Playing Catch Up

Yesterday and last night were too exhausting for me to do anything other than crawl into bed and sleep. My current college doesn’t want to change my name on any of the programs or services that I current use to interact with my fellow classmates and professors. They say that they can’t do anything until next semester even though I’ve legally changed my name and submitted the proper documentation. I’ve written them about this letting them know that I feel disrespected among other things. I’ve also told them that I refuse to work under an assumed name. If I cannot use my correct legal name, then I will withdraw from their college. I pay them for an education, and the least I expect other than that education is some respect. I would never ask anyone else to work under a false name, why should I not be given the same courtesy?

I am still in the process of trying to get all of my accounts and documents changed over to my new proper and legal name, and it’s proving to be a bit more trouble that I thought. In the end, it is well worth it. I still have some paperwork to deal with pertaining to my car and insurance. Then there is the mess of my birth certificate, high school diploma and other things.

Funny how when I sit down and start writing these posts every night I stop sometimes and think, “I’ve done this before.”  Déjà vu. It’s comforting to some extent thought because it helps me to realize that I’m on the right path. I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing despite all the upheaval and distress currently occurring in my life.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m writing a book with my fiancé. It’s total fantasy and a bit off the wall, but it gives me something positive to focus on. After the first year of my “active transitioning” as I am calling it, I plan to start working on another book about my whole process. I love writing, so why not do something that I enjoy. I would love to do nothing more than write research papers all day. I love them. I know it’s a bit odd but still, it’s a good thing.

Today was my son’s, our youngest one’s birthday. He turned nine. Though we are going through rough times we did our best to make it a good day. He got the Pokemon cards that he had been wanting, and an Angry Birds Star Wars hoodie blanket, which he loves. His birthday cake was Transformers and I cooked him a nice dinner. Steak, baked potato, salad and Texas toast. Yum!

I miss having a big kitchen to cook meals in, but eventually we will get out of here and that will change. I’m trying to be positive. I’m trying really hard.

On the 20^th of this month I have my first appointment to start HRT. I already have my letter and I’m ready to go. I was cleared a little over two years ago when I still lived in Richmond, Virginia, but I moved because my parents “needed” me. What a lie that turned out to be. This time I’m not stopping, I’m not dropping my life for anyone else. I’ve come too far once again to put it on the back burner. I have been openly trans* (I write it that way because I love the “star”) since 2005. I’ve known that I was this way since high school, well before really. It was high school in 1999 when I realized there was a word to describe what I am.

As a young child I could never understand why I was different from my brothers, why I couldn’t run around shirtless and they could. That is one of the major things that sticks in my hair from my childhood. Well, what I remember of it.

While I am extremely excited about the 20^th, I am also terrified. This is a huge step for me, someone that detests medications that aren’t natural. I keep telling myself that my body should be producing T naturally and it isn’t, so I just have to give it a boost. I am currently taking an amino acid supplement that is supposed to help boost T production as well as promote “brain function”.  I’ve noticed that I don’t get as angry as often when I’m taking it. I feel a little better, but this depression is kicking my butt.

I am struggling with my classwork. I can’t pay attention to the words on the pages in the books. They might as well be written in Latin. I look at the words and none of them seem to make any sense to me.

On a positive note, Hamlet came back. No sooner had I posted my last post than I heard a meowing at the door, reluctantly Emily checked and there was Hammy. 

I cried. 

Even now, I’m on the very of crying.

I suppose I have to hit rock bottom before I can start heading up.