Trans joy is real

TW suicide

I am experiencing trans joy!! Much better than euphoria. I am finally me. I attended a transgender conference about gender affirming care and I resonated with the speaker. As I walked I kept looking down at my chest and wondered where my boobs were. Top surgery has been so wonderful for me. I realized I am no longer a bearded lady but a true man. As sad as I am about my mother’s death, I know it was a blessing as she was so against top surgery and I know I would not be able to handle her negative comments. I am finally happy with who I am. I may not have a perfect chest but I think the surgery went well. Last year at this time I was recovering from a suicide attempt due to dysphoria. Amazing how things can change in a year. Trans joy is real.

I vaguely remember how confused and psychotic I was. I was admitted for 30 days to a hospital on the north shore. About 2 and half weeks into the stay, I found out my surgery was postponed and I was bullshit. I wanted to die and I know if I wasn’t in the hospital, I would have tried again. As the social worker told me, this was life- saving surgery. It was so hard to believe this when my mother was dying. Too much was happening after my surgery. My mother never saw me once the bandages were off. It is just as well as the night they came off, my scar became open and I bled. I had to pack the wound for weeks. The scar isn’t pretty but I am hoping it will fade with time. I know my mother would bitch about it with her sarcastic comments that would hurt me. I am glad she isn’t around to hurt me anymore. She didn’t like me being trans and she didn’t like me getting top surgery. But I had to be me and have this surgery that was so important to my mental health.

Today was the first time I was looking for my boobs and was happy that they weren’t there anymore. I felt more confident in myself. I didn’t really meet anyone at the conference. I was way older than even the speaker of the gender affirming care presentation. I’m lucky my genes have me still look like I’m in my 20s. I’m happy I got up early for this. I was nervous because I am not a morning person and I woke up at like 330. Luckily I fell back asleep without a serious hangover effect. Otherwise I would be kicking myself for missing today’s events.

It was really hard to feel euphoria after my mother’s death. The sadness I had felt for months continued for several more months. She has been gone for six months and I am post op 6 months. It’s a happy and sad predicament. Grief is something I don’t always control. It comes in waves. Not only am I grieving my mother, but the self that was dysphoric for so long. The teenage me who didn’t understand why I had breasts in the first place. It’s a lot to process. It is especially hard with depression that has been bad all week. I never thought I would feel joy until today. I know it may not last long but I have the scars on my chest to remind me of it.

In a grumpy mood

I’m in the hospital. I’ve been here since Thursday. The depression and grief were just so overwhelming that I didn’t want to live anymore. So before things progressed to a bad place, I got evaluated. Sleep has been an issue so we are working on that while I am here.

I had a difficult night sleeping. For some reason dreams hurt my head and give me severe headaches. Not fun waking up to them. My foot also flared up (CRPS) around 0530 so I had to take pain meds. Then I was pretty much up and didn’t go back to sleep. My BP and heart rate were up this morning. I’m not surprised. I have been working with a friendly LGBTQ nurse the past few days. She had to give me my T shot today and they ordered it for the glut muscle. She was good. The only thing that hurt was the pinch of the needle.

I’ve had three cups of coffee today, all caffeinated. Has not helped my headache. Hoping tylenol will. I have been using diclofenac gel for my knees and it has helped so much. I haven’t been doing stairs so still not sure if that is a problem for me. At home, stairs would hurt my knees going down. Going up, not so much. I do stairs a lot when home because my room is above the living area.

I hope to be going out today for some fresh air. One of the MHS’s will be taking me. Depending on how well she knows the hospital, I might give some history. I did the last time I went out. It was cool for me to speak about it. When I leave, I want to take some pics of the current construction so I can remember how the Bulfinch is right now. I love that building so much. It was built by my favorite architect, Charles Bulfinch. He has a place in Rockport that I really would love to see. The place is I think 1.5 miles from the commuter rail stop, which is too far for me to walk right now. I might take an Uber if I go this summer.

I went to a webinar yesterday. CAMS care hosted Dr. Thomas Joiner and his theory of Interpersonal Theory of Suicide. It was very interesting. I learned a lot and got my wheels turning. I might write about his theory in a future blog. He is coming out with a new book in Jan/Feb and I can’t wait to read it.

There is another pt here who is trans. I am glad I got to meet them. I hope we can stay friends after the hospital.

I am tired. I hope today goes OK. Also hope this fog I am in dissipates. I am going to try sumatriptan to see if it helps this headache. Could be migraine activity as it has gone on for a few days now. I just feel shitty. I went outside and it is nice out. Hot but a dry heat. Not too humid.

Back on Twitter!

Back on Twitter.

I am back on Twitter. I was really getting down because I couldn’t access my account and Twitter support finally reached out to me to clear the error that was causing the text messages not to go through. I took a screen shot of the backup code so that I would have it should I get locked out again. I missed my tweeps so much. I deactivated the acct I was using.

I sent this to my therapist and PCP: “hi,

I am having a hard time with the gender dysphoria around top surgery and the stupid limitation of the BMI. I can be so suicidal at times because I can’t stand to look at my chest and knowing weight is what is keeping me from this goal is killing me. I lost some weight due to covid but gained some back once I started eating again. I’m not good with diet and my appetite is either there or it isn’t due to the depression. I am 192 right now and was 187 last week. This is stressing me out and I am not sure who to talk to about it.”

I hate that a BMI is preventing much needed suicide prevention work. I am in the mood to take a lot of pills right now but I won’t. It is just a feeling that will pass. I hate feeling this way. I don’t know why there is a restriction for surgery. This is so fucking stupid. I feel like it is discrimination against obese people. I just want these things off my chest! They don’t belong there. And it sucks that now they are hairy and will only become more hairy as the T dose has increased. I just want to be flat chested. What is wrong with that? I am a fucking man for crying out loud. I don’t even care if I have nipples or not. Just want the damn things off.

My therapist canceled therapy yesterday due to an immediate personal problem. I guess dealing with my mother on this Mother’s day is all on me. I have decided to get her a son card. I will get it tomorrow when I mail my letter. My cousin sent me a box of her husband’s things. Her husband is my godfather. I haven’t opened it yet because I am so emotional about other things that I just can’t deal with more grief. I miss my godfather so much. He was such a good man.

I am so tired today. I have been up since 0100. I have tried going back to sleep but I keep failing. This UTI is kicking my ass. It still hurts to pee and my urine is cloudy. It probably smells but I can’t smell things right now because of covid. I had Covid PT yesterday and it killed me. Made me so fricken tired. I thought I would sleep through the night but I only slept for a few hours before waking up at 1. The UTI is making me pee every 2 fucking hours. It sucks. I can’t do anything until I finish the antibiotics. I haven’t cathed at all because it hurts.

Don’t call me daughter 6

Don’t call me daughter 6

Yesterday I was in the kitchen with my mother and I was in a mood. I wasn’t feeling so great and just wanted to do what I needed to and go back to my room. My mother was there and asked what was wrong. She wanted me to talk to her. Fuck that. She lost that right when she refused to call me son. From now on I will correct her when she is misgendering me. But I am not going to talk to her for any reason other than what goes on in the house. I am not going to talk to her like I did before about my ailments and doctor appointments. She is getting to be the egg donor and if that is what it takes to cut off feelings from her then so be it.

I’ve been having a hard time with the cramps. I don’t know if they are uterine or bladder related but as an experiment, I cathed and felt relief at first only to have severe pain afterwards.  I don’t know what to make of it and I have cathed since. Taking a double dose of Miralax was a bad idea. I had colon blow and woke up with crap in my pants. Luckily, I didn’t get any on the bed. I had to shower and what is worse my mother had to use the bathroom so I was so embarrassed. I need to time taking it right. Thing is it is so unpredictable when it works. It could be a few hours or could be a day. There is no time table to expect when to go.

I am still have cramps and being really down about it. I called my gyn to make an appointment for the exam. It is in May. I see the uro NP this week so I am going to tell her and ask for a urine culture to be done just to be sure I don’t have an infection that could be causing this. I really am not looking forward to surgery again but there is little choice I have. Once the offending organ is gone is should be apparent what is causing what. I doubled my bladder spasms pill yesterday to see if it would help and it did a little bit. Maybe this is bladder related. I won’t know until the uterus is gone. I got my bladder on a schedule again. I didn’t want to do it but I have gone past the six hours I am supposed to go. I can’t keep holding on to my urine for so long. It could be why I have spasms as well.

I wonder if my mother is ashamed of me and that is why she doesn’t want to call me son. It would make sense. I don’t get the sense she is proud of me. I just don’t understand why she can’t accept her child. This bothers me so much. When you bring it up to her, she is dismissive. Then I think about all the abuse she put me through and it just makes me so sad and angry. She used her trust as a mother to do her evil bidding of abusing and touching me when she had no right to touch or look. I get mad at my pediatrician who documented all these things and didn’t do a damn thing about it.