Sunday was two months since surgery. I finally dragged myself back into the gym yesterday, two weeks after I had clearance to. In my defense, I was sick. Tonsillitis. Only second time I've had it. Last time was in Toronto in fucking winter. This one wasn't as bad.
Trainer Mate was required to do a bit of the dragging me back too. Once I started warming up I was feeling keen. It felt good to get back into the rhythm of our sessions. And I had an awesome one, physically and emotionally. Warmed up, did some light squats to check form after such a long absence. Then lay down to do bench press. Previously I would lower the bar onto the breast tissue over my ribs. But this time, without remembering, I lowered the bar and expected the same sensation. And then the thump of the bar against my chest bounced me back into reality. I was grinning like a maniac, while heaving enormous iron weights above my vital organs, it was such a cool moment. I've never felt that before. I did the rest of the set loving life. I've lost a lot of strength since surgery. But got to start somewhere.
Nice reminder of what is to come if I keep good habits. I'm beginning to understand that keeping myself in line is my responsibility entirely. I'm the one who would benefit most out of progress. I'm the one who can control progress. I'm the one who wants this most. So who am I waiting for? A long time ago I said "I'm not gonna kill myself, I'm gonna rebuild myself". Well, the concrete slab is down. Time to get to work.
I read back on my previous entries to see how far I needed to fill you all in. I feels like I’m reading the diary of someone else, remembering how I felt in those circumstances. Decipline has never been a strength of mine. I put off writing here. I barely wrote in my personal diary. Many entries that run out of focus effort after a paragraph or two.
Catch up time. I’ll concentrate on the transition stuff because this is a transition blog.
Despite a lot of hard times, I’m happy. I’m enjoying the ability to live my life as myself, with less and less hesitation every time. There are plenty of situations and circumstances that I’m not happy about, sure. But the difference is that I’m no longer disappointed with myself as a default setting. And that’s a big victory.
It's been a while between posts, I know. I've been writing, but writing about stuff I wouldn't put on the internet. I've been keeping a diary on and off for the last year or so, it's been really helpful. Handwritten, which helps keep me from editing it. I have a tenancy to be anxious about what I write and edit before I ever really get anywhere. Hand writen diaries are one solution. Another is typing a document while the screen is turned off. May seem a bit extreme, but it helps the flow of words.
I've struggled to find the motivation to post here. Not because I don't want to share all the awesome changes I'm noticing week to week. More because writing feels a lot more formal, and a lot more public, and I really prefer to just have that conversation, not bombard with information. I've gotten to the point where I feel like the only interesting thing I have to talk about is the changes I've uncovered. Maybe that's just paranoia.
But hey, it's my blog about transitioning so I'm gonna talk some transitioning.
So it's been a month on testosterone. Or at least it will be tomorrow. The changes are coming, and becoming more obvious by the day.
My strength is growing. I can now do real actual push ups on the floor. I can feel my arms and shoulders changing. Even my legs, my calves feel solid and sturdy and strong. It's amazing. What really stands out is my abdominal muscles. Sure, they're hidden under all my belly chub, but I can FEEL them. I can turn them on and tense them at will, I feel more in control of my body than ever before. My face is changing a little too. The acne has hit dramatically. IT'S SO DIFFICULT TO NOT POP ALL THE PIMPLES. The lock screen on my phone is now Emperor Kuzko telling me "noooooo touchy." (Also if you haven't seen The Emperors New Groove, you should, it's the best). Tiny tiny dark hairs are coming up on my upper lip. Hopefully soon they'll be visible from further than 5cm from my face!
The way I speak and act has changed too. I've been speaking up more, where I'd usually have remained silent. I told a friend off the other day, everyone else around was a bit stunned. Last night I was talking to J while she was messing around on her phone, and I actually stopped and checked if she was listening. I'm speaking up. It's the confidence and the follow through to actually say the things I think. I just have to make sure I'm not an asshole about it. The way I play with the dog is different, much more about play fighting and wrestling and bitey face.
I feel like a teenage boy. I'm hungry, horny, energetic, exhausted, impatient and excited all the time. ALL THE TIME. I've been so restless, like I'm jumping out of my skin.
Few weeks between updates. I've had a kind of laziness about updating since I've started T (a grand total of 13 days ago) . Procrastination mixed with an uncertainty of what to say. I've started things. Next big era.
I guess there's a lot to say, and not much. The changes are coming. It's like watching grass grow. If grass was moody and sometimes confused and feeling vulnerable. Which grass maybe sometimes is. Studying the changes from a first hand perspective is kind of exhilarating and kind of dull. I'm looking so hard I think I imagine things. Then J points out something I thought I had seen myself. Everything that comes up, every physical or emotional twinge is questioned. "Is this the T, or is this something else?" "Is this something I can control, or something I have to wait out?"
I've been moody. Or just feeling a bit off kilter, like I'm not really sure how to react to situations like I usually would. Like my mouth forms words and responses before my mind has decided how it's going to respond. There's not a lot of communication between the Oval Office and the Press Secretary right now. A lot of mixed messages and bad calls. J has been very patient. We have a hell of a lot of change in our lives separately and in our life together. She calls me out when I don't realise I'm doing something shitty, and we talk about it and move on. Thank christ we know how to communicate with each other. Thank christ we took the time to learn it.
There have started to be small physical changes. I can feel things moving and growing and changing day to day. I'm excited by what lifting can achieve. I should really go and do some exercise in the garage, I'm trying to form good habits. So maybe I'll cut this short.
One thing that isn't really transition related, but I'm going to write it up anyway. Had christmas dinner with my immediate family last night. It was a really great night, a good way to wrap up a dramatic year. I can't think of another year where more has changed in our family. But we were still all here and mostly in one piece. And able to make each other laugh and, in the best way, cry. And give each other ridiculous and thoughtful and loving gifts. I am so very aware of how lucky I am to have them.
Much love to everyone, hope your Christmas day is as excellent as my Christmas Eve Eve was.
Today is the big day. T day. It's 3.16am and I'm wide awake, haven't slept a wink. I was so close to passing out earlier this evening, and now I'm buzzed as fuck because I've let myself think myself up a storm. I can't stop thinking about the future. About what tomorrow could start. What will begin, and what is entirely in my control to create.
As of yesterday, Medicare officially knows me as male. While this is more for practical reasons (testosterone can only be prescribed to males under Medicare, which makes sense) but internally this feels huge. The government, or at least a part of it, knows I'm a man. It feels so official. Just with a quick change on my profile, I've gone from an F to an M. And it was so easy to change! I just went to the Medicare office and handed over my card and the letter from my psychiatrist approving me for hormone treatment and officially diagnosing me with gender dysphoria. Bam. If only it were all that easy.