it were, can’t be separated.  They are tied together and each affects the other.  You know, I can’t say I’m on this side of the line, because I’m not anymore than I am on the other side.  As I have heard recently, it’s a lot like I’ve defected, but have found nowhere to really find asylum.  I abandoned one side, and am not accepted by the other, simply because I just don’t look it yet.  Because of the bond between internal and external, I’m just sort of, well, in between.  I’m waiting to take my citizenship test, if you wanted to keep on with the defection/asylum metaphor.

Of course, it’s alright, because it’s coming.  At least I have made the right steps, and for now, I’m cool with it.  For reals.

Also, again, if anyone has any questions at all, even super duper awkward ones, you know how to get a hold of me.  Hopefully this might help explain a little bit more the ‘why.’  Well, even if it didn’t for you, it felt good to get it down.

Interesting Development!

Also, today, on my birfday no less, I got called ‘miss’ on the phone for the first time.  Just throwing that out there.  You know, because it makes me ecstatic.  That’s all.

Fun Facts!

Just a few fun facts this morning real quick that I bet you, dear reader, have no occasion or reason to know!

First, the testosterone blocker tastes a lot like metallic salmon wrapped in old cabbage if it is not swallowed immediately.  Most drinks only make it worse (water, coffee), but Mountain Dew seems to help a little.  One of the side effects of the testosterone blocker is that it tends to slow things down a bit, if you get my drift.  The caffeine in the Mountain Dew combats that pretty well.

Second, I take the estrogen sublingually (under the tongue, for those who are antipolysyllabic (which, if you are, you are currently refusing to read that word (well, can’t win them all, you know))), and it doesn’t really taste like anything.  However, at that end, it tends to explode in a cloud of powder for whatever reason.  It’s hard to collect all of it to keep it where it should be as I play a weird tongue tag trying to chase it all down.

May that be the last time I use the words ‘tongue tag’ here.

A Note on Balance 'n' Stuff

Alright, so we are carving pumpkins tonight, as I said before, of course.  I have not carved many pumpkins in my day, but the few I have were good times.  Anyway, we’re doing this with a few folks that the missus works with in about two hours.  Because we are not mixing her work and my transition, I am going in full boy mode.  I am currently practicing.  I am not liking this.

I am way nervous.  I have to be in boy mode, because I really don’t want to get pumpkin innards all up in.  Can’t wear a hoodie for the same reason, which means all I got is yellow fingernails.  At least it’s something.  It’s like going for a walk that lasted years and years and finally being at your front door with your key in hand ready for hot cocoa, and you have to go walk around the block a few more times even though it’s crazy cold out and you know the solution, but something keeps you from it.  Not a great metaphor, but I think you get the idea.  This sure ain’t the last time this will happen, and that doesn’t help the weird distance thing I feel about the evening.

On one hand, I have no idea why I’m nervous.  On the other, I know exactly why.  I imagine, dear reader, you might have an idea as well.  If not, see the metaphor above.  Turns out that one might be better than I originally thought.

See, it’s a weird time, you know.  I feel weird in boy mode, but am far from girl mode.  Comfortable is somewhere in between, obviously, but finding that balance of where I want to be and where others expect me to be is proving difficult.  Of course, this loss of comfort will be like this to some degree for a long time.  Knowing that there will be an extended period of periodic unpleasantness does not improve the situation.  Knowing that one day, farther down the road than I like but still within sight, that the unpleasantness will be resolved does improve the situation.  All about balance, you know.  Aristotle said so.  Must be true.

It’ll only be a couple of hours, anyway.  It’s kind of like an itch too deep to scratch sort of feeling.

Even better, maybe it’s like this.  Surely you have had the flu, dear reader.  You are, of course, familiar with the flu stomach, where your abdomen feels like it’s being compressed along with that dull ache and sort of ever-present fluctuating nausea, right?  That point not where everything is leaving from one end or the other, no.  I’m talking about that point in time when it’s still building pressure and even though you know it will be better later, you’re going to feel really fucking terrible first.  An ache so deep and so tight, that if you could reach it with a heating pad or even your hot, feverish hand, you know you could make it feel just a little better.  At this point, any amount of relief, no matter how small, would improve your situation exponentially.  Of course, it’s too deep, too unreachable, and waiting is the only solution.  Moving only increases that feeling, so you move your eyes and nothing else, and even then only to watch the clock.  The only way out is after far too many turns of the hour hand which is moving far too slow because you need to feel better and every small thing reminds you acutely of that crushing pain too far away to be soothed but oh so close that it’s all there is.  You know very well that feeling, I trust.  So do I.  Right now, I can mostly keep that sick feeling away.  Soon, though, I’ll just be watching the clock, trying not to move too much.

I am mildly cheered up by the fact that I will, at that time, be allowed to mangle a large vegetable thing with a knife and a shovel-like thing.  Usually that cheers me up anyway, even if ain’t approaching Halloween.

Quick note!

The background/design/colors were kind of the default, but I think it is appropriate.  I didn’t necessarily choose it, however, it does make sense, huh?  To that end, it stays until someone complains about the pink, at which point it will continue to stay pink.

Design of this here aside, I did neglect to mention earlier that my finger nails are a bright yellow.  I really dig the bright yellow quite a bit.  Normally, I can paint my nails without too much issue, so long as the color is one that hides mistakes well.  The yellow was terrible the first time I tried it and looked like I had dipped my fingers in a vat of mustard, but thanks to the skilled hands of the missus, the yellow looks great.  Tonight, we are going to carve pumpkins, and I think the yellow can only compliment that activity.  Of course, keep in mind I ain’t good at colors.  Maybe blue is a better pumpkin carving color.  Who knows?

One more thing, we took pictures last night.  You know, so that in a few months, I can compare and (hopefully) see progress.  Out of the 25 we took, 5 were a bit blurry due to poor lighting in here, 5 are pictures of my jeans (with me in them), 8 of them have me with a silly look on my face, 7 were strictly for comparison purposes later.  Out of all of those, there are 2 that are really awesome.  Now, I know that doesn’t sound like many, but considering how I felt a week ago about myself, this is really good progress.  One of those pictures is a picture of my occupied pants, which turned out really really well.  

The other picture I like looks like I am way closer to my goal of passing than I thought.  I might show it to folks sometime.  It was just weird to see a picture of me looking, well, quite a bit closer to the girl side of the scale than the boy side.  I knew who it was, but I didn’t.  I look happy and comfortable and relaxed in that picture, and those are things I haven’t been possibly ever.  Now, I don’t plan on going out in public in non-stealth mode anytime soon, but after that picture, I know I am at least moving in the right direction.  I’ll stay in stealth mode for a good long while, but it feels damn good to have visual proof of progress.

Also, there will probably be just a boat load of posts here the first couple days.  You know.  Because.

New Feature!

Now you can comment!  Oh boy!

Intro Poast!

“It’s like being homesick for somewhere you’ve never been.”

That was a description-in-a-nutshell about someone’s experience with gender dysphoria.  I thought it was beautiful and absolutely 100% accurate.  So, let that explain the name of the blog here.  If you look real close at the address of this, you’ll see ‘sparkle butterfly princess’ all squished together.  It seemed appropriately fitting, but not so much that I actually want a sparkly butterfly with a tiara for Christmas.

Anyway, presumably you know who I am.  This is for friends and family to sort of keep track of me.  That is often a secondary goal, because there will most likely be times I’m just writing for myself.  I’m not going to tailor this to any particular person at all, and most importantly, I very much intend to be honest to a fault.  For those among you with delicate sensibilities, there won’t be any warning before I say words such as penis, breasts, and the like.  I know some folks are bothered by it, but if I censor one thing, it just keeps going until I’m writing Care Bear fan fiction, you know.

This is, I’m hoping, going to be very honest insight into the process of transitioning from male to female, gender dysphoria, and the practical aspects of the whole thing.  The nuts and bolts, if you will.

I have a fair bit of stuff already written up, which I’ll be sort of posting after the fact.  Of course, I am on day five right now, so I don’t have that much stuff already up, but I trust it will at least be interesting.  I would ask that, if you read something that you think is worrisome or concerning or scary, don’t post here and ask if I am ok.  If I am actually not doing well, people will know.  Otherwise, pretend whatever was concerning was a joke and move on.  Humor is so important in this day and age.

Also, no empty platitudes.  They just make me cranky.

We’ll make a deal.  I’ll try and put away any shame I might have, if you are not excessively reactionary to take things too seriously.

Anyway, up to now, here’s the scoop.  I am on day five, as I said.  I have taken the estradiol (estrogen) and the spironolactone (testosterone blocker) this morning, as well as a 81mg aspirin.  I am sitting here in fun knee high socks, boring boy pants, underwear x2 that came from the other side of the store than I used to shop, the shirt with the most pink on it I have (which is more or less an accident I chose this one this morning), and a hoodie-sans-hood that helps cover things up and looks really nice.  The hoodie-sans-hood came from the boy side of the store, but totally looks like a girl hoodie-sans-hood.  Of course, it is European, so that might explain a bit.

I’ll update a bit later for the day.  First, I’ll get up what I have written so far in my secret document folder.  But even before that, I gots to run to the poop coop.  Fun fact: the spironolactone is a mild diuretic, and I need to tinkle.