I am struggling to find the right words to describe my gender dilemma, especially to people who have no experience with the subject. The closest i can come is that its like Dorothy is pushing from the inside, wanting to be out, and being blocked by my physical body, so there is this constant pressure and pain. Any one have any ideas?
I have been thinking about the idea of "passing". for me, its rather simple. If i can get and hold a job as Dorothy, if i can get groceries or window shop without fearing that i will be beat up, and to be able to use the ladies room without somebody calling the cops, then i will be passing. And frankly, the first one and the last one are out of my reach, at least for now.
Well, i was looking at my account the other day, and noticed I had passed the 1 year anniversary of being a member here. However, at the end of January, it will be one year since i published "The saga of E-Girl". A lot has changed for me since then, much of it for the good. I have (hopefully) improved as a writer, I have made some wonderful friends, Wand I have made serious progress in dealing with my rape, as well as my gender status. Who knows what the next year will bring? Not me, that's for sure. I would never have predicted what has happened this one. Happy new year, everybody.
Well, it looks like things at work are headed for the crapper in a hurry. As of next week, I will be lucky to get one day a week. I am feeling a little hurt by this, as you can imagine. Thanks to my commitments to my daughter, i may have great trouble finding another job, and without my income, and especially since my mom's job is also insecure, we may end up having to make some hard choices about where we live, and what we can do without. The worst part is, i felt like i had finally found a job i could maybe transition at, only to have it pulled out from under me. Sigh.
Authors note: because it has been a while since I posted the last episode, and before I hand things over to Our Lady of Perpetual Ego, I feel I should point out something about this adventure. This is NOT an objective account. It is seen through our heroine's eyes, and she has a certain.... bias, that must be taken into account when reading, and it is wise to take what she says with a large truck full of salt. If you have read the first two episodes, you are probably saying something like “Duh!” but I thought I should pass on the warning Enjoy!
Well, as it turned out, i didn't lose my stuff. Thanks to my friend, who is the bestest techie ever, I am back in business, and she even got my stories back. expect more silliness from "The Lucky One" soon!
Child : “Mom! Mom! I had the most horrible dream!
Everything was.... different! My room, my clothes, even my body! And....and I was stuck like that for like, the rest of my life!
Mother: It was just a dream honey. You are safe, and everything is back to normal, right?
Child: I guess, but why in heaven would I dream of having to live life as a BOY?
Excerpt from a Lost Pilot for Star Trek:
well, last night my computer crashed, and i have now lost everything i have ever written. for the stories that are here, that is at least recoverable, but i will have to start over all the ones i was working on, as i had no back up. It hurts like crazy, but its just one more bump along the road, right?
Well, Christmas turned out ok. My daughter and i made a gingerbread train, she opened every present in the world, and generally turned my house upside down (but in a good way), and then the ex came over and we had a civilized Christmas dinner. All in all, a good Christmas. I hope all of you had good ones as well.
Author's note: in this little story there is the brief recollection of a suicide attempt. But as you will be able to tell, it works out okay. I hope you like it. As always, comments are appreciated.
A Safe Place
Tina looked at herself in her wedding gown, and tried to hide her nervousness. She could hear the voices from her past, calling her the names she heard so often as a child.
Well, I would like to take a break from my regularly scheduled whining and remember all the gifts i have been given this Christmas. These are in no particular order, but here goes:
1: my home. In a time when far too many have none, i have a safe, warm bed, a fridge full of food, lights, TV, internet, and i can dress how i please in it
2: My mom. Her acceptance of me as Dorothy has simply amazed me, and gives me such comfort when i am struggling.
3: My daughter. I love that bundle of energy more than i thought i could love anyone, and i know she feels the same about me.
well, the latest piece i produced was by far both the easiest and the hardest. The hardest, because it is NASTY. Despite having no sex, no violence, and no swear words, it is a very, very, hard read. I was a wreck this morning, cried until i could produce no more tears, and then went to work feeling like i was on the brink. Halfway though my shift, this piece started coming, and when i got home, i just had to write it out and exorcise my demons that way. And that's why it was also the easiest to write, it just flowed so fast, i had it done in under 2 hours.
Author's note: This piece is the most disturbing thing I have ever written. It might be the most disturbing piece on this site that doesn't have any hard language or violence. Please take care reading.
Over the last week or so, i have been struggling in various degrees with bouts of anger. It feels like when i havent wanted to curl up and cry i have wanted to shout or even hit something. A friend of mine has suggested that this might mean things are coming to a head inside me, and i will have to make a choice of letting Dorothy out, or losing it. And since the barriers to doing the former remain, I feel like i have been backed into a corner with no way out. The only place i feel human is online where i can just be me without those costs. Real life sucks.
"Depression is such a cruel punishment. There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern. Just the slow erosion of self, as insidious as any cancer. And like cancer, it is essentially a solitary experience. A room in hell with only your name on the door."
Well, today was one of those "mixed bag" days. First, the bad. I tore my pants to pieces working in the back, no fun. The good: my supervisor actually bought me a new pair, so that was nice. the frightening? Well, while trying to describe how i managed to destroy my pants, I found i could not come up with the words "screwdriver" and "furniture" for several minutes. For a person who depends on words as much as I do, that is very scary.
Well, I found out the girl at my daughter's daycare is taken, so that's a no go, I guess. The funny thing was how RELIEVED I was when i found that out. I had escaped having to take the next step and try and ask her out, which I was not sure I was capable of. I am also not sure where that leaves me for finding someone to love, however. There are a couple of possibilities from among my friends online, but in all honesty, I am uncertain how that kind of relationship works.
May the gods and goddesses of our people bless the readers, especially those I love.
My name was Abraxes, and I was a slave. Despite this, the gods blessed me beyond all measure, and I will die as a member of the nobility. For my children, and their children, I wish to record what happened, so they may know how that happened, and thank the gods and goddesses who brought such joy into my life. The account I must relate is strange, stranger than any other I have heard of, but I swear by all our gods and goddesses that it is the truth.
Well, I wanted to reassure everyone who has been worried about me that I am okay. I have had no repeat of "glitch" that made me feel like hurting myself. I do want to assure everyone that should i feel like that again, I will run, not walk to my nearest ER or call the support hot line A.S.A.P. As for my proscribing doctor, well, he is gone until the new year, but I will mention the episode to him when I see him.
Well, I managed to frighten myself at work yesterday. For those of you who are squeamish, you might consider not reading the rest of this entry
Well, as of yesterday, "Santa School" has become my most successful piece to date in terms of comments left, surpassing even "The Dead Kid". Fifteen people have taken the time and effort to say something publicly about it, and that is wonderful, and I wish to thank them, as well as everyone who left a kudo. Regardless of how it does in terms of the Christmas contest, it has been an uplifting experience for me. There is only one fly in the ointment so to speak, however. I showed it to my mom, and she said she found it sad.
I Saw Her Walking
I saw her walking down the street, and I stopped .
Clothes are tattered, old suitcase in her hand.
I approached, she flinched.
“You want to hurt me more? Reject me again?” She said.
“I came to say I'm sorry. Please come home.”
“Until you feel guilty again?”
“No. For the rest of our lives, if you are willing.”
We embrace, go home.
I had to do this.
Had to make it right.
And I will.
Because I need her.
Because the girl is me.
Jacob Burrows answered the ad for a mall Santa, and was surprised to discover that one had to actually attend a class before you were allowed to put on the red suit and beard. In fact, he was sent to a day long “Santa School”.
At the class, Jacob spent the day learning how best to act “jolly”, even when things were not going well. Things like when a kid pulls on your beard or pees on your pants.
I am fighting a serious temptation right now. To put it in simple terms, I want to give up, to surrender. I am not talking about killing myself, but just shut down again, like i did as a kid. I have even considered finding a dom/domme and just be a slave, so I dont have to think or feel anything again. I will resist it, but i could use help, and prayers
When you write, do you have a "map" on how the story will go? If you do, has something happened to make you change that, almost like the story had a mind of it's own? I have, it sometimes it makes me wonder if i have my stories, or if they have me.....
I would like to talk about my last two pieces together, because the one led to the other. I started working on "tears of the phoenix" because I was struggling with flashes of attraction toward men, and it was scaring me. As I had jean say, I felt like i was losing the last part of my male self, and i didnt want to. This struggle formed the first half of the story. At the same time, I was struggling with grief over Misty's "Out of the Ashes". I really hurt when Dolores died, and i wanted to say something about how her death affected me.
Author's note This is as true a version of my abuse as I can produce. I have removed some of what happened to me so it was readable, but it is still going to be tough for some people. Please consider your own state of mind before reading, as it may trigger.
I am 9 years old
I was watching "Smallville" the other day, and it got me wondering about the history of the ret-con universe. On the show, the JSA operated in secret until they were driven completely underground. I wonder, do we have any ideas weather or not there might have been meta-gene activations before the current crop? Maybe some historical/mythological characters were early metas. And maybe, just maybe some of them are still around.... something to think about, yes?
My gender journey has reached an interesting point. Sometimes, I am in such pain i dont know how to function. But then, there are days like now. the pain level is less, but more steady, like Chinese water torture. I am not sure exactly what I can do about it. I have done all i can right now, or at least thats what it feels like.
For Misty, for making me cry
The Tears of the Phoenix (A Ret-Con Interlude)
On the satellite known by some as the Moon, there is a cliff. Around it, there is only silence, and cold. This cliff has sat undisturbed for thousands and thousands of years - until today. The first thing an observer would have seen was a new light in the sky, bright and shining and growing brighter as it drew near.
I have something that I would like to be able to share, but I am leery of actually sharing it since it might pain some others here. Basically, I had a flashback last night, and instead of being just a victim, i thought about writing it down. The result is a nearly full description of one of the last times i was assaulted. Trouble is, too many people here have had rapes happen to them, and i have no desire to bring those memories back for them unless they can handle them. Any ideas?
Well, apparently, my last piece was a dud. As the saying goes, even Babe Ruth struck out more times than he hit home runs, and i am most definitely NOT the Babe Ruth of writing. But the experiance has taught me a lesson. I am a pretty needy girl when it comes to my work. I thrive on praise, and wither without it. But i think i need to change that if i am going to keep writing. Still, I hope at least some of the time i hit a "home run"....
A few days ago, I had causally mentioned to my mom that next time i had some cash, I wanted to look for a ladies coat. To my surprise and delight, today she took me shopping. Even though i went in male clothes, it felt like a genuine mother-daughter shopping trip. We found a nice coat that fit me, and I feel much better for it. Do I have the best mom, or what?
Looking at the responses I got from my last entry, I feel I need to explain a bit about my faith. When I first became a Christian, I had no real teachers in the faith. I got a bible, and read it from cover to cover several times. Some things I understood, some I did not, but I had no one to ask. Since I was a "Christ"-ian, I figured I should read what Christ said and use that as my guide. Unfortunately, there was nothing that really covered the area of my tg, at least in the new testament.
I went to an online chat (IMVU, if you care to know the name) and decided to visit a christian room and get some prayer support. Unfortunately, one of the people there noticed my avatar was wearing a TG symbol, and asked me about it. I tried to explain my history, how I felt. Her response was to tell me i needed deliverance from a demon. I told her how i had prayed about this since i became a christian, prayed, begged, cried. How i even tried to kill myself, and even asked God to kill me rather than let me offend Him. How i finally reached the point where i had to accept what I am.
I would like to tell you guys and gals about my character "Yaddie". Yaddie came about because of one of those moments i get, where i think i get a glimpse of the future, without being able to understand what i have seen. I came up with yaddie at about 6 or 7 years old. I found a tennis ball with a rip in it, making it look like it had a mouth, and being the sort of kid i was, i promptly took a marker on it and drew eyes on it and gave it a name - Yaddie. How was that a glimpse of the future?
When I was just a young child,
you took me by the hand
You said “welcome to the family
It is a rock on which you can stand
No matter where you go
And no matter what you do
You can always be sure
We will be there for you”
But when I came out as transgender
You rejected your own kin
You said don’t darken your door
As long as I continue in such “sin”
On our wedding day my dear
We both had taken vows
To love and honour all our lives
Be as close as God allows
I am looking for a story, but i don't have much to help the search. It was a tg version of some stories of Jesus, including one that redid the story of the woman at the well. any ideas?
Author's note. This isn't exactly a Christmas story. It is a story that takes place at Christmas, and that's different.
It was inspection time in Hell again. Once a year, on the anniversary of the beginning of that terrible period called the Incarnation, an angel came down to the dark pit and observed.
At first, this had rankled Satan. He felt like it was rubbing his face in it. But after a while, he realized it was an opportunity to show off his successes, and it seemed like there were more of those every year.
When I first started this journal, the only real rule I set for myself was that I was going to be as honest as I possibly could, and I think i am succeeding.
Mostly, it really hasnt been much of a struggle, other than the difficulty of finding the best words.
I have talked about good times, bad times, and all the times in between, and most of the time, I have felt no hesitation.
Indeed, most of the time, i have been anxious to share.
But today, I find myself struggling to write this.
I want to just babble on about my writing, or whatever.
I just had to give an update here: I have come out to my boss at work. I have talked about my assault, and was giving her an update, and she asked me (making sure to let me know that i had the right to say it was none of her business), if i was gay, and that gave me the opening to tell her about my trans status. She was fairly nonplussed and gave me some indication that if the day came that i wanted to be working as Dorothy FT, she would do what she could to help. (unofficially) It is a big weight off my shoulders.
I may have mentioned before, I am not a fun person to sleep with. Between night terrors, snoring, and the simple fact i dont sit still, even when i am dreaming. But last night was a topper. I remember having a dream of going downstairs, picking up a pile of presents, and returning to my room. Along the way i had turned off my alarm. Once the dream was over, i woke, and it had felt so real i actually got up to check if i had brought stuff up. I hadnt, but I had turned off my alarm, and there were signs i really had left my bed while asleep. It's a little frightening, to be honest. Ah, well.
For those of you who are interested in such things, i would like to share with you how "No Son of Mine" came about. It started with the old Genesis song of the same name. (you can read the lyrics at: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/g/genesis/no_son_of_mine.html) Because i could truly identify with the character in the song, it was a moving piece for me from the first time I heard it. It ends pretty darkly, and at some level that bothered me. I wanted some hope, some possibility of a reconciliation. Then i saw the "loophole".
Had another series of flashbacks yesterday, and thank God for the friends who chatted with me online as i worked my way through it. I am finding all kinds of ironies in my struggles, both with the assaults and with my gender. For example, I realized that i owed to my abusive step-father a thanks, because by forcing us to move when he did, I was able to escape from the monster who was using me. And despite his other flaws, he never touched me sexually, which gave me some opportunity to heal enough to function.
Former boy, now transformed, walks to where her father still lives.
Rings the bell, fights the urge to run away.
Old man answers, still rigid and unbending despite the years.
He looks at who it is, his face a stone mask.
“I told you when you left, you are no son of mine.”
Her heart breaks.
His expression softens.
“But, if you can forgive an old fool, I would be honored if you let me call you my daughter.”
Well, with all the stuff i have been going through lately, I honestly don't know when or even if i will be able to get back to "the lucky one". It requires a goofy, silly mood, and right now i just dont have it. Frankly, I am having trouble having the concentration needed to do any writing at all, so i may go a while before i have new stuff to post. I will still comment and give kudos, still support all of you when i can, but the writing may have to wait until i am more stable. Hugs to all.
Well, it has been an interesting day, to say the least. I am still fighting a bit of a cold, so I chose to stay home and not go to church today. I went on a chat site to talk to some friends about my depression, and while we were talking, I started having a pretty strong flashback. One of my friends there has my phone number, so she called me, and listened while i cried to the point i could barely talk. Feeling slightly better after i unloaded, i fidgeted, played video games, and made lunch. Then, some remnant of my flashback nagged at me, and i started to write.
A Second Letter from a (Formerly) Broken Toy
To the person who abused me:
I wrote you a letter some time ago, and today I felt compelled to write another.
You see, things have changed for me. I have recovered most of the memories I suppressed and I understand better what happened to me while I was in your “care.”
The worst part of my downs is the horrible feeling of hopelessness i suffer with. It is hard to even conceive of a good outcome, much less make positive plans. I guess i thought that the anti-depressants would be a magic fix, and not surprisingly, they are not. I am still stuck in male form, still without even hope that i will be able to change that, and wishing that it all would just end. But I am needed, by my daughter, my mother, even my ex, and taking my life would be utterly selfish. I appreciate all the support i am getting here, and I will find a way to hold on.
Well, it seems like i am fighting the first major depression since i started taking my medication. It started with a sleepless night last night, and pretty much has gone downhill from there. hopefully, i can ride it out, and find a way to hold on until it ends.