Today was honestly fantastic. My partner and I went to a Renaissance festival with the kiddo. I was excited to be out of town and not have to run into anyone, so I decided to get dolled up for the occasion. I haven’t gone out femme a lot, so it was really something to look forward to for me. I definitely have been blessed with the boobs so most of my outfits are something feminine as an undershirt, throw on the Gender Dysphoria hoodie and call it good enough, but I wasn’t happy with that today.

I wore a nice wig (alopecia is a bitch and new growth is unflattering), did my face, had my partner help with the eye makeup (I still tend to lean too hard on old scene kid makeup habits and she likes to poke fun at it), got it all set, wore a nice pink v cut shirt under a blouse that was dark on the bottom and see through up top and a pair of bleached white skinny jeans. Wet got there and went to a show, I was getting a little nervous so I decided to have a mead and get the hardest most awkward part of the day out of the way.

The bartender scrutinized my ID something fierce, studying intently the picture of a cadaver splayed out in multiple security features with various opacity. Vacant sunken “kill me I’m already dead” eyes, a beard that hadn’t been shaved in months, basically bald if not for a few wispy Homer hairs that defiantly stayed behind. He looks back at me. I’m wearing prescription shades because my eyes are terrible and it’s very bright. He finally found what he was looking for, something to verify on this ID without being overt about things.

“Can I see your eyes?” He makes a gesture to pull the glasses down.

He smiles, “There you are! You look gorgeous today!”

I got my wristband and from there it all had to be easy, no more ID or any of that.

We had fun, took the kid around to see things, they got to fight with some foam weapons against this adorable person with an androgynous fit and a furry tail, the highlight of their day.

Also got to ride a horse, dig for treasure, all the fun things you can take a kid to do at a renaissance fair.

I had forgotten my phone, so I don’t have any pictures like I had wanted, but it was a good day.

Came home, cooked some dinner, watched a classic movie with my partner, told them goodnight, and I’ve been sitting here for an hour and a half out more trying to convince myself to go take a shower and end the day.

I don’t want to though.

I’ve waited so long, dreamed, hoped, cried, worried, so much, so so long. I get to have my night at the ball, and it’s midnight already.

I know it’s silly, but I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to take it all off and have to look at myself, with the cruel unadulterated eyes of dysphoria.

I spent my life with my only makeup being the cinders my oppressors pushed me into while mocking me for wanting to be pretty. I want more than these rags I was given, the rags I never thought I could be better than, the rags I bitterly still hide in most days.

I want to wear something gorgeous, I want to look like it was made for me, I want to drink, and dance, and socialize, but I want most of all, to not have to go back at the stroke of midnight.

It’s not that easy. I don’t have an army of rats to make me fine clothes, I don’t have money, or means, but there are things I do have, even if I can’t always remember them.

I really need to start getting an actual wardrobe, because it is apparently more important to me than I realized.

The lady I’ve been taking care of died earlier this month. It was a blessing. She was starting to get locked in to her body, it was truly a Cronenberg body horror extravaganza. She died in the closet. She was pansexual or bisexual and all the photos we came up with just made people ask more questions. They only guessed, but I actually knew the story, not the type to out someone at their funeral I kept it to myself, but I swore to myself I’m not going to die hiding the same way. I’ve never presented femme where I wasn’t the butt of the joke for a stage production. Well, I went to that funeral as myself god damnit.

The wig was in terrible condition, I didn’t have time to do my makeup, and I had been running around for a week to make this all happen, but I still went anyway. I showed up late and started setting up. My hands were shaking and I was so anxious. People who knew me came up to talk to my partner, completely glossed over me as a friend. A couple people asked in front of me where I was, and I just said it was me. They were all shocked. My mom and grandparents were there, they were civil at least, mom’s cop husband just stared off in the distance uncomfortable the whole time (seethe piggy).

I went to the bar and got hit on by the patrons, and the barkeep. Barkeep got quiet and less friendly after they carded me, one of the patrons joked about how now he knows where I live and hardy har har, I just flipped my ID over to them too there you go, I’m never lackin, come visit sugar, the next 21 gun salute at this American legion can be for you, buckwheat.

Ewwwwwphoria

The deceased’s sister and her partner came to talk to me, their partner said they thought my voice was different last time we saw each other over thanksgiving and they called it that I was transitioning. I had given my condolences about her sister, and said she was a beautiful woman, and she said I’m a beautiful woman too, and I started crying.

Later my mom texted me

We just made it home. You did a fantastic job with this entire situation with L**** and you handled her care and needs in a beautiful way. I’m touched by the many testimonies and compliments the s***** family gave to us over you and you should feel very proud that your beauty shown through during this difficult time. You too served as a bridge for her and I admire you for your service of love and sacrifice.

We went out afterwards for dinner, and I got ma’amed and Ladies’ed all over the place, I don’t care if she was being polite or what, it was nice. It all went well until one of my partners gay friends asked if I was gonna cut my dick off, kinda killed my mood right away and I had to leave.

You know, sometimes it all ends up alright.

The visit yesterday had my grandparents asking questions

about why everyone was calling me Jessie, and why my nails were fabulous, and why it kinda felt like I was wearing a bra or an undershirt, anyway, it came up.

They didn't quite fully understand and had apparently been asking my Mom about it in the car on the ride home. I had no idea about this until I got a message from my grandpa this afternoon with a link to a blurb about Albert Cashier and saying they never heard of them, and wondering if I had, and that he prays I find peace and a feeling of worth.

So I end up asking my mom, she says she didn't tell them, I tell her I'm not mad, that it's fine (even though it isn't really, but whatever at this point) and she says she didn't say anything. Then we talk about my son for a minute and some other things, and then she says she had to explain everything to her parents.

Cool, I get it, but you just said you didn't, so which is it?

I'm trying to communicate what is up to her, and end up writing it all to my grandpa, I freaked out after I sent the messages, and went to go delete them, cool, except delete isn't unsend in this case, and now I can't get to the message to unsend it so I guess I officially came out to them now, in the worst most uncontrolled fucking way possible. She starts telling me she was anxious, and was being a little coy still not getting to what she said (which at this point doesn't matter), and I tell her at least they got to see first hand that I'm happier and healthier than I've ever been before they found out. She again hints at her telling them by saying they were supportive and calm about the whole thing and asks me if I feel relieved. See, the thing is, you can never really express to a cis-heteronormative person exactly how laboring coming out is. The only thing I could think to say was

"Coming out is exhausting. It’s like emotional breakthroughs you’ve had with yourself you just have to keep having again and again and again. I’m relieved, and many other things."

She concedes that I had really ran and struggled with myself, and my gender identity and my place in the world for a long time, and that they are sorry for things they said and did that made me feel like I couldn't be myself and be a part of their lives, and that it's been very painful for everyone involved (you know what, progress is progress, I'll allow some cishet victimhood, to a point anyway). Then she remarks at how instrumental the lady I take care of has been in my life through different parts of it, and she wonders if she has any idea.

You have to know some things about her, her name is Lucretia, she's an Air Force vet, she is the mother of my partner and there were always rumors that she was a closeted lesbian (it turns out she was so closeted she's still in the closet to herself to this day). She helped me get out of the bad school situation I was in, she helped me get a greyhound ticket away when I was homeless, she's a good lady.

"I wonder if she has any idea." it rings through again

The sad reality strikes me that she doesn't and she never will. She has no idea where she is anymore, she thought she was in a basement, and they don't have those around here, she's vacant a lot and doesn't have much energy to get up anymore without assistance. She's sunsetting fast, and even if I told her, she'd forget, and she wouldn't ever really know. It was tragic, and I began to cry. I tell her about how positive everything has been for me, and how I only wish I had started HRT earlier, because I only ended up running from feelings I could never escape from and how I'm glad this hasn't been the disaster I've been imagining for 20 years.

She almost immediately calls me, I'm still crying

We have a brief talk about not looking back and this and that, and she talks about how close we were, kinda goes over how she realizes now that I had a lot of things I was dealing with related to this that she didn't understand at the time why I was having problems. She tells me there is a picture I need to have, that she is led to give me, She says there's four generations in it, My great Grandma, my Grandma, my mom, and myself. She's almost kind of crying. Her voice gets weak as she asks "There could've been your sister or your cousin there, but I wanted you in that generational picture..." her voice is cracking "Why did I want you in that picture? I don't think it's a coincidence..." she starts to kinda cry a bit, and i'm crying, I tell her, sometimes our brains know things deep down because of pattern recognition that we can't really draw to the conscious of our minds, but they influence our decisions. She kinda cries, she can't say it, but she's trying to tell me in her own words, ** this picture I want you to have is a generational picture of the women in our family **. She tells me explicitly that I'm her child, and that she accepts me becoming the person I need to be as her child, that she sees I've had so many problems related to this so long, so much self loathing, cutting myself, being bullied and antagonized as a sissy, and that she's glad I've found myself, and that she just wants me to keep being happy and healthy, and that she doesn't believe in coincidences.

I'm dumbstruck

See, dreams have been a large part of who I am, my journey. They help me make sense of things, they give me guidance, sometimes they give me escape, other times a better look into myself, and on rare occasions they are a bit more occult in nature. From a young age I had premonitions and a heavy sense of Deja Vu from dreams. Not like a fortune teller, always more mundane, but it opened me up to the idea that dreams can be spiritual to some extent. When I was young my paternal grandfather visited me in a dream, told me he was sick, really sick, and he didn't feel good, but that now he feels much better, and that he'll be okay, and that he's sorry. I didn't know why he died at the time, I was told later he thought he had killed a motorcyclist and didn't want to go back to prison so he went home and handled that anxiety for himself. The experience helped shape my compassionate view for the people who wind up in that dark alley, but also kind of set precedent that I may see spirits in my dreams.

It's different when you have a spirit with you in a dream. Most of the time you have an acute sense that these people that populate dreams are NPCs so to speak, but there's actual presence with spirits.

My maternal great grandma came to visit me a few years ago, and told me it was alright. I came out to her, and she told me she knows, and that it's okay, that she loves me. I never shared that dream, and here my mom is saying she is led to give me the picture with her, so I had to share that with her and she reiterates that she doesn't believe in coincidence.

We have to get off the phone quickly after that, but it was a good phonecall.

After I got my son home he asked to play some videogames, so I broke out the SNES classic and we played some two player games, then he started playing games himself when he settled on A link to the past.

He's so much like me it's unreal, and he isn't biologically mine, I don't think that's a coincidence either.

Sorry for the novella, but I wanted to share with someone in the hopes they don't have to wait 20 years too.

Y'all have a good one out there today ❤️

I live in Florida, was running into the grocery store real quick on my way to pick up my son. Someone gets out of their truck falls in behind me, stops for a second, and loudly proclaims,

"look at that freak, I'm all for people doing whatever they want, but fuck, what the fuck was that?"

I was looking at myself in my bra and panties today, and really noticed how well my chest was coming along, I can hardly see my hands past my breasts anymore when I place them on my upper stomach. My ass is filling out nicely and I can feel it jiggle when I shake, which feels really nice. I figured I was still firmly boy mode after 4 months, But I guess that was a good reality check that I am in the un-manly valley and should probably be more careful with going out at night.

I feel a mix of emotions, but none of them negative.

Fuck that bigot

I woke up rested, got my little one in to school, got home, smoked a bowl, and fired up my virtual machines to grind pennies out of crappy cash grab mobile games to waste some time this morning. Stopped to use the bathroom quick, and was admiring how my hair line is coming in. I’ve had a lot of dysphoria about my hair before I knew what that was, it was the first thing that meant a lot to me and I didn’t know why, it was the first thing they took from me to try to break my will, and it was my first panic attack. Anyway, there is a lot of emotion tied up in my hair, and I wanted to share that with somebody and my first reaction was to send a selfie to my mom, but I couldn’t. So instead I’m sitting here upset that I can’t even celebrate my simple wins with my mom because of the way she acted last time (if you’re curious, you can read her exact words in a prior post).

Anyway, One of The garbage mobile games I’m playing is monopoly go, and they have this ADORABLE pink heart shield as a reward for the tournament, and that sucker is mine 💅

Blessed be ladies 💋 XOXO

It’s been a while since I posted. A lot has been changing and happening for me.

I got on a prescription scalp treatment, and I can see little dark hairs setting up base in the No-Man’s-Land that used to be my hair line, they are surrounded by an army of blonde hairs that I can feel, but not see. I’ve only been on the treatment for maybe a week, so I’m very hopeful between that and HRT that I may actually be able to grow my hair out again!

I had bought a Tria 4x at home laser for hair removal on eBay for $170 USD that I’ve been using on my chest and face so far. The face was so painful with all the deep close together hairs that when I do my chest it feels like the device isn’t working. My beard shadow is starting to fade, and you only really notice it in my side burns (I started at the Tragus to avoid going too high), the rest isn’t as dark anymore and stays smooth a day or so longer after a shave shower now. It takes a long while, but I’m still firmly in boy mode, so I don’t mind it right now, and it will hopefully be mostly done by the time I end up girl moding a majority of the time.

Also, as an aside, my face is softening up, I noticed specifically in the lips, they seem brighter and softer.

Attached picture is my current nail art, base coat is Oaseas, with a light coat of Saturn it up for some glitter and pink contrast. I’m loving it so wanted to share!

I told her about my dream and I got this lovely back to me.

“Good morning. Thank you for being vulnerable and thank you for feeling positive about yourself. I am very proud and happy that you have made whatever growth im your emotional well being and you have over come the wounded little boys hurt from isolation and bullying. It’s what’s inside - not what you are trying to create on the outer shell - transgender is like a white washed tomb and it’s not permanent.

[DeadName] you are wise enough and intelligent way beyond your years - way beyond the normal human.

A mother only wants all of their children to find peace within them self - you were born with great purpose and potential and I’ve always encouraged you in this way.

I wish you could hear from a mothers point of view how preposterous it is that your generation has bought in to the lie in your minds that a dude is a woman and a woman is a dude.

I AM befuddled and perplexed beyond words.

I am not in a place to ever call a lie the truth or the truth a lie.

It does not set well with me that a boy child that I gave birth to and have struggled with and loved unconditionally his entire life has allowed life to fuck with him to the point that instead of fighting through and coming to terms with the injustices he would rather just say he’s a woman than overcome all of the bull shit that life has brought in a healthy and proper way…

That would be the real hero - that would be the real triumph and that would be the true victory that I would want for my son who was created inside of my body so wonderfully and who was genetically given a penis and the proper chromosome and wiring of one gender - a male.

While I love you More than you have ever been able to comprehend, I will NEver mistreat people but the hard truth is there are only two genders that god created and this god forsaken transgender line of ridiculousness is the biggest joke I have seen on this planet.

I know you’re going to do what you want - you’ve isolate yourself away from precious people your entire life and even in golden years of your grand parents they wonder why you don’t love them or keep in touch. It’s reallly sad.

BE HAPPY AND BE STRONG BE AN OVERCOMER OF ALL THE WRONGS that you’ve been dealt but learn to be what you were designed to be - that’s my son not my daughter.

I’m not capable of pretending this is ok - I love you dearly but I’m not going to be fake and act like this is ok cause it’s not ok….

Love,

Your mother. “

Went exactly as expected.

Spits vitriol and then says “WhY dIdNt YoU sTaY, bTw We’Ll NeVeR AcCePt YoU FuLlY iF YoU TrIeD tO?”.

I ran away as a teenager because I knew they would never accept me how I was and that I didn’t fit into their Christian nationalist world view. Before I knew I wanted to transition, I knew I wasn’t like them and they would never fully understand me..

Whatever…

Original Post can be found here.

She didn’t call, she waited until late in the night and texted. We didn’t talk about the business. We didn’t talk about me coming out, but we talked about our nails and some things going on with us.

We talked about dinner plans, she dead named me, and told me she loved me.

I’m not even mad about the dead Name, I didn’t tell her my chosen name, so she had nothing else to call me, but it was jarring still.

I hope you all had a wonderful night ❤️💕