The question of why?

Why is a dangerous word for some trans people. It opens up a huge grey area of questions and unknowns. I hear many theories of why we deviate from the gender norms. Some are more comforting than others. Some make much more sense then others. Despite what can be read in some publications, there is no conclusive theory to explain such behaviour. There are many approaches each with their own idea.

I am not about to give an answer or solve the problem, but perhaps i can try and explain my own situation which can then be held up for analysis.

One possible problem that i have identified in myself is the lack of male role models. I struggle to think of a male who i look up to, understand and wish to emulate. The list of females is too long to document here. The only male i can think of who is close to being an inspiration for me is Stephen Fry.

Is this a fault of my cognition? Am i seeing a lack of strong males because of the way i think? Or is there a strange trend in society currently? I frequently see women around and i am jealous of their achievements and skills. It is rare indeed for the same feelings to be triggered by a male. Could such thoughts be leading me in my transition? Are they a product of it?

More later.

xx

I’ll hide my behaviour with wine as my saviour

I am at a great point in my life. Crossroads have been and gone. I am now in the wastelands between the two roads stretching off to either side of me. The longer i spend here, the more i will break apart. I must make my choice soon, or risk loosing much that is precious to me. ‘What happens when you loose everything? – You start again.’

I am going out tonight in what i consider to be fairly androgynous outfit. Many things could happen. Lots of feelings and emotions are up in the air and are ready to come crashing down. I just can’t spot the trigger yet. I just know it is there.

This is the kind of occasion where having another trans person to talk to properly would help a great deal. Exams are not going very well, but that was to be expected.

I wonder if oestrogen is affected by fluoxetine…

-Alice

xxx

Days of sleep

Last night we made a hovercraft! But that is another story.

The exams are very soon. The revision is going badly. The concentration is lacking and i sleep at peculiar times. These are not related, but occurring at the same time, they are infuriating.

Here is a brief update of things.

• Lily and i are going strong.
• Exams are being difficult and i worry.
• I plan to be the trans representative for my university.
• I must develop a normal sleeping routine by tomorrow.
• I plan to buy a vespa ^_^
• I have met some lovely people online who have made things easier to cope with.
• I have met some lovely people offline who have made things nicer.
• I am off to the USA with my father. I must talk to him about my feelings.
• The summer will be difficult. More on that later.

‘Cause I’m half sick of shadows,
I want to see the sky.
Everyone else can watch the sun goes down,
So why can’t I?

Understand this code. Email me. And we can be friends.

Read the text and tell me my name.

Unfinished thoughts

Where to begin?
I wore my first item of girl’s clothing at age 5. It was an act of innocent curiosity: I wanted to know what it was like. Upon putting my trousers back on, I was caught by my father who was a little concerned. He found me in my friend’s room struggling with my trousers around my knees. I remember feeling guilty and ashamed (complex emotions for a five year old).
I cannot recall specific events after that, but I know that I didn’t stop. As young as 10 I was wondering into my mother’s wardrobe and trying things on. I was pleased because I was small enough to fit in to most of her clothes at the time.
I was never caught. I was so very careful because memory the guilt and humiliation was too great. Perhaps it is this climate that always accompanied my adventures into the wardrobe that makes things so difficult now.
It was an ad trader newspaper that gave me a name. I was looking through at the adverts for things and services for sale. At the back, near the personal adverts was a big bow with two photos in it. I forget the headline or any of the text. I was transfixed on the images. The first showed a man in a shirt and tie looking glumly down at his feet. The second showed a pretty lady in a gorgeous dress and shoes. I suppose this was the first time I realised that I was not entirely alone, and that it was possible to really be a girl. The advert was for a transformation agency that turned ugly men into beautiful women. I have never thought that it was really possible to be a girl. I had wanted to be one, but the apparent impossibility of the task stopped most of my fantasies. My aim was to one day spend a week dressed entirely as a woman. I planned out how I would get my clothes and how I would tell everyone I was going on holiday. The secrecy of the act was central to the feelings associated with it.
Every time I dressed, my heart raced, the adrenaline was going and I felt wonderful. It is difficult now to separate the causes of these sensations. I was very scared of being caught, but I loved being a girl for 10 minutes each day.
It almost became an addiction. When I was 13-14 I always asked mother exactly how long she would be out for. I became a master of time keeping and espionage. I placed things on the gate so I would hear if it was being opened. I spent a minute looking at the arrangement of the clothes I would use so that I could put them back perfectly and avoid detection. I did this nearly everyday when mother would go out to collect my brother from the various things that he did. I would have just less than 15 minutes. She would get in the car; I would slowly walk to her room. I would hear her leave the drive-way and disappear down the road. At this point I would be in her draws looking for nice things to wear.
I always wanted to try on makeup but I knew nothing about it. I didn’t know what went where or how much to use. The greatest fear I had was finding the lipstick not coming off. Mother would suspect and the consequences of that were too horrible to think about. With hindsight, I can see that the consequences would have been quite beneficial, but my perception of such things was warped to say the least.

More to come