I peed!

Well I passed another little transition milestone earlier this month: using a multi-stall washroom as a girl for the first time. Up until then I'd managed to avoid the stress of doing so through a mix of presenting androgynously enough to use the men's room, strategically planning my pisses ahead of time, and just plain old holding it in.

(And once, if I'm being honest, lifting my skirt and drunkenly pissing in an alley, next to one of my cis dude friends who'd gone with me for solidarity. We were walking to a bar and we'd just been talking about how I'd still be uncomfortable using the washroom there but really needed to go. At first he was like, "you know any girl who has problem with you in the women's room is a bigot, right?" but then he was like, "screw it, let's just go piss in the alley" and I was like, "okay." Ashley is a classy lady, folks.)

But anyways, this time none of those options availed me. I'd gone to see one of my favourite bands, Nightwish, with my brother and sister-in-law. I'd gotten myself all prettied up with makeup and stuff for it too. Between the two opening acts it became plain that I'd have to do something about my bladder. And so I went and milled about where the washrooms were for a while stressing out about it, wishing there were a gender neutral option, and occasionally checking my face with my pocket mirror to make sure I had enough makeup on that people would be able to tell what gender I was supposed to be. That last one's ridiculous of course, but I was really nervous.

I waited until the next act was almost about to come on so that there wouldn't be many people in there, finally said "okay" and walked in. And amazingly, Janice Raymond didn't leap out from behind a stall, labrys in hand, ready to defend the sacred temple of womynhood lest it be profaned by my rod of male energy. In fact, nothing happened. As soon as I was in there I realized I'd been making a way bigger deal out of it than I needed to. It was just sinks and stalls: exactly like the room I was used to minus the urinals. The two people who were in there didn't even look at me. So I went pee and washed my hands and got back to my spot just as the second act was coming out on stage.

The concert was awesome, even though we were pretty much at the back. Afterwards the three of us went out to Denny's for greasy middle-of-the-night food. Fun times.

The three of us waiting for Nightwish to come on. \m/

A few days later I was at a dive bar singing karaoke with a large group of people I mostly didn't know for a friend's going away party. I did the whole thing again: being nervous about it for a needlessly long time, wishing there were a gender neutral option, and then just going and being like, oh yeah, this is no big deal. Presumably this will become a mundane thing soon enough.

It kind of blows my mind to remember that most people go through their whole lives without ever having to think about which washroom to use. I imagine that must be nice.

At the doctor

Okay, so I went to see a doctor today. On the bright side, it looks like I won't have to be gated by a psychiatrist to get the prescriptions I need. I explained to the doctor that I'd been taking hormones for two and half months and that the change in my mental wellbeing had been both huge and positive. That seemed to convince him that I'm trans for realsies. On the not-so-bright side, because he's concerned about my safety (and/or an asshole), he won't prescribe me either spiro or estradiol until I see an endocrinologist, and he won't refer me to an endo until I get blood work done.

Huh. It's almost like he suspects my long history of ignoring doctors' instructions and generally trying to game medical system. Which makes sense I guess, I did just tell him I'd been taking dangerous prescription drugs without any medical supervision for two and a half months.

(In retrospect I kind of wish I'd argued with him a little on the spiro at least. I mean for goodness' sake, spiro is routinely prescribed for things like male-pattern baldness and acne, it's not like it's a "big deal" the way estradiol is. Maybe if I'd told him I was worried about my hairline??)

In any event, I was able to schedule the blood test for tomorrow; hopefully things continue to move along at a decent pace. I'm pretty optimistic that the waiting list for an endo will be significantly shorter than the waiting list for a psych. (The doctor I originally saw wanted me to pass through the psychiatry gate, which had nearly a year-long wait, which is why I started self-medicating in the first place).

On the one hand, I'm happy that there now seems to be a path ahead which is at least manageable. On the other hand, I've now been out of spiro for over a week and will run out of estradiol next week. So unless the waiting list for the endo is really, really short (and obviously it won't be) I'll probably have to make one last sketchy online drug purchase and just hope it doesn't get stopped by customs again. Sigh. :(

Oh yeah, and incidentally: when I told the doctor I was trans, he asked if I was transitioning to male or to female, which was kind of amusing, and, in a way, encouraging, to me. Sometimes I forget that my assigned gender isn't just obvious all the time.

It's back

Welp, guess what's back in my life? Depression yay!!! </sarcasm>

I had a pretty good run there for a few months, but it looks like I'm back to lying in bed fantasizing about killing myself in different ways. That's how I spent Monday evening anyways. Not the healthiest use of one's time, I'm sure.

Then on Tuesday I got hit with kind of a bombshell: the government seized my order of spiro at the border. And yes, I know that's a risk of buying drugs without a prescription, I know those laws exist for a reason, and I know that if I'd been making more of an effort I maybe could have found a trans-friendly doctor by now who'd be willing to prescribe me what I need. But for a known risk it still felt like a punch in the gut. What the hell am I gonna do now? If I halve my dosage I have enough for almost a week. Maybe my best bet is to hit up a walk-in clinic again, that is how I got spiro the first time after all.

Oh yeah, and attached to the official document the government sent me was this paternalistic little epistle warning about all the dangers of buying health products online. Among them was the fact that "buying drugs on the Internet may also pose financial risks. In the some cases, the product ... could be stopped at the border by Canadian authorities." Yeah... thanks I figured that out.

Okay, I wrote the above on Wednesday. Afterwards I took some time to do some catharsis, and I've been feeling a little better since then.

For me the best catharsis comes from listening to that heavy metal music I seems to like so much. I'll start out with some dark, sad songs (like this one), move on to songs about dealing with the shit in your life (like this one), and finally end up at songs that are upbeat, positive and optimistic (like this one). And it really does make a difference. I hope everyone has something in their life that does for them what metal does for me. It's definitely more than just a "favourite genre" to me, it has helped me so much over the years.

After that I had enough motivation to tidy the house a little (it had been a nightmare, now it's slightly less so) and to load the bread machine and set the timer so I'd have bread in the morning. Accomplishing a couple small things helped me feel a little better too.

I'm definitely still in a depressive episode and definitely still running out of spiro, and both of those things suck. But they seem less completely daunting now then they did before. Thank the gods for music.

In which I lose my shit over baby bats

I've now been on hormones for six weeks and I am very happy with how it's going. Before I started I wasn't 100% sure about it (and I think that showed in my previous post a bit), but there is now no doubt in my mind whatsoever that HRT is the right choice for me. It's hard to even say what's different but I just feel... better.

Predictably, the physical changes have been very small so far. Sometimes I see my face in the mirror and think it looks a little rounder, other times I think I'm just imagining it. There definitely has been a bit of breast tissue growth, but it doesn't look like boobs yet— my chest just looks slightly "puffy." My nipples are a little bigger and a lot more sensitive than they used to be. And that's about the extent of it. And yet, even though my overall shape is barely any different than it ever was, somehow it just feel different to be in it. I am much, much more comfortable with my body than I've ever been before.

The only makeup I'm wearing here is a quick smear of lipstick. The fact that I'm happy with a selfie that didn't involve a ton of face effort is a testament to that increasing comfort.

There have been some mental changes as well, though they're a little harder for me to put my finger on. One thing I've definitely noticed, which I was not expecting at all, is a stronger, more visceral reaction to cuteness. It first happened a couple weeks ago: I was hanging out with some friends and for some reason the topic of conversation turned to bats. I brought up a Youtube video of orphaned flying fox pups being wrapped up in blankets. Watching something like that when I was hormonally male I'd have gone "Awwww cute!" and had a big smile. But this time it was more like "OH MY GOD YOU GUYS I ACTUALLY CANNOT HANDLE HOW FLIPPING CUTE THESE BATS ARE!!!!!!" It caught me completely off guard, but it felt like a good thing. Since then I've found other trans women on the internet describing the same experience, so it's not just me. Perhaps the perception that girls, on average, have a greater appreciation for cuteness than boys do has a basis in biology.

I'm still looking for a doctor, but I am so glad I chose not to wait for the medical system to let me through its gates. I'd still have at least half a year of misery ahead of me if I had. At least another six months until I could feel this good about my body or lose my shit over baby bats.

On another matter altogether, I didn't post anything about the holidays at the time, but I'd like to mention them briefly. It was a pretty unusual Christmas this year, both for myself and for my family. My mom was sick and in the hospital for a few weeks, my brother and sister-in-law were out of town, and there were (and still are) some other ongoing issues in my family that I won't get into in the blog. On top of all that, my parents got rid of their dogs, who were also family to me, around the same time. So it sort of felt like everyone was everywhere.

Anyways, I ended up not having any plans on Christmas Eve. I was getting ready to spend the 24th sitting at home alone and drinking, which was a bit of a bummer, when I got a text from a friend. Remember a couple posts ago I mentioned meeting this girl online with whom I was supposed to have a date or something? Well, we never did go out thanks to one thing or another coming up every time. But she sent me a message wishing me a "Merry Christmas Eve!" We started talking. It turned out she didn't have any plans either— she was intending to sit at home with her cat and drink. Since that was basically what I was going to do, we decided to do it together. I drove over to her apartment and we drank and listened to music, and then she taught me how to use a bong and we got stoned and we watched Mean Girls. Not a typical Christmas Eve for me, but lovely all the same. :) I left her place early Christmas morning (after crashing on her couch, nothing exciting lol) to meet up with my dad, then he and I went to visit mom in the hospital. Not a typical Christmas either, but parts of it were very nice in their own way.

Starting HRT

On Monday, for the first time, I placed a tablet containing 2 mg of estradiol hemihydrate under my tongue and let it dissolve. I found myself thinking: Huh, I guess I'll probably be doing this every day for most of the rest of my life.

The pills taste slightly sweet.

Honestly it doesn't seem like nearly as big a deal to me as I once would have expected it to. I'm certainly very happy about it, but it's less of a giddy excitement and more just a calm, contented sense of peace. (Though, perhaps not unusually for a girl at the beginning of puberty, I do occasionally find myself wondering how long until I have boobs, lol).

I'm DIY-ing things for now. I saw a doctor at a walk-in clinic in August: he put me on spiro but wouldn't give me a prescription for hormones until I saw a psychiatrist. And the psych's waiting list was nearly a year long. So I faced a choice: start HRT without medical supervision, putting myself at risk of liver damage and thrombosis; or wait a year, putting myself at risk of self-harm, substance abuse, and suicide. Those are two very different types of risk but it seemed like the odds of me coming to serious harm in either case were roughly equal. Given that, I of course chose that the option that involved not being completely miserable.

And before you start worrying about me, let me assure you that I'm being very careful here. I made sure to get a blood test done before taking the first pill so that any future doctor I see will have access to what my natural hormonal levels were. I intend to get another blood test after one month— (I haven't quite figured out how to get the referral for that yet, though I imagine that simply going to a walk-in and explaining my situation to a doctor is worth a try). I'm not taking a high dose, 2 mg/day is on the lower part of the recommended range for someone like me. And of course, I will try to get proper medical supervision as soon as possible. I just think it will be easier start HRT first and then find a doctor I can work with, rather than having to convince a doctor to let me get the treatment I need.

I've heard several trans women say that they didn't know for sure that HRT was right for them until after they were already on it. I'm only on day four so perhaps it's no surprise that I haven't had any such magical moment of clarity just yet. At this point what convinces me that I'm doing the right thing is how horrified I am by the thought of stopping— I don't even think I could. But now that I think about it, that's how it's always been for me. When I started presenting in a more feminine way I had doubts whether that was right for me until I considered going back to my old presentation and I realized I wouldn't even be able to. Likewise my horror at the thought of asking people to call me by my old name again is, more than anything else, what convinces me that I need to go by Ashley. And the thought of going back to a male hormonal mix makes me feel the same way.

Huh. Maybe that is my "magical moment of clarity." And it happened just now writing this. I guess that's why I'm a blogger. :)

Well anyways, time to start thinking about the next step: banking my sperm before they all shrivel up and die. I'm not 100% certain I'll want biological kids some day, but I am 100% certain I'll at least want the option. Better get on that posthaste!

I'm Facebook official!

My existence is now 100% certified official on Facebook. Last week I finally changed my name and pronouns on there. And gosh does it ever feel good to be able to check Facebook and not have to see my old name all over everything. Yeah!

It was sort of on a whim, to be honest. I hadn't really planned ahead of time when I was going to take that step, and wrote probably the one of the worst "coming out" status ever. It went like so:

Alright, so I was I planning on waiting till I was a little further along in my transition to change my name on Facebook, but it's friggin bugging me seeing my old name on here all the time, so Ashley it is. For those that don't know, I've been using that name within the trans community for about two and half years now, and in my day-to-day life for just over four months. So yeah... I'd really appreciate it if you could try to refer to me by that name instead of Tyler. Thanks! :)

Oh yeah, and PS: I'm trans, for anyone who hasn't figured that out yet.: P

Heh, pretty terrible. The thing is, I wasn't even thinking of it as a coming out. I had long since largely stopped caring about the distinction between out and not on Facebook. And by this point I felt like everyone to whom I actually "owed" a proper coming out had already gotten one. (And perhaps I was mildly resentful of the fact that I'd felt like I owed that to anyone in the first place.) So I saw this less as letting people know that I'm trans and more as just explaining why my profile suddenly had a different name. And, you know, so that the next time I came up on someone's feed they wouldn't be like: who the heck is Ashley??

Of course I got lots of "likes" and supportive comments. My paternal grandmother left a comment saying "whether you are Tyler or Ashley, trans or otherwise you are our grandchild and we love you." Awww. ♥

I also got a bunch of questions in my inbox. Most of them were good or at least reasonable. For example, one of my aunts asked me if I had any advice on how she should explain it to her children, or if there was anything specifically that I wanted her to say or to not say, which is like the best freaking question ever seriously I wish everybody asked questions like that. I also got one kind of weird question from someone who was wondering if I was still a Christian and if so, how I reconciled my "transgender existence" (his actual words) with the bible. (If you're new to this blog, I have a dark mysterious past as a conservative Christian, but left the faith several years ago and now identify as a non-theist or atheist.) So I told him that I wasn't a believer anymore, but also pointed out that the bible doesn't really talk much about trans stuff anyways. He also asked what it was like growing up trans in the church and I gave kind of long-winded reply about how it actually totally sucked and how much better it could have been if I'd been raised in a church that was queer\trans-affirming.

Of course I'd been intending to eventually change my name for some time, but what finally pushed me over the edge and got me to do it was, of all things, wanting to add a new friend who's only ever known me as Ashley. Remember my previous post when I said I might have a date with a girl I met on the internets? Well, she and I still haven't gotten a chance to hang out yet for various reasons— she had family visiting, I was busy, she was sick— but we've been texting for a while now. I went and found her on Facebook, but felt super weird about sending a friend request from my old name. Hence my new-found motivation. (Afterwards she was like "aww you could've just added me before, I wouldn't have cared...")

Anyways, we're planning on getting together this weekend, so hopefully that works out. Oh, and I should mention that, of all the bizarre things, we discovered that we have the same birthday— how weird is that?! So now we're already planning on having a joint birthday party, even though it's not till February. :D

It seems I'm going about transition in totally the "wrong" order, at least according to the traditional trans narrative. I'm now fully out (except at work) and I haven't even started HRT yet. Sometimes I can't help but feel that people are going to expect me to start looking "more female" soon, when in reality that's probably still a fair ways off. But whatever. Obviously there's no right or wrong way to be trans— doing it this way works for me, and that's good enough. :)

I'm still here (and I'm on spiro now!)

It's been a while since I updated this blog, but I'm still here and not dead. And also I'm taking androgen-blockers.

In the last week of August I finally got around to seeing a doctor about the fact that I'm trans. Ironically what actually compelled me to go to the clinic was a bad skin rash, but I figured since I'd be there anyways I should bring up my trans-ness. (This is in keeping with my uncanny ability to put off doing important things, like seeing a doctor, until I absolutely have to do them).

I went to a walk-in clinic because I don't have a regular practitioner. After checking my ID and healthcare card, the receptionist asked what the issue is.
"Uh, well, actually it's two things," I said. "The first is a skin rash..."
She made a note of that.
"And the second is that, uh, I'm transsexual and—"
She stopped me right there. "I'll just put down 'personal' for that, okay?"
"Uh... okay."

 Wow lady, way to make me feel weird.

Thankfully the doctor himself was a lot more professional about it. He asked me a few questions, but they were all ones that made sense— how long have you felt this way? have you been experiencing depression?— that sort of thing. He gave me a prescription for the androgen-blocker spironolactone, which I've been on since then, and a referral to a psychiatrist I'm supposed to see before I start HRT.

Spironolactone

He said the waiting list for the psych would likely be close to year (ugh) and that the current psychiatrist was retiring soon and someone else would be taking over his work, so I should be proactive about contacting their office. I figured I'd probably call them in the next couple of days.

And then the depression hit. Apparently one of the side-effects of spiro is that it can exacerbate depressive symptoms. Beginning a couple days after I took the first pill and lasting for a couple weeks I had possibly the worst depression I've ever experienced. Needless to say I did not call the psych's office during that time. That's also largely why I stopped blogging.

But I guess after a couple weeks my body just got used to the drug or something, because I gradually returned to my normal baseline emotional state, which is a much more mild and intermittent sort of depression that I can usually manage.

Now I just need to phone the psych's office and see if I can still get put on the waiting list even though my referral is for a guy who doesn't work there anymore. I'm not really sure how all that works.

Other than that there hasn't been much noteworthy stuff in my life in the last couple months, but things are, for the most part, going well. I got moved to the afternoon shift at work, and while it sucks not having my evenings free I've found I enjoy the actual work a lot more: the shop's almost empty so I don't have a bunch of bosses looking over my shoulder telling me what to do, I mostly get to just do my own thing. Last Sunday I had a really nice Thanksgiving dinner with my parents and brother and sister-in-law: my contribution was the apple pie, which actually turned out quite well (and only my second time making a pie from scratch too). Today I cleaned and tidied my house and bought some cut flowers for the vase on the table and now it feels all nice and homey for a change. And at some point in the near future I probably have a date with this girl I met online (we said we'd go out for coffee or something, but haven't set a place or time yet) so that's kind of exciting.

Altogether I feel like I kind of have a handle on this whole "life" thing. I suppose I should enjoy that while it lasts. :)