Sharon
12-07-2007, 09:06 PM
People I talk with must get tired of me saying this, but I have never been as happy with myself or my life in general as I am now. But it wasn't always like this, and it is only a recent phenomenon -- five? six months?
I don't believe I was ever truly happy until these recent months, and I'm not exaggerating when I use the word "ever." I tend to be over analytical, especially in regards to myself, and my self-criticism knew no bounds. I hated what God did to me by giving me either the wrong brain or body. I hated others who, I always only assumed, would hate me for being "weird" or "sick." But, mostly, I just hated myself -- hated myself for not being strong enough to quash these feelings -- hated myself for being way too sensitive -- hated myself for just giving a damn what strangers might think of me -- hated myself for creating all these impenetrable walls that kept others from getting too close to me -- hated the fact that I wasn't downright gorgeous when I dressed en femme, which I felt would have made a transition simpler, but was just another excuse -- and I hated just about everything else for that matter.
But one thing I was always able to do was to show a happy face and positive demeanor to those I had contact with, particularly family. People who knew me then would think nothing was wrong, only that I tended to be very quiet and shy. My depression was extremely internalized, the very worst way to deal with it as it turned out.
I believe my emergence from this lifetime of depression and wild mood swings only occurred because I finally decided that I had no choice but to be honest to both myself and everyone else about who I was. It wasn't a peaceful decision, as it was exactly two years ago this month that I wrote a suicide note to my sisters. The only thing that kept me from following through on this ultimate decision was that I hated the thoughts of my sisters having to deal with my death and all the headaches and grief it would cause them. That and the fear of botching the suicide and having to add one more thing on myself.
The lifting of the blue curtain didn't happen overnight, as I only slowly became truly comfortable with myself -- I transitioned over a year ago, but still dealt with oh so many fears that progress was at times only superficial. But it was the fearful steps that I took that made me strong -- the finding of a wonderful gender therapist who dealt with not only my transgenderism, but with all my others "quirks" as well --the long delayed decision to see my doctor and an endocrinologist and begin hormone therapy and see my body slowly evolve to one that I identified with -- the warm embrace of most of my loved ones, who, although they don't quite get it, still love me anyway and want me in their lives despite what I look like -- and even perfect strangers who, with very rare exceptions, treat me..., well, they just treat me normally, which is what I want. And I have more "true" friends now than I probably had in my entire lifetime -- not least of which is that strange giraffe-wanna-be, Hello Kitty loving(gads!), Karen whats-her-name.
And I have much to offer others as well, since I am now honest-to-God just happy as s**t, and am just more pleasant to have around. And the not so unusual side-benefit is that as I became more comfortable and confident, I became more successful professionally (I'm trying to find wood to knock on here). It just seems that happiness begets even more happiness, and things that would in the past set off another deep funk are just accepted as inconveniences that should either be dealt with directly or tossed in the proverbial wastebasket.
Because of my past, I am still somewhat cautious about not being ready for another depression, and being prepared for it should it rear its ugly head -- after all, fifty years history is tough to just sweep under the rug and forgotten -- but I now have a ready supply of people who would be more than happy to help me, including my therapist who told me a month ago that I had nothing more to gain by continuing to see her unless the blues overwhelmed me again. So much for all therapists only caring about their fees, huh?
Anyway, thanks for allowing me to share this with you, it's just that it felt like something I needed to express and expose to you all.
I don't believe I was ever truly happy until these recent months, and I'm not exaggerating when I use the word "ever." I tend to be over analytical, especially in regards to myself, and my self-criticism knew no bounds. I hated what God did to me by giving me either the wrong brain or body. I hated others who, I always only assumed, would hate me for being "weird" or "sick." But, mostly, I just hated myself -- hated myself for not being strong enough to quash these feelings -- hated myself for being way too sensitive -- hated myself for just giving a damn what strangers might think of me -- hated myself for creating all these impenetrable walls that kept others from getting too close to me -- hated the fact that I wasn't downright gorgeous when I dressed en femme, which I felt would have made a transition simpler, but was just another excuse -- and I hated just about everything else for that matter.
But one thing I was always able to do was to show a happy face and positive demeanor to those I had contact with, particularly family. People who knew me then would think nothing was wrong, only that I tended to be very quiet and shy. My depression was extremely internalized, the very worst way to deal with it as it turned out.
I believe my emergence from this lifetime of depression and wild mood swings only occurred because I finally decided that I had no choice but to be honest to both myself and everyone else about who I was. It wasn't a peaceful decision, as it was exactly two years ago this month that I wrote a suicide note to my sisters. The only thing that kept me from following through on this ultimate decision was that I hated the thoughts of my sisters having to deal with my death and all the headaches and grief it would cause them. That and the fear of botching the suicide and having to add one more thing on myself.
The lifting of the blue curtain didn't happen overnight, as I only slowly became truly comfortable with myself -- I transitioned over a year ago, but still dealt with oh so many fears that progress was at times only superficial. But it was the fearful steps that I took that made me strong -- the finding of a wonderful gender therapist who dealt with not only my transgenderism, but with all my others "quirks" as well --the long delayed decision to see my doctor and an endocrinologist and begin hormone therapy and see my body slowly evolve to one that I identified with -- the warm embrace of most of my loved ones, who, although they don't quite get it, still love me anyway and want me in their lives despite what I look like -- and even perfect strangers who, with very rare exceptions, treat me..., well, they just treat me normally, which is what I want. And I have more "true" friends now than I probably had in my entire lifetime -- not least of which is that strange giraffe-wanna-be, Hello Kitty loving(gads!), Karen whats-her-name.
And I have much to offer others as well, since I am now honest-to-God just happy as s**t, and am just more pleasant to have around. And the not so unusual side-benefit is that as I became more comfortable and confident, I became more successful professionally (I'm trying to find wood to knock on here). It just seems that happiness begets even more happiness, and things that would in the past set off another deep funk are just accepted as inconveniences that should either be dealt with directly or tossed in the proverbial wastebasket.
Because of my past, I am still somewhat cautious about not being ready for another depression, and being prepared for it should it rear its ugly head -- after all, fifty years history is tough to just sweep under the rug and forgotten -- but I now have a ready supply of people who would be more than happy to help me, including my therapist who told me a month ago that I had nothing more to gain by continuing to see her unless the blues overwhelmed me again. So much for all therapists only caring about their fees, huh?
Anyway, thanks for allowing me to share this with you, it's just that it felt like something I needed to express and expose to you all.