Perplexity of the Moment

Life. WTF? It's such a strange bizarre ever changing clusterfuck of events. One minute it makes perfect sense the next it leaves you lost in the dark. We go through all these ridiculous cycles. Some last for days, some weeks, some months, years or decades. And it's like they're all embedded and nested within each other like some programming language of life. We're all just spinning through time and space. But we're also spinning through our lives and our emotions. Years of happiness come, years of sadness go. Like the tides flowing in and out. One moment you're the happiest you've ever been, but that moment is part of another long not quite so happy moment, that's part of a slightly longer really happy moment, that's part of a much longer sad moment. When the smallest of happy moments passes you think of the sad moment that has prevailed outside of that smaller moment. And when that passes you think up to the next level. Add to that our minds that twist reality around and run off with it in another direction making you think things that aren't real or denounce things that are. There's times I feel like I know what the hell I'm doing but overall in the bigger picture I have no fucking clue. So here I sit perplexed by life trying to remind myself that everything I feel from moment to moment is just that. A moment. And all moments pass. Our life is not one solid thing. It's one mixed up mess up moments that flow back and forth and spin around each other. So whenever sad remember it's just a moment and it too shall pass. But whenever you're happy, enjoy it. Enjoy it like it's the last time you'll ever be happy and let nothing ruin it because that moment too shall pass. Random ramblings. I'm in a mood. — feeling perplexed.

Just Gender Premiers at the Colony Theatre on South Beach!

The documentary I'm in, "Just Gender", premiered last night, Wednesday, June 25th, 2014 at the Colony Theatre on Lincoln Road in South Beach.  The same place my mom performed when I was a child.  I got to go on stage and stand where she sang.  And I got to see the place just off stage left where I played with my toys with my grandma while I waited for her.  Pretty surreal and amazing.

Read more here:  http://hrld.us/1qyhEYk

Image courtesy of Steve Rothaus' Gay South Florida
www.MiamiHerald.com/gay

Image courtesy of Steve Rothaus' Gay South Florida
www.MiamiHerald.com/gay

Image courtesy of Steve Rothaus' Gay South Florida
www.MiamiHerald.com/gay

Image courtesy of Steve Rothaus' Gay South Florida
www.MiamiHerald.com/gay

The Title I Wanted for This Post Had Too Much Profanity to Share via Social Media

6:30 a.m.  I can't sleep.  I've been in such an awful mood for weeks.  And last night went to sleep crying.  Again.  In the last couple weeks I've lost all motivation to do anything.  I've blown off doctor appointments, laser hair removal, meds, shots, plans, haven't been answering friends' phone calls texts or messages, slept through a support group meeting, blew off a speaking engagement, and generally have this feeling of giving up on life.  I'm not even sure where it's all stemming from.  My girlfriend feels similarly the last few weeks.  It's been awful.

In the process of my being upset I've pissed off a number of people from my parents to my ex-best friend refriended and now unfriended again; Norma, and everyone in between.  Everything has been getting on my nerves.  I feel like the world is against me.  Every time I even try to do something it blows up in my face.  My girlfriend in her depressed state hasn't wanted to do anything but be left alone.  I on the other hand only want nothing but to do things with her right now, which then only leads to more issues.  I'm so fed up with every other aspect of my life and frankly fed up with most everyone else IN my life too!

Every time I seek out a friend for advice they say something that ends up upsetting me more because they don't fully understand all the variables and things going on and it's far too much to explain.  Only Jennavi and I really know all the shit we go through day to day.

I know this post is probably going to just come up as random gibberish since I'm doing it 3/4 asleep at now almost 7:00 a.m.  I wish I could think a bit more clearly.  I wish I could just give up on life.

Just feeling so short tempered, fed up, and annoyed.

I wake up most days and feel compelled by the grief I get to stay in bed and be quiet.  At my house, from my dad every time I walk out my room and see him I get yelled at and harassed and threatended.  At her house, her family is loud and wakes me up early enough to hear them fighting and yelling at each other making me afraid to leave the bedroom.  So it's no win at either place.  Follow that with my 50ish% chance of finding out that I shit my panties, pj's and probably the bed due to my Crohn's Disease flaring up the last several months from stress.  So there, the day starts out awful.  Add to that the fact that if it's my house I wake up in a puddle of sweat because my dad refuses to believe that every room in the house is not the same temperature and it's 82-84 degrees in here every fucking day I wake up.  If it's her house I usually wake up freezing and shaking.  From there I'm usually in such a crappy mood that I'm at that point of canceling whatever plans I had for the day.  (My dad JUST came up and turned the air hotter again while typing this!)  Then after I'm good and depressed I try to do something with my girlfriend who doesn't want to do anything because when she gets upset she doesn't want to do stuff with me where I'm the exact opposite.  So now I'm even more upset.  This is about the time I get a text or call from my mom or some friend making me feel even more like shit.

So now it's a few hours later and my day has already gone to hell.  About this point I try to salvage the day by planning out food.  Which generally makes me feel worse because we're too broke to eat anything but fucking rice packets and asian rice noodles (aka more pricey ramen).  Now I'm upset, depressed, hungry, broke and all bent out shape.

So then night rolls around and I either watch one of my two TV shows I watch or try to play Magic or go to 2nd Thursday night of the month support group or some shit.  Magic ends up pissing me off almost EVERY time due to some cards that frankly make the game unfair.  TV shows end.  And the last few times I actually made it to my support group I was made to feel like shit and nearly walked out and was brought to near tears.

Now it's late night, I'm hurt, crying, upset, mad at people I call friends, infuriated by parents, panicked over no money.  AND then I get to either dilate (which has still been incredibly painful and uncomfortable) and possible even do my weekly shots that hurt and make me possible cry or scream.  So now I've lost any hopes of having sex because even if we were both still in the mood (which after a day full of bullshit; is rare) I wouldn't even be able to enjoy it being so depressed.

Then I cry myself to sleep for any one of a dozen reasons, holding my girlfriend knowing she's the only thing left that makes me happy.

And I wake up the next day to the same shit all over again.  I'm tired, I'm old, I'm worn out.  A very large part of me wants to unfriend everyone and disconnect my phone and quit everything and give up on even trying.  Jennavi is the only reason I keep going (despite my parents and friends that think she's the reason I'm unmotivated, sad and depressed when in fact it's the exact opposite way around cause she's the only thing that brings me any happiness anymore).  And due to several things that have happened in her life recently she's not really emotionally available to be there for me most of the time.  She's been too screwed up herself.

And then people have the nerve to pass judgment on me and us.  I get put down for not wanting to try and do this or that.  Or bitched at for missing something I really didn't have the willpower to go to.  Or worse yet, criticized for playing games and shit to try and forget how miserable my life is.  I wish I had it in me to delete my facebook account and turn my phone off but I just can't bring myself to do it no matter how much I want to cut off the world at this point.

I don't know how much of any of this makes sense.  I'm just sort of in rambling, 7am, can't sleep, rage fit mode.  I'm tired of people trying to pass judgment on me.  I'm sick of people kicking me when I'm down.  I'm sick of people in general.  I'm in a shitty mood.

I'm going to try to sleep again.  I love you Jennavi.  Everyone else though is on shaky ground.

I'm sure instead of people understanding how upset I've been and giving me time and space I'll end up having people bitch me out, unfriend me, and give me god awful advice like EVERY OTHER TIME I share my feelings.  Whatever... done.

"Life... Don't talk to me about life."

Ten days ago I posted a very short video to commemorate my one year anniversary since surgery.  I mentioned that I'd do a more detailed update on my blog later.  Well... here it is.

I am frustrated and unhappy.  It's been a year of chaos and difficulty for me.  Upon returning from California and my surgery I felt very agitated about returning to my old life.  Within 36 hours of returning I realized I couldn't stand living at my mom's house anymore.  So I up and moved everything in a frantic rage at 2am to my dad's house.  Something I swore I would never do.

Since then my relationship with my mom has deteriorated even further.  My mom was always a very important part of my life growing up.  Whenever anything else happened, medical, emotional, whatever, she was always there.  For 17 years she knew and seemingly accepted my transition.  Until I began my medical transition.  Even then she tried.  But after I came back from surgery nothing was ever the same.  We barely talk now and it hurts a lot.  She's told me several times how she is done with me, doesn't want me in her life anymore and hates "what" I've become.  Like I'm some sort of "thing".  Over the last couple months we have hardly spoken.  Last few times I went over to her house ended with her either calling the police or pushing me away when I tried to give her a hug.  She now says that having me was the biggest mistake of her life

As for my dad.  Who was the biggest supporter throughout my transition, he is nothing but hostile to me all the time now.  He continuously tells me how much he regrets helping me with surgery and that it was the biggest mistake of his life.  He seems to have had himself convinced that surgery would fix everything.  And that after that I should just be happy all the time.  And that is not reality.

As for the surgery itself, I've had a hell of a time adjusting.  It's better and more comfortable when it comes to every day things like showering, sitting, wearing clothes, etc.  But sex is not what it used to be.  Which has been EXTREMELY rough for a sex addict who used to masturbate on average five times a day.  Dilation is a nightmare.  It's painful, time consuming, ruins the mood for sex, and generally sucks.  I've had issues healing cause of my Crohn's and every time I dilate I can still feel the skin ripping apart from where it's healed since last time.  I can't begin to tell you how over this whole thing I am.  And there's nothing I can do.  I'm forced to deal with this every day of my life forever.  It's brought me to tears more than a few times.  It's NOT all it's hyped up to be and not as great as I had expected.  And that's the real truth.

For a year I've felt like I couldn't truly express how I feel cause people have looked up to me.  Been so happy for me and so proud that I had the strength to go through it.  But the reality is it sucks!  It looks good, it works I suppose, but the maintenance is more than I can handle.  But how was I supposed to ever say anything when I have a whole community expecting me to talk about it like it's so great and I'm so lucky?

All of these things left me feeling pretty damaged, short tempered, hostile and alone.  In an attempt to prove to myself how great it is I slept around a lot after surgery.  With other transwomen, with a cisgendered male friend, transman friend, etc.  It seemed great but the reality is I was trying to make it seem better than it was.

My posts on facebook that people used to like, read, comment on, and often look forward to, diminished and became more and more negative.  I lost several close friends, and still have people unfriending me every week on facebook.

Then the one truly good and happy thing in the last year happened.  My current girlfriend asked me out.  It was so unexpected.  And it's been wonderful.  I've never been happier in a relationship.  But because of this image I made for myself, people rejected our relationship as a bad idea.  I mean, how can a pansexual, polyamorous, blah blah blah whatever possibly be happy in a serious, committed, monogamous relationship right?  WRONG!  Just because someone is attracted to all gender identities and body types does not mean they can't be in a committed relationship with one specific person.  And furthermore, just because someone is polyamorous and loves multiple people does NOT mean that they can't decide to be in a monogamous relationship.  You can love multiple people without having sex with all of them.  And despite how happy we've been the damage was already done before.

My dad keeps spouting off this rubbish that "it won't last", "too big of an age difference", I'm "with someone different every other month".  My mom feels the same way apparently.  As do some of my closest friends.  All those people that SHOULD be happy for me.   That should support my relationship.  They make me feel like shit for being happy.

And then to make matters worse, I tried to talk about my happiness.  I tried to share how great things were.  But apparently that was somehow wrong.  Because all my miserable friends, yes, you lot reading this right now, complained behind my back.  I ended up having people come to me saying that our mutual friends approached them asking how to block my posts.  Apparently my sharing my happiness upset people or something.  So I stopped.  Stopped posting on facebook, stopped sharing my thoughts and opinions.  Eventually stopped doing blog entries, video blogs, even stopped talking to most people.

When I tried to come back to the internet and social media though no one cared anymore.  All those local organizations that had asked me to speak had stopped asking.  No one was inviting me to events or to share my story.  No one wanted to hear anything I had to say anymore.  I tried to force myself back on one or two organizations.  Spoke a couple times.  But it wasn't the same.  And I feel like I'm lying to everyone when I speak and tell the story of how great surgery went and how much better everything is.  When it's really not.

I post things on facebook and no one reads them anymore.  No one sends me messages hardly ever.  No one likes my posts anymore.  Well, very rarely.  And it's even more rare that anyone comments.  I feel like no one even cares what's happened to me this last year.  I have a LONG list of friends that always give me this "I don't have time for them anymore." speech.  But I don't see any of them calling or messaging me.  Why is it up to me to contact everyone?  You all say I never call, I never talk, I don't care anymore, I don't have time for you anymore.  I call BULLSHIT on everyone!  Because I don't see ANY of you trying to call or contact me!  Does everyone feel they can't call or talk to me because I'm in a relationship?  Because that's rubbish and on ALL of you.  Because I'm here.  I respond.  I do care about my friends.  But I definitely feel like my friends don't care about me.

I've had an awful few days where friends have made me feel like I have fucking leprosy for having a cold. I feel like everything I do, say, whatever is wrong.  I feel like I even get blamed for being sick!  And I am sick, sick of all the drama and bullshit in my life.

I'm officially through with the so-called "community".  I'm over all of it.  I AM in a happy and wonderful relationship and anyone that has issues with that can screw themselves.  And I will post whatever the hell I want.  If anyone still has issues, there's the proverbial door (unfriend button).  I never asked to be a role model or person of importance in the community.  And I don't want to be anymore.  I'm done.

GRS One Year Anniversary!!!

One year since surgery. That went quick... yet it seems so long ago...

Moments

Another two months have passed since I last posted on my blog.  I did a few vids on YouTube that I meant to link and forgot.  But I wanted to make a brief post about something great.

I've always been an overly emotional person.  Most of my friends know I'm an empath and can not only sense their emotions (often times sensing feelings they aren't even consciously aware of), but I can also very easily change the moods of those around me when I've got my own emotions under control.

My whole life I have had a really hard time dealing with emotions.  Both the good and the bad.  I'd let one thing going wrong build up in my head until I was in an out of control freak out mode thinking that my whole life was screwed up.  On the flip side, if something really awesome would happen I would focus on it and let everything else fall apart and not care.  Blowing off all the normal stuff to either only focus on those really great moments or dwell on the really awful ones.

I always viewed life as one long line.  A chain of events.  A rollercoaster going up and down but always going where I had no control over the ride.  But that's not right.  Well, not right for me at least.

About a week ago a very close and dear friend, who also lets his emotions get the best of him when things go really bad or really great, explained to me his thought process around this topic.  And his coping mechanism.  See, life is not one long line you're traveling down.  But rather a huge collection of separate dots.  Each dot is one moment.  And just because that one moment is bad doesn't mean it has to make every moment after it bad.  Because they aren't directly connected if you don't let them be.  The bad moment will pass.  As soon as I feel a bad mood coming, that second when I realize things have happened that are going to upset me I stop and tell myself I'm having a bad moment and it will pass.  Then I focus on all those great moments I already have planned in the near future.  And suddenly I feel better.  I feel ok.  The bad moment passes really quickly.  And the reality that I've realized from doing this is that there are FAR more good moments than there are bad.  Like a hundred times more!  But I was always letting that one bad moment escalate and dominate everything else until it made several potentially happy moments suck as well.

On the other hand, when those really good moments happen, don't get sucked in!  That's also when I have to tell myself, yes, I'm having a super amazing moment right now, and as much as I would love it to last forever, it's not going to.  So I stay in that moment fully and enjoy it as much as I can and revel in that moment while I have it.  Knowing that this happy moment will one day be part of the moments I remember when I'm having a bad moment.  But when it passes, it's gone.  And it's just a matter of accepting that that amazing moment that made you happier than ever before is over, and it will never come again.  Other moments equally great or maybe even more so may happen in the future.  But that one is gone.  And life goes on.

It seems like such a simple concept when you step back and look at it.  But it can be difficult to get used to.  But having done this for a week successfully I can say that was the least dramatic, most laid back, fun, and just overall chill week EVER!  I feel so motivated now about the future.  I feel like my last big hurdle (myself) has been dealt with.  Sure, there's other stuff, there's other issues to deal with.  But overall, I feel really good about life and my future right now.  I have many plans for my future in the works right now and have started several new things lately.

"Goddess is good, life is great, and people are crazy." - rephrased a quote from a friend.

Keep an eye on my blog in the near future for an upcoming video I'm doing.  I've decided to take my crazy life story and just share all of it in an hour video that I hope to be able to add still photos to as well.  I have to teach myself how to do that.  It will be for my 40th bday and my 8 months since surgery.  And in there I intend to share everything!  Like all those good and bad and flat out crazy things I've seen done and been through.  I've been so many places, done so much, seen so much.  Everyone knows bits and pieces but no one knows everything.  Going to put it together and wrap it up and end it.  And then begin life anew, at 40, starting a whole new story.  :-)

The Tale of a Pink Duckie

A lot of things happen at PrideFest. Food, fun, music, information, shopping, and of course people watching. But this is the tale of a pink duckie.

With all the drama leading up to PrideFest and other things going on in my life I was just going to let this go and not comment about it. I figured I'd mention it at the next TRUE Group meeting. But after sobering up and sleeping on it I feel I was really not treated equally. At an event that's supposed to be about equality. At that moment, I was pretty buzzed and saw a shiny object and wanted it. Let me explain.

About 4pm, cool breeze, beautiful day. Day two of PrideFest at Holiday Park and War Memorial Auditorium in Ft. Lauderdale in full effect. I'm already on my second yard of frozen margarita with extra floater shot of tequila. Feeling pretty good physically, kind of emotionally bleh. Doing the walk through of the event to sign petitions, shop, sightsee. On a table at a tent with only a couple elderly ladies is a small pink duck. With a breast cancer ribbon on it. All pink and cute. I wanted it. I do not know why, but I really wanted it. So over I go. I don't call it staggering, but rather swaying in the wind. My brain had immediately acknowledged that the duck was for breast cancer but hadn't really connected that to the tent and everything else. So in my mind I still had no clue what the tent itself was about.

So now I'm standing there looking about the table. It's still not sunk in yet. So I ask the lady that greets me, "What do I have to do to get a pink duckie?" It was at this point I realized it was a breast cancer awareness thing and now I suddenly go from flaky buzzed I want a duckie mode to actually paying attention and wanting to know stuff.

See, since surgery I've had more than a few moments where I felt like I didn't know enough about my body anymore. I already asked doctors, friends, and family a ton of questions. I'd also signed up for an event called "Hoo-hoos, Coochies and Treasure Chests: An open discussion of Vaginal Health." I feel like I'm lacking 40 years worth of life experience and knowledge around my new parts. I probably feel that way because that's the way it is! I need to know more! I've had a lot of medical issues and 13 surgeries, and code blue three times and all of these horrific procedures and things. I am all about learning this sort of stuff.

Ok, so now I'm far less interested in the duckie and much more interested in what they have to teach me. She responds by telling me I can have a duckie if I learn how to do a breast exam and then gives me a piece of paper... I looked at it, read it. Was like ok... This is when I first sensed that she was giving off this I don't want to be bothered by you aura. I then started asking questions. First was if breast exams or mammograms were different or if there was anything different I need to do with implants. I got a rather reluctant explanation that it's more difficult with implants and that some doctors do MRI's instead of mammograms. So I felt like I learned something right there. I went on to explain that I've been through a lot of medical problems and just recently had my surgery and feel like I don't know enough and want to learn more because if anything were to happen I don't think I could handle it. She just sat there giving me this uncomfortable look. They had these breast form model things there with lumps inside to feel to try and learn. I had to do it myself, she didn't explain what to do or anything. I felt awkward even doing it with her and now her two friends, sitting there clearly giving me the brush off.

The uncomfortable awkwardness eventually overtook my quest for knowledge and I just wanted to leave there. This is when I gave up trying to learn and asked, "Can I have a duckie now?" She replied, "yes, you can have a duck." In an obviously annoyed tone. And I quickly left their table to continue my day.

So their entire purpose there was to teach people how to do a self breast exam and hand out fliers. I did not learn much beyond what the fliers that I had to pick up myself told me. I can't help but leave feeling it was a "lesbian women discriminating against transwomen" thing. Whether it was or not who knows. I got the pink duckie though!

Happy 70th Birthday!

Where I'm At Now (4 months post-op)

Thinking Too Much, Shaving, and Minecraft FTWTF...

Wow. She's Cool.

2 Months... Really?!?

Strange to think it's been two months since surgery.  Part of me remembers being in San Mateo like it was just yesterday.  But at the same time my old life seems so long ago.  Nothing feels new anymore.  My body feels like it's always been this way.  I think back to before surgery and I can't even relate to that person.  How it felt, what that was like, all starting to blur and fade.

It's interesting how fast we can adapt to some changes compared to others.  I guess it makes perfect sense though.  My body is with me all the time, day and night, awake and asleep.  Other changes, like moving to my dad's, take longer to adjust to.  I'm not always at my dad's.  I may be at my mom's or out with friends or eating or shopping or whatever.  But my body is always there.  Don't really have a choice but to adjust to physical changes when it's something you have to deal with 24/7.

I feel pretty good all-in-all.  Happy at my dad's for now.  Although it's still obviously not what I really want.  I still don't have complete freedom or privacy.  Like if I wanted to run downstairs full speed, naked, screaming and making "whoo hoo" noises at 4am, that would be frowned upon.  And my cats are still not here.  Friend of mine had a great suggestion for a child gate that may work if I can persuade all parties involved.  My dad seems more willing than my mom.  My mom doesn't want to let them go because then it's just her and her one cat.  And I feel bad for her cat cause she'll be all alone all day and night when my mom's not there.  But I miss my cats!  No way on Goddess' green Earth that my ass will ever go back to my mom's house though.  Doing that in my mind would be like giving up on life entirely.  And I'm not quite there yet.

Physically I'm doing great.  Boobs still need close to 10 months from what I'm told before they start to like soften and skin relaxes and they feel more a part of me.  They look great though.  Be so glad when I can ditch this surgical bra forever.  That's less than a month away now!  As for the bottom, looks great.  Still some minor swelling on the left side labia majora or whatever.  Still that weird hard feeling underneath up top but that's normal and supposedly will decrease over time.  Some funky dead skin still there that hasn't gone away.  But again, that will happen.  Overall, everything is perfect, looks perfect, works perfect.  Have had a couple orgasms now (like literally only 2).  So things work.  Seem to be unable to have an orgasm from masturbating yet.  Not sure what that's about.  But with the next money I get I'm going to go shopping for some stuff to, how shall we say, help with that problem.

Still at a weird place though in life when you think about it.  Going through a lot of what most people would have gone through from age 12 to 18.  Having to relearn my body and what I do and don't like.  Having to adjust to physical changes suddenly.  And deciding now that I'm pretty much done with that, what do I plan to do with what's left of my life?  Most people would have figured this stuff out like ages ago.  Well, ages ago if they are my age obviously not ages ago if they're young cause that wouldn't make sense...

That first month after surgery was pretty awful for me I gotta say.  Had so much drama.  Having to move.  Not being able to have an orgasm yet.  Hormones going back to where they should be.  Pissed off many people, friends, family.  Second month was a whole lot of me time.  Getting adjusted to my body.  Moving my stuff to my dad's.  Getting furniture.  Figuring out what I'm doing.  Relearning basic things like how to bathe and pee and have sex.  Things most people have pretty much figured out by the time they're almost 40.

Now, the next thing I have to do is try to fix a whole lot of messed up friendships.  I've already accepted the fact that not all of them will be fixable and that I'm likely going to be down a few friends when the dust settles.  But one-by-one I need to try and work things out with them.  It wasn't my intention to piss anyone off.  I didn't wake up thinking, hey, let me piss everyone off.  My life just got too overwhelming for me.  And while I know my friends lives are intense too, and they all have their own problems, and their lives may seem overwhelming to them.  Point is, mine was/is overwhelming to me.  And made it impossible for awhile there to deal with or even listen to most other people's problems.  Not that I didn't care.  But that I was just overloaded mentally and emotionally.  All I could do is push everyone away for my own sanity.

But I have hope that 2013 will be the most amazing year EVER!  I really think it will.  Starting a whole new year, whole new life, new body, living in a new place.  It's like someone hit the reset button on my fucked up life finally.  And now I can start over again from scratch.  Rebuild friendships.  Fix life.  Rediscover myself and the world.  As I go forward, leaving all that was behind me.  Slightly difficult to start life at age 40.  But that's, as they say, the hand I was dealt I guess.  Better late than never?  I dunno.  lol  Guess we'll see.

Blessed Yule to anyone that actually bothers to read this.  Somehow I feel like I'm just talking to myself when I type this stuff.  But I look like crap today so just didn't have it in me to do video.  Next time.

Settling Into Life

So yes, my dad is super supportive and accepting of me being trans obviously. He pretty much gets me being pansexual. And he gets intersex. Great. I'm so very thankful for that.

What I'm discovering now though as I continue moving my stuff over here from my mom's house is that he's considerably less understanding of other things.

As I load the upstairs with geekdom, remote control R2 units, katana, light saber, cosplay stuff, box of phasers, video games and consoles going back 4 decades, etc. He just mostly laughs and makes fun of me. The usual "you'll never grow up" stuff. That's fine, I can deal with that. Not the biggest deal. Bit annoying and ridiculous but whatever.

My being Libertarian... far less accepted. From Mr. "I'm a registered Democrat" that's then voted Republican in every election his entire life. We argue a lot. He does nothing but watch Faux News errr Fox News all day. Makes me sick some of the things they say on there. But I stay quiet and avoid it. But then he starts bitching out "those damn liberals." And I'm like... uh... yeah.

And the real issue is my being Wiccan. He's Catholic. And he doesn't know. And has made many very strong comments against Paganism over the years. When I finally start loading my books into the bedroom he's going to have a coronary.

So not sure what to do about all this. I mean it's WAY better here than my mom's. And I will NEVER go back there. My dad and I fight but at least he's not crazy, unpredictable, random, senseless, chaotic, and all that other crap that my mom is.

Need to move out of here as soon as I can. But really can't deal with that until at least six months post-op when I know I'm healed up completely and such. Plus section 8 housing closed in Miami-Dade and Broward like a year to two years ago. Both full and not taking more applicants. I do not make enough money to survive on my own with what people want for rent even if I roommate with someone. And if I get a job I will not be able to get full disability it will only be partial. Which is a problem because of the Humira for example which is a class 3 medicine and without full coverage it's roughly $2k a week. Even with assistance from them it would be $800 per week. Which means if I did get a job I'd have to get a millionaire's job. Need to make money under the table or illegally somehow. Kind of forced to. How fucked up is that?

Dunno how I'm supposed to survive like this. I'm clearly stuck at my dad's for at least a year. Still so much to do. So much medical crap all day planning everything I do around when I need to do dilation and epsom salt bath and it's maddening. I haven't even figured out how to get my birth certificate amended or replaced or whatever. I've asked several people and got no real answers that were helpful.

Feeling a bit lost and confused over life. But feel physically great. And emotionally and mentally doing much better now as far as the surgery itself. Just life in general being a pain now. Overall though, things are good for now. Could be better. But certainly better than they were at my mom's. As hard as it was to get out of there it was probably the best thing I've ever done for myself. lol

They Said, "Wait Until 6 Weeks." That Was Not A Lie.

When those bandages were first removed everything looked so perfect.  Maybe I was just overwhelmed.  Maybe I was blinded by happiness.  I do not know.  But it looked perfect.  Too perfect.

Two weeks post-op it looked much less than perfect.  Some skin was bright red, inflamed looking.  Other parts looked almost grey in color.  There was swelling everywhere.  Stitches sticking out all over where they were starting to break as parts began to dissolve.  Skin was torn in a few spots.  Scars were a mess.  It was frankly scary looking and freaked me out.  Dilation was very difficult.  And the medium size dilator was beyond torture causing me to pass out from pain the first time.

By four weeks it was officially disturbing.  I was starting to really worry.  Not only was it looking weirder it was feeling weird.  And as I would find out a week later I was beginning to get a skin infection.  Cellulitis.

Five weeks brought me a skin infection, even more swelling, parts of stitches falling off.  Long parts of stitches coming out amongst massive amounts of vaginal discharge.  An overwhelming stench.  Incredible swelling and major redness.  Funky discomfort that felt hard under the skin.  Just a variety of things.  Enough to cause me worry.  I called Dr. Bowers' office in Colorado.  Emailed her nurse in California.  Texted her.  Emailed my ob/gyn.  Started asking friends, family, everyone what they think could be wrong.

End result was a skin infection.  A course of antibiotics for a week.  The discovery that the hard feeling going on is in fact the erectile tissue folded and moved under the skin that apparently does get hard like an erection at times.  And most importantly, peace of mind that things were not totally screwed up and I'd be fine.

Somewhere around five and a half weeks I had my first post-op orgasm.  Brining me relief in so many ways.  The last piece fell into place.  I could relax now knowing that the operation was a success and everything was working as intended.

When I talked to Safina in San Mateo, California, Robin in Trinidad, Colorado, and the others, they all said the same thing.  The same thing that's in my discharge info.  Wait until six weeks.  That by six weeks everything will look so much better.  I was told that at two weeks.  Again at 4 weeks.  At 5 weeks in my panicked state.  Everyone and everything all saying wait until six weeks.

And that brings me to today.  Wednesday again.  Making it now officially six weeks since surgery.  One week of antibiotics are done.  Week since I saw the doctor.  And how am I doing?  Swelling is down a LOT.  Only some puffiness up above everything in the pubic area and some on the left side, labia majora/minora that whole area is swollen some still.  Rest of the swelling is gone.  Stitches have all dissolved entirely except for a very small spot near the clit that does still cause a pinching pain sometimes.  The red inflamed skin is no longer looking inflamed or red.  Looking like a normal light pink color.  Very little odor if any.  Hair covering scars that are healed and starting to fade.  Dilation is so much easier.  I can tolerate the medium sized dilator now.  Still not ready for the large one.  I still struggle with medium but it's not debilitating anymore.  I can have orgasms.  I get wet.  And 9 out of 10 times when I go to the bathroom now I pee in a straight stream into the bowl.  No longer a random spray that goes in every direction except where I want it to.  There is still the unusual hard feeling from the folded erectile tissue.  It feels like this weird pressure at times that can be almost painful.  But it's supposed to get better with time.

Overall, everything is great.  Looks great, feels pretty good, working as it should.  Oh, and the top is perfect too.  Stitches gone up there as well.  No pain or discomfort.  Still stuck wearing a surgical bra until January 24th.  But they look great, feel great, love them.  Current measurements put me at a 38C.

So they were right.  I was starting to lose faith for a bit there around week five.  I didn't think it would improve that much that fast.  But, Marci and her team are the experts.  After over a thousand of these operations it's safe to say they know exactly what to expect.  Complete and total success!

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED!: First Post-Op Orgasm

I'm not going to say where, when, or how.  What I am going to say is how glad I am that it did.

Since surgery I have had a lot of issues to overcome as I adjust to my new body.  But my biggest fear both before and after surgery has been whether or not I'd be able to have an orgasm.  Before surgery I masturbated several times a day.  I had sex a lot throughout my life (more so in my youth lol).  And in my mind it was a lot to risk.  Since surgery, five and a half weeks ago, I've been worried.  I haven't had or been able to have an orgasm during this entire time.  It's led to me being stressed, sexually frustrated, short-tempered, and hostile.  I've been just spinning on people and bitching them out.  My family, friends, whoever.

Well finally, I can say my new parts work.  And like I had heard it felt pretty much the same as it used to except much more intense and much more difficult to achieve.  But what matters is it works!  I can't begin to express what a huge relief it is just knowing that.

14th Annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance

I wrote this article for the Unitarian Fellowship of South Florida's website.  They are a small Unitarian Universalist church located in Hollywood, Florida that I've gone to events at.  I know several of their fellowship, some for as long as 16 years.  I've simply copy pasted the article below.  Enjoy!

_________________________________________________________________________________

265 People Killed in the Last 12 Months*

265 people, humans, the same as you or me.  Parents, children, friends, like yours.  They did nothing wrong.  They lived.  They loved.  They worked and went to school.  They ate the same food, drank the same water, breathed the same air.  But their lives were taken because they wanted what we all want.  To be happy, to be themselves, to live the lives they wanted to live.  265 innocent lives lost due to hate, prejudice, and a lack of education and understanding.

When I was asked to write an article on the 14th Annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance I didn't know where to begin.  Should I talk about the dead?  Should I talk about what it's like to be transgender?  Should I tell my story?  But then I saw this statistic.  It's utterly heartbreaking.  And this only includes the murders that were reported and doesn't even include all the suicides.

To think in one year that many of my sisters' and brothers' lives were cut short by hate; hurts me deeply.  To think they will never have what I have.  To think they died doing exactly what I'm doing.  I can't understand that level of hatred.

I'm transgender.  I'm post-op.  And living a life they can no longer have.  Yes we need to remember those lost.  We need the world to know how many innocents are being killed because they identify as transgender.  But we also need to celebrate life.  The world also needs to see those of us who are still alive.  And hopefully through education and by hearing our stories the world may slowly begin to understand that we are no different from anyone else except that we aren't the gender the world tries to tell us we are.

Most people can never imagine waking up every day hating who you are, the way you look, the pronouns people call you.  Most people will live their entire lives without giving much thought to gender, hormones, chromosomes, their own names even.  Their lives will go on and they will check the box "male" or "female" without so much as a second thought.

But try for a second to imagine a life where you feel the world forcing you into checking one box when you know you're the other.  Imagine hating the clothes you're forced by society to wear in order to "fit in".  Imagine looking in the mirror and hating what you see EVERY TIME.  Day in and day out, for years, for decades.

A lot of transgender people have come forth in the last couple years.  Many celebrities have publicly transitioned, thereby increasing public awareness about what it's like being transgender.  Chaz Bono, son of world famous singer Cher.  Laura Jane Grace, singer-guitarist of the punk band Against Me!.  Jenna Talackova, Miss Universe Canada contestant.  Lana Wachowski, director, screenwriter and producer.  Hopefully in time as our stories are told the world will come to understand.

But, these senseless murders need to stop.  So take this Tuesday, November 20th to remember those lost.  Light a candle in their name.  But also go forward and do your part to stand up for transgender rights wherever and whenever you can.  Because transgender rights are human rights.  Help spread love and education.  And let's all pray, meditate, and send energy into the universe that one day these awful crimes will cease and that this unwarranted hate will subside.

Events are being held around the world this week to remember those lost and to provide awareness and hope for the future.  You can find a complete list of events worldwide at www.transgenderdor.org.

Locally, you can join myself and others for a candle lighting ceremony at:
The Pride Center
2040 N. Dixie Highway
Wilton Manors, FL 33305
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
7:00p.m.-9:00p.m.
www.pridecenterflorida.org/2012/11/14th-international-transgender-day-of-remembrance/

For more info on Transgender Day of Remembrance visit these links:
http://www.transgenderdor.org/
http://www.facebook.com/transdayofremembrance
http://www.wipeouttransphobia.com/

For information, resources, references and education visit the following sites:
The YES Institute - The Source For Knowledge On Gender & Orientation
The TRUE Group - Transgender Support Group for Miami-Dade
The Alliance for GLBTQ Youth - Providing Services for Transgender Youth & Their Families
Sunserve - Resources For Transgender Individuals & Their Families
The Pride Center - LGBTQ Center

There are many other resources available.  For any further questions about anything above or anything related to transgender topics please feel free to contact me directly at krysta@true-group.org.

*source:  Transgender Europe’s Trans Murder Monitoring Project


Article by Krysta Lynn Cascio.

A Little Bit On Shoes... Another First After 24 Years

Tonight my mom bought me a pair of cheap ass sneakers.  Not sure why I was suddenly motivated to get sneakers tonight but I really wanted a pair.

Well, these are the first sneakers I've owned in 24 years.  Last time I owned sneakers we old folks still called them tennis shoes.

Anyone reading this is at this point wondering what the hell...  Well, 24 years ago is when I was first starting to identify as transgender.  Took two years before I officially stuck that label on myself.  But I knew I didn't want anything to do with anything stereotypically considered "male".  And in my mind sneakers were masculine, they meant activities like sports, exercise, things that would lead to building up muscles and becoming more guy like.

Of course now I realize how ridiculous that is.  But back then I had a totally different view of everything.  And so for 24 years I wore nothing but heels and boots.  Even when working or forced to dress more "male" I wore boots.  But not anymore.  I mean don't get me wrong, I'm still going to usually wear boots cause I freaking love boots!  And heels.  And boots WITH heels!  *drool*  But, sneakers too.  Especially with my yoga pants instead of those lace up heels that are 15ish years old and look it.

It's funny when I think about it.  Before surgery I felt no matter what I did or what I wore I still looked like a guy.  And now after surgery I feel like no matter what I do or what I wear I still look like a woman.  Makes no real sense logically.  I mean I don't look THAT different.  It's not like I'm walking around naked.

Just an interesting observation about myself.  And shoes.

One Month Post-Op

The month that felt like a decade. FINALLY my mind is slowing and the fog and chaos are clearing. Still a long way from feeling "right". Still a great many things going on in my head. But here's where I'm at with my thoughts.

I've had many realizations over the last few weeks, several this week. And yes, my hormones were messed up for awhile which was just like a catalyst for everything else. Two weeks before surgery I was required to stop taking the medroxyprogesterone and spironolactone. In two weeks time my testosterone shot up from 10 to over 400. Left me an hysterical mess the last few days. Was flipped out over the documentary film crew not coming. Was a mental case about getting pre-op pics taken. Had a dozen or so breakdowns those final days right up until I was knocked out for surgery.

Then I woke up. And within two weeks (again) or maybe less, my testosterone plummeted from well over 400 to 6. So I went from short tempered, hostile, and crazed to emotional, traumatized by everything that happens, and generally overwhelmed in like 4 weeks. All of this is a major piece to the puzzle of what the hell is wrong with me. But this is just one piece of a far more complex clusterfuck of things going on within me.

One of the more significant realizations I had came a few days ago. In true geek fashion this knowledge was imparted onto me by Master Yoda. Star Wars episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. Anakin Skywalker was having nightmare visions of his wife Padme Amidala dying during childbirth (giving birth to Princess Leia Organna Skywalker Solo, and Luke Skywalker). The whole reason he went to the darkside and became Lord Darth Vader was for love. But the nightmares drove him crazy. So he sought out the power to stop the ones he loves from dying. Being mislead by Chancellor Palpatine (Darth Sidious aka The Emperor).

Getting off topic a bit there. But at one point he goes to Master Yoda seeking advice. And he tells him about his nightmares.  And Yoda tells him to overcome his fear he must learn to let go of that which he is most afraid to lose.  And I realized something right then.

As those who heard me speak that week after I returned may remember me saying.  I feel like I had to let go of everything for my surgery.  My Crohn's Disease was starting to flare up pretty bad.  My health was questionable.  My mental state even more so.  I felt that I had maybe a 40ish % chance of not surviving my surgery.  I told this to only two people (and a third figured it out on his own).  I was scared surgery would be canceled if I said anything to anyone.  And I fought so hard to get to that point.  Even though I was full of doubts and almost canceled it myself, I knew I HAD to do it no matter what!

So I left.  With my dad to San Francisco.  I saw everyone I could before I left.  Felt like I was going through my bucket list.  I said goodbye to my friends, to their families, to their pets.  Said goodbye to those I love thinking I may never see them again.  Said goodbye to my own cats.  Said goodbye to my mom who despite her bat shit craziness, has always been there for me in her own fucked up way.  I had to let go of everyone and everything.  I had to accept the fact that the sexual relationship I was in and LOVED would never be the same if it even continued.  Had to sacrifice my own body parts.  Which for someone that's masturbated like 5 times a day every day (or more) for 20+ years, was difficult to say the least.  My house, my stuff, my life, my memories, everything.  All left behind.

Yes, there was a greater chance of things going right than I calculated.  But in my mind at that time, during that last week, I had to accept that I was willing to let go of EVERYTHING just to be myself.

And then I had surgery...  One month ago.  Wednesday, October 17th, 2012 at 11:30a.m. PST.  Forever etched in my mind.

And things went perfect.  And it was great.  It IS great.  More than great.  There are no words to explain how happy I am with things physically.  But, there I was, post-op in San Mateo, having a great time in my new life.  And when it came time to return to my old life. I did NOT want to.  I really, really did not want to.  I didn't want to go back to all the problems and misery and crappy old house, and financial issues and all that.  I didn't want to know how much everything would change or how different it would all feel for me.  But I had no real choice but to return.

The flight back I was antsy, fidgety, and restless.  The second we landed I had nothing but issues.  Issues with the airport, wheelchair to get out, with my mom driving on the ride home, with everything.  I was just miserable.  And I snapped.  I couldn't deal with being back in my mom's house.  Crammed in that little room with everything I own.  No space, felt claustrophobic.  HAD to get out.  So I threw what I could into my car at like 2a.m. and moved to my dad's.  Because it was the only place I could afford and get to right then.  Leaving my cats and my mom and everything behind again.

Then for the first few weeks I felt so in between.  Most of my stuff I use, my clothes, my computer, the things that mean something to me, all here at my dad's.  But my cats... my mom... my past...  is still all there.

Then I finally got to see my friends, talk to my friends, hang out with them.  And it wasn't the same either.  I realize now after much thought that when I left I let go of everything.  I had to let go of my feelings for everyone too.  When I left, it was like everything here, all of South Florida was dead to me for those first 3 days.  I clung to a few things.  But in the end, those final moments, I let go of the love I had for everyone and everything that was my life.  Because I was, in my chaotic state of mental breakdown and unbalanced hormones, fairly convinced I wasn't going to make it through surgery.

Nothing and no one mattered as much to me when I got back.  This is why I was able to leave my mom's house.  Leave her and my cats behind.  And a lot of my stuff.  This is why I've had trouble talking to and hanging out with my friends.  This is why I feel so detached from my old life.

Before surgery, like a few weeks before.  I had this big plan.  I was going to come back, sell some of the less valuable collectibles on eBay, then use that money to get a table at Supercon or something to sell the better more valuable stuff.  Had 2 other money making things planned too.  Was going to use that money to move out and maybe roommate with a friend or something in a couple months.  Had a lot of plans.  But then all this happened and everything was thrown into chaos.

Well, my testosterone was 6 the other day.  My estrogen is starting to go up now since my doctor changed my meds again.  Everything is starting to be clear in my mind.  I feel like the dust and smoke and flying debris and shrapnel and stuff have all hit the ground and I have a clear view of my life.  But what do I see?  I see a wasteland like someone dropped a tactical nuke (or decided to do Fire Storm in the middle of the battlefield taking out both armies including the good guys and the dragon that was on our side).  And in the middle, me, looking awesome as hell.  Like some beautiful statue erected in the middle of ground zero after the huge explosion.  I stand there, looking great, feeling great, physically and now mentally.  But emotionally distraught because I am looking around at this devastation that was my life realizing that I am the bomb that blew it all to hell....

Not 100% sure yet how to fix the mess I've made of my life since I got back.  I've pissed off some of my closest friends.  Hurt those I love.  Left my mom in a situation she can't handle on her own.  Left my cats behind.  Left my stuff behind.  I have no money.  And I'm living in a mostly empty room with nothing but a cot, a dresser, and a small handful of my stuff.  The house is my dad's.  My car is my dad's.  I have less than a dollar in the bank.  In fact, the ONLY thing I have left is this damn computer.  It's all I have that I can say is mine and mine alone.  The only thing of any real value that's left.

But then I had another revelation, realization, whatever.  A friend of mine, post-op transwoman that had her surgery exactly 24 hours before mine, posted a video blog on YouTube that made me think about a few things.  First off, transitioning is hard.  That seems obvious but it's good to remember.  And, as a transperson I can create who I am.  I can make my own experience however I want it to be.  What I need to do is somehow build my life over from the ground up.  I need to reevaluate every aspect of it and make it how I want it.   Not sure how to do that but the realization that I can do it is a big deal to me.

And as for my friends.  Yet another realization.  I did let go of everything.  But that doesn't mean I can't reconnect it all now.  I realized this thinking about a friend of mine.  He's been the one friend that I have felt like our friendship hasn't changed.  Everyone else it felt a bit different.  And I realize now why this is.  He was the first friend I saw when I got back.  And in fact the only friend I saw that first week back.  And then again a couple more times.  We reconnected.  That's all it was.  That's all it took.  Just spending that much time with him, it made it all feel like it used to.

Then the second friend I saw after coming back.  Someone I love probably too much.  We hung out, but in a setting with others where chatting wasn't possible most of the time.  So things still felt odd.  Then we hung out for a little bit a few days later and things felt better, but still off.  And we talked and texted and things feel pretty normal now with him too.  I mean still a bit distant feeling but better.

Seems so simple.  All I need to do is go one person at a time I guess.  Hang out with them, preferably just them where we can talk and I can find that connection again.  So I guess what I do is go systematically through my friends one-by-one and see who I reconnect with and who I don't.  Literally rebuilding person-by-person, step-by-step, from the ground up.

I guess I start by apologizing to everyone?  Seems so... not good enough.  And how can I help my mom?  I won't go back.  And my cats...  My mom doesn't want to let them go and my dad's afraid to bring them here because they'd kick his cat's asses most likely.  And I have no money...  I feel so alone.  I know I'm not.  I know I do still have a couple friends out there that haven't been caught in the maelstrom that is my life.  But I still don't feel the love I had for a lot of people.  Most people.  I still feel... cold...

So that's where I'm at.  I feel like I understand what has happened this last month better than I did.  Short version, too much at once left me distancing myself from everyone and everything, perhaps too much.  I made a huge mess of things.  I understand it better now.  But am still a long way from knowing how to fix everything.  No idea what my life is going to end up like in a few months.  Common sense tells me to go slowly.  Deal with one person at a time and one problem at a time.  Jumping back into my life will end up like that night a few weeks  before surgery when my dumb ass thought it would be cool to take a running, jumping leap, in a string bikini, into a cold pool, at like 2am or 5am or some crazy time.  Into the 5 foot side.  STILL have a scar on my left foot from that one.  Sometimes yelling "Geronimo!" and leaping into shit is not the best idea.  Really.

I've got a busy week this week leading up to and through Turkey Day.  Going to take another week to keep myself fairly distant from most of my friends so as to not further screw things up or piss anyone off.  Going to take some "me" time.  Have laser hair removal this week, and the 14th Annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance.  Then Turkey Day.  Variety of errands and stuff.  By next Saturday though I will return to my life, slowly, very, very slowly.  And pick one person at a time to contact and hopefully reconnect.  I will start rebuilding who I am, what I'm doing, where I'm going, my goals, future, plans, income, living arrangement, all of that.  Baby steps.

As for how my physical health is now at one month post-op.  Overall, great!  I have issues, yeah.  I have questions, yep.  But still, great!  Issues I have?  Well, the lower, outer, quadrant of both breasts is totally numb.  The inner, lower, quadrant of both feels like it used to.  The top half is hyper sensitive.  That seems odd to me.  I may be wrong, I dunno.  And I get a funky pinching feeling in my other new parts.  My brain could tell you exactly where that feeling would be on my old parts but where it is now I am not even sure.  I can't even pin-point where this pinching feeling is now let alone why it's happening.  And then there's this funky feeling that feels like an erection.  Just started today.  What's that all about?  It's not the same feeling I've been getting from being aroused.  It's yet another unidentified sensation.  And there's a couple things that I can't figure out when looking at stuff.  Things I sort of need to be in front of a doctor and point at to even ask what's going on.  Not something I can put into text at all.  And I still have that nagging worry and fear I can't shake about having an orgasm.  I haven't had one post-op and still scared that I might not be able to.  I know that's almost certainly not the case.  But until it actually happens I will be super stressed and worried about it.  Not to mention the overall sexual frustration I'm feeling.  Again, I used to masturbate a LOT, like all the time, my therapist insisted I'm a sex addict based on that.  I think that's a bit extreme.  I said "ex" therapist right?  Yeah.  And then there's the dilation.  It's getting better I think.  But I'm also now getting another strange pins and needle feeling sometimes while doing it.  And I am still VERY much struggling to use the medium size.  Can't do it every time even.  And that worries me too.  Then there's the strange tight area about two inches in that I don't know if that's muscle, pelvic bone, scar tissue, or from the prostrate.  And I think I lost some depth though I'm not sure how.  I have been going to the same point on the dilator since I started.  But out there they said 5.5 inches.  And I measured where I'm getting to and it's more like 4 to 4.5 inches.  Don't understand that at all.  Anyhow, overall things look great, feel great, but still lots I don't understand.  Definitely can't complain though.

So happy one month to me!  And happy one month to my friends Sarah and Erin should they read this!  Yay us!  heh

What Happened to My Life?

There are many posts and things I wrote that still haven't been put up on my blog because I was without a pc for a month.

But, this is a big one right now.

What the hell happened to my life?  I left for surgery with both parents supporting me and wishing me luck, with a horde of friends that love me, cheering happily for me.

Then I came back.

My mom has been hateful and malicious to me on a daily basis to where I had to move to my dad's.  My dad keeps preaching that he's fed up with everything and about to wash his hands of both me and my mom and be done with me completely.

My friends, all seem different.  I used to get called and texted all the time to hang out with this person or that person.  To the point where I had to turn down some people because I already had plans with others.  Now?  Nothing.  No one seems to really wanna do anything, hang out, or even talk.

I try to talk to them but it all feels so different.  My best friends.  People that are like family to me.  People I love.  But, everything feels off.  If this was a Sci-Fi show I'd be expecting this to be an alternate reality or something where things are almost the same but not quite.  Nothing my friends say to me seems important.  Everyone seems to be talking about things I don't care about anymore.  And no one seems to care about anything I have to say.  It's so strange it's hard to even put into words.

Most of them are flat out not doing voice calls.  IF I'm lucky to get them to chat in texts or on facebook it's not the same.  There's a strange level of tension and discomfort I can't understand.

I don't understand what's happened.  But I feel like I have few to no close friends (not like I had).  And feel like I don't even have much family.  In fact, I'm starting to wonder what I have left to keep me here at all.  Maybe I should save up some money, straighten out some things, and take off far away somewhere and start over from scratch.

But, part of me, a HUGE part of me, is hoping this will pass.  Is hoping that this is hormonal or something.  Hoping that things aren't how they seem.  Because I don't want to lose those friends and all we've been through and our whole lives and histories together.  I do love and care for them, but, I feel different in ways I can't even explain in words apparently.

I'm happy about surgery.  I love my body right now more than ever.  I have no regrets about any of it.  But, I REALLY miss a year ago.  I miss that holiday party back in 2011 with all those people most of which don't speak to each other anymore, some of which I don't speak to anymore.  Back before all of this insanity that has been the last few months.

I feel I've lost a lot of friends.  Or at least the closeness I had with most of them.  I lost my mom.  Lost my cats.  My life.  Why the hell am I staying here?  I really should leave all this behind, move far away and start over.  I just don't feel there's anything left of my old life.

But then I can't help but wonder if it's my emotions.  If it's hormones.  Am I crazy?  Maybe I'm wrong?  I don't know anymore.  All I know is what I feel and everything feels WAY different and not in the happy way I thought it would.  Way different in a WTF happened sort of way.

I Am the Scars

So, amongst everything else yesterday I had this realization.

I was standing in the bathroom about to take a shower (so naked cause that's how that works usually). I was still more asleep than awake. When I looked in the mirror my first thought was that I looked photoshopped. Like someone stuck my head on another body. All so surreal.

But, then my eyes went from what's new to what's old. My scars from all the Crohn's surgeries. The scars that Dr. Beck was going to fix in California but then decided not to. I was so upset when that happened. I wanted to fix everything. Or I thought I did...

And now, I realize, I don't. Maybe I'm going crazy. I don't know. But, amidst all the surrealism of a body I still have difficulty believing is mine, there was me. The scars of who I am, what I've been through, the road traveled so-to-speak. It grounded me. Made me still feel like me. Where the colostomy bag was for 2.5 years. Where the ileostomy bag was for 6 months. Where the stitches ripped and the wound vac was. The scars from stitches, sutures, staples, etc.

It seems crazy to me after having gone through so much to have the body I've always wanted that I would WANT to keep the scars. Especially when they're so extensive and likely a turn off to most people.

But I realize now the Goddess prevented me from fixing them in San Mateo for a reason. Because they're really all that's left of who I was. As I sit here in a new body, new living situation, without my cats or my mom, with a pc that I still haven't had time to piece together. Everything that was is gone. And as happy as I am about it all it is still hard to let go of an entire life all at once. Everything that I was. So yeah, I'll keep my scars till the day I die, the internal ones, the emotional ones, and yes, the external ones too.