Trish-Marie's Transition Diary, Part 4.

Monday, August 6th, 2001

I am no closer to finding a job... Gotta keep stuff going.
I went to my weekly appointment with my son's therapist today and had to tell her that it would be my last, until I can find a job. It is something that I really dislike to see interrupted, but I have no choice at this time. My son and his mother will continue to go and so this is good. In a way, I will still be working with her as she is open to any input that I may have with regard to what is going on between my son, his mom and I. This is very good. I just won't bee seeing her. I didn't always leave the appointments feelin like a million bucks, but hey, she always made me think. I am going to miss her. Too bad I couldn't have known her as in, say like, just a friend in my life. Maybe before too long, I can start seeing her again. One can hope.
Along the same lines (money, or lack thereof), I just refilled my Premarin for 50 days and I have plenty of spiro left. I am good on hormones for a while. I am thankin Angel every day for my electrologist. She is going to work with me so that I do not have to stop if I run out of money, and no, she is not trying to "soak" me or get me in debt and she does not see me as a "pot of gold". Our relationship goes a little beyond that. My electrologist is a special person, like so many in my life that I am totally fortunate to know. Thanks Angel. Speaking of fortunate, my therapist (not my son's) will be back from vacation soon and I have my first appointment in weeks with him next Wednesday. I can't afford it, but it is so important and I am so lucky to be seeing him, that ferget it, no WAY that I would miss that. So, I guess the "Trish Bottom Line" for all of this is even though it is very stressful, transition will carry on. It has to anyway..... You know.
On the way positive side, my electro is goin purdy darn well I think. I reached 90 hours last Friday and I am closer to that 100 hour mark. Know what that means don't ya? I am reaching the point where I can have the nerve to say, "I am bout halfway there, on my face anyway." I am to the point where I am only shaving (oh ick) two times a week. I go on Tuesdays and Fridays lately, so I can only shave on Tuesday night and Saturday afternoon or she won't be able to get much. Know what that means don't ya? Yeah, I can go out for at least 24 hours without shaving, MINIMAL makeup and still be lookin GREAT, Um... I mean, as great as I can look... Can't play the "ego cocky game", that always gets me into trouble. But you should have seen how little foundation I used last time. Like four drops of CoverGirl© Liquid Makeup. SO cool. Yeah..... You know how great that is? I used to use just gobs and gobs trying to cover whiskers (oh ick). I would always travel with about fifteen bottles of the stuff. Now? I don't need hardly any, I mean, I need very little. Grammer Trish, grammer. Yeah right... Like I was saying, I don't need hardly any foundation. My goal is to be able to use teensy amounts of makeup, and I am getting there. Every time I do my makeup, I am like, "Thank you SO much my electro person, and thank you SO much my cosmetic surgeon." Someday, when I get undressed for bed each night, hopefully I will be able to say, "Thank you SO much Dr. SoAndSo." (Hoping, and yes, dare I say it? Dreaming.)
Am I "fixated" on "passing"? I don't think so. What I am "fixated" on is trying to look like who I feel I am, and just as important if not more important sometimes, I am trying to make my future life in this world as easy for myself as I can. Sure, I want to be considered attractive, but the bottom line is, it is gonna be a whole lot more difficult getting along if you are "read" everyplace you go. Now, I don't mean to sound rude here, but try this experiment. Take your average "doesn't know anything about transsexuals" laymen and sit them down to watch a program on transsexuals that consists of a group of women in a support group. In this program the woman will be of the "barely if at all" passes type. Note your laymen's reaction. Chances are they will mutter something about "men in dresses". Use your imagination, you have heard it all before. Now, take another average "doesn't know anything about transsexuals" laymen and let them watch a program of the same format, only this time the group of transsexual women are all like totally passable, not drop dead bombshell gorgeous (you have seen em), but totally passable. Note the reaction of your laymen now. It will be more along the lines of, "Wow, I cannot believe they are not genetic women!" Then there will be questions, opens it up. See what I mean? The general public are much more open to you if you are able to kinda, pass. I have seen it happen. Hey, I didn't say I think it is a good thing. Now, am I "fixated" on passing for negative reasons? I don't think so. This is just a hair of the way I feel about what I am doing to myself psychically, so don't go readin too much into this entry...K? Okay Trish, I won't... Thanks.
I have been looking at a lot of folks in their cars as I am driving, from the front, side and rearview. Usually at first glance you say to yourself without even thinking, that's a guy, or that's a girl. Now, why is this? Well, I have learned that there are so many little signs you read without even knowing it. Women's watch? Men's watch? Hair? Forearm hair? Beard shadow? Bone structure? Mannerisms? Nails? And stuff I can't even think of. You don't even know you are doin this. Try it. What gives the appearance of a female vs. male. It is very interesting. Now then, I have noticed that the more my face is cleared via electro, guys are checkin me out when I am "en drab". I mean, checkin me out. Why is this? Could it be that the texture and color on my face is changing? A different "less male" appearance? Maybe.... (please Angel)... All I know is, I likes it.
I am smoking way too much.
HRT Progress Update:
Erection count: Zero.
Breast growth/change: Who knows.
Hips and Thighs: Ha.
Hair: This is the only one that I know I have been lucky with. I only have to shave my legs once a week and the hair on my arms is way lighter in growth.
Emotions: Terribly wonderful, or wonderfully terrible.
Trish Bottom Line: To stop HRT would mean to stop, everything. You know.

I love my nose. Now, I want something else. Guess.
But, you gotta remember the prioities.

Wednesday, August 15th, 2001

My therapist went on vacation. He came back. I went to see him today.
It was the first time in 7 weeks that I had been. I thought it was going to be real real real real real good. It was however, real real real bad. (Note: Not so many real's in the bad part as in the good part. This says that the good over rode the bad. Not good as in, "I feel so much better", but good as in, "I am so thankful to be going to therapy.") We talked about the sorest spots in my life right now and my therapist would not let them go. Yeah, he is doin his job, and I am glad. But that doesn't mean I like it. No job. Get a job. Drab. Family. Trish. It was about and hour and forty five minutes and I really could not have done (taken) much more. It totally sucked and I am completely spent emotionally. I feel sick to my stomach and my body is wasted. If I have one request that can be granted, let it be this: Please do not screw with my emotions for the rest of the day and night. Oh yeah, being a person these days can be really tough. Want some icing on the cake? Throw in transsexual.
I was an hour late for electro yesterday. It was because I was about 3 miles behind a fatal car accident that involved semi's, cars and huge explosions with a billow of smoke that could be seen for 15 miles. I was so close to that one that I saw the smoke as it just started to rise. I prayed for the deceased woman last night. I didn't know the person was a woman until today though, as the body was burned so badly. That is all they know this morning, is that she was a woman. Why am I writing this here. Probly because I am jealous. Not of the way she died, but that it is over for her. I am always a little jealous when somebody dies, and they are past the hard part and the pain. I always think to myself, "Well now they know. They are there."
I have been praying every night for Samantha who has been AWOL as of late due to a date with sexual reassignment surgery.
I haven't been writing mail as I should. I cannot get my head in the right place to do it. This tends to isolate me. I do not want to write mails to friends old or new that read like my dairy, that is to say, depressing. I don't like to write "la dee da.. tra la la.." letters. I like to have my mail mean something if it can. If I can't put my best effort into it, I don't do it. Maybe good, maybe bad, but it doesn't keep the communication goin, that is fer sure.
I went to a meeting/dinner this past Saturday night and it was very good for my spirits, at least temporarily. I also continue to go to transsexual support group meetings. These meetings are wonderful, as are the people that attend. I had always thought that all support meetings were supposed to be depressing. These meetings are nine out of ten times anything but depressing. There is always at least one guy at the meetings, not just women, a very cool guy too. I am sure it helps me far more for him to be there then it does for him to be around a bunch of women goin on so... ha.... I love this guy. He is my friend.
My breasts are still sore bout everyday. I really hope that means they are doin somethin. Trish's famous erection count: 1(one). This one occurring as I was half awake in the morning if I remember right. I guess one erection every once in a while is better then Mr. Ugly ruling my life and constantly reminding me that he(it) is there. And like the song says, "One is a lonely number..." So, it is not too too terrible............. I guess. No physical changes to speak of.................. or is there? I am not committing... Angel will take em away to keep me humble.
My last line (in bold) for this diary entry is something I want to sing one day. That must mean that Trish still has hope.

And I think it's gonna be all right,
Yeah, the worst is over now,
The mornin' sun is shinin' like a red rubber ball.
The Cyrkle - 1966

Thursday, August 16th, 2001

Okay, I just saw Samantha.
I didn't talk to her, but she was talkin to others, so I guess her SRS went well. Thank you Angel.

Brass ring.

Sunday, August 19th, 2001

Another entry so soon?
Yeah, I don't usually put em so close together, but I have a few thoughts.
Yesterday was my Mom's birthday and I didn't get to talk to her as she was out of town. I have the phone number, but I didn't want to take her away from any activities she might be involved with. So, I missed that and I hope that she doesn't think I forgot. I made her a card and sent it, but she probly won't get it until tomorrow. Mom plays a big part in my transition and I love her so much.
My front tooth is still missing. This is still a major freakout for me. There is just about not a minute that goes by that I do not think about it. "Comin up! One new nose! Goin away! One front tooth!" It seems there is always a tit for tat in my life. Just like I have said in the past, one good thing happens, and something bad happens. And people think that can't be possible. It is just the way. I must have my tooth fixed when: A - I get a job; B - I can put aside my ton's huge fear of the dentist.
I met a friend at a shopping mall for Cokes yesterday. He is an FTM and I really like him a lot. He is the guy that I met at the TS support group I attend. We have so much in common. I am very excited for him as he has really just not long ago started to follow his path in transition. We talked for probly about three hours and I would have stayed longer if I could, but you know how it is when you have a kid waiting at home. Anyway, I really enjoyed myself and I am so looking forward to growing along with him. He is a stud and so excited about life now. I am very excited for him also. Good for the spirits, yeah.
Lately, when I have the courage to face myself to face myself, to be completely and totally honest with me, I have to admit that I am extremely lonely. But the opposite of lonely is to not be alone and that has it's requirements that I am unable to live up to. I quickly move on.
Anyway, I am gonna start adding a little thing at the end of each of my Transition Diary entries. This, so that one does not have to search to find basic information regarding my transition (Oh, are you transitioning Trish? Damn, I am trying.). There will be parts regarding sex and the physical. Again, transsexualism and transitioning is not about sex, but some parts of sexuality come into play. I dunno, you know what I mean. Hormones effect (I never know if it is Affect or Effect) your sexual desire, your physical "abilities", etc. It is all part of it, so I am including things that may tend to make one think that I am into sex. I am not. I may modify the list or discontinue it altogether after I see what works or if it works at all.

..and here are the stats that you will see at the end of each entry:.

Trish's Current HRT Statistics:
Hormone Regiment: 5 mgs Premarin and 150 mgs spironolactone once a day.
Emotions: Semi highs and low lows almost from minute to minute. I can still put on a smily face around others without much problem. I think that those who read my diary and those that know me in RT must think I am 2 different people.
Breasts: When I know, you will know. I feel good about them one minute and the next, it is like, darn. But whatever I imagine to be there, I cherish.
Hips, Thighs and Bottom: LOL
Body Hair: Shaving legs once a week or a little less. Still shaving forearms so I am not sure. Upper arm hair is hardly noticable anymore, no need to shave it.
Skin: I can't tell.
Erection Count: Zero (0) thank you.
Masturbation and Sexual Desire: Zero (0) - I have not masturbated I think since like March. I can't even really remember the last time. This is good. Sexual desire is about nonexistent but my craving for intimacy grows daily lately. Craving for touch, warmth and smells. Hold and be held. Sometimes, the craving is quite painful. I put it out of my mind.
Trish Bottom Line: Day by day.

Sunday, August 26th, 2001

I continue to alienate those around me....
..... mostly on the net. It is like saying, "Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck it all. I suppose you only hurt the ones you love. Naw, fuck that.

10:46 PM
I had the last straw with Angel tonight. An incident not worth going into. I told Angel to get the fuck out of my life. This is a big step for me. I am now without Angel. Oh, I can still feel her around, but I told her she is not in my fucking life anymore. She will go. Fuck you Angel. Do you see it in writing Angel? Fuck you.

No, I do not wish to hear about your SRS for the twentieth fuckin time. Why do you post-ops have to continually rub our noses in the SRS mud? I just don't wanna fuckin hear about it again.

Wednesday, August 29th, 2001

Therapy again today.
I promised myself, "Trish, self, today you are not gonna cry. You are going to be seen as a totally pathetic drama queen." Well, try as I might, I broke my promise. It was another gut wrencher. I don't know how many more of these I can take. My therapist sees me in a depression. Yes, I am in a deep depression. I have not seen the likes of this one in over 5 years. For every sentence my therapist stated, I had a "Yeah, but..." This is bad. But I see no way out. I kept thinking to myself during the session, "Trish, self, what are you even doing here if you aren't gonna work things out?" Well, to me, if I just go and sit there in silence for 90 minutes, I am gonna do it, if he let's me. Therapy is my last bastion of hope. The four basic elements of my transition are therapy, endo, electro and hormones. Not necessarily in that order. Should I lose even one of these..... My therapist and I both know that the number one thing, my best hope is to of course find a job. You have heard of claustrophobia, the fear of enclosed places. You have heard of agoraphobia, the fear of open places. Well, my problem is gettinajobindrabaphobia. Don't laugh. It is very real and it is destroying my hope. So far in my transition, I have been pretty darn strong (partly out of desperation) to do what needs to be done. These were all steps forward. Well, now it seems I have to be strong (partly out of desperation) to do what needs to be done, but to take huge steps backwards (I know.. A job will help me to eventually move forward again, but in how long?). Finding that drab job and getting back into the drab world. Gettinajobindrabaphobia is literally keeping me from doing this. "Oh Trish, just bite the fucking bullet and do it already." Why do you think I am freaking out? Because I am in pain. My brain is fighting me on this. Fuck it. You know how I feel and you think I am an idiot... "Trish, c'mon, I know you are not an idiot, but honey, we gotta do what we gotta do... Everybody does." I know. I am sick.
My next appointment is in 3 weeks instead of 2 due to money constraints. It keeps getting better.
Getting a job in drab presents problems. It means falling back into the world of the facade. Mannerisms and body language must be altered. You must be on guard with thoughts that might emerge from your mouth. The appropriate clothes must be worn in the appropriate fashion. In essence, you must go back to a lie, in a big way for the majority of your life. Now if you respect who you are, this is just plain unacceptable. Oh sure, it will pay for the 4 elements of transition, but it makes me physically sick along the way... What is better, being physically sick, or the long sleep. Time will tell. Trish cannot go back.
"Gee Trish, you have major problems. Why don't you grow up. Why don't you just find a job as Trish if that is all that is going to make you happy and shut the fuck up."
Notice how I didn't address the above question? I am getting tired of even thinkin about it.
I didn't go to my weekly TS support group last night for a couple of reasons. Believe me, they have to be good reasons for me to miss that meeting. One is, I am royally depressed and I did not want to go there and put the happy face on. I mostly always end up doing that around real time friends and service personnel such as at stores and such. I must of gotten that from my Mom, but last night I just didn't want to do it. Two is, I didn't feel like going there, getting into Trish's en femme "costume" for an hour and a half just to take the costume off and come home. "What's this Trish? En femme is a costume?!" Yeah, it is one I am totally comfortable in, it is the costume I need full time. I only use the word costume cause that is what it feels like now. I mean, is it normal to have to leave the house one way, go to your destination and put on your stupid "girl clothes", then take your girl clothes off to come home? God forbid anybody sees you wearing girls clothes. It is a nasty little habit. Or at least that is what doin all that makes it feel like. I am alone in these thoughts, but fuck it, I am alone anyway. I am no longer "thankful" to "get to be" Trish for an hour at a time. Like I said before, if I was genetic, if the genie in the bottle made me genetic tomorrow, screw the clothes. I am past the "gee it is so fun to play dress up" stage. Way past it. Again, if all that makes no sense to you or you think it is lame, that is okay. It makes sense to me and I don't think it is lame. I am not your typical transsexual (I am finding out) if I am even TS at all.
Someday, I will be welcome in my own home. I will come home to a place that is happy for me to be there. You see, there will not be anybody in it..... That is the way.
Trish didn't use to use curse words. It is with an element of sadness that the real world is creeping in.
So, my depression continues to get deeper and I don't see a way out. I go day to day, hour to hour. Who knows, maybe something will happen to change my attitude. This is pretty bad.
Like I said to a friend in chat, "If I keep going on like this, the hatred for me will be legendary."
I keep my diary going in the hopes that someday, somebody, maybe even me, will read it to know how good, and how bad my life was. This is not fun by any stretch of the imagination. If you will excuse me now, I need to go vomit.

Meets his little hussy with his ghost-town approach,
Her face is sans feature, but she wears a Dali broach,
Sweetly reminiscent, something mother used to bake,
Wrecked up and paralyzed, Diamond Dogs are sable-ized.
David Bowie

Trish's Current HRT Statistics:
Hormone Regiment: 5 mgs Premarin and 150 mgs spironolactone once a day.
Emotions: Low lows almost from minute to minute. I can still put on a smily face around others without much problem, but I don't want to. So I stay home.
Breasts: Still sore day to day.
Hips, Thighs and Bottom: LOL, again.
Body Hair: I am going from Sunday to Friday without shaving my face this week, in preparation for electro on Friday. This is slightly uncomfortable and is not good for the spirits. Not all that much hair, but enough to say: guy. Shaving legs once a week. Went for two weeks and it was very tolerable. Still shaving forearms so I am not sure. Upper arm hair is hardly noticeable anymore, no need to shave it.
Skin: I can't tell.
Erection Count: Zero (0) thank you.
Masturbation and Sexual Desire: Zero (0) Craving for touch, warmth and smells. Hold and be held. Sometimes, the craving is quite painful. I put it out of my mind. This grows ever stronger.
Trish Bottom Line: Minute by minute. I am tired. I wanna sleep though this.

Tuesday, September 4th, 2001

The Good:
My car passed smog today. This is a load off of my mind. Last year it cost me $800 to get it to pass. This is good, real good.

The Bad:
I keep asking myself why I am writing so much about the following. "Cause Trish, it is a part of hormone replacement therapy and it needs to be said." I guess.
I woke up again today with a "semi" erection. I hate those. When it happens, I put my mind in other places and it quickly goes away. Today was a little different. I went with it. I held it. Now, here is the encouraging part. It was small in my hand. It was a "semi" erection, but it seemed so much smaller. This was very cool. So, I measured. It was approximately 2 inches shorter then before starting HRT. Now, I took into account that this was a "semi" erection, so it was not totally accurate. I for the first time in months encouraged it to become as erect as it could be, but it wouldn't happen. This is good. I will (with an amount of displeasure) try again in the future. Anyway, it's good news because I hate Mr. Ugly. But where sexual reassignment surgery is concerned it may not be that good of a thing. They need all they can get to work with. Mixed emotions here cause I may never have SRS, but I want it gone as much as it can be gone in any way possible. I have thought about having an orchi. I have pretty much decided against it, at least for now. I have a few personal reasons that I will not write about because I don't wish to hurt or offend anybody who has had an orchi. If you are gonna get an orchi, you better darn well be planning SRS soon. I cannot do that, so, I... Nevermind, not good, ugly.

The Ugly:
My penis. I am sure it would come as a surprise to some in my life that I consider my penis the enemy. I never told anybody about it and I didn't really define it to myself totally, until a short time back, relatively speaking.. I myself didn't always think my penis was the enemy. It kinda came with realizing that, I didn't want to be with a woman's body, but I wanted to BE a woman's body. This is so hard to explain. How can something that has given me a certain amount of pleasure (albeit most of the time with myself) be the enemy (I will not go into all my failed sexual relationships here). I am not sure. Maybe the same way an ugly injury to your body itches during the healing progress.. You scratch it, and it is good. You sure as heck don't want the ugly injury there, but if it itches, you scratch it. Shoot, maybe I am full of crap. Maybe it is a sexual thing for me, wanting a vagina, and I just don't want to admit it. I don't think it is, but whatever. I want a vagina.
My thoughts are confused today, but I wanted to write. My overriding thought for the day is that perhaps I am not even transsexual after all. The only thing that matters to me is, I know what I want and need. And what I want and need is what I am trying to do. If that is not transsexualism, then whatever. But my effin heart needs it. On the other hand, maybe everybody else is wrong. Maybe I am the real deal.

I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.
I am becoming deathly afraid of the storm and you cannot see
how bad it really is for all the rain that is pounding on my window.
I need to talk to you.
I let the rain, my rain, stand between us.

Wednesday, September 12th, 2001

I am an asshole.
You see, there is something that I never write about here. This is because I didn't want to hurt anybody should they find it. But you know what? Screw that. I can't take it anymore.
The bottom line? My wife. We have been separated for at least 6 years divorce pending (good thing). We still live in the same house. The only reason I have not left is because I wanted to be around long enough for my son to be old enough to make some decisions for himself and because my "wife" will financially rape me when I leave. There is also a little "I am afraid to be alone" in there, but fuck that now. You see, my "wife" hates me. She supports transgenders, it is not TS related. She just hates me. Why? I must be an asshole. I have never ever been good enough for her. Just like I was never good enough for my father. I grew up with this crap. But then again, it is all about money for her and I have always taken care of much. Now, I am out of work. After paying the mortgage for 18 years straight, I can't make it this month and maybe for a few months. She not 15 minutes ago suggested that I move to my mom's house so she could rent out my room. This is what I get after 18 years of house payments. She came to my family with nothing and now will reap all that my mom and I have sown. So now it is this. I am an asshole. This has been going on for years and she has used everything in her power to make me feel like I am less then good enough. Sleep deprivation, verbal abuse when you don't know it is coming. ANYthing to keep me off balance. When I quit drinking it almost killed her to have nothing to hang over my head. You could almost hear the gears at work in her head trying to figure out what to do with me next. She had told me for years that I had better get help with my alcohol abuse. When I was finally admited to detox/rehab, she used the time to tell everybody that I was a real loser, to the point where my son would not even speak to me on the phone or even look at me the one time they came to visit me in the hospital. He was 8 years old and didn't have to know anything. She held me up to him, "Dad is a loser." Not "Dad is honestly trying to get help, dad is trying really hard", but "Dad is a fucking loser lazin around in the hospital." Well my dear, how many fuckin losers keep a job and pay for a home. Fuck you. It is only about money for you anyway. That is all you care about. Fuck me. I have not written about this for fear of hurting somebody, or if it was found, that my life at home would be even more of a hell. 24 hours a day. Mind games, head games. Torture. I am so worn down by it. I am so wanting to enjoy life without having to suffer for it.
...and you wonder why I want to be alone for life? I have been made to feel for 20 years that I am no good, like I don't deserve anything. For 20 years I have not been able to go out and have fun or enjoy myself without having to pay for it after in some way, like penance. Why in the Hell would I ever want to even take the slightest chance of this happening to me again. It is so messed up. There is only one person in my entire life that has ever made me feel like I was a person worth something. My Mom. "But Trish, mom's always tell you that you are the best." Yeah, I know, that doesn't help any.
I could write jillions of words here about how I have been treated for all these years by my "wife" and it would not scratch the surface. I have been tortured. If you think I am exaggerating, it is okay. You can't imagine it. So now I have written of it. Now you know another issue I deal with day to day. "Yeah, so what Trish, lot's of people live with this, day to day." Ferget you, I am not them. They will probly end up offing themselves too.
I keep asking myself, what did I do before birth to have my ego so constantly bruised to the point that there is nobody on earth that can tell me that I am worth anything, and I would believe them.
My father, the person that as a child I cherished and so looked up to. When I pictured God in my mind, I saw my father, for reals, God looked just like my dad. He gave me one compliment in my life when I was 24. That is it. If there were more, I sure can't remember them. I was never good enough. He never came out and said I was a loser, he just never said, "Good job, son." Fucker. Then after my dad left there was my mom's close male friend of 15 or so years, same thing. Fuckin loser you are Trish. Then the women in my life, all 2 of them. It always ended up, "You are not a man." Not, "You are not a man, you would make a good woman." Just, "You are not a man." The biggest "insult" they could lay on me.
I am passive. I have always been passive. I am the type of woman (If I even am a woman) that makes libbers sick. In my life, the women I have been with have picked me up. Then eventually, they expect me to be the aggressor, thee "man", like the person they were attracted to in the first place never even existed. It just leads to disaster. They "picked up" a man and neither they or I knew the extent of just how much I am not a man. I am not a fucking man and I am not an aggressive woman, or an it or whatever the hell I am ( Although my cussing as of late would tend to make you think I was a drunken sailor on leave, fuck it.).
When so many people think I am a loser, not deserving of anything, can they all be wrong? I am tired of living with this. This is why I need to be alone. I am really fucked in the head and I am scared of what I might have to do. I am not ready to do it yet and you are tired of hearing it. But damn, I am seeing no other way. I am afraid to kill myself. I really am afraid, but it is looking more and more like the only way. I keep trying to see a light at the end of the tunnel, but I can't. I keep thinkin of how to change my destiny, but I can't. I totally fucked up my life by marrying and marrying who I did and I fucked myself for a long time to come.

Okay, here it is. You have heard that people that threaten suicide are not going to carry it out. This is absolutely true. In my case my writing of suicide is neither a threat or a cry for help. As I have said many times, suicide is only an option. It is not a threat. You will not even know that I am going to do it, only that I have done it. It is not a cry for help. I know that there is nobody who can/will "kiss it better" and make Trish-Marie's boo boo go away. I am scared shitless of suicide and this is why I am still alive. Good thing? Maybe. When I kill myself, it will be unemotional, thought out and simple. Oh, I have plans, and I am gonna have one hell of a party with myself before I do it. I think of my son, I think of my Mom, but damnit, for once in my life, I am gonna totally think of me, with no guilt. Life goes on for those left behind. Hmmmm... Maybe I really am an asshole at that. Fuck it.
I am not now nor will I ever be good enough for anybody, not in the long run anyway.
I am eating Taco Bell® 7 nights a week. Two 69� burritos and a taco. That is about all I have been eating for 3 months and that is all I eat every day. I cannot keep any food at home. There is no respect for me or my property here. If I can't fit it into my room, it gets thrown out, thrown into boxes and tossed in the garage or somehow disappears. I am not wanted at home. "Just leave your money you asshole and get out." I am hungry. I am also pretty broke. Better mones, therapy and electro then food.
I am well aware of the events of this week concerning the World Trade Center. My heart goes out to them, their families and all Americans. No lectures on "happy to be alive" please. Thank you.

Through early morning fog I see, visions of the things to be,
the pains that are withheld for me, I realize and I can see...
that suicide is painless.
Mike Altman

Thursday, September 13th, 2001

They say...
"Trish, it is no big deal. You play the guy game, you go to work, you wear the clothes, you know you are Trish, and nobody can take that away from you. You can have Trish outwardly when you are not at work." So I go to work as guy, I come home and be Trish. Is that all there is to it? You mean, when I come home I can put on my clothes, put on my makeup and ta-daaaaaa! Trish is back? Is that all it takes to be Trish? Clothes and makeup? Is that all it takes to be a guy? No clothes and no makeup? If the guy is fake, who is to say that Trish is not fake as well? I mean, after all it is just clothes and makeup.
If I think I am a monkey, does that make me a monkey?
You see, this is one reason why I cannot be happy until I stand before a mirror, no clothes, no makeup and see a woman. At this point in time, all I see is a guy, naked. We say we are "women trapped in men's bodies". No kidding. Trapped. I can be a woman in my head all day long, all night long and it does not matter if all that is seen is a guy, especially by me. "Trish, you are really messed up in the head. You want your cake and you want to eat all of it too." I am working hard. I am trying to set myself up to live the way I feel I need to. Sometimes, I just feel that I want some return. It is getting harder, working on the sculpture just to keep putting it back under the tarp all the time. I need to finish it, or at least know that it will one day be completed and in the courtyard.
Some people don't shave their bodies. They say, "It is not important. Nobody but me knows if I am absent of hair or not." It seems I am different. I feel it is enough when it comes to me, that I know. Doesn't matter whether or not you know. Sexual reassignment surgery. Nobody else will know. But I know, that is enough. "But Trish, there are so many transsexuals that are in the same boat as you when it comes to wanting/desiring/needing SRS." Dang nabbit, do I have to keep thinking about everybody else? All I know is that I am hurting like a sonofabitch with no end in sight. "Trish, you are not special."
If a millionaire said, "Trish, I will tell ya what. I will give you what you want. No strings attached. Surgery, whatever." I have to be totally honest here and this is really hard to do. I would have to turn them down, for now. My son. Enough said. Fuck. Now if that is not honest of me, I don't know what to tell you. That really hurts. "Please Mr. Millionaire, please. Give me a year. I beg you. I am on my knees. I am on my fucking knees. I am begging. Gimmie a year." Shhhhit. But then again, no millionaire has or will approach me. In reality I would probly say, "Yes", and quickly.
Every time I use the restroom, I pull my underwear up fast so that he is not seen, by me.

Trish-Marie is not a woman.
Something is inevitable.

Sunday, September 23rd, 2001

Yesterday was like Christmas for me.
Something very wonderful happened. But, it still feels kind of strange, only because I feel that some may be looking at me as a person to go back on her word, a person whose word means nothing.
In short, I am back at Susan's Transgender Resources, as a moderator. This was totally unexpected. I never thought this would happen. I have gained a position similar to the one that I held 5 months ago before I resigned. I had said in my diary entry of Friday June 22nd 2001 that I would never return to Susan's, that I had failed at Susan's and that I don't return to my failures. This is true and I stand by what I said. It has been 5 months since my resignation and I have had time to think and watch. As it turns out, yes, I failed at Susan's for giving up, for resigning so easily, not for anything else. There were just many turn of events that I cannot write about for not wanting to hurt anybody. You will either have to trust Trish, or not. Susan was not involved in my reasons for resigning, only in my reasons to come back. At the time of my resignation Susan had said that I may return any time I wish to. But to me, my position had been filled (no fault of Susan's) and, that was that. I am in a new position now and I will not give it up for anything. Of course, yes it hurts me that some "Susan's Girl's" may think that I am a flake and wish me not to be there, but I know that Susan's is where I belong. Okay, so I am a flake. I am usually pretty good at keeping my word. Damn, why is something so good, so... Sheesh. Anway, I am there.
What does this have to do with my transition? I will tell you. My morale.
Now, I don't wanna talk about this but I have to. For the past, I dunno, maybe 3 months occasionally my right ankle gets swollen. It is painless so far (knock on wood). It seems to happen mostly when I am inactive, which is a lot lately. If it is swollen when I go to bed, it goes down as I sleep. It concerns me, but I am not going to have it looked at or bring it up to my endo yet for two reasons. The first is that there is no way that anybody is cutting back or God forbid stopping my hormones for any reason, and number two because now that I have been out of work for so long I am totally without insurance. I will keep on eye on it and continue to pray as I have been doing. My next endo appointment was for this past Friday but they cancelled for the Jewish holiday. I have to call tomorrow and reschedule. Anyway, my ankle is down for the record.
One other thing, quickly. Regarding my entry last time? The one about if the Mr. Millionaire said, "Here ya go Trish, SRS. No strings attached. Just cause I likes ya." Well, I take it back. Mr. Millionaire, I am there. I am SO there.

Yes, yesterday was like Christmas for me.

Trish's Current HRT Statistics:
Hormone Regiment: 5 mgs Premarin and 150 mgs spironolactone once a day.
Emotions: Yesterday, good, but mixed. Still in a depression. I need to find a job.
Breasts: There is some there. I know there is. I am starting to think that it is not actually that my breasts are not developing, but that the rest of my body is what makes them look.... not right... not there.
Hips, Thighs and Bottom: LOL
Body Hair: Same as last. I have also been told that the hair on my head looks like it is filling in, but, I think it is just because it is longer now.
Skin: I can't tell.
Erection Count: Still zero (0), thank you. On some days, I can feel erections keep trying to sneak up on me. I don't know if it is my mood, libido (which is very low) or what, but they try. I hate that.
Masturbation and Sexual Desire: Zero (0) - I have not masturbated I think since like March. I can't even really remember the last time.
Trish Bottom Line: I am trying.

Wednesday, October 3rd, 2001

I loathe sex.
Last night, for the first time I think since March, I was inspired to masturbate. It was "pleasurable", all 90 seconds of it. After, I felt so awful. Alone. Icky. I was miserable. I really don't understand why. I was on the major verge of crying and would have, except I fought it. I hate masturbating. The act of it, just all of it. When I was done, it felt much like de-toxing after a 3 week long drinking binge. So alone, melancholy, regret (regret of what, I do not know). I know that sex, masturbation is all a natural and quite beautiful part of life, except for me. Maybe it is just that it seems that all during my "guy life", sexual desire was so strong that it almost controlled my life. I hated that, but I seemed to always let it happen. Maybe giving in to what little sexual desire I have now represents the past, that uncontrollable "fuck anything that moves" thing. That can be terribly abusive. Now, this is not to say that I loved to masturbate in the past, I have always felt like this to an extent. But now it is real bad. I hate sex. What all this says about me, I am not sure. But I am pretty sure that it cannot be good.
Gotta log this, HRT stats: Erection was very soft. At this rate penetration and staying penetrated would be very difficult to maintain. I don't even think that I could penetrate. I think I have lost several (at least two) inches in length. Orgasm was briefly satisfying (for like for 2 seconds). Ejaculate was clear and very minimal, hardly any, and this makes me very happy. Should I say it? I hate to ejaculate. It feels..... "icky". I do not look at it this way for other human beings, just for me. I don't think the act of ejaculating or ejaculate is "icky" on others, just me. Anyway, penis smaller and hardly any ejaculate = goin away. And I want it to go away.
This erection stuff is all kind of a moot point. I mean, I don't want a penis let alone erections. I am not doing HRT so that my penis disappears, I know it won't. What ever it does to Mr. Ugly is just an added benefit. I want SRS, if that is to ever happen. Erection entries are for those of you that just want tits and think that your sex life is gonna be the same as it was. Sorry Charlie. For me, better. For weekend "tit wanters"..... ha , are you in for a surprise. Better do your homework.
I want to share my body with another..... someday....... badly, but it is all different now. Age, hormones, attitude, I dunno why for sure. Sometimes, like at this moment, I need closeness so bad I can taste it. Move on Trish, move on.
Man, do I hate my home. Oh wait, I 'm sorry, did I say my "home"? I meant the place I live.
I went to my TS Support Group last Tuesday. I had not been for 3 or 4 weeks. I could not go this week as my car is in the shop. I went drab. I did not even feel like covering the whiskers that I was saving for electro the following Friday, so I said screw it. It was good to see friends.
Speaking of slumber, I have 3 times this week taken the Trazadone that my endo prescribed to help me sleep. Normal dose as before, one half of a pill. I must be desperate for you know how I hate taking them. But, take them I did, and sleep came. Actually, I took them because I have another tooth bothering me. Sleeping is hard enough sometimes, but the pain does not help. I am still uninsured due to no job, so no dental work anytime soon.
In the last two weeks, I have come out to a friend, a friend that I never thought that I would come out to. A person that I have known since I was like I think about 12 or 13 years old. This is very special for me. It is like coming out to, I dunno, like a past life, one that I was afraid that I would have to leave behind forever. Apparently, I can keep some of it. It is difficult to explain. With friends and transitioning, it seems as though you are always making new friends, always moving forward, never looking back. It is so good to know that sometimes, you don't have to leave it all behind. My friend, she is a wonderful person and I am so glad that I still have her friendship. Sleep comes easier when I think of it. This is not a message to her. This is a message to me.
My overall transition feels like it is at a standstill. I know I am working on my future, but at this point it feels like I am just trying to maintain what I have. I need to take some steps. I need a breakthrough of sorts. I know Trish needs to get out more.
I feel kinda empty after these last entries. It is like I didn't communicate something that I needed to. Something just out of grasp. I never go back and change my entries, so if I can get it, I will make another entry later.

hypocrisy
1 : a feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not; esp : the false
assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion
Sometimes I think that I appear to be a hypocrite.
Maybe I am. I don't mean to be.