Where's the Confidence?

Hey there, Readers. It's been awhile. What can I say? A lot has happened since my last post. I've tried multiple times to write a new one, but the words wouldn't come… until now.

I've been very busy as of late. July had a lot going on. I got back from vacation and jumped once again into work. We have some slow days but this summer has been way busier than last year. Not to mention we never had a shoulder season break. Luckily, when I got back there was a new employee there who had started a couple days before I left. During the course of my trip she had gotten some good training in. I hate training. When you're trying to balance a busy work day while trying to stop and explain every step of what youre doing at the same time, it gets intense. I mean there was still plenty of training I had to deal with, but I got to miss out on a week of it at least. Besides that there has also been play practice. That's right, I'm doing Shakespeare in the Woods again. But this time I have a part I really like and I'm being true to myself. The difference between this year and last year is crazy. But more on that another time…

The last couple weeks have been hard. It's been very busy and for some reason the depression has come back for a little visit. I've been working on getting it out of here but anyone who has struggled with depression knows that's easier said than done. It makes me so extra tired and my nightmares have returned. It makes going to work and then practice in one day a daunting challenge - though to my credit I still get it done and manage to have fun at practice too.

But certainly there's something else feeding this black cloud, yes? That would be correct. It is the disappointment in myself. Dont worry. I will explain.

Building self confidence is challenging. Though everyone keeps telling me how brave I am, I feel less so. I don't stand as firm in myself as I should. Yes I came out at work and they agreed to calling me Sam but not one single time have I been gendered correctly, nor has an effort been made to try, but most importantly, I have not been doing anything to correct it. That is where I am failing myself.

How is anyone supposed to know? How are people supposed to get it of they don't start hearing the righr pronouns being used for me? I'm slowly starting to look less obviously female. Though I still get gendered female quite often, there have been a few times I have been gendered properly by strangers that happened over the last month. Each moment made my day. It's a sign to me of progress. I'm getting closer. (On the 16th I'll be  9 months on HRT. that's a long time.) But, if i start correcting people, start making it so others hear the right pronouns being used for me, then I will hear what I want to hear more. So why haven't I? Part of it is that I'm afriad of getting into a debate. I don't know what people will say and I'm always afraid I'll be expected to explain myself, something I don't always have the energy for. I'm also afraid of offending people, I guess. We all get annoyed when we get corrected a lot. I mean, I suppose it's less I'm afraid of offending people (though that's it a little) and more afraid of just getting on people's nerves. Are any of these thoughts right? No. Not really. I'm getting hurt by this going on and I just need to suck it up and not care what people think. I'm too tired for an explanation? I'll send people to this blog. That's what it's for anyway. I dont wanna annoy people? Too fucking bad. I'm annoyed. Other people can have a turn now.

I feel that way, but in the moment, I shrink. I need to stop. Every time I hesitate when I have to choose between bathrooms - and then choose that same awful womens room - I feel so terrible inside. I feel like I'm sabotaging myself. But I'm so afraid I will go the other way and be confronted. "What are you doing in here? You dont belong in here?" Its a fear, whether the likelihood of it happening is slim. I mean, I go in the women's room and I certainly don't feel like I belong there. I rejoice whenever I find a unisex bathroom. They are always safe.

I live in a far more accepting community than I give it credit. People surprise me every day with how cool they can be. Why i can't let that fuel my confidence is beyond me. I feel good. I mean, I'm struggling at the moment, but I keep putting it in perspective by telling myself, "Yeah, well, what was struggling like this time last year?" It was ten times worse last year. I am on a much better path. The job now is to own it even more and to work on that "who gives a crap what anyone thinks about me" mindset I've always wanted but never been able to hold onto because of fear. Goal number one? Come out to my new coworker. She goes by what my bosses laid out for her, and what was that? Sam is a she. A girl. One of the ladies. [Excuse me while I barf]. To be honest talking to them again is up there too. We'll call it a 2 part goal.… see what I just did there? I put it in writing to make myself accountable. I'm already at wits end. We're coming up on the final straw.

This wasn't a particularly long post, but all of this has been swirling around in my head. Feeling the slightest bit better now. If I can complete that goal, I'll be WAY better.

Six Months Stronger

It's been 6 months since I started testosterone, people. 6 months. To say I'm excited at the coming of this realization is an understatement. It's officially official as of today. I've been dancing around doing an update of things. It seems that 6 months was the mark to do it. I don't even know where to start. I'm just gunna get typing, and we'll see where it goes.

I see myself a little more each day, not just because my physical appearance is slowly changing, but because things are aligning within myself. As my hormones continue to be where they should be, I feel an ever strengthening peace within myself. That doesn't mean I still don't get anxiety, but this peace is different than being calm. It's hard for me to describe.

Honestly, I've been struggling with my anxiety lately. A lot of things in life have been piling up, pushing me to my limits. I don't always like to share that I'm struggling. I want people to see that I'm strong, that I can handle things. I'm afraid of people telling me to stop doing certain things. I don't know where it got in my head that if I show people my anxiety (especially when it pops up in response to, say, having to deal with some of the harder aspects of transition) that they're gunna say, "Well, transitioning is doing that so you should just stop transitioning." 1) No one has ever said any such thing to me and 2) My anxiety issues started waaaay before I started transitioning. I've had them forever and I know that hiding being trans has been making it worse, yet my brain can't seem to wrap itself around that sometimes.

I learned somewhere along the way that if you cause something to happen, you've gotta deal with it. Let me explain. Say, I make the decision to stay up late. Well, if im groggy the next morning for work then I have to deal with it and push through it. I made the decision to make things harder, so now I have to figure out how to function through it. See what I mean? It's not a bad way to think, but my brain likes to take it to the extreme and past logical sense sometimes. Anxiety sucks, what can I say? So, when I'm stressing about financial restraints and stuff I have to get done for myself, my brain goes, "You're not allowed to complain about being stressed because you're the one who chose to add on this extra journey into you life." But Brain, you've got something wrong there. This wasn't a choice, not like you think. I couldn't have continued on as things were. I would have gotten worse and worse, shriveling further into myself. I'm scared to think of what would have happened. So maybe this was a choice, a choice to stop the pain. It's no different than the choice to start taking anti anxiety meds or anti depressants.

Through it all, I walk with a little more confidence. I feel more at ease with myself, the person I am. Is my dysphoria gone? God, no. Some days it's almost crippling, but a lot of the emotional wacko is gone. Recently, I saw my endocrinologist to check in on how I'm doing with the hormones. I do these trips every few months. It's another good basis for comparison. Even just noticing how different (better) I feel now compared to the last trip 3 months ago is crazy. But, I must admit, it's hard to notice most of the time. It's easy to take pictures and do comparisons to see the outside changes, but how do you gauge the changes on the inside? I'm thankful last year I started a journal. I look back at entries especially from last summer and realize that I'm so much better in my head now than I was then. It's harder to talk about the emotional changes because they're so personal, which is interesting considering they're the most important changes.

What else is different? Quite a bit. 6 months of second puberty does a lot. Hair everywhere, gradual vocal changes, unending hunger, and lots of acne are the biggest changes. They were all expected. The hair has actually come faster than I thought. Could it come faster? Sure, but it's just fine right now. The voice changes aren't fast enough, but I just have to be patient (as with any changes, really). As of right now, I've been noticing a lot more cracking and throat soreness. I'm quite sure this is indication I'm heading into more change in the vocal department. The hunger was never something I had put much thought to even if i had been forewarned, but holy goodness am I constantly starving or what. No sooner have I thought I'm stuffed then bam I'm hungry again. It's a good thing I got back into working out at the beginning of this; otherwise, I would have turned into a balloon rather than made as much progress gaining muscle as I have. Now the acne.… I dreaded this one. This is something a lot of trans guys conplain about and I swear mine started on day 1. I seem to keep it mostly under control. It's not as bad as it could be but lets be honest, seeing any acne at all is too much acne. I had just gotten to a point where ny skin had been relatively clear for a good stretch. Ah well. It's worth it.

I could go into more detail, but that's getting close to awkward territory. Wanna hear more about what I've been dealing with? Send me a private message. Really, I love to talk about it; yet, in a blog sense, if i keep going, I'm just gunna start rambling. Truly though, the more I get a chance to talk about being trans like it's normal, the easier it gets. I like treating it like it's nothing weird, like it's any other Dr's appointment, like me getting my shots is no big deal. It makes me feel less like some science experiement and more like a normal person who just happens to need help with getting the proper hormones. You know, some trans guys like to talk about being trans like it's a hormone imbalance, like they're just guys who have an issue with their hormones and got puberty late because it took so long to start correcting the levels. I'm not saying every guy looks at it that way, and I'm not so sure how I feel about looking at it that way. But… for explaining it to people… Well, I think there are people out there it would be beneficial to have that explanation around for. 

So there you have it, my messy little 6 month update. Thanks for sticking with me. Tune in next time for more trans adventures.

P.S. -  I threw in a comparison photo. The left is 6 months ago, the right is a few days ago.

Neverending Selfie

Before I was so rudely interrupted by a nasty virus as well as the unwelcome Period Beast (see previous post), I was working on this post. This was originally supposed to at least partially be about how I've been feeling better in my body, yet in these past couple weeks, that enormous positivity I had regarding such things has been lost and is just now resurfacing. In fact, I've been struggling with not only dysphoria, but feelings of worthlessness that are in no way tied to my being trans (Because, you know, my life isn't just being trans after all. That just happens to be what I blog about most). Despite all that, I'm going to attempt to pick up where I left off here.

So, as the title implies, selfies. I am just as guilty as anybody of taking selfies. I rarely share them, but I have a ridiculous amount of them stocked up. You wouldn't know this by looking at my social media. Not only do I hate sharing pictures, but after I first came out, I purged my Facebook and Instagram as well. Many times I take these pictures fully intending to share them (to update a profile pic, usually), but inevitably, I hate the picture and either delete it or file it away. I've been doing this for years. I mean, when I say I have them stocked up, I'm not even kidding. As much as I dislike these pictures, you think I wouldn't have held onto them right? Yet, there they are in the cloud, deep in the pictures section in a folder marked "me." Though, I can hardly say any of these pictures truly reflect me.

Every so often I go back and look at these pictures. I'm not sure why. All it does it make me uncomfortable. Before I realized I was trans, I would look at them and not understand this discomfort. Now, I get it's because I'm looking at a person who isn't me. I see this girl that I was trying so hard to be, the ultimate character I ever played. I see the phases in style, especially hair color, as I searched endlessly for the winning combination in outward appearance that would make me feel good about myself. I don't even have to go far. I look back to a year ago, two years ago, and I'm hit with an overwhelming amount of emotion. I can see the sadness in my eyes. I can remember the exact moment taking that picture and how unhappy I was. I can literally place myself back in that slice of time and remember how dissatisfied I would feel looking at those pictures right after taking them - or even while I was taking them for that matter. I felt fake, like I was trying too hard, like that wasn't me.

I look back now with the knowledge I've gained about myself, and it's so weird. I don't recognize that person. It's kind of funny, now that I see a stranger in these photos, for the first time I recognize a beauty I never saw before. Yes I was beautiful, but I never felt that way. And when I notice that beauty, when I find myself seeing it, I also feel a certain sadness. I know there are parts of me that mourn for that girl. At times, I feel downright guilty for wanting to destroy her. Why couldn't I be happy as her? Why couldn't I make it work? I tried so fucking hard to be her, and it took separating myself from that person to finally understand how hard I was trying and how much worse it was making me feel.

So if it hits me so hard, why do I look at these pictures? Before I knew what it was, I did it to try and force myself to see some beauty in me. I would look at them and say, "Sam, you look great. Why can't you be happy in your skin?" Now I look back to remind myself why I can't go back just because transitioning is scary. It's easy for my brain to tell me that this is too much for me, that I'll never get where I want to be, especially when the Period Beast hits. I mean, I was getting much better at not letting it do that, reminding myself to be patient. It's when the bitch that I discussed in my last post gets into my head that I get fucked over. In the past couple weeks, I have felt so hopeless about a lot of things not just transition related, mostly just related to me as a human being. Lets just say no matter what I do, the self hatred goes from a five to a twenty whenever the cycle comes around. Anyway, back to selfies... that was the point of this post, right?

Since I started transitioning, the amount of pictures I take and hold onto has increased. Not that the amount I share has increased by much. Still, it helps to have these pictures on deck. It's true that you don't notice the subtle changes unless you have a side by side comparison to really stare at. So, every week or two, I make myself a side by side and look at it a while to remind myself that progress is happening. It's actually quite helpful. Not that I've felt like sharing it with anyone. The only person who has seen any of these is my sister and I think she's seen one. A month or two ago. I feel awkward sharing pictures of me, especially of my transition. It's not weird to share. You go to Instagram, and there are so many guys sharing their story through pictures. It's inspiring when they do it. Me, I'd rather share a picture of the mountains. But I still take pictures of me for me, that never stops.

I guess you could say one reason I don't share pictures as much is because I'm afraid of being reminded of the slow progress, of people not seeing what I see. I mean, every day I see the person inside a little more and even when I don't see him I *feel* him. That still seems to be just me (and maybe some people close to me). At work, people still see me as this girl. At the store. In passing. I start to wonder if I've really made as much progress as I've thought. I know I have, but it's so hard to see it. It gets me down, I'm not gunna lie. It's easier said than done, but I am working on not letting other people define my happiness. I mean, just because I don't pass doesn't make me any less trans, any less of the guy I know I am. The hardest part is remembering that. And it's the selfies that are integral in being that reminder.

So, even if the pictures aren't exactly what I want to see just yet, the seemingly neverending quest for the selfie that truly reflects Samuel continues. He'll show up eventually. Just gotta be patient, trust the process, and most importantly, keep in mind that it isn't passing that makes me a man.

To truly end this post, I'm going to do something that makes me more than a little uncomfortable. Here come the selfies… Maybe you see what I see, maybe you don't. Want to know what I see? I see fake smiles in the first group, sad memories, discomfort, but ever so slowly, I see a certain happiness begin to grow in the second group. It's that happiness that I've been searching for, and as time goes on, I look forward to watching it grow.

The Beast Came Back

This is extremely personal, but if I don't get it out and explain why I'm so done right now I am going to explode.

After four months of freedom, without any sort of warning, my period came back. Do I know why? No. Is it normal after being on testosterone and it having gone away? Actually, most probably yes according to my google searches. (I called my Dr. and left a message all the same just in case, but I have yet to hear back).

I feel like I'm being such a baby about this. I've gotten through this before. I'm not even bleeding as much as a normal period - which is more of a confirmation to me that this is sort of just a "cleansing out" if you get what I'm saying. The problem is I have all the cramps, all the issues with eating, and all the emotional mindfuck that is normal for the periods I used to get.

The cramps I can deal with, the fact that my stomach instantly dislikes all food and will throw it up at a moments notice - or worse, just have me queasy and gassy for hours on end and I can't throw up - is not something I can handle so well. Mind you, this happens no matter what I eat be it good or bad, too much or very little. It's like my normal stomach problems are amplified by 1000%. There's a reason I started eating vegan and then gluten free, and unfortunately, it had nothing to do with the animals. It was for the health benefits (though I did start learning about the animal side later on and definitely stand for that as well, don't get me wrong. I came for my health and will be staying for the animals and the environment).

But… the emotional side - now that's what really fucks me. I become a person I don't even recognize. I feel bad when I'm around people because I get it, I become irrational and bipolar. I lose all sense. I become so negative. No one wants to be around me less when I'm like this than me. Still, I end up isolating myself and coming to battle with this bitch who's so mean.

I tell you, I try to be positive, but it feels like all happiness is suddenly sucked out of me. I get bursts of it back but there's always a crash that has me crying and upset, full of negative thoughts. It becomes very draining to take reign of this and cast it away. It becomes too easy to get down on my body. My chest begins to hurt as it becomes tender and that makes it harder to ignore. It's not the only body part that does this for that matter, but I don't want to name the other one. My body itself feels swollen. I do best to avoid looking at myself, to push it out of my head.

Still, every little thing sets me off, and I know it's irrational, but I fall into panic anyway. Everything feels wrong and there's a massive frustration that will come over me at times. I'll start shaking and won't be able to stay still. Many times it end in tears which only makes me more upset. Things that shouldn't offend me do. I become ridiculously sensitive. Like I said, I don't like nor recognize this person. But I'm stuck with her all the same. I guess you could say this is one of the biggest aspects of that female side that hits me and takes control of me. It's the hardest to escape because it's an impossible thing to control when it hits.

I know it will be over in a few days, and I've been really trying to console myself by finding distractions. It's in those moments that it hits me with one of those waves, one whopping blow, and I'm brought to my knees with so much emotion I don't know what to do with it that I've been really losing it these last couple days. I feel lonely and angry and my brain tries to project it onto others or little things, but in the end I always realize the thing I'm angry at is me, my body, how wrong it all feels.

I know this is a short post, but I needed to get this out. The act of writing this helped to pull me from one of those dark moments. Off to a land I music I now shall go.

The Weight

I had an actual post I was working on, but I haven't been able to focus. I've been dealing with a lot of chest dysphoria lately, so I decided to write a poem about that instead. Please note that when I say I've written poetry, I'm not following a specific form. I go with the flow of what comes to me. So, here it is.

The Weight

There's a weight upon my chest.
It just began to grow.
It once was flat, but now it's not.
They told me this is how it would go.
I thought that I'd be fine.
It's normal, that's what they said.
Yet there's a nagging anxiety in the back of my head

There's a weight upon my chest.
One side larger than the other.
Only by a smidge, yet I want to cry for mother.
Something isn't right.
Couldn't one just shrink?
I don't care if they're small,
Even not there at all,
Not a single wink.

There's a weight upon my chest.
It only makes me feel fat.
None of my shirts look right.
How can I fix that?
Do I need to diet?
Find a boyfriend who likes my boobs?
I'm feeling very empty.
There must be something I can do.

There's a weight upon my chest.
It's driving me insane.
It's shrunk a lot,
I'm so damn skinny,
Yet I still feel the pain.
It's hard to see an indent.
I still feel fat.
I still feel wrong.
Someone please, help me.
I don't know what's going on.

There's a weight upon my chest.
It's grown back out again.
Every bounce.
Every flounce.
It's all I see when I look down.
This shirt isn't that low cut,
At least that's what I thought.
I wish I had worn a tshirt,
Even if that doesn't fix it all.

There's a weight upon my chest.
I need to crush it down.
I bought myself a binder.
Will this help me now?
There's a new kind of constriction.
It's different to breathe.
But, oh my god, my shirt looks right.
I don't feel fat.
I'm free!

There's a weight upon my chest.
I cannot bind today.
There's phlegm in there.
I need the range,
To cough it all away.
But, now the sadness has returned.
Again, I'm feeling wrong.
I feel so much more aware of this.
After having a solution for so long.

There's a weight upon my chest.
The sickness still remains.
No matter how much I want to
I cannot bind again today.
This is wearing me down.
I'm getting very tired.
There has to be a permanent way
To tell my chest it's fired.

There's a weight upon my chest.
One day I could have it cut away.
But, that's easier said than done.
It's an awfully large bill to pay.
It's not just the cost.
Such procedures are apt to affect one's life.
After all, recovery lasts far beyond the day beneath the knife.

There's a weight upon my chest.
Until it's gone away,
I'll bind when I can.
If I can't, I'll just have to say--
"Don't think about it.
"Don't look down.
"It will all be okay.
"Chest or not, what makes you, you isn't going to change."

It Takes Courage

It's been longer than I intended between posts, but it doesn't matter. Like I said in my first post, there is no set schedule for updating this blog. I do it as I am inspired. Anyway, putting together this post in a coherent way has been tricky.

You see, I came out as transgender at work.

As I have mentioned in my last couple posts, this is something I have desperately been needing to do, but I've been holding back due to my own terror. Figuring out exactly why being authentic is so difficult me is the core of this post. Let's get to it, shall we?

I have lived my entire life afraid of being myself. Between the fear of losing friends, being annoying, or not being accepted by anybody, I have become quite guarded. Sometimes I'll sit down and search my brain, trying to find the sources of why I have such a hard time letting myself be wholly me. I've often been the pushover in groups of people, the quiet one who tags along and goes with what everyone says. I can pull to mind all the criticisms, all the times people that were supposed to be my friends made me feel small. (I'm not saying I was always the perfect friend either. I still regret how I ended certain friendships). I was often told I was being too sensitive, and to this day, it's hard for me to tell if my feelings are justified or if I really am too sensitive (usually I assume it's the latter). I wonder why I let it hurt me so bad. I guess it's because all that "poking fun" just added to the dissatisfaction I already had with myself. I already felt wrong, weird, out of place, even if I didn't have the words to explain it, then people would have to point out my shortcomings. The things I didn't know, how I was too much of a "prude," etc. I've often felt like a weirdo for things that are beyond my control.

I've noticed this complex in my head formed that if someone disagreed with me, I was probably the one who was wrong, and I needed to shut up and be schooled. I've made myself look stupid so many times unintentionally that it just became easier to shut the fuck up. It got to the point where I couldn't even raise my hand in class to answer a question. Group projects were a certain form of hell. When In groups, I often felt I was faking it more than anything. Even now, it takes a lot of warming up for me to talk to people in social situations (and that feeling of faking it still seeps in). Hell, I avoid cast parties or work holiday parties like the plague. The radio station only ever got me to one Christmas dinner (I was eligible to go to 3 or 4), and I often bail out of cast parties for plays I'm in. I get around people and I just freeze up. They try to ask me questions to get me talking and my tongue fails me. I never feel I can say what I mean. I dread even getting my hair cut because I'm expected to carry on a conversation with the person cutting my hair.

The walls I've built around myself are thick. As hard as I've been working to chip away at them these days, progress is slow. Each time I come close to knocking down another side of the wall, truly breaking free, my instinct is still to hesitate. I hate this. Where's my self confidence? I know that I'm not going to be happy until I can be 100% free, so what's the holdup?

The holdup is I have spent so much time systematically squashing myself down that it has become habit to second guess myself. Automatically, I expect that I am not good enough for people. I expect that people won't like me no filters and that the only way to make sure they won't leave me is to not be wholly myself. That is bad. Don't be like Sam in this way.

So imagine all this going down in my head and then add the need to come out, the need to be completely honest about who I am with people - and to enforce it.

Houston, we have a problem.

Coming out to my family last summer then my friends and extended family on Facebook back in October was the first hurdle. It was not easy and it doesn't seem to get any easier each time I have to do it. I'm lucky that everyone I know is accepting and just wants me to be happy. No one has argued with me regarding my gender nor my choice to transition. For that, I will be forever grateful. I wish every trans individual could be so fortunate.

Despite the acceptance, I let coming out at work be something I put off for a good amount of time. I knew it would be painful the more I prolonged the divide between my personal and professional lives - and fucking painful it has been.  With each day it only got worse. It takes a lot of energy to keep up the front of "Samantha," a lot more energy than I realize.

But my mind cries out with my fears:
"What if your bosses are freaked out by this?"
"What if work gets weird?"
"What if somehow you get fired for this?"

Yet as the nightmares got worse, as it got harder to get myself ready for work every day, I knew I was getting closer to the point I wouldn't be able to put it off any longer. It was the week before I came out when I finally had the last straw. I answered the phone with the usual "This is Samantha, how can I help you?" The man on the other end had a need to say that name a lost every other word. "Why hello, Samantha. I was wondering if you could help me, Samantha. Yadda, yadda, yadda, Samantha. Every time he said that name, it felt like he was stabbing me in the gut. By the time he cheerily said goodbye, I felt near tears. I wasn't going to be able to take this anymore. Even if it was just getting people to call me "Sam," I needed some form of relief.  

So despite the fears still chiming through my head, I revisited the coming out letter I actually started a couple months ago. I spent several days on it, had a couple other pairs of eyes look at it, and then came the hard part… deciding when to give it to my bosses. When I first pulled that letter back up and started working on it, I had made a silent promise to myself - I had to give it to them by the end of the week. Naturally, the anxiety got worse as the week progressed. My time of things continuing as they were was coming to an end. That was the scariest thought of all.

I mean, I think part of the reason I was afraid of coming out wasn't really just to do with my bosses, it was the customers. You see, you only have to come out to your boss or your coworkers once but when you work in retail it's different. Each customer that comes in, I have to make the silent decision - do I enforce my pronouns if they get them wrong? Do I try to explan? Essentially, I'm going to have to come out to someone new probably every day, and that's the scariest thing I've ever embarked myself upon. (I'm already failing but hey, cut me some slack, this is week one).

Then came the most important thing I had to tell myself:

"Sam, you have to do this because you can't live like this. Who are you living your life for? If it isn't going to work at MBE then you need to figure out where to go next now. The time to unnecessarily suffer is long past."

Somehow on Friday, March 3, I took the leap and as my vague Facebook post announced that day, I went from complete terror to sweet relief. My bosses were fine. I could tell they were shocked and hadn't  expected such an admission from me. Still, they assured me that the most important thing is that I'm happy. I couldn't have asked for a better response. That moment of acceptance, of knowing that there really is hope, and my life is not going to all crumble apart… that why it's all worth it. All the pain. All the stress. All the fear. It's all okay because one day you wake up and realize that all those negative thoughts, those stupid worries, they're gone.

The best example is March 6, 2017, the first day back to work after talking to my bosses. On that day, for the first time in I don't know how long, I woke up and went to work and I felt NO anxiety. Will it return? Of course, but that doesn't scare me because now I know it's possible for it to go away.

We're in whole new territory now. Whether I choose to enforce pronouns is up to me, but now that I'm out at least I have the right to. Plus, as the hormones continue to do their work, eventually I won't be misgendered anymore. While there will be new challenges and frustrations to deal with now, I'm happy I've moved on to the next step. Honestly, I still can't believe I actually did it.

So to anyone out there who is struggling with coming out, whether you do it tomorrow or wait a long time, I'm proud of you. It takes a lot of courage to be yourself.

Buried Feelings

I've talked a lot about appearance in regards to clues to knowing I'm trans. A lot of that is because the rest comes down to feeling, and it's tricky to describe such things. How can you explain how something feels to someone who may not have ever felt such a way? Usually, I'm close to grasping just how to do that; but as I start to put it to words, it begins to fall apart, my point lost. This post has taken me some time to put together, but I think I've found a way to describe it.

I've always felt a want to impress boys, to show off. Growing up I thought it was because I had crushes, or that I just wanted to prove that I could be as good as the boys. The first one wasn't necessarily true but the second one was closer. I wanted to be accepted by the boys as one of them. I wanted to say, "I like a lot of the things you do. I want to join in with you. Can we be friends?" But I never did. I always had this looming fear that I wouldn't fit in, that they would reject me just on the sole basis that I was a "girl". (I actually wanted to take auto-shop so bad in high school but didn't because of that fear. I was a lonely person constantly afraid of rejection and being more lonely - still am. It's a stupid reason, and I still regret not stepping out of that comfort zone). That doesn't mean I never had guy friends. When I did, I always enjoyed the friendship and time spent. I don't know why some of the friendships never grew stronger. I've identified a want to be one of the guys on many occasions in my life. Being a closeted lesbian I felt it especially (and felt very confused by it too. If I was a lesbian why did I want to be one of the guys?). When around guys, I would want to talk about girls too. I would want to join in in general. Feel accepted.

Alternatively, in a group of girls I have always felt out of place. I noticed it more as I got into high school and beyond. I would be a part of the group, but I would always feel like a bit of an outsider. When working in places that were mostly women, I would have that same feeling and have a hard time joining in conversations. I'd smile and nod, act like I felt like a part of things but an act is all it was. Even where I work now it's the same. It's hard to explain the exact feeling, which is weird because when I feel it, it's so distinct… When I'm with my female coworkers I feel like there's a certain bond between them. It's not like friendship, it's not even that they get along better, it's just that there's something between them that I don't have with them. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn't make sense but I don't know how to word it so it will. I mean, it's like I feel like I'm not one of them, but I don't have a desire to be one of them either. It's different than when I'm around guys.

At Adventure in Camping, I was surrounded by guys. I never completely felt like one of them, but by the end I felt as close as I could get. It was pretty darn nice. After that, working at Hertz I was surrounded by guys again. You see, the rental desk is located inside a local sports shop called Kittredge. Some people would try and include me but mostly I would observe from my little corner, wishing I was a part of the guys. I was confused, lonely, frustrated. I constantly wished I knew what was wrong with me. I knew I was missing something. This feeling wasn't new.

When I lived with my grandparents and they would take me to events or when they would have friends over, I would always get along with the husbands and the older men better. It wasn't that I couldn't get along with the ladies, but it never happened so naturally. Even between my grandparents, I gravitated towards my grandpa. Over the first year I lived there especially, I spent so much time with him. We went on a lot of lunches out together as he told me his stories. The best would be our "violent movie nights" as we called them. My grandma would be out for the evening which meant we had the house to ourselves. We would order pizza and watch movies that Grandma couldn't stomach (mostly Clint Eastwood movies like Dirty Harry, The Outlaw Jose Wales, etc. We mixed it up with other violent movies too). I know girls can like this stuff too, maybe that's why I never took it as a clue. But the love of those movies isn't really what I'm trying to draw attention to here anyway.  It's the natural draw to my grandpa. I've always felt that around my dad too, my uncles, all my male relatives. I hardly ever saw my mom's dad, my Grandpa Mike, but I even felt it in regards to him as well.

I don't remember a lot of "girl pressure" from these family members so much. By that I mean "you can't do this or that because you're a girl." There is one thing that has killed me over the years though. I'm the eldest and have always been told I can do whatever I put my mind to… but I can't carry on the family name and my brother can. Before I say how this makes me feel I just wanna say that that may not even be true because my family doesn't know my brother's deepest dreams. No one can tell him he has to start a family one day (I've never gotten any indication from him that he wants to). He shouldn't be expected to carry on the family name just because he's a boy as much as a girl shouldn't be expected to drop hers because she's a girl. Anyway, I have always been deeply hurt by this any couldn't explain why. It's not like I plan on having kids anyway. I've thought about maybe adopting one day, but as of right now I have no desire for children. I think its just the fact that I wasn't even considered as an option but my brother automatically was. I would feel the same way every time my parents or my Granny M especially would bring up the importance of him being the "Taylor male" and how great it was that my parents got a boy. I have always tried not to let this get to me but it always has all the same. Honestly, I feel like my brother will always have my dad's attention in ways I'll never be able to get it. I have always felt the need to make my dad notice me. I've always wanted to be just like him only I feel like he's never seen it. I feel like I could be waving my hands in his face screaming, "I want to be like you! Look at what I'm doing!" And he'd only glance and say, "Oh that's nice," then forget about it. I know he doesn't ignore everything I do but it always seems that the things I most want to share with him, he barely notices. Still, I'm always running back to him for advice, or even just to talk. I love him yet he drives me mad. We're so alike in so many ways yet I wonder if he sees it.

We're going to move on now and talk about another layer of this feeling. To be honest this part is making me  emotional, and I'm writing myself into a corner. There's more I want to say but I'm gunna have to say it at a later time. So, onwards…

There's someone else I've  always felt drawn to. Let's talk a little about my obsession with Freddie Mercury. I have been, for the longest time, in love with the band Queen. Their music will gets me to stop and listen every time. Often this includes singing along - even to the guitar solos. I adore every band member,  but none more than Freddie. Freddie drew my attention more than anything from the first moment I heard his voice, and even more so after watching videos of him perform. I eat up information about what he was like offstage. My obsession confused me as much as I fed it. Why was I so into Freddie? I remember a few years back Queen held a contest to start an official cover band that would tour and everything. I filmed so many audition videos but never sent any in. Why would I? None of them were right. It felt good when I was filming, but every time I played back what I had done, I didn't look like I thought I did, I didn't sound like I thought I did. Besides, how would I ever get the part as a girl when so many actual guys with talent were trying out. I had no chance and it broke my heart.

I've been listening to both male and female singers for years. When it comes to singing, I find that it's always been a personal habit of mine to try and mimic the voice I hear. In fact, when I took voice lessons and was asked to sing in my own voice I really struggled. When I mimic the female singers, I've always been proud of myself when I can do it but consciously realized "That's not me, that's me being (insert name here)" and when I tried to sing along with male voices… well singing along was all fine and dandy, but if I tried to sing it by myself it was (still is) the most heartbreaking disappointment. Do I really sound like that? Before I had the word "trans" it was especially heartbreaking, because I didn't understand why I was so upset.

I mean, I finally get an underlying struggle I had while working at the radio station (Oh yeah, I worked for a radio station for a while. Started interning my senior year, worked there a couple years and came back and worked for them part time when I moved back to Mammoth up until October of last year). I would have such an issue with listening back on my recordings. In the beginning, I would play back my voice tracks more but hated listening to myself. I knew I sounded fine, but for some reason I did not like listening to my voice. Once I had been recording enough to feel more comfortable, I stopped listening back as much (it was my trick to being so fast at voice tracking). Every so often I would force myself to listen to a shift of my voice tracks. All I'd have to do is turn on the radio when I knew I'd be "DJ-ing" while I was out and about just to check in with myself and make sure all was ok, but it was very difficult. The worst was doing commercials. At least a little more of my personality would come through when talking about music but recording a commercial would be like slipping right back into that Samantha costume I would for work. My voice would go into advertisement mode and would become the same voice I would use as a reservationist - or any job that required answering phones for that matter. I can remember being back in Adventure in Camping. One of the guys walked in after I had answered the phone with the usual spiel "thank you for calling adventure in Camping this is Samantha, how can I help you?" He did the total, repeat and mock of what I said and it made me feel so terrible. These days when I answer the phone this way for my current job, since I'm aware of the problem, I am also very much aware of the disconnect between myself and this voice. I'll answer the phone and it's like for a moment there's a whole new person there. Who's speaking? It's not me. Where is that voice coming from? Part of the reason I left the radio station back in October is because I knew voice tracks would soon become unbearable.

I mean, I feel great now that I've started hormone replacement therapy. I'm actually 3 months in (which is a huge deal that I'm so excited about). There's a certain calm within myself, a certain comfort within that I can feel that I've never felt before. Each day, it's only getting stronger. Yeah, I still have bad days. Normal stress still gets to me and dysphoria is a constant struggle but deep down inside where the worst of the mania was… it's fucking gone.

I was able to start my transition rather quickly. I am lucky in this and will be forever grateful. I found a therapist that I was even able to Skype with so I didn't have to travel a ridiculous distance (I still have to travel for my endocrinologist, but hey, you win some, you lose some). I didn't have to be seeing her for years, or live as a man for a set amount of time (there are states that make you do this) before I was able to get a referral to begin hormone replacement therapy. Now, just so you know, you don't have to do HRT to be trans. Everyone's trans journey is different. Considering one of my goals was always to kill my period, I knew HRT would be a goal for me.

You have to understand that it's extremely difficult for me to make decisions, especially regarding myself and my happiness. I will obsess for a ridiculous amount of time before I finally make the damn choice and only cause myself more pain by prolonging the wait. This was different. Now, I did have to come to terms with being trans. Like I said, there were years of pushing it away, but when the time came that I finally turned around and applied the word to myself, it felt so right and fit so perfectly...  Even when I was sitting there going,  "No… I have to think about this more… It can't be true…" I knew it was true. I could try and deny it all I wanted, but that wasn't changing anything. I knew I would never stop obsessing about it because it's the ultimate truth and there was no way I could lie to myself about it any more. I struggled with being a lesbian more than this. I mean, fuck, I was aware of that for 3 years but something just felt off about coming out. I didn't plan to deny it if someone asked me out right, but I didn't want to come out publicly (I also realized that was weird). Turns out it was because it wasn't the right label, and I was holding out for myself...

Let me say it again: This has felt so right! I can't tell you the last time I felt this comfortable with myself. Shit, I never felt so happy to be experiencing puberty. Female puberty was a new hell every day. My boobs alone have caused many tears and my period…. Listen, I know no woman is a fan of her period, but it would make me so miserable and feel so far from myself… I hated my period so much that back when I was dangerously skinny, I lost my period and didn't tell anybody. I knew it wasn't healthy and that scared me. Still, I was more afraid of people making me go to the doctor to get it back. Long story short, I did get healthy again and got it back, up until I started taking testosterone that is (thank fucking goodness).

Back to first puberty… I remember I didn't notice when I started growing hair, other people did. I very clearly remember being in middle school, 6th grade. I was jumping on a trampoline with one of my friends and happened to be wearing one of my favorite shirts - just happened to be a tank top. I lifted up my arms and with one cry of "ew" brimming with so much disgust, my friend made it known to me that I had underarm hair and that it was unacceptable. With shame later that day, I asked my mom if she would show me how to shave. The stuff was fast growing, and I would need to shave often. Still, this wasn't the only time my underarm hair would be made fun of. "Maybe you should just go to France, Sam. I hear girls there have a lot of underarm hair. You'd fit right in." Looking back now I realize I was most embarrassed because I *like* being hairy. I have always shaved out of shame. I never wanted to start shaving my legs either. The most freedom I ever felt was last summer when I said "that's it" and gave up on shaving my legs and underarms for good. I am not ashamed to say that I'm one of those transguys who checks for new hairs every day. I'm also happy to report that I have hairy genes, and one of the first changes I started noticing was my increase in hair. (Please I beg of you if you ever notice my stubble or whatever tell me. You will make my fucking week). Let me tell you, I never realized how much I wanted facial hair until I started growing it. I've felt such sadness the times I've had to shave it. (Yes, it's actually growing enough that I've gotten to this point). I let it go until I feel like it's noticeable in the right light. If anyone *has* noticed, they haven't said anything. I think it may have to do with the idea that everyone assumes I'm a girl and if they do notice it, they probably figure a girl doesn't want to hear she has facial hair. Damnit.

I hate it when people assume anything because of how I look. I mean, I wish appearance wasn't so much of the issue, but people really do decide things about you based off how you look. I mean, here's a little one that causes me endless annoyance. I work in a shipping center. People bring in all sorts of packages to go out. Men drop off packages, take one look at me, and go "This is heavy. Do you want me to help you with that?" This package is 40 lbs. I can fucking lift it. I could lift twice as much. I *want* to lift it. I've always loved being considered strong. As long as I can remember, I've taken a sense of pride in being able to lift heavy things. Fuck, I lift weights for fun. Man, woman, I don't care. Let me lift the heavy thing. But, because I'm assumed to be a girl, people let me lift less. I insist I can do it as much as possible, but I swear there are still times I get told no. Every time we get copy paper delivered, my boss, Marcia, goes "No, no, no don't lift that. Let Craig take care of it." Because he's the guy. Let me just excuse myself to go throw a temper tantrum in the corner…

(Some time later)

Lately I've been bouncing between that feeling I mentioned earlier of feeling so good about myself to this extreme frustration that comes from people not seeing me as I see me. As I said in my last post, it's time to come out at the places I'm still closeted. I'm only going to get more upset the longer this all goes on. I mean, I was just talking to my partner about my lack of confidence in myself this morning and I said this, "I think I have so little confidence that I don't want to do enough to help myself." I had to stop and look at that after I sent it because somehow I feel like that's hitting the nail on the head. The lack of confidence feeds the dysphoria just as much as it feeds my fear of coming out.

I want to stress again how much it's not about appearance. It's about feeling comfortable within myself. Unfortunately, it seems I won't be able to completely get there until my appearance can line up. "Passing" is a controversial thing. The idea of that being the goal - as if to say I was never what I claim to be in the first place, that I won't be until I look like a guy - is an insulting thought. But we live in an appearance based society. We have a long way to go before someone looks at you - no matter what gender you look like - and asks your preferred pronouns before addressing you. For the current time - a gradually shortening amount of time, I try to remind myself - I still look too much like a girl for people to assume I'm anything but one. I try not to let it bother me though more often than not I fail.

I can feel my self confidence trying to form deep within myself. Some days I can feel it come forward, have a few hours where it takes control. Holding onto it in the hard moments is the real challenge. In the end though, it's a personal problem. When it gets down to it, I'm the only one who can fix this. It does help to write it out, to get it out of my head.

I hope this post wasn't too long, or too all over the place. I feel like there's so much more I could say, I just don't know how to fit it. This was probably one of the most difficult posts to write thus far.