It’s been six weeks since my SRS surgery and just over a year since I went full time.
My state of mind has been one of peace and calm. I feel so comfortable in my chosen gender that I find I must remind myself that I have not always been this way.
I think about other transsexuals who have fully transitioned and are post-op and I realize that I am now one of them as well. But I don’t think of myself as having joined some exclusive sorority. More like having survived a grueling trek.
I think about my time before my transition and wonder what all the fuss was about. It’s been so long since I’ve been down the rabbit hole of clinical depression that I have to remind myself that there was a significant part of my life where I would think about being female, then immediately feel that I needed to kill myself for being a pervert, a queer, someone who was a waste of skin. Eventually I started playing more and more aggressive suicide games, hoping that I would accidentally kill myself because I didn’t have the guts to do it right the first time. I would then call myself a coward because I survived.
I’ve willingly, even eagerly, had my face and body significantly altered, been rendered permanently sterile, and have had things done to my genitalia that make “normal” males shudder.
My mind and body have been altered through the administration of HRT and the blocking of testosterone and then the elimination of those glands that so horrified me.
I did not realize the extent to which my mind has been altered until recently.
Just a couple of weeks ago I was asked to help out in the production of the musical “Oklahoma” that was put on by the community theatre group I frequent. Doing tech on a play is usually hours of boredom followed by seconds of terror. During one of the lulls in the action, I picked up a book that was lying around backstage. It was “Little Earthquakes” by Jennifer Wiener. It’s a touching story about a group of women and the experiences in their lives during their pregnancy. I read a couple of chapters and I was hooked! I so identified with those women. I could feel their joys and sadness as their pregnancies developed.
This mildly astonished me. Normally I would read science fiction or action books. And here was this “chick-lit” book and I was carried away! I had to get it for myself. I’m reading it now on the train and have not enjoyed reading as much in quite a long time. I’m wondering if I’ll start liking romance novels next.
Over the last few months my maternal instincts have been getting stronger. I wrote it off as fallout from my daughter who is pregnant with her second child. But the idea of being a mother to a child has really taken me. To my daughters I am still dad. That can never change. Nor do I want it to. But being a mom is so inviting! Even though I can never be pregnant, the idea of growing a life within me is more than intriguing. I see pregnant women and feel more than just a passing envy. I know that childbirth is not for the weak, but I would not fear it
I’m coming to terms with being a lesbian. I have learned not to ogle women. And realize that when I see beautiful woman and have erotic thoughts about them, I understand that they do not see me in the same way (mostly). I’m envious of the way hetero couples can display their affection for each other with kisses, hugs and hand holding. Were my partner and I to show such affection to each other, she and I would be instantly labeled “lezzy” and vilified.
According to my surgeon and endocrinologist the medical community considers me female. My last hormone level check showed my testosterone and estrogen levels completely normal… for a woman. This pleases me.
When I started to seriously consider a transition I felt so daunted. It seemed like everything I would have to do was another mountain to climb. When I got my right ear pierced to match the piercing I had on the left, I remember looking at myself in my cars rear view mirror in grand happiness at my bold feminine gesture. Then feeling overwhelmed when I though about all the effort I would have to go through to complete my journey. Jewelry, clothing, underwear, hair and makeup all had to change. Changing gender is the most arduous and challenging task a human in modern society can do. I had to face the possibility that I could lose everything I hold dear. Not just the material things, but more importantly, things like love and acceptance from family and friends.
In actuality, I lost very little. In comparison to some, I feel that I’ve won the transsexual lottery. The most important people in my life stayed with me, encouraged me, loved me. My darling three-year-old granddaughter calls me “Grandma Sandy” and my heart melts. She and I are “best buds” she watches me put my makeup on in the morning and I have to gather up all my shoes from her in the evening. She is smart, affectionate and wise. One day she and I will have a talk about me, but I am not fearful that she might turn away from me. I’ll still be Grandma Sandy to her, regardless.
I look back now on my journey and feel that I never had a mountain to climb. In fact as I started down the road, I found it paved, flat, and well lit.
When I made my first move to change/save my life, I felt I had stepped into the abyss. I had no idea where I would go or how I would survive. I stepped into the unknown and felt supported, buoyed up by some force. The words of Joseph Campbell came to me over and over: “Follow your bliss.” When you are following your bliss, people will appear in your field of bliss and open doors for you that you never knew existed. This was proven to me time and time again.
I learned to let my life, my extended re-birth, unfold at its own pace, in its own way. When something was right for me to do, it would appear. I learned not to force the pace of change. And actually found it to go quite fast. Though not faster than I could handle.
Here I sit at the end of my transition and the beginning of my life. For the first time I feel whole and normal. I never believed that one person could have this much joy. Every day is a treasure to me, a wonder to be explored.
To those of you who are following your own path, know that what awaits you is joy beyond belief and love everlasting. Be strong and you will persevere.
This marks the end of “Sandy’s Transition”. As I’ve said before, transition is temporary by definition and while I have some residual issues to take care of like completing electrolysis, I feel complete and no longer feel the need to post in this blog. The woman inside has finally been born outside. After nearly fifty-six years, my birth is complete!
-Sandy
My state of mind has been one of peace and calm. I feel so comfortable in my chosen gender that I find I must remind myself that I have not always been this way.
I think about other transsexuals who have fully transitioned and are post-op and I realize that I am now one of them as well. But I don’t think of myself as having joined some exclusive sorority. More like having survived a grueling trek.
I think about my time before my transition and wonder what all the fuss was about. It’s been so long since I’ve been down the rabbit hole of clinical depression that I have to remind myself that there was a significant part of my life where I would think about being female, then immediately feel that I needed to kill myself for being a pervert, a queer, someone who was a waste of skin. Eventually I started playing more and more aggressive suicide games, hoping that I would accidentally kill myself because I didn’t have the guts to do it right the first time. I would then call myself a coward because I survived.
I’ve willingly, even eagerly, had my face and body significantly altered, been rendered permanently sterile, and have had things done to my genitalia that make “normal” males shudder.
My mind and body have been altered through the administration of HRT and the blocking of testosterone and then the elimination of those glands that so horrified me.
I did not realize the extent to which my mind has been altered until recently.
Just a couple of weeks ago I was asked to help out in the production of the musical “Oklahoma” that was put on by the community theatre group I frequent. Doing tech on a play is usually hours of boredom followed by seconds of terror. During one of the lulls in the action, I picked up a book that was lying around backstage. It was “Little Earthquakes” by Jennifer Wiener. It’s a touching story about a group of women and the experiences in their lives during their pregnancy. I read a couple of chapters and I was hooked! I so identified with those women. I could feel their joys and sadness as their pregnancies developed.
This mildly astonished me. Normally I would read science fiction or action books. And here was this “chick-lit” book and I was carried away! I had to get it for myself. I’m reading it now on the train and have not enjoyed reading as much in quite a long time. I’m wondering if I’ll start liking romance novels next.
Over the last few months my maternal instincts have been getting stronger. I wrote it off as fallout from my daughter who is pregnant with her second child. But the idea of being a mother to a child has really taken me. To my daughters I am still dad. That can never change. Nor do I want it to. But being a mom is so inviting! Even though I can never be pregnant, the idea of growing a life within me is more than intriguing. I see pregnant women and feel more than just a passing envy. I know that childbirth is not for the weak, but I would not fear it
I’m coming to terms with being a lesbian. I have learned not to ogle women. And realize that when I see beautiful woman and have erotic thoughts about them, I understand that they do not see me in the same way (mostly). I’m envious of the way hetero couples can display their affection for each other with kisses, hugs and hand holding. Were my partner and I to show such affection to each other, she and I would be instantly labeled “lezzy” and vilified.
According to my surgeon and endocrinologist the medical community considers me female. My last hormone level check showed my testosterone and estrogen levels completely normal… for a woman. This pleases me.
When I started to seriously consider a transition I felt so daunted. It seemed like everything I would have to do was another mountain to climb. When I got my right ear pierced to match the piercing I had on the left, I remember looking at myself in my cars rear view mirror in grand happiness at my bold feminine gesture. Then feeling overwhelmed when I though about all the effort I would have to go through to complete my journey. Jewelry, clothing, underwear, hair and makeup all had to change. Changing gender is the most arduous and challenging task a human in modern society can do. I had to face the possibility that I could lose everything I hold dear. Not just the material things, but more importantly, things like love and acceptance from family and friends.
In actuality, I lost very little. In comparison to some, I feel that I’ve won the transsexual lottery. The most important people in my life stayed with me, encouraged me, loved me. My darling three-year-old granddaughter calls me “Grandma Sandy” and my heart melts. She and I are “best buds” she watches me put my makeup on in the morning and I have to gather up all my shoes from her in the evening. She is smart, affectionate and wise. One day she and I will have a talk about me, but I am not fearful that she might turn away from me. I’ll still be Grandma Sandy to her, regardless.
I look back now on my journey and feel that I never had a mountain to climb. In fact as I started down the road, I found it paved, flat, and well lit.
When I made my first move to change/save my life, I felt I had stepped into the abyss. I had no idea where I would go or how I would survive. I stepped into the unknown and felt supported, buoyed up by some force. The words of Joseph Campbell came to me over and over: “Follow your bliss.” When you are following your bliss, people will appear in your field of bliss and open doors for you that you never knew existed. This was proven to me time and time again.
I learned to let my life, my extended re-birth, unfold at its own pace, in its own way. When something was right for me to do, it would appear. I learned not to force the pace of change. And actually found it to go quite fast. Though not faster than I could handle.
Here I sit at the end of my transition and the beginning of my life. For the first time I feel whole and normal. I never believed that one person could have this much joy. Every day is a treasure to me, a wonder to be explored.
To those of you who are following your own path, know that what awaits you is joy beyond belief and love everlasting. Be strong and you will persevere.
This marks the end of “Sandy’s Transition”. As I’ve said before, transition is temporary by definition and while I have some residual issues to take care of like completing electrolysis, I feel complete and no longer feel the need to post in this blog. The woman inside has finally been born outside. After nearly fifty-six years, my birth is complete!
-Sandy
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