Tuesday, July 27th, 2010 @ 5:53 am
A few weeks ago something happened that I hadn’t told to anyone except one close friend. I wasn’t even sure how to tell people. I’ll give the short version here:
I was in Amsterdam again after a therapy session and was headed downtown to get something to eat. It was pretty crowded because the weather was good so I was looking for someplace quiet.
While I was walking toward my first choice (Subway, gotta love ‘m) I decided to cut through an alley as it would save me a minute of walking through the mass of people. As I was headed in there though I had this unnerving feeling that I was being followed but shrugged it off as being paranoid. Still, it was a scary feeling so I picked up the pace some and walked around the corner straight unto the next main street filled with people again.
The same shoes I saw in my periphal vision while walking into the alley were still there, getting closer. Still, it is not uncommon for other people to take shortcuts too, right? I mean, I did. That’s when it started getting really creepy because he picked up the pace and started walking next to me. I kept my sight forward and hoped I was just imagining things. Maybe he was just on his way somewhere, just like I was.
Sadly, I wasn’t imagining things because while walking next to me he started talking. He said something along the lines of “Nice tattoos! What do they mean?” and then gave me some obviously made up story of how he is a professional photographer that takes pictures of tattoos. Of course he didn’t even have a camera with him.
He then asked if he could take some pictures of my tats sometime. So I said “I dunno, can I see your credentials?” He then gave me a name I can’t remember and said he was from Italy (he was talking English in a very obvious Dutch accent) and had 7 sisters and 3 brothers. So I asked him what their names were. “Uh….. I… I.. uh.. I don’t see ‘m a lot, you know?”.
I told him he was a liar and I had no interest in him but he didn’t stop. He then said I was right, that he was lying, that he in fact has one sister and that she lives around here and I could always call her and ask her about him. But that she would probably think that was strange.
Once again I told him not to bother me as I have no interest in someone who introduces himself with a pack of lies. You’d think he’d quit there but he actually tried to get me to come along for a drink with him. Uh, no? He kept asking but by the third or fourth time I hit the big square and then he threw his arms into the air, walked off, and shouted something unintelligible at me.
It took a few minutes for me to realize exactly what had happened and what that guy was trying to do. Imagining the things that could have happened made me aware that I had become a walking target for some people. A potential victim. This made me realize I really need to start looking into self defense classes.
This kinda stuff is new to me, and similar things have been happening lately. It is unsettling.
Addendum: I should mention that I was approached again last Friday while I was sitting down on a small brick wall and messing with my cell phone. An older guy sat next to me and just started talking. He seemed genuinely friendly at first but later in the conversation he did want me to come over to his house to which I respectfully declined.
Tuesday, July 20th, 2010 @ 10:02 pm
So today I had the appointment with my psychologist at the hospital for diagnosis. Why the emphasis on the word “the”? That’s because I have done everything they asked me to do and after several delays finally got the psychiatric & psychological reevaluation finished and their report had been sent out. Conclusion: There is no sign of psychosis, personality disorder, or anything of the sorts. Which means I can finally get past that and bury it in the past, where it belongs.
That was the very last thing I had to do as I already did everything else, like fix my financial situation. I am completely out of debt with the very generous help from the people of Halforums.com and several of the LGBT community. Who I cannot thank enough for helping me get through this. So I knew today I would have to hear something more definitive regarding my diagnosis and if I am going to be able to progress to the next phase.
So, nervous as hell I missed the bus I wanted to catch because it was a few minutes early but that’s okay as I scheduled this trip with a very wide margin. I get on the next bus and get the connecting one right after at the airport. When I arrived at the hospital I still had 45 minutes to kill.. Or, you know, spend in complete and utter anxiety. Having my hopes crushed a few times already this time I was prepared to hear the worst. Expecting it almost.
It hits 3 o’clock and my psychologist walks toward me. She’s on time, thank God. If I had to wait any longer I might have had a total freak out. We walk into her tiny office and play catch up for a bit. I hadn’t seen her in months. Then she drops the bomb on me. “I haven’t received the report from [psychologist] yet”. The report that was sent out and written last MONTH you mean? You have got to be kidding me. I damn near died when she said that. I fucking knew it! I knew that somehow things would just fuck up for me once again and I’d have to wait many more months just to have them green light me for hormone treatment because of damn paperwork!
She said I looked a bit down shortly after that. See, I didn’t actually say all those things I just wrote, I only thought them. So I tell her that I already expected to have to wait.. again.. She says “No, you won’t”. Bwaaahh?? Apparently she had talked to my psycho-therapist (who has the report in question) and she had sufficient information to bring me into the next meeting, which is on the 5th of August.
I was stunned. It didn’t sink in right away. We talked about other things and filled out some paperwork she’ll add in the meeting. The appointment was cut short after that, because well, she’s done, I’m done, no need to waste more time with idle chitchat. She took me to the lead of the gender team who promptly changed my medical record and changed my name to Julie Ann and corrected the gender to female. That was the point where I damn near broke down in tears. I know it is still far from a legal change but it’s the first time it was written down in an official manner. It was finally real. I am female.
He said he thought my name was very beautiful and made me a new hospital card which finally had the name on it I had been using for 2 years along with the correct gender. It felt like I stared at that for at least half an hour. He gave me the papers I needed to take with me to where I get my blood drawn. They do this early because it takes 3 weeks for them to get all the results. This information will be used by the endocrinologist to determine the dosage of the hormones and if there could be any possible complications while taking them.
While I haven’t been officially green lighted yet for hormone treatment thanks to all the papers I got them there is only a 0.03% I won’t be. The gender team will make their final decision on the 5th of August and call me and let me know either that Friday or the next Monday along with when I have to come back for my appointment with the endocrinologist, which should be mid-August. I’m finally done waiting.
In short: FAN-FUCKING-FINALLY!
Friday, July 9th, 2010 @ 5:04 am
I’m awake. It is the middle of the night and I am awake. I’m writing again. I’ve been doing that more and more lately in these sleepless nights. Yet, I haven’t dared to transfer any of them from paper to PC and actually post them online for anyone to read.
So what exactly has stopped me from doing so? The answer is fear… I’ve noticed that my writing, the ones still solely on paper, have become more personal, more raw, and at times confrontational. There have been a few instances where people lashed out at me over some of my writings or even the photos I had added.
Now I can handle criticism but I don’t want to start any pointless fights. So I have been torn. Do I play it safe and keep it all inside or do I post it anyway regardless of the flack I may (or may not) receive?
I have gone so far as to consider adding disclaimers to several of them that might be ill-received but that probably wouldn’t even help any. So I have decided that I have to stop letting my fear get the best of me and to start posting them anyway.
I will say right now that I am sorry for anyone that will feel hurt or attacked but there are my feelings, my thoughts, and right or wrong I simply have to get them out.
Friday, June 25th, 2010 @ 5:05 am
If there’s one thing you’re going to be overly self conscious about as a transsexual it’s how you look and how others look at you.
Here you are, born in a male body, hating it for as long as you can recall, hiding it from sight in every imaginable way and once you start transitioning you have to try and actually show it? You have to try and be happy with it? That is very, very hard.
From what I can tell by looking at old photographs of me, I was still happy until I was about 5 or 6 years old. because in those old pictures I was still smiling. After that, on the photos I allowed to be taken of me that is, the smile was gone. I really hated having my picture taken and I hated people looking at it (or me). I hated myself.
The following situation may sound familiar to you. When I had to go to PE class, if I went at all, I made sure to either get there early, or late. This because there was no way in hell I was going to take off my clothes in front of other people. If for someone reason I really had to I tended to duck into a corner and use my not-so-patented technique of changing clothes with an absolute minimum of skin showing.
Usually I already wore my gym clothes underneath my own clothes just in case. I would also never go without a shirt, always long enough to cover the crotch area, as did most of my clothes at the time. Many times I would not show up or pretend to be sick. The mere thought of someone looking at my body filled me with fear. I felt ugly. I felt disgusting. I hated my body.
For years I avoided social events, cameras, and mirrors. Grrr! Mirrors! Mirrors are still hard for me, I still avoid looking at one at all costs unless I’m actually wearing make up, I don’t want to see this.. guy staring back at me. I hate him!
I made a rule. If I cannot look at myself in the mirror and say I look awesome I won’t step out the door. “Great” and “good” will work in a pinch. Any less than that and I refuse to let anyone see me. I am ugly. Don’t look at me.
Sometimes, though, sometimes you have no choice to go out anyway. Yesterday was that day for me. After I did all my make up and changed my clothes like 5 times I still could not say the words. In fact, I thought I looked like shit. But… This was a very important appointment, I could not miss it! I had to go out anyway.
It was hot, and I wanted to wear a skirt and flip flops but in the end I didn’t. I was too self conscious about my looks and could not get myself to do it. Despite them being all smooth and clean my legs and feet had to be covered up.
I made a promise to myself that regardless of what happened I would stay out in Amsterdam for a bit. The weather was great and I would be damned if I was just going to sit at home again, as always, and be lonely and miserable.
The entire time I was out I felt terrible. Already being nervous for the appointment, feeling low, lacking confidence I really did not feel good and I’m sure that showed and did not help my situation at all.
During the day in I was sure there were a lot more people looking, staring, and laughing at me than usual. This of course did wonders for my self esteem and I wound up feeling even worse. I’m amazed I did not cry until I got home. I’m still trying to hold back the tears as I write this.. and failing.
Looks matter. They matter a lot! Especially to people who are born in the wrong body. The others have no idea of how extremely hard it is to simply walk out the door, knowing that every single person you meet will KNOW and have their judgement ready.
They see the five o’clock shadow, they hear your voice, they see your adam’s apple, they notice it from the stupidest tiniest things that you are not even aware of. Everybody knows!
Most will see and judge people like us as a joke, an abomination of God, or worse. Failing to realize that we are victims of a cruel twist of fate and have to struggle through life trying to correct this as much as possible.
I am not helped by your ridicule or mocking. I suffer enough, just by getting up and looking into the mirror. I cry every day and night because of what I have to go through.
Please…
…stop!
You are hurting me.
Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010 @ 8:28 pm
While I had been doing much better the past 2 months with my sleeping and eating schedule June has been particularly bad. It is still not bad as it has been before but it seems to be getting worse. I mostly blame stress as the big factor in this as I had/have a lot of that, too.
So far I have had to cancel two appointments with the hospital to finish up diagnosis because all they want is a paper from another psychiatrist Of course they had a waiting list too so that means I had been set back for 2 months. :( They don’t want to see me at the hospital anymore until they have gotten their copy of that paper because in their own words they are “done with their diagnosis”. They only want that paper because in their (monthly) meetings with the gender team questions from the others (surgeons, endocrinologist, etc..) are sure to arise about the numerous things that are on my medical profile.
So last week, 1 day after I had to cancel another appointment at the hospital, I finally got to see that psychiatrist (and a psychologist too) who is for one known at the gender team and for two his opinions is apparently being held in high regard all over. He’s some kind of psycho-celebrity.. wait, that doesn’t sound right. Anyway, this is the guy that can actually overrule all previous diagnoses so I can literally have a ‘clean slate’ again.
That talk went really well and they already concluded I don’t have any psychological problems that would hinder my advancement in the program, nor have any eating disorders like bulimia or anorexia. They do, however, want to see me one more time to try and figure out how some of the past psychiatrists et al I’ve seen came to their sometimes bizarre conclusions.
They wanted to do this 2 weeks later, which would have been on the 1st of July which is also the date when the hospital has their monthly meetings. That would mean I’d have to wait yet another month and after having canceled so many already I don’t even have one set for August. The waiting list is excruciatingly long which is why I always had appointments set 3-4 months in advance. They even told me its better to cancel than not having an appointment at all.
So I managed to have them change it to only 1 week later, which is tomorrow, and yes, I’m freaking out! I have to be there relatively early (11:45am) which with my schedule being messed up and needing to take a bus, a train, and another bus requires me to be awake very early and pray there are no traffic accidents!
After this the reports will go to the hospital and my other psycho-therapist and they can finally bring me up in their damn meeting. I am not scared about the actual diagnosis part as everyone I have seen already told me I have a 99.99% chance to be greenlighted.
When that is done I should hear from them soon about taking a blood sample and checking in with the endocrinologist. AND the official diagnosis papers will go to my GP and health insurance company. That means I can finally do some of the things I wanted to do but could not pay for! God knows I want to get lasered so bad!
Categories: Miscellaneous, My Transition
Jerica Truax
Julie Ann