Just Another Manic Monday

Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

It was a lovely time away from work for my holiday vacation, it ended far too quickly. Now I am back, and I am finding that I am quite unprepared for pretending to be male 9-10 hours a day, 5 days a week. I was on the verge of a panic attack all morning the first day, it felt like what I imagine a heart attack is like for an extended period but still able to function. It wasn’t fun, but after texting my wife, she made me feel a bit better. It’s going to happen as long as I must do this, pretending to be the mask. I’m working on changing this, and I wanted to do it so much, much sooner. I am the kind of person that if I have too much information I will start planning so much that I will get stuck in the minutiae of it all. There are too many paths to take and I worry over choosing the wrong branch and getting lost. It’s a failing of mine, I know this, but it is very hard to avoid the habit. I think the best route is to start with a name change. In North Carolina, to get a gender marker change, you must have surgery and though I really want at least my orchiectomy, it’s still some time off. The name change itself can take up to three or four months, some people have waited longer. Finding the paperwork that is needed in the county I live in isn’t easy, there are only old forms online. And when you get certain things done you have to use the codeword (kidding) but you have to tell them specifically what you are doing the fingerprinting for, etc. It’s something to work towards in the first of this year and then I can move on to other things. Having waited so long in life to do this, it always seems so daunting.


Photo by John Moeses Bauan on Unsplash

My tastes in movies have changed in a very fundamental way. I love movies, they got me through many years of awkwardness, but more than that they were my solace from confusion because I could lose myself in the protagonist’s story. Romantic Comedies were my favorite, the guy falls for the girl, guy does something stupid and then realizes how much he loves the girl, guy wins the girl with big romantic gesture. I was always the girl, but I would try to emulate the guy in real life, but badly. Or, I would miss who the cool guy was supposed to be, like after “Sixteen Candles”, I was trying to emulate Duckie (minus the hat and glasses). I’m sorry, I thought Jake was insufferable while Duckie was fun. I’m not going into the obvious problems with the movie, there are many moral issues with rom-coms from that time. Anyway, I tried to watch some rom-coms over my vacation, old ones from the 80’s and some more recent in the 2000’s. I have no interest in a lot of them and can’t manage to enjoy them anymore. There are some that are exceptions, like “Groundhog Day” or “Princess Bride” and of course my favorite of all time, “Love, Actually”. But aside from these few, I find myself disinterested. It could be that times have changed, but I have seen a lot of these within the last 10 years. It could be that my outlook has just changed overall. I know that I am more sensitive to feminism now that I am not actively trying to suppress every feminine though and action. It’s still sad to lose that part of my childhood.


img_e0608I’m on Progesterone now for a week and I haven’t noticed much, but I didn’t expect to, and I haven’t had any issues with side-effects. So instead of 100mg each night, I am now taking two capsules for 200mg, as suggested by my doctor if I was complication free after the first week. I have noticed some things, I don’t feel run down as much and I feel a bit more even, emotionally, throughout the day. I’ll update as time goes on as to how this drug reacts with me. There is very little on Progesterone and perhaps one more person publishing anecdotal evidence will help someone else. For now, it’s just a third drug I am taking, three more than I like taking, but it’s necessary for my well-being. Also, the possibility of breast growth is obviously a factor. It’s more than just filling out my form, there is something visceral in the need for breasts that somehow it feels as if it would validate my womanhood. I know it’s preposterous, but I bet if you ask a woman who has had to have a mastectomy due to illness, she will agree, it’s a deeper feeling that just a couple of things sitting on your chest.


Photo by Andreas Wagner on Unsplash

I have had several dreams in the last couple of months, in which I am pregnant or have children that I gave birth to, which is impossible of course. Even in my dream there was an underlying feeling of “what??” but still there I was. I didn’t see the man’s face, presumably my husband or boyfriend, whatever, but he was there. I was happy and even through the “what??” feeling I was happy and felt so complete. They aren’t long dreams, or I can’t remember the full dreams, just like flashes that often fade away before I can acknowledge them fully. I don’t mind them, it’s almost like I’m glimpsing an alternative dimension in which I am a cis woman, it’s kind of soothing, actually. There is nothing else to add on this, just an oddity since I don’t usually have dreams anymore.


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