New Hairdo...

A while ago I mentioned I was growing my hair out so I could donate it to an organization like Wigs For Kids. The reason I mentioned it on here was because I was thinking of maybe doing some fund raising to help another charity. Unfortunately, mostly due to my laziness, this didn't officially happen. So you didn't really hear anything from me about it again.

My original plans to donate my hair didn't change though. And today, after growing my hair for roughly 2 years, I finally got a haircut. But, I feel like I've cheated a little. Although I've been crazy excited to do this for so long, I chickened out and didn't completely shave my hair off. Obviously I don't posses the most feminine features in the world, so I was a little worried about passing with completely shaved head. Yes, my hair grows relatively quickly.
BUT
it would have taken a fair few months before I could have anything resembling a feminine hair style.
SO
I kept a bit for myself!

One of the more dominant features of my face is my brow bone. Basically, it looks as if it belongs to a caveman. So, I decided the best way to have my cake and eat it would be to keep a fringe (Bangs). And because I've developed the habit of playing with my hair I kept a couple of strands either side of my face too. Yeah, I pretty much just described a feminine skinhead haircut. And yes, there is a negative image of skinheads, but they're neo-nazi's that adopted the original, true skinhead's style...so don't hate!

yes, I do realize the cut is a little wonky...it will be fixed!

Also, my daughter HATED that I was planning on cutting my hair. She told me I wasn't allowed or "I will be SO angry and I won't even give you hugs" because "your hair is so pretty" so I bargained with her. I told her I would keep a little tuft of hair and I would dye it any colour she wanted if she let me cut my hair off to help some kids. So after getting the permission I needed, the tuft grew to a couple of tufts, to a fringe...

I dunno...excuses aside - is it okay that I chickened out and took the selfish path to charity? Does it even count if you still have hair on your head? Maybe, maybe not. But I think I will still get questions, perhaps I'll get more without being completely shaved. When my head is shaved I look like a thuggish man, and it's pretty normal for a thuggish man to sport a shaven head, not so normal for a woman though. Hopefully I'll get the opportunity to spread awareness. Not awareness of sick people. Everyone knows people get sick, but not everyone realizes that - everyone has the capacity to help.

Earlier, when I said my fund raising didn't officially happen. I've still managed to encourage people to help, even without the promise of shaving my head - 
Some people have given me money to donate anyway. Some people have chosen a charity they feel needs the help and donated to them on their own. And some people have found their own way to help people in need...

How I Don't Understand Words...

When I wrote this I didn't intend on it being so, gloomy...and I hate it. But instead of completely deleting it, I just made it annoyingly small so you won't read it unless you really really want to.

What I said is true, it's just not as depressing in reality as it came out in writing. I guess that's just how it goes sometimes. Basically, all I was trying to say is - 

• Because I've always had a hard time using words, I'm shocked at how many people can actually understand what I'm saying. I'm even more shocked that I've somehow managed to help a few people, just by writing down my experiences for anyone to see.
• Just because someone doesn't think the same way as you, doesn't mean you can't find a way to translate your thoughts in a way they can understand (as frustrating as it can be in the beginning). And just because someone seems like a lost cause, doesn't mean they actually are. Sometimes you just have to be patient and maybe try to understand what they are going through to be able to bring out their potential.

In the original post I tell you "I'm actually a high school drop-out" Which is true. But I left out the part about going back to school a month after I dropped out. I didn't go back to a "normal" school though. That wasn't a place I wanted to be. So, I enrolled into a "fast track" programme. Basically I did all the same work, just faster.

I know I've said this about a gazillion times by now...but, it really does surprise me that people actually read this blog. Even though it was really exciting when I got my first couple of "followers", I knew they were probably only being nice. Then all of a sudden I started to get comments and e-mails that weren't just saying "hi, welcome to blogger...". Not that many, but they were there. Real readers!


Then something weird happened. Someone told me that they actually liked my writing. That I had somehow managed to put together an inexplicably coherent string of words that fully expressed what they were feeling. Words they have been trying to find their whole life, Which in my mind is absurd! How could I express something that so many others can't. To me, this was obviously an isolated incident...but then I got more e-mails. And a lot of them said similar things.


The reason I find it so hard to understand is...


I'm actually a high school drop-out, and words confuse the shyte out of me!

Obviously, by high school, I could speak, spell and write. When I read a story or a poem, I could understand what was being said. But putting those same words into a sentence of my own design was like trying to milk a diamond. No matter how simple the scenario was or how well I understood the subject. It didn't matter what I tried, my mind would go almost completely blank. And it frustrated everyone around me. My friends, my teachers, my parents. No one could understand why I wouldn't just let out any old nonsense. But it frustrated and confused me even more.


Eventually I just got tired of caring and just about gave up. I'd still talk to people and attend classes. But I would be very vague or short with everything I said. Mostly I relied on socially acceptable responses to any, even slightly, complex questions. And instead of writing essays, short stories or whatever else you use words for in school, I'd just scribble all over my pages. Which is apparently really insulting. The problem was, I completely understood what was being asked and what I wanted to express. I just didn't know how to express it. There were things I would want to say, and I tried. Words would flow from my mouth, but no one could really understand what I was trying to say. They thought they could, and sometimes they would eventually get it. But mostly I was misunderstood.


Not being able to express yourself can be frustrating. So I did what I always did...I scribbled! One day I left a drawing I did on the dining table and my mum found it. She asked me if everything was okay, did anything happen, did I need to talk. She asked me about the drawing and as we were looking at the scribbled down picture she asked questions. Then a beautiful thing happened...I was able to answer. I understood how to tell my mum about my picture


It took a long time, but I slowly learned how to express myself with words. At first I had to think anything complicated through by drawing it down first. The barrier between how my mind worked with images and how people communicated with words started to break down. I eventually learned to use words to express more complex scenarios and emotions without first releasing the information into an image. It was much like an epiphany, an extremely slow epiphany, but somehow my mind started to understand how to use words. My struggle with words is still there. But it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be.


There are a few habits I've kept from my earlier struggle with words. Like the way I reiterate even the smallest ideas to the point of everyone else's frustration. And, even to me, there are obvious signs I still don't understand the first thing about good writing.


Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I actually do have a descent understanding of words. But I still feel like I did when I was a kid, struggling so hard with every word that passes through my mind. Grasping at any and every sentence that seems like it might eventually make sense...


Maybe it doesn't matter if it's "good writing" or not. When I started writing I didn't think anyone would even realize it existed. What I do know is; there are people that have read what I've had to say, and they have taken something from it. I've even helped people with the words I've written. And that's more than I ever dreamed of doing. So I guess I'll just keep on doing what I do. I'll type out words as they come to me and just hope they make sense as I press publish...

After...The Day I told My Daughter

Not long after I posted the story of how my daughter reacted to me being Transsexual, she kinda changed her mind.

When I posted it I felt it was more than safe to share that story with the world, because it had been a while since it happened and everything seemed to be going fine. One day she seemed perfectly happy that I was girlie and the next...not so much. I'm not sure of what made her change her mind, but all of a sudden, it did. It wasn't a complete 180, but she wasn't as comfortable as she had been. All she said was
"you have to dress like a boy around me now, because boys can't be girls"
Obviously someone had said something to her.

At first it seemed she was just against it all together but she understood I am who I am and loved me anyway. So, I made sure I only wore men's clothes and I didn't wear any makeup whenever I was going to see her. But she still seemed disappointed. I thought it might be because my hair is long, so I reminded her I was going to be cutting it all off soon, but I couldn't do it yet. That just seemed to upset her even more
"but it's so pretty, don't cut off your hair. You look more prettier when your hair is long. You don't want to look like a boy all the time do you?"
And then she made me let her make up my face and paint my nails. Now I was completely confused

Call me an idiot if you like, I guess it was obvious, but it took me a while to figured out she didn't want me to try to be a guy again, she just didn't want to be teased about it

....................................................................................................

My daughter had her birthday party the other day. When she gave me the invite she told me "You can wear a dress if you want...it's okay"
I asked her if any of her friends knew about me and if they were okay with it. That if they didn't I should probably come dressed in men's clothes because it probably wouldn't be the best time for them to find out.
"okay, well you have to wear boy clothes, but we are going to dress you up at my party...can you bring your makeup?"
The plan didn't really work though. Even though I was dressed in my manliest man clothes
- big jeans, an oversized flannelette shirt and some old skate shoes -
no one was convinced I was a guy. They all asked who the lesbian was...I told her she could tell them anything she wanted, that I was her dad, her aunt, whatever...but before she could say anything, her mum told them all I was her dad
"that's okay dad, you're a boy but you're not really a boy. That's who you are! Can I decorate you now?"

It's not the first time I was, unconvincingly, dressed as a man while with my daughter. She thinks it's funny that people can't tell. Because to her, even though her uncles and grandfathers are extremely manly, I still look quite masculine. Even though she's never seen anyone 'clock' me, she thinks everyone can tell I was born a boy and everyone laughs at me when I'm out in a dress. After her party though, I think she realizes that even when I try really hard to look and act like a man, most people see me as a woman.

....................................................................................................

There was no doubt that this would be hard for my daughter. The problem is, I know it's my fault, but I can't not be me. I'm not sure what to do.

There's no way I'm going to leave her, but I wonder if leaving a larger distance between me and her as father and daughter will help her life be more normal. Should I take on more of a role of an aunty or just the title. Or do I just help her through it all as best I can with the way it is...

After the short period of doubt and confusion, I know she doesn't have a problem with it personally. She even prefers me as I am now. I'm just worried how everyone else will treat her...for something that isn't her fault...for something she has no control over.

October...

yes, yes I know...I'm awesome...!!!

(me, in the late 80's) 

October is a pretty special month for me. Firstly, it's Pride month here. And well, for a person like me it's a month full of important events. The last day of Pride being special in it's own right....Halloween is the day of the Pride parade. And it's friggen Halloween! Which can be a bit of a problem, because there's always so much to do on that day. Do you join in and be a proud queer? Or do you run around in clubs, pubs and parties dressed as a zombie ballerina?

(the answers simple...you do both!)


The other thing about October is, that's when I was born. For most people, their birthday is pretty special. But not me! I'm not too keen on my own birthday. Nothing particularly bad has ever happened on my birthday. I just don't like people making such a fuss about it...I don't know why really, I just don't like celebrating it. Which is why most people don't know what day it is!

Maybe I should throw my mum a party on my birthday. To say - congratulations for making it through one of the most painful experiences you could ever have the pleasure of knowing!


Most of my friends don't mind. They like teasing me about it and play around trying to guess what day it is. But they leave me be when they realize I've had enough. And most of them don't even mention my birthday when October finally comes around. Except a creepy 'special' few.

They just don't understand, and they don't seem to have any desire to respect my wishes or privacy. They even resort to stalking. Obviously birthdays are important to some people, but I just don't think they are so important that people should violate your privacy.

It's not like I'm hiding my age or anything. Most people know more about me than I know about anyone else!

Although

Every year, around January, I go from telling anyone that asks how old I actually am, to how old I'll be that year. To be honest, I can't really tell you why I do this. It's just something I've always done.

So I guess this is me trying to say - I'm officially 26, no you can't know what day this happened...and I feel old...and pissed off that people stalk me!!!

Excuses Excuses...

digital phot by: Me

over 'processed' using 'Lightroom'

I've been a bit of a bad blogger lately. But I promise, I do care about this little space of mine. I suppose I have a few reasons for why I've been away from here lately.

1) I'm kinda boring. I've been doing a whole lot of nothing lately, so I haven't been very inspired or annoyed by anything. Which is part of the reason I haven't posted anything lately.

2) I've been distracted by other things on 'the internet'. My latest new distraction is Twitter. I still have no idea what I'm doing with an account there but I have one so I'm trying to use it. And I'm also on other sites/online community thingamabob's. Mostly I'm just trying to spread awareness and share my experiences with other Trans people and their families and friends.

3) When I started this blog I didn't think I would ever get any 'followers'. I was just frustrated and overwhelmed by the real world and I needed a place to get away from everything and I turned to 'the internet'. I didn't think anyone that saw this space would take a second look and I was comfortable with that. And I purposely didn't share anything about my gender. Mostly because I didn't want to make this a 'Trans' or 'Queer' Blog. And, well, I kinda freaked a little when I was pretty much talking about my gender issues almost every post and I had actual people reading them

Now that I've been away for a while, I realize how much I missed this space, and that, this is a 'personal Blog' and I am going through transition. I guess it's only natural I write about what's happening with me. And through all the other places I keep a presence on the web, I've realized how much people appreciate someone sharing their experiences. Letting them know they aren't the only one going through what they're going through or that other people are dealing with things too and that it's okay to be socially awkward or queer or whatever.

So I'm going to try and keep my presence here up, just to let people know - It's pretty great to be yourself...whoever that is!

Saturday At Mojo's

I'm not sure why, but I can't do anything unless it's at the very last possible minute. Even when it's something fun and exciting.

I love getting out and about to spend time with my friends. I'm really paranoid of not 'passing' so I pile on my makeup before leaving the confines of my house and it takes time to lather on my messy mask of cosmetics. I know it takes a while but I still insist on being late and then waiting a little longer to start the process EVERY time.

This weekend was no different.

After sitting on two different trains for more than an hour and a 15 minute walk, in heels, in the rain, I finally made it to the gig where I was meeting a couple of friends. Unfortunately, because of my habit of running late, I missed seeing Hayley Beth, who was up first. I walked in the door just as she was putting down her guitar. It's not really a big deal, she's local, plays all the time and I got a big ol' hug from her 5 minutes later (she's a hugger, I'm not that special).

Even though I've seen them a few times now, Cal Peck and The Tramps, were playing and I love a good band with a little harp in their sound so I had to leave my comfy spot on one of the couches to get on the dance floor and do my little sway. I didn't get my comfy seat back.

By the time the headline act The Jacknives came on, my feet were dying. But I still stumbled to the floor and tried to throw in some super awesome dance moves...without moving. I have to admit, I didn't pull it off. But I did manage to hobble my way back to the comfy couches at the end of their performance to let my feet recover without too many people witnessing my pathetic attempt at keeping my dignity.

There were some annoying bits, a couple of lady lovin' ladies, a whole lot a people staring at the giant rainbow coloured girl in heels, some good music, a lost umbrella and a pair of dead feet. All in all it was a pretty good ending to a pretty good week...

The Day I told My Daughter

Telling my daughter was probably the hardest moment I've had during my transition so far. I had no idea how to tell her in a way she would understand what was happening. And, I was terrified she would reject me. So I decided to tell her gradually. By asking questions and telling her little stories of different people and even animals.

Eventually, I had to actually sit her down and directly tell her what was going on.

Kids aren't dumb, she had been noticing things about me for a while. She would tell me I looked like a girl or I was acting like a girl. She noticed that my chest was changing and a few other things. But she didn't think much of any of it. She just thought it was a bit funny at the times she would notice and then she would move on.

It took me a long while after I decided it was beyond time to actually tell her what was going on. And she knew I was having trouble and wanted to tell her something. She thought it was funny but would get a little frustrated sometimes and yell - Just tell me...if you don't know what to say just say it...it doesn't matter!

I eventually took her advice and just started talking -


You like being a girl. Right?! 
Yep!
Well, I really hate being a boy
HA HA, you wanna be a gi-irl, HA HA, HA HA...³
Yeah!
*silence*


I was terrified. In my head, I KNEW - She was ashamed. She wanted to get away from me. She hated me...but I was wrong. One of the biggest smiles I have ever seen grew from ear to ear as she started to jump up and down yelling - YAY YAY YAY...now we can play and you can come to my school and...and...


Her mum and I were completely shocked by her response. Her mum had told me the little lady wouldn't care, but she didn't think she would be excited about it.

My daughter has surprised me countless times before with her beautiful heart. But this time, I absolutely melted. She wasn't concerned with the possibility of losing me as her dad or anything like that. My daughter was excited that I was going to be born again. That she was going to be able to take care of me. My daughter was offering to be my big sister as I grew up as a little girl.

The look that filled her face after I explained I couldn't be little again and I couldn't grow up into a little girl broke my heart. She was so upset that I couldn't be a little girl. But I explained that I can live as a grown up woman and I could be happy that way. She went silent again, gave me a hug and said - At least you don't really look like a boy! Can we watch Hannah Montana?