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By Rebecca, March 2, 2009 11:46 pm

I came home tonight and my rooommates were having a chat about relationships (I’m not entirely sure what they were talking about, to be honest) and it turned into one of those lovely meandering conversations about everything and nothing. But, of course, it eventually got me thinking about my relationship, and where I am.

I saw my therapist earlier tonight, and actually came out feeling pretty good. “You seem calmer this week,” she said, and it’s true, overall.

But I still really miss her. I do believe what I’m doing is the right thing for me in the long run, but I love her, and I really miss her. And thinking about that, of course, made me sad in the missing.

And AR and I started talking, in the door between our rooms, about how I think about myself. She said she was proud of me, and I said something along the lines of, “Don’t be.” She pressed me, and I said I don’t feel like I’m proud-worthy; that being proud of is something for “other people” and I don’t think very highly of myself right now (if I ever have).

She said that’s obviously something I need to work on. That maybe I should make an effort to write down compliments people give me and keep a book, or post them on my wall, or solicit thoughts on myself from friends so I know that they think highly of me.

The idea of such an overwhelming amount of compliments literally had me on the floor, hiding with my hands over my head.

Obviously, that’s not a great way to think of myself:  so poorly that the mere idea of being complimented can drive me to tears.

And I’m not sure what to do about it.

-R

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By Rebecca, September 30, 2008 7:56 pm

I hesitate to write this post when things are actually going pretty well, but feel like I need to if I want to work through some of it…

When I started transitioning I knew it would be hard work. Hard physical work, like the excruciatingly painful and horribly expensive hair removal, and hard emotional work, like changing how I interact with friends and loved ones.

What I didn’t really think about were all the little ways in which it would wear me down.

Things like having people I barely know feel that they then get to make assumptions and judgments about me (not even necessarily negative ones!)  because they know I’m trans. Like Jack, whose brother and brother’s wife were both trans, so even though I just met him he felt completely comfortable asking me how long I’ve been on hormones. And, damn me for not thinking ahead, I told him instead of giving a noncommittal answer to indicate it was none of his business. An answer like “trans people go on hormones for the rest of their life” or “none of your bloody business, person-I-just-met.”

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