Perma-Child...

Me at 3...

As much as I'd like to, and as much as I know I need to...I don't think I'll ever really grow up!

It could be because I always forget how old I am. Not only do I forget how old I am, I forget I'm not 19 any more.
AND
I even forget when my birthday is...a few years ago I walked into my mums place. It was all decorated with balloons and streamers and all sorts of silly awesome things, and I asked
"what's going on...who's party..."
They thought I was joking, until I asked again 15 minutes later.

Maybe it's because I'm stuck. When I was about 18 I completely shut down, more than I had ever done before. My dreams and everything I was working toward were pushed aside while I abandoned myself. Yes, I still made it to classes and went to work. But I wasn't living my life. I was only just existing...for a very long time. Ever since I decided to start living again, it feels like I've been trying too hard to catch up with myself and learn how to live again.

It's not like I'm completely irresponsible. I do know how to behave like an adult. And my body is breaking down, so I'm not really able to go out and rage like I'm still a kid any more. But I'm sure I'm not as grown up as I should be.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe my perceptions of myself, the way I wish I was and the way I think I should be in this stage of my life are just really warped. Maybe it doesn't really matter if I ever grow up or not...I dunno. For now I'll keep wearing my bright pink skinny jeans and sequinned 5inch heals and run around at punk gigs with youngsters that seem half my age wearing half as much makeup as me...and I'll like it!

gettin' a little happy messing around taking pics of myself while skateboarding

Everyday I wake up sad. About all sorts of things. About nothing. It's just the way I am. But everyday I make a point of finding at least one reason to smile. The reason can be silly, beautiful, funny or comforting. It doesn't really matter what the reason is, as long as I smile. Because as long as I can find a reason to smile, I know that day isn't going to be that bad.

The thing that hurts me the most about being sad, is everyone that cares about me wants to help. But they can't. As much as I try to mask it, I know I can't really hide my true sadness. Every time I see them notice, I can see them hurting...because of me

So everyday...

I wake up sad

then

I find a reason to smile

and

I try to be happy...

I swear, I really am trying to be happy

Vanity...

Gorgeous burlesque performer, rushing around, behind the scenes!

Since beginning life as my true self, I've slowly become more and more concerned with my looks. Which used to be completely out of character for me...

Before transitioning I was obviously unhappy with myself physically, but my looks didn't matter much to me, if at all. Sure, I've always known my nose looks as if I bought it from a veteran boxing champion, especially after being asked for the billionth time how I broke it, and nothing about me is symmetrical, especially not my face. But for some reason it just didn't matter to me, in fact I spent much of my life trying to make myself uglier so I wasn't always being picked on for being "pretty". Maybe having an unwanted inch distracted me from caring about any other unfortunate physical traits I possessed?!

For as long as I remember I've never looked as I'm supposed to look. But the longer I live as a woman, the more I actually hate the way I look. Almost every moment I have certain thoughts in the back of my mind...

My nose is too big and crooked. My brow belongs to a Neanderthal. My eyes...My jaw...My Adams apple...My shoulders...My arms...My...

It's tiresome and I hate it.

My life isn't supposed to be consumed by the way I look. I'm not supposed to be planning plastic surgery just so I can look pretty...especially when what I want is impossible. Sure, it's possible to trim my unwanted junk and straighten up my nose. But it's impossible for anyone to grind enough of my face off to make me look like the woman I see myself as. And besides growing itty-bitty-boobies, it's impossible for me to have the body of a genetic woman.

People are sweet though. All my friends and family constantly assure me I'm pretty and feminine and whatever. But as much as I want to, I just don't believe them.I tell myself things like... 

"they're too close to me" or "they're too kind and can't bring themselves to be completely honest". 

And I'm sure whenever they complement me and my femininity they think "...for a guy" at least subconsciously. Which just isn't good enough for me any more. I don't want to be pretty compared to other trannies and drag queens or "for a dude". 

There have been countless sleepless nights that I've spent trying to figure out 

Why? 

Why am I suddenly obsessed with the way I look...as I'm typing this I'm finally asking myself...

Is it because of everybody else?

Whenever I leave my house, I know; Someone is going to stare. Someone is going to laugh. Someone is going to ask me, their friend or even a complete stranger... 

"is that a guy or a girl" 

Whenever I leave my house I think; It would be nice to feel safe enough to go out without angry people trying to beat me up or rape me or kill me just because I'm trans...

Whatever the reason I suddenly became so obsessed with beauty, whether it's simple vanity or self preservation or something completely different, I know...
I don't like it!
It's always upset me to see people unhappy with the way they look, because I've never seen someone who thought they weren't beautiful enough, that wasn't beautiful...

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!!!