“Transvestism” is on its way out of the WHO health manual, but its makers leave a loophole for further invalidation of transgender people
Police Search for Missing Transgender Teen
Montgomery County police are looking for a teenager last seen just before 6 p.m. Saturday night.
Nathaniel Martin-Malone, 15, was last seen on Norbeck Road not far from the Intercounty Connector in Silver Spring, Md.
Family members say Nathaniel is transgender and may be wearing women’s clothing.
Police and the family are concerned because Nathaniel has a medical condition that requires medication.
Nathaniel is black with brown eyes and short, black, curly hair and standing about 5-feet-3-inches tall and 160 pounds and was last seen wearing black pants and a black sweater over a leopard print shirt.
Anyone with information about Nathaniel’s whereabouts should call police at 301-279-8000.
I realize now that I need to go back to the beginning of this blog and read everything I have written. To once again walk down those paths that have led me to this point.
Until just the other day, this was something I hadn’t thought that I needed to do. Something that in some ways I was scared to so. That I am still scared to do. There are things written that i don’t want to face again. To think about. To remember.
But I have to.
This is one of the keys to understanding myself, to remembering the things I have learned.
There is a great deal of pain in those pages, written in the middle of the night when I was lost in the storm.
In those first hectic days, I thought my only issue was with cross dressing… Boy, I couldn’t have been further off the mark.
As time passed and more an more memories came to the surface, I quickly realized that I had bigger things to deal with and I am still dealing with them all these months later.
I am finding that I will have to take this process very slowly, just going back to those memories is causing me some problems and I am quickly feeling overwhelmed.
I have to remember to take this one small step at a time, and when I need to, to step back and take a breather. I don’t have to do everything in a single day.
I tried to do something tonight that I haven’t done for some time…
I tried to go into full shut down. To just let my mind go blank, thinking of nothing. To shut down my emotions and float in a void…
I couldn’t do it. The thoughts and feelings just keep gnawing away at me and I’m unable to stop them…
Right now I have the music turned up as loud as I can stand without making my ears bleed and still that damn voice that whispers in my mind won’t be quiet…
That feeling that I’m full of shit, that all I’ve done is live one lie after another, won’t quit digging at me, undermining my confidence in myself, who I think I am…
At this point I don’t know myself any more… I doubt that I ever really knew myself at all…
I think of myself and what I thought I saw there and I don’t know what to think. Nothing makes any sense any more.
I was so sure I understood the thing I had unleashed in my head but now? I just don’t know.
Maybe I’m trying to avoid the truth of who I am. Maybe some part of me is unwilling to accept the truth, whatever that might be…
To be honest, I wish I could just shut down, to disappear into my own head and never come back. Leave behind this shell.
As it is, I am caught in the strangest place. There is a numbness in my head and yet it feels as if my chest is burning. As if my heart is being turned to ash.
Part of me wants to shed my old life, everything I was for so many years, but part of me wants to cling to who I was, discarding this new reality and returning to what was, no matter how bad it might have been.
Yes, I find it impossible to not doubt myself, my thoughts, my feelings. I just can’t grasp this. I can’t get myself around who I have become…
I wish I had better words to explain what is tearing through me. I wish that I could let everything inside just pour out onto these pages. That the tears that I cry would become the thoughts that would make this clear even as my vision blurs….
Well, it seems that things are moving forward more quickly than I expected….
As it happens I missed a call today, I don’t know why I didn’t think to check my phone earlier in the day, yesterday actually, but I didn’t.
It was the therapist calling me back to set up an appointment for next week.
I have to call her back and agree to a time, but it seems I am on my way at last.
So much has happened, I have come so far since this all began. I have no idea where things are going to go from here, but I doubt that it could be as bad as what I have gone through already.
I will have about a week before that first appointment and i expect that I will go though a whole range of emotions before then. Honestly, I didn’t expect to hear anything until some time next week, to get a call from her on Saturday was a complete surprise, though a good one. Until I heard that voice on the phone, I had half expected to be told they couldn’t take me. One of my bad habits is to expect the worst, and I’m very happy to see I was worried over nothing.
So, I will ask for your understanding and forgiveness this week if I seem to be all over the place emotionally, I truly expect to be a complete wreck before that first meeting.
It is early morning and I find myself wide awake…
Seems that any more I can’t sleep more than three or four hours at a time. Often I consider myself lucky to get that much. It will be changing this Fall, but for now, I have to take what I can get.
One thing about being up this early in the morning is that I have time to sit and think, though I usually try to distract myself with some music and reading, unfortunately, its been a slow news day. Even the many blogs I follow have been mostly quiet. That happens when people actually have lives off line.
For me, this is where I live.
It is where i am allowed to be myself. To be honest with the world, honest with myself.
It is where, even for a short time, I am free.
If there is one thing I envy about people, it is their ability to just be free to be themselves in the real world. If I had been born a biological woman, I too would be free to be myself and no one would think it strange.
Of course, if I really was the man my body says I should be, I imagine then I too would be free to be myself and no one would think it strange.
There are times I find that I wish that I was genetically female presenting as male… I don’t know if that is even possible, but if it were, I would be satisfied with that, even though for all intents and purposes it wouldn’t change the truth of my situation, it would give me a reason for being what I am. I wouldn’t find myself wondering why I am different, why I have the thoughts and feelings that I do. Why when I look in the mirror I can’t see the person I know myself to be.
Have I ever said how much I hate my reflection?
In truth, I have never been comfortable with this body. At first I thought it was just the whole body image thing, now I’m not so sure it is that simple. Not that it matters really, this is what I have and there is nothing I can really do about it, even the best doctors in the world can do only so much, even if I had the resources to get every procedure ever invented.
I have a bad habit of reading gender bender manga… not the extreme stuff, I do have limits. But just stories about boys who live as girls for whatever ridiculous reason. I all too often wish it were as simple as the story makes it out to be, you know, everyone knows that the “girl” is really a boy but they don’t care, don’t think it strange, and are fully accepting. All those things that will never happen in the real world in my life time. Of course, all the characters are young and cute and can pass with no effort at all… Yeah, as if!
Movies aren’t much better, and forget about television.
The thing is, having the fantasy makes reality harder to take. People can be so mean, so cruel. They are judgmental and spiteful. No one seems to think much about how they might feel if it were they who had to deal with the hatred.
The “Golden Rule”… more the “Golden Joke”…. no one ever treats others as they want to be treated, they seem to think they should be placed on a pedestal while they treat everyone they see as “different” like subhuman animals, or as the brunt of jokes and ridicule.
Call me naive, but i just can’t understand how someone can think that way. I can’t understand how it is possible to hate someone just because they don’t see things the same way I do, because they don’t like the same things I do, because they want to live life in ways that I don’t.
That makes as much sense as hating someone because of the food they like to eat, or the books they read or the music they listen to.
Should I hate anyone who likes to eat beets? Personally I hate the things, I think they are disgusting, but I’m not going to hate someone just because they eat the things. If that is what you like, fine, you can have mine too because I’m sure not going to eat them!
Should I hate anyone who liked “American Pie”? I tried to watch that movie and I thought it was stupid and juvenile. I couldn’t watch more than about ten minutes of it and I thought my brains were going to run out of my ears.
Should I hate you because you never read “Alas, Babylon”? Because you did but couldn’t stand it?
Should I hate you because you listen to Rap music?
Of course not!
That would be ignorant and pointless.
Yet people think it’s acceptable to hate people for the god they believe in, for who they love, the color of their skin.
How are any of those things different? How can it make sense to hate someone I don’t even know, have never met? Why, because they aren’t just like me?
There are people who hate me because I don’t fit neatly into the male/female roles they think I should. They hate me because I don’t wear the correct clothing.
These are people who have never met me, will never know me. They will never sit down over coffee and have a discussion with me. They will never know my thoughts, my feelings. Yet they will hate me.
Tell me, how can any sane person say that makes any sense at all?
Well, things took another step forward today. I was contacted by the owner of the therapy group that I hope to get into. She was very understanding and agreed that I should at least do a consult. She even mentioned a support group that she thinks I might be able to join and she is going to check for me. I have some things that need to be checked before I can schedule an appointment, so I’m waiting to hear back… hope I have some news soon.
Again, I have to say that the further things move along, the more nervous I get. This is something i never thought I would actually do…. at this point I have the shakes so bad I have to keep getting up because I can’t hold the mouse or type well enough to make complete sentences.
I have to say, speaking to another person about this was nerve racking. Although I have written about this all through this blog, it is such a different experience to speak the words out loud. To tell someone I have never met this secret. Don’t get me wrong, the person I spoke to was very kind and understanding and didn’t seem bothered in the least. She also recommended that I see one of the female therapists without being asked. I thought that was very nice. The thought of trying to talk to a man about this wasn’t something I could ever consider.
The funny thing is, despite everything, I feel rather relieved. As I said, things seem to be moving forward. Such a nice change from the up and down way of things as I’ve tried to work though this pretty much alone. I guess that in the end trying to deal with all my other issues on top of this has just been more than I can handle. That I have managed to deal with my episodes of depression, even when they got to a dangerous point, is a miracle. Though maybe, just maybe, had I been seeing someone for that alone I might have avoided the truth about myself. I don’t know if I could have admitted any of this to myself, let alone anyone else, (even a therapist), is a question I will never be able to answer. The fact is that my repressing this likely caused or at least aggravated my depression, even knowing that, I don’t know if I could have told, especially if I was seeing a male therapist.
No matter what, there is really no turning back now… though to be honest, I think I passed that point the moment I let myself admit the truth of who I am…
Has anyone else tried to look back at who they were before they came out? I have just to get a sense of where I was compared to where I am now, and you know what? I can’t do it.
I have a boatload of memories of course, but as I get closer to the night I broke down, they get pretty fuzzy until they become an indecipherable blur. That isn’t what I’m really talking about though. I mean emotionally.
I tried to step back and look at what I was feeling in those last days and weeks, even months and I find that there is a blank there. I simply cannot connect with those emotions. It’s like who I am now is so far removed from that other person that we simply cannot connect at all.
I don’t understand what he was feeling, why he was feeling that way, or what his thought process was. Again, I have some of the memories but it’s like years of my life have all but vanished into a smear where everything is jumbled and disconnected.
<Sigh> I know I’m not making much sense here, it is such a strange feeling that it hard to describe. It’s like watching a movie for the hundredth time, you know the lines, you remember the scenes, and your pretty sure you remember the actors, but there is no real connection at all. No emotion, everything seems strangely flat and well. poorly written. Whats worse is that you know your the writer, the director, and the actor and still your left wondering what’s happening and what were you thinking when you wrote this mess?
Really, did that help explain things at all? I hope so…
I know that in the weeks following my life and mind were a jumbled mess that was racing along at a thousand miles an hour and i can at least go back and read those old posts and gain some understanding of what I was doing, and why, but from before? It’s like trying to understand an alien life form.
And I’m talking about myself here…
I took a step forward today.
I finally contacted the therapy group here in town to inquire about their services; I’m waiting to hear back from them to see if they provide the service I need.
I won’t kid you, I’m scared to death. I have never talked to a complete stranger about what’s going on with my gender issues and the very idea of it fils me with dread. I know that these feelings are silly, that I am seeking to talk to a professional. That doesn’t stop something deep inside from insisting that I am making a terrible mistake.
Maybe it is the fact that I have had to hide for so long, keeping the truth of who I know myself to be safe from view. Maybe it was knowing that letting anyone see the true me would lead to nothing but pain.
Whatever the reason, I find that I am getting almost physically ill at the very thought.
One thing I wasn’t expecting was in filling out the contact form I had to put down my name. I started to put down “Kira” without thinking about it. I had to backtrack and use my male name. I was afraid that they would think I was trying to prank them if I didn’t. What surprised me was how ambivalent I was about writing that name. It is a name I have to use every day, and often do so without too much thought, but that has changed.
This is what I was going to write about today, before I took the plunge and started the process I hope will lead to me talking to a therapist, that fact that when I woke up this morning it hit me that I can’t clearly remember the last time I thought of myself in terms of “his” name. I know it was some time last week, but I can’t recall the reason it happened or what day it was. I have been thinking only in terms of my real name. Thinking in terms of who I am now, not who I was. I am thinking in terms of the real me, not the facade I have been wearing.
In some ways this scares me a bit, the loss of that comfort zone I worked so hard to build and maintain, but that isn’t who I really am and I cannot continue with the lies any more. It is sort of disturbing and confusing because in my public life I have maintain that other persona.
I know that now I am going to have to watch myself but for different reason from before.
It makes me feel almost like I’m now living in a parallel universe where every thing is switched. Where before I had to watch and make sure I kept my female side hidden, now I have to watch and make sure I maintain a visible male side.
It may seem like the same thing, but it isn’t. The focus is different. The thought process is different. The concerns are different.
I don’t know, this is really hard to explain in a way that makes any sense, even to me.
Honestly, my brains feel like scrambled eggs…. and I hate scrambled eggs…
From the very beginning of this crazy ride I’m on, I have struggled to understand myself, who I am, who I hope to be. I have done this within a self constrained framework. What some are wondering is why? Why don’t I just let things happen as they may. Why do I insist on moving forward at such a pace, keeping myself hidden behind my male facade, why don’t I allow myself to be completely free?
There are a number of reasons for this, and yes, they are are my reasons, imposed on myself. It is one of the things that is the hardest, this deliberate pacing of how I move forward. It is one of the things that frustrates me the most, one of the things that more than once has made me grind my teeth and want to scream at the walls.
I wouldn’t do anything differently, no matter what I might think or say.
All my life family has meant something special to me. It might be the fact that I never had what could be called a normal family life growing up, it might be that I vowed that I would never do to my own children what was done to me, it might be that I simply have this ideal of how parents should sacrifice anything for those they help bring into the world.
Should I as a parent still be allowed to be happy? Yes, as long as that happiness does not bring harm to my children. And I do have times of happiness. I have three great kids, who while they sometimes make me question my sanity, I would never give up.
Besides the kids of course, there is my wife. She has be incredible through all of this. Honestly, I don’t know how she put up with me even before I came out.
In all of my decisions, in everything I do, I take her into consideration. How much can she handle in regards to my needing to express myself? How much does my thoughts and feelings impact her?
For me, those around me are more important than I am. None of them asked to be drawn into this, nor did I really, but that they are here, dealing with this too, is because of me.
I would do anything for them,
Including again becoming “Him” if that is what was required of me.
And what of me?
Who am I that anyone should care?
I am someone who was born wearing the wrong skin. I am someone who dreams of being what she can never be, not on the way I would wish.
I don’t have very many memories of my youngest years, they become clearer starting at age six, but it wasn’t until I was ten that I realized why I was different from the other boys.
When I first came out, indeed when I started this blog, my strongest memory was of dressing in my mothers clothes when I was ten. Because of that I at first thought I was a cross dresser. I have come to understand that I am much more than that.
Over time I have drawn up more and more memories. I have remembered more and more dreams, thoughts and emotions.
From that very first time putting on women’s clothing, I knew that no matter what my body might look like, I was a girl.
That didn’t make sense of course and caused me a great deal of confusion and more than a little fear.
I was already in an abusive situation and to be sure, this was going to only make things worse. That confusion and fear led me to repress my feelings, my thoughts, my emotions, everything. I went into a full shut down and just tried to be the boy everyone thought I was, that my body told me I should be.
That didn’t stop the dreams. It didn’t stop the fantasies. It didn’t stop the thoughts that forced they’re way through.
It didn’t take away the knowledge that I was female.
Over time the stress of keeping this secret built to the point where I either came close to attempting suicide or making an actual attempt. I was miserable. I hated myself, the world and everything in it.
The night I finally broke it was a close thing, I had to either come out as who I really was or I would have killed myself. I have no doubt about that.
There would be no more attempts at death, no more attempts at life.
It had finally become a matter of life or death and I chose life.
Everything that happened since is in this blog.