One of the many mysterious powers of the transsexual is that once they realize that they, themselves, are essentially inside-out, and express their inner selves, they compel others around them to also turn inside-out, and express their inner selves. This effect is amplified in a logarithmic fashion inversely proportional to one’s distance from the transsexual. Once within a radius of about ten feet or less, this power is absolute and unavoidable. This phenomenon has come to be known by scientists as the Inversion Vortex.
For many people, this compulsion is not a terrible thing to come under. If they are capable of empathy and forethought, they tend to do very well, in that no discernible difference is revealed by the transsexual’s aura. They may, for example, refer to a transsexual woman by her former name or gender, but then quickly realize they’ve made a mistake, and correct it, prompting no further thought on the error by anyone. This can make the aura difficult to detect, as it does not seem to affect everybody, by virtue of the fact that if one is the same outside as they are inside, no change can be detected.
However, one who hides malice in his heart might feel himself compelled to say — under his breath, but certainly deliberately loudly enough to be heard by others — when standing on a corner in Pike Place Market early in the morning as a transsexual woman walks by, “is that a boy or a girl?” while grumbling. For all the wonderful things such a man has surely done in his life before the point when he stood on a corner on the transsexual woman’s path, when it comes down to it, inside, he enjoys the feeling of superiority he gets by pointing out someone else’s comparatively fluid gender to his own more socially acceptable static gender. Calling attention to it gives him a great rush of joy. His inner self, revealed.
Another man, well-meaning enough, but lacking in social skills, might approach a transsexual woman and tell her that she needs a new razor, because her legs look like they’ve been hit by poison ivy. Naturally, such a Champion of Great Legs would only be trying to help, as he would of course clarify by saying “no offense” immediately afterwards, but one might suspect he would not have taken it upon himself to police the state of the legs of a natural born woman, as that is a rather uncommon thing for men to do. His inner self, revealed.
Still another person, who had seen the transsexual woman around prior to her revelation, when she still presented as male and went by a male name and male pronouns, might approach her assertively, yet with some hesitance, and say something like, “I don’t want to offend you or anything… but what should I call you now?” When thanked for asking, and given the answer, this sort of person, still disoriented from being turned inside-out by the transsexual’s irresistible power of transposition, might say it was nice to meet her, and then relate an anecdote of how his brother-in-law went through the same thing — he used to be Melissa, but now he’s Gabe. Still compelled by the transsexual, this kind of man might even go so far as to say he thinks it’s awesome what she is doing, being true to herself, before finally breaking free of the vortex, and continuing on his way. His inner self, revealed.
And finally, yet another person might feel drawn to the nexus of this power, like a rat following the piper, to sit near the transsexual woman while she waits for her bus to take her home. This last kind might pretend at striking up some small talk before blurting out something like, “are you a man?” What purpose this kind of question might possibly serve should elude you. What should not elude you is that in this case, too, yet another hapless citizen has fallen under the transsexual’s spell. Her inner self, revealed.
What can you do to avoid being turned inside-out by the transsexual’s spell, and embarrassing yourself publicly as you loudly and proudly proclaim your intolerance, ignorance, and general lack of empathy? The surest way, of course, is to simply develop your own capacities for tolerance and empathy, while also educating yourself on what transsexualism is. If you are already tolerant and empathetic, even if you are ignorant of the details of transsexualism broadly, or the specifics of any one transsexual’s case, you will probably not be unduly impacted even when you are within range of an Inversion Vortex. This approach is called the “immunization method.”
However, if your tolerance and empathy capacities are limited for whatever reason, your best course of action is to simply avoid the transsexual and the locus of their power — for they, too, are its victims. Like the X-man Cyclops, the power of the transsexual is always on, and they cannot stop it, not even with awesome ruby-quartz glasses that look hella sexy. Do whatever you can to remain at least 100 yards away from anyone who might be a transsexual, or, though slightly less dangerous, anyone who may be different from you in any way, at all times. This is the only way you can keep yourself safe, so please, be careful!
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Dressing Out of Type
Last Tuesday was the last time I dressed outwardly male, or “in type,” as I say. For about a month leading up to that time, following my revelation, I’d been dressing outwardly male, but over feminine undergarments (socks, panties, camisole). Prior to that, of course, I had no idea I was a girl, so I dressed outwardly male — not liking myself or caring about myself, that meant I wore clothes socially prescribed for men, but with no real criteria beyond that. Basically, I’d grab the first shirt in my drawer, the top pair of underwear, top socks, etc. and not really concern myself at all about how I looked.
Once the Dean of Student Affairs took me to the security desk so they could be advised that I was actually female, and would thus use the women’s restroom (to preempt any complaints to security about me being in there resulting in my being grabbed on my way out of the restroom, or anything), I started dressing outwardly female the next day; last Wednesday. That meant my routine went from showers the night before, and getting up at 5:30a in order to do cat maintenance and leave by 6a, to getting up at 4a, taking a shower, and doing a lot of other things in the morning that I never would’ve done before (eating, doing a stretch routine, shaving my face, doing makeup).
Once Friday came around, my first day off of each week, since classes run Monday through Thursday for me, I just lounged around the house in sleep pants and a sweater. However, I knew I needed to go into town to get to the bus terminal and buy an ORCA card, as well as to stop by my friend’s house to pick up a package. I also had some boots to return to Target. Originally, I was going to just be lazy, give my skin a break, and not shave or do any makeup — just go out in outwardly male dress, run my errands, and go home. But as the time neared when I’d have to leave home, the thought upset me enough that I went ahead and got ready as a girl, after all.
While I was out running around, I felt my typical self-confidence and happiness, my New Normal base state of contentment (at worst). I was annoyed with Target for a hassle with my return, and I got the usual funny looks from one or two guys at the bus terminal, but other than that, I had no real obstacles, and my attitude remained upbeat. The only thing close to a down-side was that I was, as they say, all dressed up with nowhere to go, after I’d finished up at Target.
Today, on a Sunday, I was cleaning up around the house and I found an old oil filter in the box that I’d bought in April, but never used. It had the receipt in the box, and since money is especially tight right now, I went ahead and called the store to see if I could still return it. They said I could, so I decided to just go there today and get it taken care of. However, I thought, if I get ready as a girl, it will be a couple hours before I can even leave, probably. At the very least, I’d have to shave my face and put on makeup and fix my hair. Today, I was planning to shave my legs again, so they’ve been untouched since about Wednesday of last week, too, and I didn’t really want to have to get into the shower or bath twice.
Anyway, I decided to just go out dressed outwardly male, since it was one quick errand and nothing else. I pulled on some old boxer-briefs, plain white athletic socks, jeans, and a t-shirt. I didn’t want to dismantle my whole wallet or bring my purse, obviously, so I just grabbed my license and my phone, and then left. Along the way, I noticed that my mannerisms and physicality were still naturally rather feminine, which pleased me.
I did feel out of my skin, though, which struck me as somewhat odd. While I’d been dressing outwardly male but with feminine undergarments, I was sort of mildly irritated that I felt like I had to do that still, and eager to get on with dressing outwardly female, which I vastly preferred, but I didn’t have that kind of strong visceral reaction of feeling wrong. The odd part about the feeling was that I’d really only dressed female and gone out that way for a full regular day of being in public three times — the preceding Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
One of those days was just for a couple hours, not even to school; just running some errands. For me to go from mild irritation at the idea of being dressed outwardly male all the way to it feeling completely wrong after just two and a half days of dressing outwardly female seemed like a pretty big shift in a very short span of time. But then, I suppose all of this has been running along rather quickly.
Once I got to the store, the guy handling my return asked if I had the original debit card. I didn’t bring anything with me like that, since I’d never had any place that took a payment on debit argue at all about giving a refund in cash, with a receipt. I explained that I didn’t have my debit card on me, and that I didn’t think I had that particular card anymore anyway. He said he couldn’t just give me cash back, but then gave me cash — about half of what the receipt said the thing had been bought for. I’m guessing he processed it as a return without receipt, giving me the lowest price in the last 90 days or whatever. I was annoyed that he didn’t even tell me he was going to do that, and ask if I was okay with that.
On my way out of the store, I started to feel pretty frustrated and upset. Basically over a difference of about $5. But really it was more, I think, about my state of appearance and dress. The upset felt as close to my old constant state of depression as I’d felt since the depression evaporated over a month ago. I felt wrong just being out like that to begin with, and then I ran into a minor obstacle, so I got disproportionately upset. Once I realized that, of course, I kind of laughed at myself and just drove home.
But on the way home, I thought to myself, I’m never going out dressed like this again. And once I got there, I got out of those clothes immediately, and back into my women’s sleep pants.
Once the Dean of Student Affairs took me to the security desk so they could be advised that I was actually female, and would thus use the women’s restroom (to preempt any complaints to security about me being in there resulting in my being grabbed on my way out of the restroom, or anything), I started dressing outwardly female the next day; last Wednesday. That meant my routine went from showers the night before, and getting up at 5:30a in order to do cat maintenance and leave by 6a, to getting up at 4a, taking a shower, and doing a lot of other things in the morning that I never would’ve done before (eating, doing a stretch routine, shaving my face, doing makeup).
Once Friday came around, my first day off of each week, since classes run Monday through Thursday for me, I just lounged around the house in sleep pants and a sweater. However, I knew I needed to go into town to get to the bus terminal and buy an ORCA card, as well as to stop by my friend’s house to pick up a package. I also had some boots to return to Target. Originally, I was going to just be lazy, give my skin a break, and not shave or do any makeup — just go out in outwardly male dress, run my errands, and go home. But as the time neared when I’d have to leave home, the thought upset me enough that I went ahead and got ready as a girl, after all.
While I was out running around, I felt my typical self-confidence and happiness, my New Normal base state of contentment (at worst). I was annoyed with Target for a hassle with my return, and I got the usual funny looks from one or two guys at the bus terminal, but other than that, I had no real obstacles, and my attitude remained upbeat. The only thing close to a down-side was that I was, as they say, all dressed up with nowhere to go, after I’d finished up at Target.
Today, on a Sunday, I was cleaning up around the house and I found an old oil filter in the box that I’d bought in April, but never used. It had the receipt in the box, and since money is especially tight right now, I went ahead and called the store to see if I could still return it. They said I could, so I decided to just go there today and get it taken care of. However, I thought, if I get ready as a girl, it will be a couple hours before I can even leave, probably. At the very least, I’d have to shave my face and put on makeup and fix my hair. Today, I was planning to shave my legs again, so they’ve been untouched since about Wednesday of last week, too, and I didn’t really want to have to get into the shower or bath twice.
Anyway, I decided to just go out dressed outwardly male, since it was one quick errand and nothing else. I pulled on some old boxer-briefs, plain white athletic socks, jeans, and a t-shirt. I didn’t want to dismantle my whole wallet or bring my purse, obviously, so I just grabbed my license and my phone, and then left. Along the way, I noticed that my mannerisms and physicality were still naturally rather feminine, which pleased me.
I did feel out of my skin, though, which struck me as somewhat odd. While I’d been dressing outwardly male but with feminine undergarments, I was sort of mildly irritated that I felt like I had to do that still, and eager to get on with dressing outwardly female, which I vastly preferred, but I didn’t have that kind of strong visceral reaction of feeling wrong. The odd part about the feeling was that I’d really only dressed female and gone out that way for a full regular day of being in public three times — the preceding Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.
One of those days was just for a couple hours, not even to school; just running some errands. For me to go from mild irritation at the idea of being dressed outwardly male all the way to it feeling completely wrong after just two and a half days of dressing outwardly female seemed like a pretty big shift in a very short span of time. But then, I suppose all of this has been running along rather quickly.
Once I got to the store, the guy handling my return asked if I had the original debit card. I didn’t bring anything with me like that, since I’d never had any place that took a payment on debit argue at all about giving a refund in cash, with a receipt. I explained that I didn’t have my debit card on me, and that I didn’t think I had that particular card anymore anyway. He said he couldn’t just give me cash back, but then gave me cash — about half of what the receipt said the thing had been bought for. I’m guessing he processed it as a return without receipt, giving me the lowest price in the last 90 days or whatever. I was annoyed that he didn’t even tell me he was going to do that, and ask if I was okay with that.
On my way out of the store, I started to feel pretty frustrated and upset. Basically over a difference of about $5. But really it was more, I think, about my state of appearance and dress. The upset felt as close to my old constant state of depression as I’d felt since the depression evaporated over a month ago. I felt wrong just being out like that to begin with, and then I ran into a minor obstacle, so I got disproportionately upset. Once I realized that, of course, I kind of laughed at myself and just drove home.
But on the way home, I thought to myself, I’m never going out dressed like this again. And once I got there, I got out of those clothes immediately, and back into my women’s sleep pants.
Friday, September 12, 2014
SRS bsnss
It’s been one full calendar month since I realized I was actually female. Since then, I’ve done a lot of reading and thinking about transgender issues in general, and working on my own specific path.
I was born in America, and I have been steeping in American culture for my entire life. As a result, I have strong ideas about what is feminine to me. The down side is that being depressed for nearly 30 years (before realizing what the problem was) is a pretty shitty way to live. The up side is that now that I know what the problem actually was all this time, I have a path towards external self-actualization that is remarkably clear.
Having a very clear path toward external self-actualization is an enormous part of why this all seems so simple, to me. People keep telling me that I’m being very brave in being true to myself, and things like that, but to me it’s not matter of courage or cowardice. It’s purely rational.
My body and my mind do not match, according to the archetypes of my culture. The choices from the point of realizing that to the point of being more fully content and happy are basically to either try to change the culture, or to try to change myself. (I recognize that that isn’t a zero-sum kind of choice, but in broad terms, and speaking from a perspective of what one woman can achieve while also living a life, I’m depicting it that way.) Since changing myself is more likely to net results before I die than changing the entire western culture’s gender model, I have opted to change myself. Simple decision #1 complete.
How should I change myself? I view the brain as the truest expression of self, and have always been relatively loathe to make huge changes to mine. To be fair, without knowing what the real problem was, I have already spent many years trying to change my brain, with poor results and no real success. Treatments included trials and extended runs on about 15 or so different antidepressants, along with psychotherapy. Now that I know what the actual problem is, not only do I like and love myself (i.e., my brain), but I can also look back on past experience to this point and conclude safely that, in regards to me and my own brain, trying to change myself inside (conceptually) is not likely to yield a positive outcome.
However, changing myself physically with medical assistance is, while expensive and largely not covered by insurance, relatively straightforward. Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) is safe when the doctor’s direction is followed. Sex Reassignment Surgery (SRS) can be done very satisfactorily by a qualified surgeon. Voice feminization surgery techniques in South Korea are producing mind-blowing results. Electrolysis is painful, but effective at true permanent hair removal.
With those two roads before me, which direction to go was never really a question I spent much time thinking about. I honestly had to struggle a bit to think of how to articulate it, because I knew almost immediately which path I’d be taking, and how far I would take it. Simple decision #2 complete.
Now come the details, along with the hard parts. The VA covers my HRT, but I am pretty sure (though I have yet to absolutely confirm) that they cover nothing else beyond psychological help, which is not considered a transgender-related service. Basically that means they cover only one service for transgender patients.
I’d already settled on the Yeson Voice Center in South Korea for the voice feminization surgery. Their technique is the most advanced, and from the testimonials I’ve seen along with the description of how the surgery compares to other modern approaches, seems like the best bet, by far, in every metric. It has extremely good outcomes, and it is extremely safe (in the context of being a surgery with general anesthesia). Their cost, according to a post from about 3 years ago, is roughly $8,000 USD, not including travel and lodging and other ancillary expenses related to going to have the procedure done. I have not written to them yet to inquire about scheduling, as I view this procedure as secondary to SRS in terms of priorities. It is essential, to me — voice and singing are core to my identity — but it can come after SRS.
One thing I hadn’t figured out was where I would go to have my SRS done, and by whom. After researching this online for the last several weeks, I’ve found my surgeon of choice. He seems far more vested in long-term whole-life patient outcomes than the other surgeons I’ve seen, and as a board-certified plastic surgeon and a board-certified urologist, he’s highly qualified (perhaps the most highly qualified in the USA, if not the world) to perform the procedure. His cost is roughly $40,000, in addition to approximately $12,500 in hospital costs to cover the subsequent week in bed under monitoring. I wrote to his office this morning to start mapping my path to having SRS done by him.
Since realizing my gender dysphoria, exactly one calendar month ago, I have already:
I was born in America, and I have been steeping in American culture for my entire life. As a result, I have strong ideas about what is feminine to me. The down side is that being depressed for nearly 30 years (before realizing what the problem was) is a pretty shitty way to live. The up side is that now that I know what the problem actually was all this time, I have a path towards external self-actualization that is remarkably clear.
Having a very clear path toward external self-actualization is an enormous part of why this all seems so simple, to me. People keep telling me that I’m being very brave in being true to myself, and things like that, but to me it’s not matter of courage or cowardice. It’s purely rational.
My body and my mind do not match, according to the archetypes of my culture. The choices from the point of realizing that to the point of being more fully content and happy are basically to either try to change the culture, or to try to change myself. (I recognize that that isn’t a zero-sum kind of choice, but in broad terms, and speaking from a perspective of what one woman can achieve while also living a life, I’m depicting it that way.) Since changing myself is more likely to net results before I die than changing the entire western culture’s gender model, I have opted to change myself. Simple decision #1 complete.
How should I change myself? I view the brain as the truest expression of self, and have always been relatively loathe to make huge changes to mine. To be fair, without knowing what the real problem was, I have already spent many years trying to change my brain, with poor results and no real success. Treatments included trials and extended runs on about 15 or so different antidepressants, along with psychotherapy. Now that I know what the actual problem is, not only do I like and love myself (i.e., my brain), but I can also look back on past experience to this point and conclude safely that, in regards to me and my own brain, trying to change myself inside (conceptually) is not likely to yield a positive outcome.
However, changing myself physically with medical assistance is, while expensive and largely not covered by insurance, relatively straightforward. Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) is safe when the doctor’s direction is followed. Sex Reassignment Surgery (SRS) can be done very satisfactorily by a qualified surgeon. Voice feminization surgery techniques in South Korea are producing mind-blowing results. Electrolysis is painful, but effective at true permanent hair removal.
With those two roads before me, which direction to go was never really a question I spent much time thinking about. I honestly had to struggle a bit to think of how to articulate it, because I knew almost immediately which path I’d be taking, and how far I would take it. Simple decision #2 complete.
Now come the details, along with the hard parts. The VA covers my HRT, but I am pretty sure (though I have yet to absolutely confirm) that they cover nothing else beyond psychological help, which is not considered a transgender-related service. Basically that means they cover only one service for transgender patients.
I’d already settled on the Yeson Voice Center in South Korea for the voice feminization surgery. Their technique is the most advanced, and from the testimonials I’ve seen along with the description of how the surgery compares to other modern approaches, seems like the best bet, by far, in every metric. It has extremely good outcomes, and it is extremely safe (in the context of being a surgery with general anesthesia). Their cost, according to a post from about 3 years ago, is roughly $8,000 USD, not including travel and lodging and other ancillary expenses related to going to have the procedure done. I have not written to them yet to inquire about scheduling, as I view this procedure as secondary to SRS in terms of priorities. It is essential, to me — voice and singing are core to my identity — but it can come after SRS.
One thing I hadn’t figured out was where I would go to have my SRS done, and by whom. After researching this online for the last several weeks, I’ve found my surgeon of choice. He seems far more vested in long-term whole-life patient outcomes than the other surgeons I’ve seen, and as a board-certified plastic surgeon and a board-certified urologist, he’s highly qualified (perhaps the most highly qualified in the USA, if not the world) to perform the procedure. His cost is roughly $40,000, in addition to approximately $12,500 in hospital costs to cover the subsequent week in bed under monitoring. I wrote to his office this morning to start mapping my path to having SRS done by him.
Since realizing my gender dysphoria, exactly one calendar month ago, I have already:
- Gotten a formal gender dysphoria diagnosis
- Laid and started plans to start HRT, which should be by the end of the month
- Told all my close friends about the diagnosis and what I would be doing about it individually
- Announced the diagnosis and what I would be doing about it in broad terms to my school, my teachers, and my fellow students
- Been given (and purchased) enough clothing and makeup to start dressing and presenting as feminine as possible in my daily life
- Learned how to do my own makeup routine in the morning on a daily basis
- Started actually dressing and presenting as feminine publicly
- Legally changed my name by court order
- Registered the new name with several authorities (school ID, voter registration, driver license, etc.)
- Sent off my legal gender designation request (which should be back with approval any day now, since they basically confirm that a real doctor said it was legitimate)
- Reached out to a highly-qualified SRS surgeon to begin planning my own operation
Saturday, September 6, 2014
What Dreams May Come
On Tuesday, August 12, 2014, I had the first major stroke of my gender revelation. It was basically the first domino falling, followed by about two weeks of brain-melting self-realization. That was about three and a half weeks ago.
Prior to the epiphany, I had spent my entire life (or at least life after the start of puberty, before which I remember virtually nothing) hating myself, or at best, not liking myself. My lows were crippling depressive states where I could barely get out of bed. My highs were a sort of bittersweet melancholy that approached true happiness, but never quite got there.
After the epiphany, everything basically inverted, like the upside-down castle areas in Symphony of the Night. There was some crossover, but the old highs became the new lows, and everything went up from there. The first time I experienced sadness after the epiphany was about a week or so along, and instead of being an event that sent me spiraling into a depressive state for a day or two, as minor things like that used to do, it was a melancholy state, not even a truly sad state, that faded away after about an hour, maybe two.
Coming through that was enormously positive, as it had been my first real test of my true capacity to experience emotions that are commonly perceived as negative, but not let them experience me, so to speak. I remained my true self throughout, and experienced a range of emotion, after spending years experiencing no real emotion at all.
The sad state was triggered by a sense of feeling not very feminine, after having felt extremely feminine during the preceding week or so. As the sadness crept up on me, I considered it from the new perspective of liking who I was, and loving and caring about myself. I supposed that having lived as male for roughly thirty years, it seemed unreasonable to expect that that persona, which I now call “the Jason construct,” would just disintegrate completely and immediately. Recalling the disastrous US move of forcibly disbanding Iraqi military and police after invasion, I thought that simply willing long-time structures into nothingness does not typically result in positive things, and so it wasn’t abnormal or bad to feel as I was feeling.
I concluded that it was okay to be a little disappointed that I was not instantly and completely changed, and that it was also natural and normal to feel some back-and-forth tug as the Jason construct began coming apart, when his sole purpose upon creation was to keep Sera, the real me, safe; like many other childhood psychological defense constructs, he just overstayed his welcome long past the point of usefulness. And upon realizing that, the sadness peaked and began to recede, and it was gone shortly thereafter.
Not long after that, I was reading some articles by a doctor who has dealt with many patients going through gender transition. He wrote:
When our gender Self Map does not match our Physical Gender (genitals), along with our society providing no niche or role (although most other societies do) for this varied gender expression, a conflict usually develops. Although gender folk’s combination of the five gender factors is just as natural as any other, it is not perceived as “normal” (what you are supposed to be or do) in our society.
Because a child’s greatest desire is to be normal (like everybody else), they create an artificial self which meets this goal. They are often so successful at this that they not only fool everyone else but themselves as well — at least part of the time, in some way.
I have gradually come to the conclusion that for most physically male gender folk, the male persona is an artificial construction produced by the early adolescent individual (ages 12 to 15) in order to fit in and be like everybody else…
Once created, physically male gender folk live in this role — a 3-D personality with its own goals, likes and dislikes, values, hobbies, etc. Although indistinguishable from the “real thing,” it isn’t themselves. It is an artificial creation for them to be able to fit in.
(Source, emphasis added.)
I was overjoyed. I had come to essentially the same conclusion (though less eloquent and specific) on my own. It was a very affirming thing, a validation of many aspects of who I was, all at once. Female, self-loving, intelligent, human. I had previously only been one of those.
One of the things I then wondered was when (or even if) and how my dreams would shift. Although I had had this conscious breakthrough realizing my actual gender and recognizing who I really was — which was, in theory, an unearthing of my natural subconscious — in my dreams, I continued to exist as my male self, as some expression of the Jason construct.
I thought of a number of possibilities; maybe I would alternate genders in my dream as different sequences came and went, for example. Ultimately, I just let it all go because whatever would happen would happen, and there was nothing to be gained by stressing out over it. (This was also something I could not really do before.) But last night, a little over three weeks after the epiphany, the first dream change happened.
I was wholly female in all dream sequences that I could remember upon waking. It had been a sort of media-before-bed-driven thing, with shades of Orange is the New Black (which I’ve never watched, but have seen gifsets of on my tumblr, which I browsed before bed), and League of Legends (which I played a bit not long before bed). I was in some sort of women’s prison, there were classes that were taught by people possessed of a vast stupidity (as one might expect), and at some point, I was teaming up with someone else to have some kind of League-style battle with another duo, in which I took on the role of Talon, but a female version of him. Naturally, I was kicking a lot of ass, but I was also doing so while (or maybe by) shaking out cans of Coca-cola on my enemies, in addition to doing all of Talon’s actual moves. (I have no idea what that was about. Maybe my healthier eating habits that have developed as part of all this? Maybe a subconscious Pepsi ad?)
So, I don’t know what my next dreams will be like in terms of subconscious gender self-perception, but I do know that when I woke up today, I felt even better than I did when I usually wake up (nowadays). (I used to wake up feeling groggy and exhausted no matter what.) Knowing that the Jason construct was starting to unravel at that level created a very happy feeling in me.
I told my friend, and then tried to do my morning stretch routine while cats tried to lie down on me over and over. All smiles.
Prior to the epiphany, I had spent my entire life (or at least life after the start of puberty, before which I remember virtually nothing) hating myself, or at best, not liking myself. My lows were crippling depressive states where I could barely get out of bed. My highs were a sort of bittersweet melancholy that approached true happiness, but never quite got there.
After the epiphany, everything basically inverted, like the upside-down castle areas in Symphony of the Night. There was some crossover, but the old highs became the new lows, and everything went up from there. The first time I experienced sadness after the epiphany was about a week or so along, and instead of being an event that sent me spiraling into a depressive state for a day or two, as minor things like that used to do, it was a melancholy state, not even a truly sad state, that faded away after about an hour, maybe two.
Coming through that was enormously positive, as it had been my first real test of my true capacity to experience emotions that are commonly perceived as negative, but not let them experience me, so to speak. I remained my true self throughout, and experienced a range of emotion, after spending years experiencing no real emotion at all.
The sad state was triggered by a sense of feeling not very feminine, after having felt extremely feminine during the preceding week or so. As the sadness crept up on me, I considered it from the new perspective of liking who I was, and loving and caring about myself. I supposed that having lived as male for roughly thirty years, it seemed unreasonable to expect that that persona, which I now call “the Jason construct,” would just disintegrate completely and immediately. Recalling the disastrous US move of forcibly disbanding Iraqi military and police after invasion, I thought that simply willing long-time structures into nothingness does not typically result in positive things, and so it wasn’t abnormal or bad to feel as I was feeling.
I concluded that it was okay to be a little disappointed that I was not instantly and completely changed, and that it was also natural and normal to feel some back-and-forth tug as the Jason construct began coming apart, when his sole purpose upon creation was to keep Sera, the real me, safe; like many other childhood psychological defense constructs, he just overstayed his welcome long past the point of usefulness. And upon realizing that, the sadness peaked and began to recede, and it was gone shortly thereafter.
Not long after that, I was reading some articles by a doctor who has dealt with many patients going through gender transition. He wrote:
When our gender Self Map does not match our Physical Gender (genitals), along with our society providing no niche or role (although most other societies do) for this varied gender expression, a conflict usually develops. Although gender folk’s combination of the five gender factors is just as natural as any other, it is not perceived as “normal” (what you are supposed to be or do) in our society.
Because a child’s greatest desire is to be normal (like everybody else), they create an artificial self which meets this goal. They are often so successful at this that they not only fool everyone else but themselves as well — at least part of the time, in some way.
I have gradually come to the conclusion that for most physically male gender folk, the male persona is an artificial construction produced by the early adolescent individual (ages 12 to 15) in order to fit in and be like everybody else…
Once created, physically male gender folk live in this role — a 3-D personality with its own goals, likes and dislikes, values, hobbies, etc. Although indistinguishable from the “real thing,” it isn’t themselves. It is an artificial creation for them to be able to fit in.
(Source, emphasis added.)
I was overjoyed. I had come to essentially the same conclusion (though less eloquent and specific) on my own. It was a very affirming thing, a validation of many aspects of who I was, all at once. Female, self-loving, intelligent, human. I had previously only been one of those.
One of the things I then wondered was when (or even if) and how my dreams would shift. Although I had had this conscious breakthrough realizing my actual gender and recognizing who I really was — which was, in theory, an unearthing of my natural subconscious — in my dreams, I continued to exist as my male self, as some expression of the Jason construct.
I thought of a number of possibilities; maybe I would alternate genders in my dream as different sequences came and went, for example. Ultimately, I just let it all go because whatever would happen would happen, and there was nothing to be gained by stressing out over it. (This was also something I could not really do before.) But last night, a little over three weeks after the epiphany, the first dream change happened.
I was wholly female in all dream sequences that I could remember upon waking. It had been a sort of media-before-bed-driven thing, with shades of Orange is the New Black (which I’ve never watched, but have seen gifsets of on my tumblr, which I browsed before bed), and League of Legends (which I played a bit not long before bed). I was in some sort of women’s prison, there were classes that were taught by people possessed of a vast stupidity (as one might expect), and at some point, I was teaming up with someone else to have some kind of League-style battle with another duo, in which I took on the role of Talon, but a female version of him. Naturally, I was kicking a lot of ass, but I was also doing so while (or maybe by) shaking out cans of Coca-cola on my enemies, in addition to doing all of Talon’s actual moves. (I have no idea what that was about. Maybe my healthier eating habits that have developed as part of all this? Maybe a subconscious Pepsi ad?)
So, I don’t know what my next dreams will be like in terms of subconscious gender self-perception, but I do know that when I woke up today, I felt even better than I did when I usually wake up (nowadays). (I used to wake up feeling groggy and exhausted no matter what.) Knowing that the Jason construct was starting to unravel at that level created a very happy feeling in me.
I told my friend, and then tried to do my morning stretch routine while cats tried to lie down on me over and over. All smiles.
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