Mourning?

 I saw some pictures of Matt and me-as-a-girl during our wonderful vacation to Florida two years ago. They made me sad. I didn't expect them to make me sad, and I feel weird and guilty now. I'm mourning the two of us who were. I miss Matt. I miss me-as-a-girl. Does this mean I'm making a horrible mistake? Does it mean all this trans stuff has been a phase, and I'm really female after all? I don't think it does, but I'm scared, now. 

I feel guilty for missing Matt, because Jaymie doesn't want anything to do with Matt anymore. Jaymie is not mourning Matt, and I don't think it's normal for transgender people to mourn their former selves. I think there's something wrong with me. I was so elated in the doctor's office last Wednesday when I got my first shot of T. I love it when Jaymie calls me her husband. I love when someone "accidentally' calls me "sir." But I am terrified.

I'm afraid of losing the wonder and innocence that I had as a girl. I'm afraid I won't be attractive as a man. I'm afraid of losing my hair. I'm afraid of the long wait I will probably have between now and when I can get my top surgery. so I can stop feeling like a freak. Not that I think other men with breasts are freaks, not that women with penises are freaks, I don't think that. This is just what I'm feeling now, about my own body.

And I'm afraid of making the same mistakes I made 14 years ago. Throwing away everything feminine and being ultra-butch just to be recognized as male. My personality has splintered. There's a little girl inside me now who I keep safe. I call her abigail. I don't think it's DID because I am conscious of everything she says and does, but she is the remnant of me-as-a-girl that I feel like I need to hold onto.

Clothes. I don't want to look old. I'm 41. I don't even want to look like I'm 41. I don't want to tuck in my shirt. I want to wear things that aren't necessarily made for men. I identify as a non-binary man. That, I think, is pretty solid. I will always gravitate toward more flamboyant and colorful things (or sometimes, dark and gothy things). I don't want to give up my necklaces and my jewelry because society says I have to. 

But until my body looks more masculine- or, androgynous, really- until the hormones do their work on my body and voice changes and my breasts are gone, I'm going to continue to be mistaken for a woman, and I am not a woman. I don't know, I am just having an extremely dysphoric day. My chest can't be flat enough and I want to wear a women's-cut t-shirt I bought, but I can't, because I don't want to be seen as a woman. I'm a complete mess. 

Why can't I just be who I am without all the stupid steps in between that make me feel horrible? 

(Hypomanic?) rant

I feel better now. Couples therapy went really well today. I read the therapist my previous entry and they said that there is nothing wrong with me, and that I am not experiencing anything any other trans person hasn't felt. We talked about clothes and how boy clothes are boring in America and if I lived in any other country or any other century I probably wouldn't feel so boxed in. I'd love to dress like an 18th century gentleman, frock coat and heels and all. That's me, that's who I see inside. Maybe it's a past life. Who knows. If I had the money, I'd have clothes like that made for me. 

Anyway, we talked about Jaymie's forced coming-out to her parents because of my mother and a Facebook "whoops" which I am not going to go into here. Jaymie has been feeling a lot of stress, living a double life. She is coming out to her supervisor tomorrow, and hopes to be out at work full-time by May or June. I don't even know how she could wait that long, or why. If it were me, once I told my supervisor, that would be it. But Jaymie needs more time to put herself together, and I understand that.

I'm not a freak. I'm just this guy, y'know? And I happen to like pretty things. I like some guy things, too. We went to Duluth Trading Co. today and I liked several of the shirts they had there. I got some new boxer shorts with hearts on them. I find it funny that (straight cis) guys will wear patterns like that on their underwear, like it's a dirty little secret or something, but wouldn't usually wear it out where people could see it. I also find it funny that I like Duluth Trading Co. so much, since it caters directly to the straight cis market... or do they? They sneak in really nice toiletries, good-smelling soaps and luxurious body washes, beard oils, and deodorants amid the Manly Man Attire. Boy, I hope I have use for beard oil at some point... now I'm just rambling. 

One day I"m all rainbows and unicorns and cute little fluffy clouds, and the next I'm reveling in Scandinavian death metal and browsing goth shit and morbid medical oddities online. I'm just not a good fit for any box. I never have been, and I never will be. There's no word that defines Morgan. Morgan is an experience. My experience. Gods, now I sound like some conceited social icon or something. But I deserve a little self-love, don't I? I deserve to like who I am. And maybe I am a freak, by your standards and maybe I like it. So what?.

I guess I will just end this entry here, since I have embarked on a wild tangent.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! I take my second shot of T tomorrow, all by myself. I hope I don't screw it up. I think I'll stick it in my belly fat this time. We just got the syringes. I was worried they were going to be stupid expensive, but they ended up being only a dollar or something.

Okay. I'm done, now.