At one of my recent therapy sessions - I found out something amazing. Apparently, the three month time period for therapy before starting hormones (that I thought was legally mandated) is just a recommendation. I'm sure some therapists won't write letters before that time period is up, but others will happily do it as long as you're set on hormones and surgery.
Initially, I was really resentful of feeling forced into therapy. I think it's beneficial to talk to someone before any life-changing event or decision, and it's great to get some feedback on how to transition more smoothly. I'm still planning on going regularly, since my experience has been overwhelmingly positive. It's just great knowing it's a choice, and not forced upon me.
My partner and I are planning on going to Camp Trans this summer, hopefully with a giant caravan full of friends. http://www.camp-trans.org/
I've decided that I'm going to come out to my parents, other family and boss right after the trip. The whole event sounds really validating and uplifting, and it'll be great to get that kind of steeling boost right before having a bunch of difficult, complicated (and potentially painful) conversations with people.
Right now, I feel very lucky to have a partner who loves me for who I am. R has been supportive and helpful through all of this. If anything, I'm the one who has to be prodded a little bit in order to open up about gender stuff sometimes. I am also lucky to have friends across the board who are open to these things and are occasionally trans or otherwise gender variant themselves. And I've probably said this before, but my boss is 100% cool with it. Now I just have to get up the nerve to put it on the table.
The one strange thing I've noticed is more openness and dialogue happening with friends who are outside the queer or trans scenes. Maybe it's not the same old thing when it's off your radar to begin with. Most of my friends have already had conversations about transness in various forms (or their own internal dialogue). The only big downside to this is that it stops being a topic for discussion, since everything has supposedly been said. I've probably been guilty of this in the past, especially with people who are more acquaintances than friends. But I've been trying to let people know that I'm happy to have those conversations about them (or about me), if they're looking to talk.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Therapy.
I finally made the decision to start seeing a therapist. I had my first session on April 15th, my second on the 24th, and my most recent on the 29th.
I've thought about therapy for a while as my point of no return. It's a lot of money, and it's the first step for any sort of physical transition. Because I've yet to come out to my parents or at work, I decided that toward the end of therapy (before I start taking hormones) would be the time to do it. That way, I'll have rational, objective support and advice during the process.
I'm lucky enough to have the means to pay for a therapist. it's $90 a session, and I've started going weekly. To start hormones (in Illinois at least), you have to see a therapist regularly for three months. Twelve regular sessions, I guess. To have any surgery, it's a year.
I've been to a few meetings with a Chicago-based group for masculine-identified female-born people. There are new topics available for discussion during each meeting. Recently my therapist "L" (who created the group) and her partner (who is an out transman activist) were the guest speakers at one of the meetings. They spoke about their relationships and issues that have come up in the past. L also spoke at a trans caucus at one of the GLBT spaces in Chicago. At both events, I loved what she had to say. I decided that I really wanted to see her as my therapist, and that I would find the money somehow if I had to.
While I don't like the fact that you have to see a therapist to prove that you're trans and not "crazy" or whatever, I don't think it's a terrible thing to have to talk to someone before you change a bunch of things about your body. A lot of dangerous and unhealthy cosmetic surgeries are done without any concern for the person's mental or emotional state. I've heard different opinions on it, and I don't want to go into a long rant or anything. But that said, it's a strange situation to be in.
So far, I think it's going well. I'm able to talk about some things in my personal life, as well as more general topics (like gendered socialization and inter-family relationships). I've been nervous just about every time. It's hard for me to just blab on and on about my personal life, especially with an older stranger that basically holds my future in her hands. But it's relaxing to be seeing someone who cares about these issues, who has actual experience and relevant feedback. I even thanked her for taking me on as a client...which is maybe a weirdo move, but I felt good about it.
As I was trying to post this, Lola by the Kinks started playing on the radio. Rad.
I've thought about therapy for a while as my point of no return. It's a lot of money, and it's the first step for any sort of physical transition. Because I've yet to come out to my parents or at work, I decided that toward the end of therapy (before I start taking hormones) would be the time to do it. That way, I'll have rational, objective support and advice during the process.
I'm lucky enough to have the means to pay for a therapist. it's $90 a session, and I've started going weekly. To start hormones (in Illinois at least), you have to see a therapist regularly for three months. Twelve regular sessions, I guess. To have any surgery, it's a year.
I've been to a few meetings with a Chicago-based group for masculine-identified female-born people. There are new topics available for discussion during each meeting. Recently my therapist "L" (who created the group) and her partner (who is an out transman activist) were the guest speakers at one of the meetings. They spoke about their relationships and issues that have come up in the past. L also spoke at a trans caucus at one of the GLBT spaces in Chicago. At both events, I loved what she had to say. I decided that I really wanted to see her as my therapist, and that I would find the money somehow if I had to.
While I don't like the fact that you have to see a therapist to prove that you're trans and not "crazy" or whatever, I don't think it's a terrible thing to have to talk to someone before you change a bunch of things about your body. A lot of dangerous and unhealthy cosmetic surgeries are done without any concern for the person's mental or emotional state. I've heard different opinions on it, and I don't want to go into a long rant or anything. But that said, it's a strange situation to be in.
So far, I think it's going well. I'm able to talk about some things in my personal life, as well as more general topics (like gendered socialization and inter-family relationships). I've been nervous just about every time. It's hard for me to just blab on and on about my personal life, especially with an older stranger that basically holds my future in her hands. But it's relaxing to be seeing someone who cares about these issues, who has actual experience and relevant feedback. I even thanked her for taking me on as a client...which is maybe a weirdo move, but I felt good about it.
As I was trying to post this, Lola by the Kinks started playing on the radio. Rad.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
CWHC
Today, I had my first gynecological exam at the Chicago Women's Health Center. My partner R. gave the staff rave reviews, and I was long past due.
The last time I went to the doctor, I had the flu. It didn't go away for about a week, and my dad took me in to make sure I wasn't dying of anything. My current doctor's office is in the suburbs – we found it through a family friend who works there. The place kind of sets me on edge, though up until recently I haven't had any major problems with the doctors. My regular physician is female and very easy to talk to. However, when I went in with the flu, things were different.
I was stuck with a drop in doctor, since I hadn't made much of an appointment and my regular doctor was out that day. Of course I was told to drink lots of liquids and get lots of rest. One more small mark on my insurance history for the same expensive advice. The drop in doctor saw my tattoos and asked if any were recently done. I said yes, but I only go to extremely clean tattoo shops. He brushed this off and said that he wouldn't want to let me go without testing for hepatitis anyway – just in case.
I doubted highly that any of the clean, professional tattoo artists and shops I go to gave me hepatitis. But I figured a blood test would legitimize my several hours of time wasted at this office. Time I should have been chugging liquids and resting. I asked the drop in doctor if I could be tested for any STIs as well, if they were going to be taking blood anyway. The response I got was awful. “Why? What are you worried about?” “Nothing, I just figured it would be a good idea.” “Do you think you have anything?” “No, but I thought I would be responsible and get tested regularly, since I'm sexually active.” “Do you practice safe sex?” “Yes...but unless you're abstinent, you can still catch certain things...?” “Well...I guess we could do it.”
I think I could feel the self confidence evaporating out my ears. I wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was, and why he thinks preventative care is such bullshit. Why being responsible and considerate are somehow wrong. I doubt this guy was a celibate virgin. I doubt he had the most sparkling record. But for me, with the capital F on my record, asking such a sexually loaded question - I was dirty, slutty, and up to no good. And the message I got was that I should start fucking feeling that way, like a good woman. And this was my doctor, if only for the day. Not some asshole gym teacher subbing for health class, or a priest, or my strict grandmother. And christ – even one of my grandmothers probably would have told this guy to fuck off.
I got my test results back a few weeks after that. In the letter, following my good news, was a note from the drop in doctor. In big bold letters, he added: “BE CAREFUL.” I haven't been back since.
Today I walked up a tall white marble staircase, into an office with cheesy wood paneling. Just like my office at work. I was greeted warmly, and handed a clipboard and some forms to fill out. The waiting room is as inviting as it can be, with comfortable lighting, chairs, and lots of relevant and interesting literature. I got there early, so I had plenty of time to fill out the forms without rushing. I got to a section that I see pretty rarely, if ever, anywhere. The Gender section. There was a spot for transgendered that I happily checked off. I wrote in a side note that I generally go by Artie and use male pronouns. I flipped through a big book of hand-written reviews of the CWHC, some of which were years old. All the ones I read were positive. Some talked about being nervous for their first time, but loving it anyway. Some talked about their visits over several years, and how their children are going to the CWHC now. Most thanked the Center for existing. It was pretty overwhelming, and beautiful.
When the health worker called me in, she used my preferred name and introduced herself as A. She reminded me immediately of my friend S., and continued to do so throughout the entire visit. She even had the same voice, and a slightly chipper version of S's humor. Amazing. She asked if the CWHC could contact me for some information on how to make the Center more comfortable for FTMs. I agreed, saying I was happy to help.
I had my blood pressure taken, a pap smear, a general “business” inspection, a chest exam, and blood drawn. I would have had a cholesterol test done, but I you have to fast for 8 hours beforehand. I got some great comments about my tattoos, which strangely made things less awkward. The space heater, plastic speculum, and crocheted stirrups on the exam table were all-out class too. But there's just something about hearing someone's half sleeve tattoo plans while they're checking for breast tissue lumps that speeds everything up.
I paid the high end on the sliding scale price – it was $35 - $115. I could afford $115, so I paid it. I was happy to pay full price for such a positive experience. No “BE CAREFUL”s or rude questions. I learned some important things, and I felt taken care of the entire time. Even if it's the Chicago Women's Health Center, I rarely felt out of place, and I don't think I once felt unwelcome, judged or uncomfortable (beyond “geez, I'm naked from the waist down in front of a stranger”). I'm happy to go back, and I feel like I'm doing something positive for my body. I would highly recommend the CWHC to other FTMs, as well as anyone else who they offer services to. Bonus sweet Snoopy sports bandages, if you were wondering.
The last time I went to the doctor, I had the flu. It didn't go away for about a week, and my dad took me in to make sure I wasn't dying of anything. My current doctor's office is in the suburbs – we found it through a family friend who works there. The place kind of sets me on edge, though up until recently I haven't had any major problems with the doctors. My regular physician is female and very easy to talk to. However, when I went in with the flu, things were different.
I was stuck with a drop in doctor, since I hadn't made much of an appointment and my regular doctor was out that day. Of course I was told to drink lots of liquids and get lots of rest. One more small mark on my insurance history for the same expensive advice. The drop in doctor saw my tattoos and asked if any were recently done. I said yes, but I only go to extremely clean tattoo shops. He brushed this off and said that he wouldn't want to let me go without testing for hepatitis anyway – just in case.
I doubted highly that any of the clean, professional tattoo artists and shops I go to gave me hepatitis. But I figured a blood test would legitimize my several hours of time wasted at this office. Time I should have been chugging liquids and resting. I asked the drop in doctor if I could be tested for any STIs as well, if they were going to be taking blood anyway. The response I got was awful. “Why? What are you worried about?” “Nothing, I just figured it would be a good idea.” “Do you think you have anything?” “No, but I thought I would be responsible and get tested regularly, since I'm sexually active.” “Do you practice safe sex?” “Yes...but unless you're abstinent, you can still catch certain things...?” “Well...I guess we could do it.”
I think I could feel the self confidence evaporating out my ears. I wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was, and why he thinks preventative care is such bullshit. Why being responsible and considerate are somehow wrong. I doubt this guy was a celibate virgin. I doubt he had the most sparkling record. But for me, with the capital F on my record, asking such a sexually loaded question - I was dirty, slutty, and up to no good. And the message I got was that I should start fucking feeling that way, like a good woman. And this was my doctor, if only for the day. Not some asshole gym teacher subbing for health class, or a priest, or my strict grandmother. And christ – even one of my grandmothers probably would have told this guy to fuck off.
I got my test results back a few weeks after that. In the letter, following my good news, was a note from the drop in doctor. In big bold letters, he added: “BE CAREFUL.” I haven't been back since.
Today I walked up a tall white marble staircase, into an office with cheesy wood paneling. Just like my office at work. I was greeted warmly, and handed a clipboard and some forms to fill out. The waiting room is as inviting as it can be, with comfortable lighting, chairs, and lots of relevant and interesting literature. I got there early, so I had plenty of time to fill out the forms without rushing. I got to a section that I see pretty rarely, if ever, anywhere. The Gender section. There was a spot for transgendered that I happily checked off. I wrote in a side note that I generally go by Artie and use male pronouns. I flipped through a big book of hand-written reviews of the CWHC, some of which were years old. All the ones I read were positive. Some talked about being nervous for their first time, but loving it anyway. Some talked about their visits over several years, and how their children are going to the CWHC now. Most thanked the Center for existing. It was pretty overwhelming, and beautiful.
When the health worker called me in, she used my preferred name and introduced herself as A. She reminded me immediately of my friend S., and continued to do so throughout the entire visit. She even had the same voice, and a slightly chipper version of S's humor. Amazing. She asked if the CWHC could contact me for some information on how to make the Center more comfortable for FTMs. I agreed, saying I was happy to help.
I had my blood pressure taken, a pap smear, a general “business” inspection, a chest exam, and blood drawn. I would have had a cholesterol test done, but I you have to fast for 8 hours beforehand. I got some great comments about my tattoos, which strangely made things less awkward. The space heater, plastic speculum, and crocheted stirrups on the exam table were all-out class too. But there's just something about hearing someone's half sleeve tattoo plans while they're checking for breast tissue lumps that speeds everything up.
I paid the high end on the sliding scale price – it was $35 - $115. I could afford $115, so I paid it. I was happy to pay full price for such a positive experience. No “BE CAREFUL”s or rude questions. I learned some important things, and I felt taken care of the entire time. Even if it's the Chicago Women's Health Center, I rarely felt out of place, and I don't think I once felt unwelcome, judged or uncomfortable (beyond “geez, I'm naked from the waist down in front of a stranger”). I'm happy to go back, and I feel like I'm doing something positive for my body. I would highly recommend the CWHC to other FTMs, as well as anyone else who they offer services to. Bonus sweet Snoopy sports bandages, if you were wondering.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
February 6, 2008
It's a little over a month into the the new year, the year I will transition from "female" to male. This blog will be my documentation of the whole process. By definition, I guess I'm technically transgendered and transsexual. To simplify things, I use "trans" in conversation, and that will carry over here.
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From Wikipedia:
So far, I am out to all of my friends, but not to my family or my boss. I have a supportive and understanding partner. I have yet to start any counseling, but I plan to start as soon as possible. Ideally I would at least like to be on hormones and out to my family/boss by the end of this year.
If I use any unfamiliar vocabulary while writing, comment and I'm happy to clarify anything. This should not end up being a day to day blog - mostly I'll be using it for new important stuff or past stories. Hopefully this can someday add to the small pile of information out there.
---------
From Wikipedia:
"Transgender is the state of one's "gender identity" (self-identification as male, female, both or neither) not matching one's "assigned gender" (identification by others as male or female based on physical/genetic sex). "Transgender" does not imply any specific form of sexual orientation; transgender people may identify as heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, polysexual or asexual. The precise definition for transgender remains in flux, but includes:
- "Of, relating to, or designating a person whose identity does not conform unambiguously to conventional notions of male or female gender, but combines or moves between these."[1]
- "People who were assigned a gender, usually at birth and based on their genitals, but who feel that this is a false or incomplete description of themselves."[2]
- "Non-identification with, or non-presentation as, the gender one was assigned at birth."[3]
So far, I am out to all of my friends, but not to my family or my boss. I have a supportive and understanding partner. I have yet to start any counseling, but I plan to start as soon as possible. Ideally I would at least like to be on hormones and out to my family/boss by the end of this year.
If I use any unfamiliar vocabulary while writing, comment and I'm happy to clarify anything. This should not end up being a day to day blog - mostly I'll be using it for new important stuff or past stories. Hopefully this can someday add to the small pile of information out there.
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