The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

[Beth-Lock]

My transition is certainly not over if you believe that it only really takes off, after SRS/GRS, but the barrage of bad news has caused me to pause a while in thought. Indeed, this morning my thoughts ranged from grim to depressive, but after attending church this morning I began to think, there must be some divine justification for my being sent along this path. I am not sure what it is, except I think it involves speaking out for those whose gender transition has ended in a sad mess or some other soul searing disappointment.

One thing, the pannicy counting of my money to see if I could get FFS has subsided, as the impact of the insults of a friend who dumped me and then called me unattractive, have worn off now. But then being abandoned by even old friends is one of the heartaches so familiar to us, as a part of our transition. Such desertions never seem to lose their sting, even when they happen often enough that we are barely surprised when we experience yet another defection

After church I dropped into a resto-bar for brunch, (where I really could cry in my beer), and a woman at the bar with a British accent was talking about Jimmy Savile. Poor blighters of sick kids he 'befriended,' had it worse than I am having. There was only a thin crowd and I had lots of time to dawdle over my shandy and the overly-filling brunch. Expensive, but "YOLO" I imagined I would tell anyone who asked.

Well, you may rebel against your religion when you think it implies a judgement against your transition, but you sure as h.. need it to help you get past those despairing times that so often result. Don't get me wrong - my decision to transition and then to have SRS, are neither of them, things I regret. I do enjoy living as a woman, and it does seem to suit me, and that continues to be a comfort for me these days.

The question is, "How do you cope with the troubles and trials of transition?" They are going to be there, big or small, huge or merely frustratingly uncomfortably to bear, just like kid's belly aches are "As sure as God made little green apples," as the saying goes.

[sandra-leigh]

I would cry in my beer too if I drank beer. So instead I sit alone on my couch at night with the lights off, moping with my milk.

[gonegirl]

I weep in my wine.... (seriously, sometimes)

:)
Mac.

[Beth-Lock]

I weep in my wine.... (seriously...).

We deal with our emotions when they are evoked by yet another setback or piece of worrisome news from the Doctor, in many ways, from misting over in gripping sadness, to blubbering into our pillow like a baby. Often, it is in a soothing beverage that we seek some comfort, a glass of wine, or liqueur, or simply a beer or a Cola. Perhaps with something to nibble on, on the side, will give us a little more of a reward for bearing another of life's woes when they strike us. Some beverages attract our attention to the possibility of nibbling on some specific treat that goes with them, a packaged munchie like crisps/chips, cheese-coated popcorn, a fancy cracker or several such fancy finger foods, arrayed tastefully in a circle on a small plate.

The psychologists say, a little bite to eat, not too much, so we can comfortably repeat it, as needed, rewards us, just as much as a laboratory animal a psychologist is seeking to see how well it can be trained, is encouraged to go on. So we train ourselves to bear a bit of misery, with a little sip of a pleasant drink, and a nibble on a comfort food, which comes in small bits anyway.

It may not revive us, but it helps stabilize our spirits, giving a bit of lift to our sails, with each new worrying theory to cross our imagination, about what chain reaction starting from our original, emotional bad news, could possibly develop into -- into something quite bad, something hard to deal with, something that might undo us, all together. If resting, with our eyes closed, with nothing to distract us, we drift into a cloud of bad thoughts, quite naturally. The effect of our original piece of bad news can escalate, from sadness, through melancholy, towards an outbreak of hopelessness, which will eventually, if not superseded by a healthier emotion, slide us into despair and even a bout of depression.

So, sit up, get up and do something routine to stop the downward slide of hope. Put on the tea, and put out the cookies. Pop open an ale, and reach for the pretzels. Grab a Cola from the fridge, and pull open a package of munchies. It is all quite human. It is our natural anti-depressant response. You'll feel better in a minute. Trust me.