So Lonely

Yesterday was torture-myself-with-hair-removal day. Epilation, laser, and electrolysis -- I did them all. My pain threshhold was very low. I cried during the electrolysis. Gillian, my electrologist, felt really bad but said she was going to ignore my sobs unless I said to stop, since I'm paying her by the hour. I feel bad for making her feel bad for hurting me. I just wasn't emotionally equipped to handle the pain this time. Plus, I was down to begin with. Laser was more painful but much, much quicker. My face felt like it had gone a few rounds of bare-knuckle boxing by the time it was over. It's fine today.

I'm going to be fine. I keep telling myself that.

I'm better than I was a year ago. I think that's true. Happier? I don't know. I said from the start of this journey that it wasn't necessarily about being happier. I always considered myself a pretty happy person, generally. More fulfilled. That's what this is about. I think. Or something. I don't want my old life back, for whatever that's worth, and it must be worth something given how lowsy I feel right now and yet it's still true.

But I never used to feel lonely. I never really felt like I needed to be around people all the time to feel happy. I even used to feel a drained in social situations, if I didn't get some time to myself. Vacations were tiring. Now I feel the opposite. My last 4 or 5 attempts at calling friends to try to get together (lunch, movie, come over and I'll make dinner) have been fruitless. Jani was originally supposed to come live with me for a while until she got ready to move to San Francisco; then she was interviewing at tech companies out in SF, but she'd come out and visit for a week while she was recuperating from her recent facial feminization surgery; then it was not-this-week-but-in-a-couple-of-weeks; and then it was she can't come up at all, because her wife is jealous.

So I'm alone. And I'm lonely.

I feel like shit today. I definitely don't feel like running. Yesterday, I felt like shit and I didn't feel like running, but I went anyway. The day before was the same. I didn't feel any better having jogged 6 miles either day, and I was sluggish (although I guess I was not all that slow judging by the number of people I passed).

Today, I don't feel like running, either. I'm going out for a run. 8 or 10 miles, depending on how much like cement blocks my legs feel today. It won't help, but at least if I get that out of the way, I can go out to a coffee shop and read or do something where there's people around. I'd like to be outside. It looks nice outside. I'll think about where I can go and what to do while I jog, to pass the time.

Sorry if this post sucks. Today sucks.

Tomorrow I'll probably feel better.

Subtle Differences

Today towards the end of the day at work, this guy Eric who works on a team that is collaborating with mine on a new project stopped by my office to chat about how the recent design screw-ups that his team has been making -- screw-ups that are going to cause us a lot of problems as we move into the second phase of this project -- were not his idea and were decided upon in his absence. That was nice of him. I told him that was actually a big relief, because lately it seems that what we're building is not what we talked about for the past couple of months, and it's good to know that he agrees with me that we're off course. As long as we all agree where we want to be headed, I'm sure we can work together to fix it.

The conversation turned (casually, somehow) to my transition. Eric seemed really interested in my transition and everything I'm going through, and everything I'm planning to do. We chatted for about an hour, which was nice. I mentioned at one point that I know for some people who've known me a long time, this is still quite a shock, and they seem to have trouble not seeing me as Scott. Eric only met me two weeks before my transition, and for him it wasn't such a shock. If you had met me two weeks before my transition, you'd probably have decided I was pretty effeminate. I wasn't hiding much then. It's a good feeling knowing that some people will know me pretty much entirely as Suzanne. To them, even if they know I'm transsexual, I'm a transsexual woman. To people who have known me for forever, I'm this guy they know who became a woman.

I think most people will get to think of me more and more naturally as female as time goes on. Some people are warming up to the idea faster than others. Already I have several good new female friends at work to chat with and have lunch with. My friend Ying bought me a cute little cosmetics bag as a present with the most adorable card that said I had inspired her to make a big change in her life, too. I can't wait to hear what it is, but I have to wait a couple of weeks, apparently. My other friend Jill brought me some clothes that no longer fit her, and it turns out she used to be the same size as me and has great taste in clothes, so I got a couple of nice suits and two really cute dresses as a result. Awesome! This being-a-girl thing is starting to pay dividends already.

Here are some random observations, post transition:

Guys open doors for me all the time. This did not come as a shock. It did not take any getting used to. Seems natural already. One woman asked me if I was lost when I was looking for a cube number. I've worked here 8.5 years, and this is the first time anyone's volunteered to direct me without my asking for help. I must appear helpless or stupid.

It's sometimes hard for me to get a word in edgewise in meetings. When I'm running the meeting, it's harder to moderate the discussion. People wrest control from me more readily, I think. I have no trouble being forceful when I need to be, but now I have to do it more often to keep meetings from devolving into chaos. Most of the other women in managerial positions at my company tend to be very take-charge. I don't think that's a coincidence.

When I stopped by to chat with my friend Lori for about 10 minutes the other day, her boss came out of his office and gently reminded her that he needed something or another by 10 am, and it was 9:50 already. I apologized for keeping her from her work, and went back to my office. Later, he called me to say he was sorry for being rude. He was genuinely worried he had hurt my feelings. That was sweet of him. I think he wouldn't have done that if I weren't a girl, frankly.

All the women's restrooms at work have boxes of Kleenex. None of the men's restrooms do. I used to have to blow my nose with a paper towel in a pinch, if I was out of Kleenex. Not anymore. I don't know how they justify the lack of parity in nose-blowing options between the sexes. Did the men's room have Kleenex at one point and the guys would toss them on the floor so they took them away as punishment? Something tells me guys might do that, yeah.

Speaking of restrooms, women pee on the seat, too. Men pee on the floor, though, so sometimes using the urinal I'd have to try to find places to put my feet where I wasn't standing in urine. I don't miss urinals. Still, more than once, I've had to find another stall in the women's room. Once, it wasn't just a drip or two on the seat, either -- it was like all over the seat. Gross.

When I dream now, I'm always Suzanne. I haven't had a dream I can remember where I'm Scott in ages. I think I'm always still transsexual. I don't think I've ever dreamt that I was genetically female, but in my dreams I'm always presenting female. I wouldn't have expected that quite so quickly.

I'm not going anywhere with this. Just a few things I've noticed that are different since being a woman full time. Overall, this feels more and more natural each day. Which is good, because there's really no chance I'm ever going back. They pee on the floor in the men's room. No way.

Adjustments

Since my last post, this is my third attempt at writing something on this blog. I've been having a volatile couple of weeks at work (new projects, new stresses) with my portfolio (don't look at the stock market -- just trust me on that) and in my transition.

The first two are just SNAFU, but I've been having a lot of trouble figuring out that last one. My other two posts I started weren't helping me figure it out, either, so I abandoned them. I'm happier overall now. I know that. There's nothing I am particularly down about. Everyone is adjusting to me very well and I still get lots of support and encouragement. Some days, though, I just feel depressed and I don't always know why.

Today, I had lunch with another manager at my company. Harun (that's his name, by the way) is a great guy, and we've worked together on a few projects, with good results. Whenever anyone asks Harun how things are going, he replies, "Life is beautiful," in a way that convinces you he means it, too. He's very upbeat and affable. Harun moved out of my group in a recent reorganization, though, and so we only run into one another occasionally anymore. The last time, I insisted that we had to catch up and do lunch. He agreed and insisted on paying (I told you he's a great guy).

We went to my favorite lunch place downstairs, which has Mediterranean food and the (with a thee not a thuh) best salads ever. I eat there all the time. I could eat there every day. Anyway, he was very curious about my transition and how it's been going. I told him it's mostly up, overall, but there's big swings. Much more volatile than before, but still much better than before.

Harun told me that he couldn't possibly fathom what I'm going through (true) but when he moved to this country (the US) from his native Turkey (yes, I'm going to stop using these annoying parenthetical comments now -- sorry) he went through some pretty big adjustments. He missed Turkey when he was here, and missed the US when he went back. Overall things were good for him, but there were still times when the change in his life was stressful. It's a big adjustment moving from one culture to another, especially when they are so different.

We talked about a lot of things, but that one point really hit home. Harun's experience pretty well meshes with mine. I don't think I miss my old self, or at least not enough to think about going back, but there are definitely times when I feel overwhelmed by this huge change to my life. I shouldn't expect it to come easily, and I shouldn't get so down on myself when it doesn't. It's a process, and I need to work my way through it. Sometimes I'll be happy and sometimes I won't, but I can accept that.

Another friend of mine advised me recently to start living in the moment. I'm spending too much time analyzing things, and I have a tendency to second-guess everything, so she's right, too. You can spend forever looking for reasons where there are none. Sometimes things just are the way they are and you have to figure out how to adjust to it. Make a choice and move on.

Harun said it took him 10 years to fully adjust to life in the States. I can do it in 5, I bet. No worries.

Life is beautiful.

Poker? I don't even know her.

I drove up to Baltimore for the second time in two days today, and for the second time to visit people I haven't seen in a while, who haven't seen me as Suzanne before. Today, it was for a poker tournament hosted by my friend Kori. I used to play in Kori's tournaments all the time, and even played in his regular home game for a bit, but it's a long way to drive for a regular game, so mostly I stuck to the tournaments.

Kori works at my company, but out of a different office. He hadn't seen me since the announcement, but when he invited me to his game this weekend, I figured it was about time, since I hadn't played in about a year. These tournaments usually draw 50 people, and usually mostly the same crowd. Lots of Kori's relatives and friends, mostly. I think I'm the only one who shows up from work.

At least 15 people there knew me as Scott. I didn't get the sense that any of them except Kori knew who I was. Some of them might have known I was transsexual, or suspected it. I don't think they recognized me as the guy who used to play in the tournaments, though. If they did, they sure didn't let on (and they are poker players, so who knows). Nobody treated me like anything but a woman. Some new girl who's probably dead money. One guy I don't know even flirted with me before the tournament started. He sat down next to me and wanted to play me heads-up for no money, which basically involves us moving all in every hand (poker's really pointless with nothing at stake). He checked on me a couple of times during the tournament to see how I was doing, too.

Same as yesterday, it's was a really odd feeling being around people who should know me but don't seem to recognize me. I didn't really feel like pointing out to people that they know me, just not as this me, though, so I just played and made occasional small talk. I busted a few people out and put together a decent stack of chips before it was finally my turn to bust out fairly late in the tournament. I played okay. I had fun. I didn't make it into the money.

Most importantly, unlike the last time I played poker back in November when I hosted a game at my house, this time I didn't feel like a boy playing poker. Poker is a game of aggression, and it brings out a highly-competitive side of my personality. That game I was hosting as Scott. Ashley had commented that she didn't like seeing me that way, and I didn't like who I was that evening, either. I felt like a boy. It was not a good feeling.

Today, I felt like (and I was) a girl playing poker. I wasn't a pushover. I bluffed. I stole blinds. I trapped. I was competitive, but I still felt female. That was a good feeling.

Sensitivity

I've been doing laser hair removal treatments on my face since October. It's painful as hell, but the results have been good. Today, I think I mostly passed inspection from a six-year-old daughter of a couple of friends of mine, who spent a good bit of time studying me looking for signs of my former maleness and tugging at my face and hair. Katie seemed a bit confused but more or less satisfied that I'm a girl now, albeit one with a face that's "still a little rough". Hers is smoother, see? Yes, I know, Katie. I'm working on it. Plus, you're six -- not a fair comparison.

Today I also started electrolysis to start getting rid of the blond hairs the laser can't touch. People had warned me about the pain of electrolysis, how it's much worse than laser. I guess I can't claim that lying on a table for 45 minutes with someone sticking a needle in my face, burning me and tweezing hairs out is lots of fun, but aside from taking a lot longer to accomplish a lot less, it's not nearly as painful as having my face burned with a laser. Maybe electrolysis will be more painful in places other than the sides of my face, but so far I classify it as unpleasant and mildly painful. Laser, I classify as painful enough to make me cry, which it actually did on one occasion.

Doing both on the same day was rough (electrolysis, shave, laser). My face looked like I stuck it in a vat of boiling oil when I left the clinic. It's still a bit sensitive now, 9 hours later, but it's not red and bumpy anymore. I never would have passed Katie's inspection this afternoon, but some cold water and aloe and moisturizer got rid of the redness enough to cover with makeup.

Katie's parents, my friends Dan and Alison, were hosting a party this evening. It was a farewell party for them, since they're moving to England. This was the second time I've gotten together with Dan post-transition, and the first time Alison and Katie had seen me as Suzanne. Everyone at the party was really nice. I know, I'm a broken record on that -- everyone has been really nice to me, sorry. I assume some people knew I'm transsexual going in, or figured it out from talking with me, but nobody let on. That's always a little awkward, trying to figure out who knows and who doesn't. I've met most of these people at Dan and Alison's parties before. If any of them remembered me as Scott, I sure couldn't tell from their reactions. I don't look much like him anymore. I'd be hard to recognize if you hadn't seen me in 6 months. I like it that way. I'd like people to forget Scott, because he's not me. Not anymore.

At one point in the evening, Dan called me "Scott" when dismissing something I had just said, probably some teasing remark I made to him. I have no recollection what the thing I said was, because that word blocked out everything else in my mind. Calling me by that name felt like a hundred needles sticking and burning me from inside my chest. I'm sure it was just a reflex on Dan's part. He probably didn't even notice he did it. If he did, he didn't correct himself. Anyway, it hurt, and it felt like being dragged forceably from the comfortable illusion I've created for myself back into harsh cold reality. Or something. Hell, I don't know. It was enough to make me feel crappy about myself, though. Enough to make me retreat to the safety of the living room, where most of the rest of the womenfolk had congregated. Nobody in there calls me "he" or "Scott". If they know, they're not letting on.

You can get used to pain. The laser treatments hurt a lot less now than when I started. I think my face has gotten a lot less sensitive to it. I'm sure I'll get used to the rest, too.

Working Out

It's now week three post-transition, and work is starting to settle into a new rhythm around me, which is good. I still have good days and bad days, but now that seems to be more about the work and less about me. I don't feel like I am on display anymore. I don't feel as much of a need for validation, either. I am who I am. I'm here to do my job. People accept me for that.

There have been a few incidents where people refer to me as "Scott" or "he" or (worst of all) "hey man", but most of these seem to be out of habit and most people quickly correct themselves and apologize without my needing to say anything. All in all, people are doing a way, way better job than I'd have expected in both proper name/pronoun usage and in just generally treating me like a female colleague. The slips I've seen are mostly from people who knew me well before the switch and are running about 9:1 from men vs. from women.

Quite a few people (almost excusively women) go beyond accepting and are excited and curious. I've had a few lunch dates and a few more already lined up with coworkers who want to get to know me better now. Some of that may be the cool factor in being friends with the transwoman, but I think it's more just wanting to make me feel accepted and being genuinely interested in me. [Yeah, because you're so fucking interesting, right? Hey -- shut up, self-doubting voice in my own head!]

This week also marks a return to normalcy in my morning routine. For the second straight day, I woke up, went running, showered, dressed, did my hair and makeup, made myself a cappuccino, and still managed to get in to work on time. That's really good. I was thinking I might have to switch to jogging in the evenings, but it turns out I can get ready in only 20-30 minutes more than pre-transition, and I can live without that extra 1/2 hour of sleep in the mornings.

My days are busy, but it's starting to feel normal. Sometimes that feels weird, for this to even be feeling normal. Some days, my whole life feels surreal. Today felt good. Nice. Almost routine.

One other interesting thing that came out of this work transition is that it turns out that even though I might be the first one to transition on the job where I work, I won't be the last one this year even. I met a really nice FTM boy named Dean who is about to transition, too. He's not going to shock his coworkers the way I did when he comes out, though -- he aready dresses totally male at work and he's very boyish. It's much more acceptable for a female to look and dress male, so the FTMs have that one easier. Anyway, Dean is just working out the final arrangements with HR, and is pretty much where I was a month ago getting his name changed and planning his announcement. He seems very together and young and energetic and smart, so I should probably hate him, but I don't. We had a drink and a nice long chat after work on Friday. He's a sweet boy.

So, all in all this looks like it might not have been a horrible mistake. It's even been really nice a good portion of the time. Sometimes I walk around at work and think to myself that this is so much nicer in a lot of ways, and it isn't weird or awkward at all. It's really going about as well as I hoped it might at work, and call me a Pollyanna, but I have to think that this is just going to get better as I go.

That, or I can always still just quit and go get a new job making less money than a similarly-qualified man someplace else. That's plan B. It's always good to have a plan B.