• Well, it finally happened....

  ...I kind of knew it would at some point. This morning my therapist questioned my possible lack of commitment to my transition from male to female. This stemming from my lack of enthusiasm to find a job as drab me. We both agree that being employed again is the answer to a lot of Trish's dilemmas. I know that "Trish" is not ready to find a job due to the way the effin world is and due to the fact that Trish still looks like a guy in a dress. It has to be drab and my "spirit" is not into it. I have been actively looking for employment and I had a really good lead last week that seems to have unfortunately come to a dead end. It is just that I am not doing maybe everything a person can do to find work. This morning is ripping my heart out.. And while he is trying to get me to focus on the job thing, I am like a damn moron sitting there talking about how I hate my penis. I said some really stupid things at the lamest times. And I am probably the only person you know who has been in gender therapy for over two years who's therapist has never seen Trish in anything other then drab clothes. My three biggest supporters in transition, my Mom, my electro person and my therapist have never seen Trish. Oh yeah, progress alright. And I sit there and talk about my penis. What an idiot. Can you say One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest?

  "Think you used enough dynamite there, Butch?"
  Dynamite?
  "Yeah, when you blew it this morning."
  Go away.

  Therapy is turning out to be painful in ways that I never knew it could be. Must be good therapy. I have been in quite a bit of it throughout my life and it never hurt like this before. Now I sit here not really knowing what to type next, but I won't let that stop me.

  Between the divorce, seeing the lawyer with money I don't have, being down to my last $400 with no more income of any kind, to my son who is not doing so great in school and trying to deal with that, to being out of work, being hungry, to not doing anything that brings pleasure and now this, my commitment to transition being in question, the thing I want more then anything... What the fuck. I am so lost. I am so God damn lost. I am expected to pick myself up with a spirit and ego that is at rock bottom and take care of business. Sorry Billy, I ain't no hero. I told ya Billy, I am only doing what I have to do to live, not to excell. It is not in the cards or my heart to excell right now.

  And then there is leaving my room to face my son and my soon to be ex wife. Talking to them like I am so not having any problems while my fucking heart is dying. I hate this so much. Get me out of here, Mr. Wizard. I don't want to be a live anymore.

  Some people think that I am doing good with my transition. This is a mistaken perception. Some people think my pictures on my website look okay. I am going to say it one more time. It is Adobe PhotoDeluxe. My pictures are not real life. I take 500 and I pick two that look okay and I play with them in Photo Deluxe until they look halfway decent. I do not look like that in real life. The Internet is not real life. Real life is going to the library, the grocery store, your kids school, the Department of Motor Vehicles, your boss's office as he prepares to rip you a new one..... Real life is dealing with hair and clothes and makeup every day 24 hours a day.... Real life is not hand picked manipulated photos of some dumb tranny on a website trying to look good for single moment in time. I have photos that would make you wonder how you could of ever thought of me as anything other then a man. "That ain't no girl, that is a most ugly guy in makeup and a dress." I am so far away from real life it is not even funny, or maybe it is. I should actually be the poster child for trannies who have not progressed... I can see the poster now... There is my picture with big letters below that read:

  "Shit or get off the pot."

  Constipated Trish, with constipation being just one more excuse in a long line of excuses as to why she is not taking care of business. I now feel that I need to do something desperate in my transition, or just desperate period. I have to ask myself, is this a good thing or not. To feel cornered into "jumping hoops". Or maybe it would be good. God knows I am not happy like this and when I die, it will not be drab's body they find. I feel like just getting Trish out and leaving. Fuck it all and if you don't like it, well then fuck you too. My writing doesn't sound much like a woman, does it... Whatever a woman sounds like. I have in the last 7 days given serious thought to just saying forget all this transsexual crap and get back to life as it was. Just do the guy thing and have one less worry. Could I do it? (Insert Beethoven's 5th Symphony here.)

  This whole thing is driving me crazy. The labels... The are you this's.... The are you thats's. The hoops. Just everything. I can totally understand a transsexual who has transitioned and goes stealth. If nothing else then to get away from all this tranny crap. Just to live, just to breathe, just to be..... Yeah, I am transitioning alright. I don't have what it takes. I am just doing what I need to do to get by when the time comes. When confronted with my possible lack of commitment to transition, maybe my therapist is right. And for me to even say that could maybe mean he is totally right. And maybe even saying he could be totally right means that I am not doing what is right for me. But I also know one thing, I am a woman, inside at least. Inside is not enough for me, but maybe it is all that I will ever have. "La la laaaa... You are nanners, Trish." If I die as a transitioned woman, good. If I don't, I will die sooner, that is all there is to it.

  "You just keep thinkin, Butch. That's what yer good at."
  Will you puh-leeze leave me alone.
  "Hey Trish, you need me. Why do you think you are still around."
  Jeez.

  In other "news".....
  I don't know if it is the switch from Premarin to estradiol or not, but my libido is kicking back in bigtime. I do not like this one iota. I am longing for touch, in a major way. I have been feeling very amorous. One of the ways that I have been able to fall asleep lately is to in my mind put my body next to another person. Oh man, you know my dislike for wanting/needing that.

  "Trish is just trying to politely say that she has been horny."
  I guess. I want my Premarin back.

  So now on top of everything else, I have to wonder by way of my possible lack of commitment to transition, if my transition future is in jeopardy. It's a wonderful life.

  "Trish, other trannies fuck up their lives with successful transition.
  You can't even fuck up good."
  Yep, I mean nope.

  And what I have written in my Transition Diary today, what does it all mean. I can sum it up like this: What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros. Elephino.

   

  It's twenty five miles from home. Girl, my feet are hurting mighty bad.
  Now I've been walking a three day, two lonely nights, you know that I'm mighty mad.
  But I got a woman waiting for me, that's gonna make this trip worthwhile.
  (Sing it babee. Sell me.)
  Edwin Starr
  

Thursday, March 28th, 2002

• She wants BREASTS???

  Okay, I am not trying to be mean or insensitive or judgmental or on and on and on down the line, here. I am just putting the shoe on the other foot. I am just serving up a dish for serious thought. If you truly love and respect your wives, SO's or whatevers, you will take the time to think about this. This is coming from a Male To Female type person, but it most certainly applies to both MTF and Female To Male.. (Please insert your own semantics. You will know what it is I am getting at, I hope.)

  We married.

  We married heterosexual women.

  They married heterosexual men.

  We wish to have healthy close relations with our wives, women.

  They wish to have healthy close relations with their husbands, men.

  We married women's bodies.

  They married men's bodies.

  Now, we have decided to "change" our gender, our appearance, our physical, to that of female. (I won't touch on emotions. Some of us were already there, some maybe not.) We can no longer handle being perceived as "men". We will in fact, no longer be "men".

  Bottom line, we will not be the person our wives married. What? You say you are the same person? Well, I ask you this: Did they know that a few years down the line the chest that they so loved to rest their heads on, the strong chest that made them feel safe and secure would be gone? Did they know that you would drop the "man guard" and need the same nurturing, warmth and even protection that they need? Did they know that half if not all of the income needed to survive might be sacrificed because you as a transitioned woman cannot find employment that paid as much as you once earned, if you can find suitable employment at all? Did they know that they would not have a traditional husband/father as a role model for their children? Did they know that the their hunter would become a gatherer? For criminy sake, did they know that you would want to rid yourself of your "manhood"???????

  I really................... seriously........................... doubt it. I really seriously doubt that many women would enter into a heterosexual marriage knowing that as soon as it could be arranged, among other things you would trade your genitals for that of the opposite gender (or as they might think of it, lop off your penis).

  And I ask.......

  Now we have transitioned.

  And if we wish to stay with the woman we married?

  And if we wish to continue healthy close relations?

  Would you now find it just fine and dandy if your wife grew a mustache, wore jockey shorts and wanted to "wham bam thank you ma'am" before rolling over to go to sleep? ..And how bout that beer belly? Would ya like that on your wife? Covered in hair? I don't suspect that would be the woman you married, would it. (Hey, I know with some genetic females, bellies covered with hair happens, but you know what it is I am getting at.)

  And now after bringing people into our lives who have grown to love the us they thought they knew (whether we did this intentionally or not), along with the bodies that bring them pleasure and desire, we feel we need to transition. This decision and it's required actions can be perceived as very self centered, and when children and wives are involved, perception is not always wrong.. I see no reason to expect our wives to buy into it. We cannot let our imaginations run wild thinking that this is "normal" to them just because it seems that way to us.

  Unless a "notarized document" stating that you intend to transition after marrying, and all that said "transition" entails is agreed upon and signed by both you and your future bride, in blood, the statement "I am still the same person you married" does not hold an ounce of water.

   

  C'mon everybody!
  Here we GOoooooooooooooooooooooo!
  Peter Pan
  

Tuesday, April 2nd, 2002

• I don't have much time right now...

  .... and I won't have any for a while, but I wanted to write this. Yesterday I had therapy and I had to tell my therapist that it would be the last time I would be able to see him until I get a job. As a matter of fact, the check that I wrote for him will be the last one I write until I get a job or my bank account will be closed out. I have been going to see him for 26 months and the thought of not seeing him now is playing with my heart, as I suspected it would. I need him. What do you mean you need him, Trish? C'mon now." I need him for support, I need him to help me work through things and I need him to help me plan courses of action (I have not been to good at following some of them lately, but I need to hear them). And I also really like him. I brought up the "commitment to my transition" issue that was bothering me so much from our last session together. I feared that he thought that I was not committed to myself. We have that worked out now. I am committed. If I am sure of only one thing it is that transition is what I want, what I need and I will do it.

  I filled out a job application for a fast food restaurant and will be turning it in.

  Trish ventured out in her hometown last night. Took a ride and went over to Jack In The Box® to get a Diet Coke®. It felt good to finally get out on the streets again and not be in the cocoon of some meeting or support group.

  I had a short conversation with a friend who mentioned The Lincoln Center in New York. So I went to the website and looked at it. I need to go there.

  I am going to spend a few days with a girlfriend.

   

  Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us.
  All we ask is that you let us serve it your way.
  Burger King
  

Wednesday, April 10th, 2002

• My diary... It's about me, mE, ME!

  I am going through some shit, and I write about it. But right now somebody close to me is going through a lot more shit in part because of me and what I am and what feel I need to do. To write of their pain and the particulars of it would absolutely expose them to the world as I have exposed myself. Do you think this would be fair? The person that I speak of is as I type, suffering and going through some emotions and possibly extreme pain partly because of my being transgender. It is not the first time this has happened (but one of the worst). So will you please take into consideration that this is an online diary about my experiences for whoever to see and that my writing of anybody else and specifics could hurt them?

  This is one of the rare occasions that I am writing like somebody might be reading this. Why? Because some have chosen to make it quite obvious that they do read my Transition Diary and they think none too much of me. I am going to write about why my Transition Diary is all about me. What would they write. Would they write extremely personal things about members of their family and friends, things that would make Freud lick his lips? Maybe they would, but if not, I suppose they would write about their feelings. And if they were happy? Would they write of that? And if they were sad? Would they write of that? Or if they were destitute? Would they write of that? Just think about it. I want to write right now about how this person so close to me is suffering. I want to tell you why it is happening and how this person is reacting to it. But I can't. And I want to write of how I am hurting also because of it. But I have been made to feel that if I write about my feelings, I am discounting all others and thinking only of myself. So I suppose they would have me write nothing, or maybe write things that would make them like me. That would be easy you know, but it sure wouldn't make any damn sense.

  Oh wait, maybe I understand. They never feel destitute. Feeling destitute is selfish and weak. Well, I got news for them. They are transgendered and much of the world thinks that they are weak and pathetic. Stop your "dressing". You are hurting your families beyond belief and you are behaving immorally and with weakness. Read that last paragraph again you hypocrites before you start calling this kettle black. Did you understand that? You are hurting people and you are behaving selfishly and you are WEAK and self absorbed if you continue to act upon your transgenderism when you know it hurts or disturbs even one person in your life who is important to you. Why are you hurting them with this selfish behavior. Stick that in your holier than thou transgendered "call me weak and self absorbed" ass's.

  Or here, they could write to me. Give me their name, tell me where they live and give me some really personal info. It can be about a family member or a friend. I don't care. Give me something personal and with the potential to humiliate. I would be very happy to post it here for them. No? Why not? To easy to read mine and criticize me? And they call me pathetic. I laugh at them. Ha ha ha (I cackle in a most cavalier way whilst leaning on my épée and curling my (now most gratefully imaginary) mustache between my thumb and forefinger ala D'Artagan, Althos, Porthos and Aramis.)

  Or just maybe it is that they have listened to venomous gossip. That is even worse. If anybody reads my diary, I am most happy. If anybody gets anything out of it, I am way happier. But I never force anybody to read my Transition Diary. If you read it and you don't care for it, find another. If you don't like me, it is a World Wide Internet. Find somebody you feel you can respect. But do me a favor, when you find them, write to them. Let them know why you do like or respect what it is they are doing, or who they are.

  This can just go so many ways. Why do I leave a bitter taste in their mouths. It could be for so many reasons. If it is about the fact that I would rather not be alive, that I would choose to die if I could, they might see that as the epitome of selfishness. So be it. They are right. I just hope that if they are ever in my boat, they cannot keep your mouths shut and their keyboard still. My satisfaction would come from their eventual exile and penned kicks to their sides. Not very nice of me? Cruel words? Fuckin A. Karma is a bitch. Or maybe they are there already. Maybe it is just that they unlike Trish can keep their mouths shut. Maybe that is what makes them feel so much better then me. Good for them. They will not have to worry about people like them. That is safe. Bravo oh brave silent one. On the other hand, nobody but nobody will ever learn from their pain or their mistakes. Again, that is very safe, isn't it? While they speak ill of me and offer up pink fluffy clouds of comfort and guard their chosen "I want them to like me" words oh so carefully, I will be out here despised. Quite possibly I will be an example of what not to be and what not to do and that can be a lesson in itself. Good deal. I am giving back. It's not quite how I wanted to give back, but whatever works.

  There is a fine line between them and I and it can be crossed as they sleep. They should think about that, but not while anybody is watching. They wouldn't want to appear to be too "self absorbed" now, would they.

  Statements:

  Trish Statement A: "I am just so good for everybody around me. Everybody loves me so much and respects me like there is no tomorrow."

  Trish Statement B: "I am just no good for anybody around me. Nobody loves me and they never will."

  Trish Statement C: "I think that I can be really good for some people. They like me. They respect me. As a matter of fact, I think some people really love me."

  I would be willing to bet that their reaction to "Trish Statement A" would be, "What an egotistical self centered idiot." I bet that their reaction to "Trish Statement B" would be, "Man, Trish is sure a self centered negative ass loser." I would put money on their reaction to "Trish Statement C" being, "Trish sounds pretty level headed. She sounds like a nice person." Oh how nice that I fit into their comfort level. What is it that they want from me. I am sure that they would criticize me for saying two out of those three things. And the other of the three is like totally happy middle of the road. I am not middle of the road. So sue me. Two out of three... Doesn't leave me with too many chances of being the recipient of their love, dahling.

  When I first started my diary, I never thought that it would lead to some of the things that have been said about me. I never dreamed it.

  The bottom line to all of this? You cannot possibly know everything there is to know about me, the people in my life, how I feel about them, how they feel about me and every single thing I do whether for myself or for them by reading my Transition Diary. As much as I would like that to be possible, you just cannot. Then again, I just may be the insensitive self centered ass you claim me to be. So leave then. But for those of you that choose to stay, and I hope you do, take what you can and leave the rest. That is all that I ask. I leave it to you.

  Now to get back to the business of my diary. If I lost any of you over this, there is nothing I can do about it. I won't apologize for what I wrote today. Much to some folks disapproval, I have my own problems (duh) and other things to think about rather then to worry about their judgmental buttocks's.

  "Is 'buttocks's' a word, Trish?"
  I dunno.... But I am done with this. I don't even wish to proof read this entry. It started out with trying to explain some things and I got angrier and angrier as I was writing it.
  "Then shall we move on, Trish?""
  You betchem, Red Ryder.

  This week as I stood in front of the mirror shaving what still remains of the hair on my face, the hair that possibly and hopefully nobody else would really see, shaving first in one direction, then another, then another, then another and yet another still, I was reminded of the victim or the guilt ridden perpetrator of a crime trying to so desperately remove the evidence from their body that they feel will never wash away.

  As I said in my last entry, I was able to visit with a friend for a few days. People around me were out of town and it allowed me to get away. This was good. This was very good. Imagine if you will visiting a very good friend, a person who is one of only three who knows absolutely everything about you and loves you. Now imagine doing some of the things that you enjoy doing when you go to visit this person. Now you know what my past days were like. It had been 14 months since I was last able to visit her and it was very special, as always.

   

  Silent emotional turmoil and upset stomachs abound.
  Trish
  

Tuesday, April 16th, 2002

• I had a nice Saturday night....

  I had heard that my therapist (the one that I cannot afford to see anymore) would be speaking at a meeting. So I did my best to arrange to be able to attend, and attend I did. It was very nice as he took a few minutes after the meeting to speak with me in semi-privacy. I needed that. The meeting itself was very nice. Good dinner and I was able to see my friends. Some of them I had not seen since last summer.

  I really miss being with the friend that I spent time with last week. She does so much for my spirits and I would not be where I am (the good parts) had it not been for her. I look forward to my next visit with her, and the one after that and the one after that.

  I am weary of hearing people say that Gender Reassignment Surgery is not that important in the scheme of things. I have a couple of questions for those that say this. Why did you have it done then. Why do you say that transition starts after surgery has been performed. Where does that leave me. If it does not matter now what I have in my pants as nobody can see anyway, when in the hell will it ever matter?? You will never know if it is right for me, nobody will. "What is your point, Trish?" I don't even fucking know. If I had the money for GRS, nobody would stop me from having it. Nobody. "So then what does it matter what anybody else thinks, Trish?" It doesn't. I just talk too much. "So why are you going to leave this paragraph here, Trish?" Because I just typed it and I don't want to trash it. Whatever. What is the point to this whole diary. Nothing. Not enough hard "tittie facts" here. Too many emotions.

  I read someplace once again today that when you start HRT your libido, your erections and so forth would go away and probably go away for good if you pass a certain point. Well, I have been on hormones for some 22 months and if I wanted to I could masturbate and orgasm right now with not much problem at all. And part of the problem is lately I have been feeling like doing just that. Grab the genitalia and whack away. Male City. Dick City. Remind Me City. "Trish! Don't you know that they are gonna think that you have a problem? Don't you know that they are going to read this and think you are focusing on all the wrong things?" Yeah, I know. All they see is Trish moaning about it's problems again and not that maybe somebody will read this and think, "Yeah, me too... I thought I was weird." Or maybe I am the only weird one. The other point is that it has been 22 months and I can still masturbate and orgasm. Is that not pertinent information? Another whatever. I had also read that after starting HRT, if you wish to continue to these sexual activities that you would have to work at it, the use it or lose it thing. Really? I wish somebody would tell that to my body. I don't think it read that information. I must just have so much man in me that you can't get it out. Pretty swell, huh? I am starting to understand those nut cases that grab a knife and cut it off. The only difference between me and them is, I have not reached that level of nutsitivity.

  I had always said that the three most important parts to my transition are therapy, hormones and electrolysis. Of course there are many factors that come into play in transition, but these are my three constants. I have for now, lost a third of it.

  Here, let me end on a good note:

  At the meeting last Saturday night I wore a skirt over the prettiest little beige panty. I felt oh so fem! When I am in a skirt, I am woman! I am so cute and fem when dressed that you could just eat me up! I hope that my sexy pictures don't short out your computer! I know how "hard" things can be for ya already, babe... I am getting just the cutest little titties too! I love sharing my innermost womanly thoughts with all of you!

  I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore,
  and I know too much to go back an' pretend.
  'Cause I've heard it all before, and I've been down there on the floor,
  no one's ever gonna keep me down again.
  (Helen Reddy and Ray Burton)

  How's that? Upbeat enough for ya? Sounds like shit to me.

   

  In guy mode I stayed strong and kept my mouth shut.
  Tis amazing how many people want Trish back in guy mode.
  Trish
  

   

  Trish's Current HRT Statistics (04/16/02):
  Hormone Regiment: 6 mgs estradiol and 175 mgs spironolactone once a day.
  Emotions: Up and down, up if I turn of my thoughts. I haven't cried much these days. I think I am cried out.
  Breasts: Not sore at all. Nothing.
  Hips, Thighs and Bottom: Nope.
  Body Hair: It seems like I am needing to shave under my arms more since starting the estradiol. So much of this could be imagination as it is all so slow to come about.
  Skin: Nothing.
  Erection Count: Discontinued for now... Since December 17th, 2001.
  Masturbation and Sexual Desire: Discontinued for now... Since December 17th, 2001. However, my libido has been kicking back in. Estradiol? I dunno, but I hate it.
  Trish Bottom Line: I am not sure.

---

Monday, April 22nd, 2002

• I'll tell you why...

  ...because I do not feel whole, that's why. I need it and I will have it. If Suzy Lookingformrgoodbar can have Gender Reassignment Surgery simply because she has enough money for it and wants a vagina so she can stick things in it and scream to the world, "I HAVE PUSSY!" on a daily basis, I can have a surgery to make me feel whole.

  It is possible that Gender Reassignment Surgery is too easily attainable for some, depending on where they might live, how much money they have and/or how well they are able to bullshit their "gatekeepers" (not my term). And perhaps for some of us who would just be so happy to utter the word "post" to ourselves from time to time it is not easy enough.

  Oh well, at least if they keep handing out GRS to every party girl with enough money, the price may come down a little.

   

  Someday we'll get it together and we'll get it undone.
  Someday when the world is much brighter
  Stan Vincent
  

---

Monday, May 6th, 2002

• I don't know quite what to feel.

  This may not seem like a transition issue, but it is. Everything in my life is a transition issue, because it seems that everything in my life effects my transition. It looks like I have a job at a fast food "palace". I have orientation this week. So, I have a job. When I told a friend about this, they said, "Well, I don't know if a job at a fast food restaurant is a good thing, or a bad thing?" I could not really answer. My first instinct was to say, "What, are ya kidding? A good thing? Oh puh-leeze."

  Think about it. You were laid off from a great paying job, a job you held 17 years. Now you can't find a good paying job anywhere, and you are broke. The only work you can get is at a fast food restaurant. You are divorcing. You have to move out. You need money to transition. (And I don't care what anybody says. Putting off transition is OUT of the question. It is NOT an option.) You have to have a paycheck to cover so many things. Ask yourself, is this a good thing, or a bad thing. I don't know whether to feel like a failure because I will be wearing a little fast food hat or a success for "doing what ya gotta do". I tend to feel like the former. At least they don't seem to care about my appearance all that much. I am going to stop writing about this now while I can still be objective. I feel a real negativity creeping in.

  I was talking on the phone to my mom the other day and I mentioned to her that my electro appointment had to be cancelled last week as something came up for my electro person. That is a bummer as it is the bright spot in my week. I feel so much better when I have even just another measly hour or so of electrolysis done. I also need to get as much done as I can before I may be forced to move way out ot the area. I prefer not to think about that right now. My mom said she feels it is good for me socially also. She knows how I feel about my electro person. I said, "Yeah Mom. It is the only place I go during the week where everybody calls me Trish."

  It is not like I talk to a whole lot of people between electro sessions anyway. Just my son, my mom and my soon to be ex-wife. And my wife barely speaks to me anymore except to tell me "You have to do this" or "You have to do that" or just to remind me of what a loser I am. I don't have many friends so I don't get called by my drab name that much. But even once is enough.

  My Mom still does not call me Trish. She told me quite a while back that she doesn't know if she will ever be able to. I may have written of that before. I care that she doesn't, and I don't care. I mean, my mom supports me to the fullest as you know and how much can a person ask for. I know people who have families that do not accept them at all. They would give anything to be accepted. Screw the name thing, just still love me. On the other hand, it does bother me. There is no way to really describe how it is. Trish is my name. It may not be my legal name yet, but it is my name.

  When I first came out, it felt kind of weird to hear stuff said about me like, "Oh she's over there" or "Go ask her" or "That belongs to Trish". It almost felt like a game. It felt good, but you know after all these years of "Oh he's over there" and "Go ask him" and "That belongs to drab boy" it took some getting used to. Now some two and a half years later it is like, "Yeah, that's my name and I am her and she is me and tra la la la la.." There is a comfort there someplace. I think that you kind of have to be "one of us" to understand that. I know that "one of us" sounds awful, but think of how many years it took for transsexualism to be recognized as a legitimate issue (and there is still sooooo far to go). Why did it take so long? I feel it is because unless you "is one", there is no way to know what "is one" really feels like. "You, over there, yeah you. You feel like a man don'tchya. And you, over there, you feel like a woman, huh? But I bet neither one of you feels like one gender upstairs and looks like another gender all over." You "is one" (of us) or you ain't. Whether it be alcoholism or feeling you are a monkey inside, if you don't have an issue like this that you recognize you just might not "get it". (Yeah, I confused myself with all of that too.)

  There are a few that do "get it". I do think so. I have a genetic woman friend. I feel that she really understands. I don't know how that is possible, but I feel that she "get's it". And she is not an "is one". All I can figure is that it is something that comes from inside and you are a "get's it one" or you is not a "get's it one". So for them they really don't need to be an "is one" to be a "get's it one". She is neither accepting nor tolerant. With her "I just am". So she is not an "is one", she is a "get's it one" and with her I am a "I just am." There are many who are "is one"s that don't have "get'ts it one"s in their "I just am" lives. If you are an "is one" I hope you have a few "get's it ones"s who are not "is one"s who just look at you as an "I just am". This is life the way it should be. I am not really worried too much about having "get's it"s in my life, because I have a feeling I will have more and more "get's it"s come into it. And even better then that, I am hoping that it will become a non-issue over "transition and presentation" time anyway. One can hope.

  Maybe if everybody started to call all you guys "female" names and all of you woman "male" names, you might understand.

  Oh, Maaaaaaarrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

  "Hey, my name is William. My name ain't no Mary. And I ain't... no... girl."

  That's the ticket, William. Not only is it not your name, but it is not your gender either. Get it?

  I just received my first extended unemployment pay today. Hopefully this will pay a few bills to tide me over until my first "fast food" paycheck. Between the bills and "the lady I live with", my anxiety levels are sky high. And I am not the only one in the house who feels this way. We are being abused. We are being abused by the legacy of relatives that we never even knew. This is just not right. I will be partially away from it soon, but my son will not and I want to scream. There is never a reason to live under these conditions, to be treated as less then decent human beings who honestly try to be good and do the right things. But some people are ill, some people are sick inside and will just not see it, or worse yet, they see it and refuse to do anything about it..

  .....later tonight.
  I spoke to soon. I have been going back and forth with the Unemployment Pay folks and they said they were going to send my checks out and forgo the usual paperwork as they are a month late with me (Their error). I just opened the envelopes and no checks, but the paperwork. The bills still sit.

   

  Like the pine trees lining the winding road, I got a name, I got a name.
  Like the singing bird and the croaking toad, I got a name, I got a name.
  Jim Croce
  

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Sunday, May 12th, 2002

• I need to speak with my therapist.............very badly.

  But I can't because I have no money. This is not going to be a very coherent entry at all I am afraid. I am pretty much not good place today.

  I went to a meeting last night. Much of the time I missed my son. I am feeling really awful that he is not a part of this. Sometimes it hits me harder then other times.

  It was the first time that I had even had makeup on in a month. I saw friends. I had not seen anybody in a month. I have not even been to electro in 2 weeks (second appointment in a row was cancelled) and I was so hungry to be with others. Unfortunately, I had to get to my first day at work this morning and so the night had to be cut pretty much short for me. I was so sad on the way home. You either will know how sad and alone I was or you won't. I can't write about it right now other then to say it is overpowering. And it is overpowering me right now, as I type. I knew I was overtired yesterday as my body before even going to the meeting was shaking and not in good shape. I would have not gone, but I had RSVP'd and I knew they were making me a dinner plate.

  I went to bed as soon as I got home which gave me five hours sleep. I woke up about 45 minutes before I was supposed to in a state of anxiety. So that cut my five hours down to a little more then four again. I showered, put on my uniform and left for work. I was there for about an hour when it hit me. All of a sudden I started getting claustraphobic and cold and hot and sweating bigtime. I asked to excuse myself to get some water. On my way to the restroom I almost fell on the floor. I sat on the toilet for about five minutes in a cold sweat and drinking water like crazy. "C'mon Trish... Get it together" is what kept running through my mind. "This is your first day at work and you can't screw it up."

  Slowly I felt a little better and hurried to take my place back at work. I thought I was okay and then about fifteen minutes later it started to happen again. I couldn't function and I had to get out of there. I apologized to my manager de jour. I said that I didn't feel good at all and she sent me home I quickly walked out to my car hoping I wouldn't faint in the parking lot and as I was getting in the big cup of water I was carrying hit the steering wheel and the whole thing spilled all over and soaked me. I didn't care. I just sat there for about ten minutes, slumped.

  There were at least five other people there working and do you know that not one of them even introduced themselves to me.

  I came home, jumped out of my clothes and into bed. I slept fitfully for about three hours and now here I sit wondering if I am sick or actually having anxiety attacks or both. The thought of being sick and needing to go back to work tomorrow is giving me anxieties. If it is an actual anxiety attack it is feeding upon itself. I am feeling awful both upstairs and down. I have a headache.

  I had my first anxiety attack when I was twenty one years old as I was driving down the street. This was before they even knew what panic/anxiety attacks were... or at least every doctor I went to didn't know.

  They ran tests on me from glucose to electroencephalograms and that was back when they stuck the pins in your head. I have learned to deal with anxiety attacks pretty much since and when I felt one coming on I put myself someplace else. I can't do that today. If you have never had your body shut down and you can't control it, you can't imagine what it is like. And the more you worry about it, the better the chances are of it happening.

  Almost every thought that is coming into my head is hitting with a thud to my heart and stomach instead of being just a thought. I hate being like this so much. It is like de-toxing from alcohol without drugs. I have used that analogy before because it is so fitting. Melancholy, sadness, loneliness, body shaking and despair. I need to eat, but I can't eat. I need to sleep, but sleep won't come. I need to not be alone, but I am. I need to shower, but I don't see a reason to. I need to turn off my brain and I cannot turn off my brain. The fear of not being able to sleep tonight looms. I will take a bunch of Trazadone.

  I know where this is coming from. I am pretty darn sure I know:

  I am so afraid that I cannot live to others expectations of me. I feel like I will fail at everything. This too, feeds upon itself and there is no telling myself, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me." (With thanks to Stewart Smalley) It just doesn't work.

  I can't handle living in-between. It is just not working. I just don't know what to do. I need to get stuff finished up and move on. The thought of this taking another ten years is terrifying.

  It is so confusing to both hate and love yourself. I am coming up on six years sober (6/6/96) and I have never wanted a drink so bad in that whole time as I do right now. I am not going to drink, but I want to very badly. It is how I got to sleep again after coming home from work. I lay there and imagine downing shot after shot of vodka. Fuck.

  Okay, let's say that I am weak, I am pathetic and I am a loser. Let's take that for granted. Now what? Now what do I do. I am trying. I don't know what else to do. I am totally trying. I don't know what to do.

  "Just another slice of life, huh Trish?"
  I suppose so. I keep trying to look at all of this from the outside, to maybe trivialize everything and see it for what it really is...... just another person with a few problems trying to work through them. But I can't. The whole thing is just so damn........................ overwhelming.

  I feel as though I have committed a crime.

   

  I am not going to proof read this.
  I can't live it again today.
  Trish
  

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