(This blog entry contains sensitive material regarding emotional abuse)
Good Saturday evening, Steemers! Always nice to talk at you folks!
Where I live, the summer heat is in full force. It's gotten to the point where both my lipstick and my deodorant starts to melt. Lack of air conditioning is no picnic.
However, life continues to proceed. Work is satisfying, rent is caught up, and I took a big step in my transition today: I sought legitimate help with it.
I'm still learning as I go, but from what I understand, to qualify for hormone therapy, it requires a psychological evaluation. This strikes me as a wise safeguard, as something this drastic would require quite a commitment. It's not just an impulse thing to change one's gender.
Also, for me, I feel like I need to be sure I'm pursuing this for the right reasons. I may have mentioned before that I've escaped a very toxic situation involving my family. I'd ordinarily not dwell on it, but I'm still paying off the $10,000 debt they shackled me with.
You'll forgive me a micro rant, as I'm trying to be a sweet, happy girl. But, how did Oscar Wilde put it; every saint and every sinner has a future.
My mother is currently engaged to who will be her fourth husband. The last guy was a former soldier who couldn't leave the lifestyle behind. No matter what, he had to fight his little bullshit wars. Even if it was against my little brother, with total victory being declared if my mother put out.
It was a very toxic masculine display of arrogant, unwarranted superiority. Imagine if every time you went to do something, there had to be a debate about how to do it, and then having to do somethinf completely different because nobody else would pull their weight.
He was also my foreman at work. Work had to come home, home problems had to be dealt with at work. And every time I squirrelled a little money aside, there was always some bulshit emergency that could only be averted by yours truly.
Say if you had $300 saved up as a down deposit on a vehicle so you could actually function in a big city. Just before you talk to the dealer, someone comes up with a sky-is-falling story that some critical bill is "coincidentally" $300. See where I'm going with this?
But, this is the kind of guy who uses his actual biological daughter's while college fund to bail himself out of his own poor judgements.
Now that you have some personal context, gentle reader, you can imagine why I'm glad the psych eval is a good idea. I need to be sure I'm not using my transition, my pure and beautiful womanhood, this future I've chosen for myself, as a form of escapism.
Also, how awful would it be halfway through a vaginoplasty, if I go that route, if I chickened out? I'm not sure I could live with that kind of buyer's remorse.
There is a lot to unpack, and there is a long way to go. I'm still not sure of even which questions I should be asking. But much of what I shared here, I shared with my therapist. So, I'm of the opinion this is a good start
I do, however, mean to do more writing on here. Stay tuned for short stories, memes, story times, and general transy bean goodness.
Later on!
💜 Roxy 💜