…what can happen in three years?
Well, quite a bit.
Still employed, that’s a good thing. As things are now, I don’t see that changing. I’ve come to understand that I’m one of their better people. It helps that I can see others more as they are, not as dysphoria and anxiety colors them – well not so much anymore, at least. So, I’m going to stick with this place until I retire – mostly because I need the pension. ALSO? At 59, I’m just not enthusiastic about the idea of starting over.
I’m not sure why I didn’t update – I just wasn’t so bad off emotionally any more, I suppose. I was in a lot of pain – from the depression that nearly killed me, and the anxiety that followed once I figured things out.
Writing requires energy of a sort, and I was at a low ebb for a long time, healing. When the anger abated, and the work of sorting myself out began – I didn’t have as much energy as I did.
I’ve started going to the gym, and my diabetes is under better control now. I’m watching what I eat better now, too….
I’ve been on Hormone Replacement therapy for just over a year. I’ve slowly ramped up to 4 mgs a day – one 2mg every 12 hours. Spironalactone (an androgen suppressor – reduces testosterone levels) – 100 mg a day. Spiro isn’t the best stuff to take, so as soon as my next new endo takes over, I’ll be talking to her about that.
My last endo was good, but she’s moving to the Northwest for some reason. I’m going to miss her, she was good to work with.
A friend pushed me to get a new endocrinologist, and get HRT started…. just as one friend set me going in the right direction, and likely saved my life… Friends are good to have. Even if you never set eyes on them, strangers can become friends.
I still dress male, but I’m sure my appearance isn’t strictly male now, my hair almost reaches the middle of my back (if it’s wet), and the extra weight I’m carrying doesn’t ALWAYS hid the fact I have small breasts. Well, as far as I know. My nipples are certainly sensitive enough. Some days I wear a tank top under my T-shirt, they bother me so much.
I’m far better off emotionally, yet I’m more emotional than I’ve probably been all my life – at least since I can remember – since 1st grade? The fear of my mother was always greater when I was a child, than the fear of responsibility I’ve had as an adult.
The dysphoria that started (in hindsight, not something I saw THEN) in my puberty is something that’s at least understandable and definable now, with a cause and it’s something I can deal with.
The solution – known, but not easy. I’ve changed in many small ways.Life works now. Not the life of some middle-aged guy that I was trying to be, buy MY life.
….this sums it up:
For most of my life, I did not know who I was. People tell me I’m a wonderful woman who has a lot to offer – I’ve come to agree with them. I’m happier than I’ve been – well – EVER….