mirageofillusions

[mirageofillusions]

Day 50 - 4/17/2018

It’s been fifteen days since my last journal

Before I apologize, let me explain there really hasn’t been a lot to report on.

For the most part, I’ve hit a point where I really can’t progress much farther in this weird, definitely-not-organized journey into my life as a trans woman. I have enough pairs of underwear to last me forever, I alternate daily between two sports bras that I have accustomed so much to, that the one night I left the apartment without one on I felt so uncomfortable I practically ran back inside to fix the situation. Everyone who I want to come out to right now currently knows. I ended up trying to decorate this blog in an attempt to call that “progress.”

I’m in a pretty good spot, you might think. And that IS true, sure, but any steps my confident ass wants to take next involve doing things I simply can’t as long as I’m in the closet with my family.

Like my hair. Let’s talk about hair for a while today.

For as long as anyone’s known me, I’ve always preferred shorter hair. A simple parted hairline that bends to my left. It was easy for me to remember when I started getting haircuts by myself, and it looked clean enough. Upon thinking more about it, however, the only part of my hair I ever truly had any passion about, though, were my bangs, as my borderline-ADD ass absolutely REFUSED to have to constantly brush my bangs out of my eyes, and since my hair was pretty straight as a kid, cutting my bangs often meant cutting the rest of my hair. It was simple to do it this way, and since I liked simple, that’s what i went with.

That was my state of mind when I first came to college. Now, four years later, my hair is a lot more curly than I anticipated, and my bangs no longer even come close to brushing in front of my eyes, so the length of my hair stopped mattering to me as much. n fact, when my friend recommended I could try growing my hair out and see if I like it, I was actually a little eager to try it out. I perked up when he said I could get vitamins or something from Walgreens or whatever that are supposed to help with hair growth. A cheap and relatively effective solution to hair problems? Sign me up (once I graduate and actually have an actual income)!

Because sadly, my hair, the part of my appearance I probably care the least about, is where the bulk of my dysphoria seems to be coming from.

You guessed it: I’ve got the classic male pattern baldness going on. Every time I shower, I’m graced with strands of hair dotting my shoulder as I step out of the curtains, leaving me with a new wave of self-inflicted annoyance and maybe even a bit of pain.

It’s very frustrating, watching your genetics absolutely betray you like that. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that right now, as my parents would find it very, very odd and probably more than a little weird if I started growing my hair out, and even that wouldn’t stop hair loss until I outright went on hormones, a step I’m nowhere close to because I can’t land myself a damn job yet.

Whenever that frustration gets me down, though, I remember how my friend described what I could do with my hair when I transition. He said I could try to make it look like D.va, from Overwatch.

And you know what? Every now and then, I’ll look at her hair while I’m playing and think “When I do transition, I think I’d like that. I’d like to have longer hair (minus the shampoo cost, of course). I think it’d look really nice.” Of course, this all comes after I find a job that lets me live on my own, away from my parents.

So hurry up and hire me already, people!

#lgbt #lgbtq #transgender #transgender woman #trans woman #dysphoria

[mirageofillusions]

dear caretakers of children: stop telling kids “I don’t care who started it!”. you’re teaching children to ignore unequal power balances. that leads to legitimate belief in things like reverse racism, misandry, heterophobia, etc. you’re teaching children that it’s wrong to retaliate when they are wronged. “who started it” is very, very relevant.

[mirageofillusions]

I wonder if the Inquisition has debriefings? Like, after the entire crew gets back from a mission they have a meeting with the advisors regarding everything that happened. 

Or maybe everyone in the party is required to write a field report? I bet Cullen reads them all, just sifting through endless crap from the Inner Circle:

Sera’s reports consist only of crude drawings and obscenities – he actually finds those entertaining. She’s quite inventive and the point is always rather clear.

Cassandra’s are always perfect and detailed, if not a bit stilted. Not that he minds. 

Dorian’s are always about the lack of amenities or certain comforts. Can’t you order us thicker blankets? I was freezing the entire time and there was a rock under my back. 

Blackwall’s reports are always helpful, he makes notes about soldiers, or various things that need to be done in the area. 

Iron Bull’s are always just an account of the things he killed or fought. Sometimes he’ll share a good joke he heard too.

Vivienne’s are to the point, crisp and tidy, never wanting. She’ll also tack on notes about the Inquisitor, or her companions, bits of pertinent information.

Cole doesn’t write reports, but sometimes he’ll pop into Cullen’s office and tell him a few things of note before disappearing again. 

Solas’ are scholarly, recounting the areas they’d explored and interesting landmarks, usually with a very detailed map attached. 

And then there are Varric’s, written on fine vellum imported from a printer in Kirkwall, the penmanship always neat, and flowing over the pages. And there are many pages as Varric describes, in that detailed way only a writer can, the exact way his boots squelched while in the Fallow Mire; the damp, musty smell that clung to him after spending ten days soaking wet on the Storm Coast, without a chance to dry out; the biting chill that cut through him in the Emprise du Lion, and the way the dark branches of the bare trees struck a bleak contrast against the snow. The fucking endless snow. 

It’s when they return from the Hissing Wastes and Cullen sees that Varric’s report is eighteen pages detailing exactly where he found sand on his person, that Cullen informs him he is exempt from writing any further reports.

#da:i #dragon age

[mirageofillusions]

You know that part in movies where the main character turns on their car radio and the song that’s playing slowly fades in and becomes the movies background music? I like that

[mirageofillusions]

Skeerrrttttt

[mirageofillusions]

I tend to flip-flop between those states, especially after coming out to some friends over the past month.

Without knowing the specifics, my only suggestion is look into your doubt and ask yourself where that doubt truly lies.

For me, my doubt wasn’t about being trans anymore, but about the various steps of transitioning. Would I be able to shop for bras by myself? Wold I look any good in women’s clothes before HRT? Would my family still accept me if I pursued this? realized most of my doubt actually resides in the RESULTS of me being trans instead of whether I was trans at all.

Even though I’ve only really been out to myself and others for little more than a month, feel free to PM me. We can always figure this stuff out together.

Is it normal after realizing you might be trans to have serious doubts and shift rapidly between being confident and full of doubt

[mirageofillusions]

For all you ladies out there, I’m making my in-depth cleavage tutorial, it’ll take some time but hopefully when I’m done it’ll be a good resource for making cute and realistic cleavage

#trans #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #transgender #trans girl #trans woman #mtf #lgbt+ #transgender woman

[mirageofillusions]

Day 35 - 4/2/2018

Hello people! Welcome to the beginning of month two since coming out to my friend.

QUITE A BIT happened this past week, so let’s recap.

My brother, in a fit of salt-induced rage, abandoned our Discord group and set my entire social life on its head. All of the sudden, I had the freedom to come out to roughly a dozen people at once. And I did. On Friday, I sent a server-wide message, one I never though I would be able to send for a very long time. The sense of liberation and safety was, quite frankly, intoxicating. Hearing six people at once, while playing Overwatch, calling me Amber and she and empress and female-specific versions of the word stupid (i still have the game-sense of a half-dead goldfish), was the most incredible I’ve felt about being trans in weeks.

Yesterday, still high on my success with Discord, I counted my money and did the unexpected: I went and got my first bra. I’ll show a picture in a separate post, but after spending trans day of visibility window-shopping at the women’s section of Walmart and watching probably the best Adam Sandler romance flick I’ve ever seen, I decided now was the time. I ended up getting a sports bra simply because it would be easier to start with, and it’s a lot easier to hide one under my shirts as opposed to a standard bra that would have a hard time supporting my total lack of cleavage. This thing looks very cute, though. I like the colors, and it feels amazing.

After letting THAT high race through my system, I want to complain briefly about my lack of access to trans-minded bra selections, as Walmart’s selection clearly does not account for a band size as large as mine with a cup as small as mine. I know, however, that’ll at least partially resolve itself when I transition, giving me more motivation to go on hormones when I get the chance to. I WILL say, though, that while this bra does feel a bit constricting (yes, Amber, it’s supposed to. it’s called SUPPORT), it simultaneously makes my chest feel just a bit larger, more prominent. If I can focus on it, I can almost imagine having breasts.

So there’s some prime motivation.

All in all, however, as I got out of the shower and was trying (and failing quite hilariously for a while) to put on my new bra, I took a few moments to look at myself in the mirror, just my bra and panties. For a minute, I tried to truly imagine myself in the body of a woman. I imagined actually having breasts, a B or maybe even a C cup (if I’m lucky) bra. I’ve never truly hated my weight, but I imagined said weight being anywhere except my stomach, imaging thicker thighs, hips. I imagined what it would be like to lose the leg hair, chest and stomach hair gone.  imagined what it would be like to have longer  hair, what it would feel like. As I imagined all of this, I thought only positive things.

Happy late trans day of visibility. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m getting there. I’ll be out of this closet soon. Once I land a job that lets me live on my own, I’m home free.

#trans woman #transgender #transgender woman #lgbtq #lgbt #trans day of visibility

[mirageofillusions]

@youknowwhataidenmeans

We have learned of the higher risks of cancer if a hysterectomy is not completed after five years of being on testosterone.

This is important.  Read it.  Especially if you have been on T for over or close to 5 years.  I have felt these pains.  Even just today.  I have been on T for over 5 years.

Something I have learned and have tried to be less of afraid of as a trans person is that you need to put your physical health above your feelings of shame.  If you’re having a serious medical concern you need to find a doctor you are comfortable with and talk to them.  It’s not fun, it’s not easy to do, but it’s important for your health.

[mirageofillusions]

Day 28 - 3/26/18

Happy Monday, people! Today’s a short one.

Every now and then, I catch myself doubting all the steps I’ve taken. Some weird part of me sometimes says “But are you truly sure you’re trans? Do you feel trans? Really?”

Good question, brain. As I’m sure you’;re aware, however, we’ve already had this argument.

On loop.

Nonstop.

For five solid months.

But that’s ok. Most of the time, I quickly review my past experiences, my feelings, and I shut it out pretty quickly. There’s another factor, however: the doubt is quieter. Before I came out to my friends, the doubt over whether I was trans was loud, violent. It tore my psyche apart every time I thought I might be trans, like a part of my mind was shooting bullet holes through any part of me that thought I might not be cis. This time it’s quiet, soft, and not at all focused inwards. Instead my doubts often manifest in regards to how I’m gong to interact with others. I can only go by Amber in one, sometimes two locations right now: a friend’s house and GSA. Unfortunately, even though I am out to my two Memphis friends in our Discord, I don’t dare go by Amber in any conversation my roommate can overhear (writing this, I realize my roommate cannot hear Discord with my headset on, but my friend is also never in the Discord just the two of us these days, because our schedules never work out that well). This has led to me resorting to referring to myself in the third person when texting, just for the excuse of hearing Amber via text instead of just general first person references. Now my brain has no idea how to refer to myself when I’m alone. I’ll figure it out, but it sure is annoying in this damn closet.

But with four other people in this closet cheering me on, it’s not quite so stuffy in here.

We’re coming on one month since coming out to my friend at our local Starbucks! Expect some super sappy commentary on Wednesday/Thursday. lol

#lgbtq #transgender #trans #transgender woman #trans woman

[mirageofillusions]

Me(A Trans Boy TM) and my friend (Trans Girl TM) on the Interstate

Car: *attempts to switch lanes to the lane we have been in for the last 3 minutes, as if we are not there, in plain sight*

My friend: *honks her horn loudly* TRANS DAY OF VISIBILITY ASSHOLES

Other car: *Gets back in its fucking lane*

[mirageofillusions]

Day 25 - 3/23/18

As of last night, four people know I am trans. I wasn’t expecting to tell more than two people, so it’s two parts surreal, two parts terrifying to  admit that. More below the cut (assuming it actually works this time)

I’ve spent a large portion of my life adamantly convinced I was a straight man, that I was the straight friend in a group of gay friends. “And why should I have to be gay to have gay friends?” I wondered to myself when I read something about such things on Tumblr.

God has quite the sense of humor, as always.

Unfortunately, 22 years of stern dedication to being a man does have some mental consequences. Writing these journals really helps me gain a sense of time, because without it, I had a panic attack attack two days ago because I thought I was going way too fast. One thing keeps leading to another. Telling my trans friend meant actively combating my religious beliefs about LGBT people, and accepting I might very well be trans after all. Telling my second college friend immediately led to getting women’s underwear and some less-than-perfect-fitting clothes to experiment (except one of the shirts; it’s divine). Telling one of the closest friends in the world eventually meant coming out to his boyfriend as well. That last point wasn’t necessarily bad, persay, but I wasn’t anticipating it.

I also went to a Gay-Straight Alliance meeting by myself the other day, because it’s one of the only places I can safely practice going by Amber and she/her without anyone hearing who I don’t want to know. There, I saw two classmates I actually knew, and who actually knew me back, and the panic attack racing through my system was so surreal I almost walked out of the room.

I survive most stressful things in my life by taking them a step a time, one step per day. Unfortunately, as my friend graciously pointed out that night, that strategy isn’t going to work when you’re suddenly free to express yourself in ways you could never possibly imagine. My mind simply can’t contain itself like it used to, and I have to account for that uncertainty.

As a result, I took his advice, and rather than taking it a day at a time, I’m outlining the various steps I want to taker each month, as well as thing I want to watch out for.should they occur. Since it eased my fears almost immediately, I want to share some of my ideas with you guys.

March: It’s already nearly over, but the rest of this month is dedicated to getting used to Amber, she/her, the lot of it. I might change some account information so I am a female online in almost all cases (except Facebook, of course). This will also be when I think about who else I should come out to, if anyone. While I doubt anyone beyond my chosen four really should art this stage in the game, it’s still something to consider. This does come with the need to prepare myself for being outed to other people, out of malice or on accident. I am going to meet people I know at GSA. That’s just a fact, and I really can’t expect to avoid that reality. I have no reason to doubt the effectiveness of such a safe place, but with over tow dozen people there at any meeting, it’s inevitable people are going to recognize me. I have to come to peace with that. I’m allowed to feel anxiety over it, but I can’t run away from it either.

April is going to be all about clothing. I have exactly one women’s shirt I actually enjoy wearing, so I should probably up that number to two or three. I also need two more pairs of bottom underwear (I hate the word panties for some reason, maybe I’ve internally sexualized the word?), because even I know wearing the same pair of underwear more than one day at a time is asking for trouble. I already have my measurements for those so it shouldn’t be too hard to pick some up.

I’ve also reconsidered my previous aversion about getting a bra. The fact of the matter is, my current method of rolling up pairs of boxers and stuffing them up my shirt is no longer sufficient to simulate breasts. I have the shirt, and I have the underwear, meaning the fakeness of my complex contraption no longer satisfies me. Therefore, I will probably need to officially buy one bra sometime in April. Here, there are two lines of thought here once I take the chest measurements, and I’m curious what those reading think.

One option is to take the measurements and find a bra that fits those measurements raw. Advantages: I can wear the bra under my clothes just like I do my underwear, and truly feel like I’m wearing women’s clothes like an actual woman. This would truly help me feel what it’s like, and it may help alleviate some chest dysphoria I’m slowly coming to terms with. Disadvantages: It’s almost April, meaning the weather is EVENTUALLY going to start warming up, meaning I’m going to lose justification in using sweaters or other heavier clothing to hide the bra from most observers, since I have no doubt it will show through most of my T-shirts. If anyone has tips on how I could hide said bra, that would be great. Perhaps some kind of sports bra or something?

The other option is to take my measurements, and find padded bras or stuffing or whatever to essentially go up a cup size or two. Advantages: When I’m alone in my room at night, the only time I feel safe enough to openly wear my shirt (stuffed with boxers or otherwise). This would allow me to truly imagine what my body and clothes would be like after HRT. Further, it would give me more realistic expectations on what breasts would actually look like on me, since I feel rolled-up boxers might be projecting breasts that are too large than they would actually grow to be. I could feel what it’s actually like to have a woman’s body. Disadvantages: This is a bra I would never be able to wear outside the house. This would be a bra specifically for giving myself breasts in the seclusion of me, myself, and I. There is also the matter of cost, since I’m pretty sure a padded bra would be much more expensive than a simple A-cup. Furthermore, I would have to decide how much stuffing I would be comfortable with. Since I have no visual identifier in my brain of the difference between a B and a C, it’s difficult for me to determine how far into the fantasy I want to go with such a thing. Either a raw-fitting bra or a stuffed one would work, though I don’t have to really decide that until April.

May: I graduate form college the first week in May, and the steps I take in May depend entirely on where, if anywhere, I land an internship/job after that point. In an ideal world, I land a job away from my family entirely. This would allow me to more fully explore my gender identity and figure a plan of action about coming out to my family and figuring out counseling and HRT. It would also allow me to continue with my clothing situation without incident. If I can’t do that (and current trends say it won’t happen because no one seems to want the skills I provide to workforces), then I have to bottle all of it. My parents WILL see my laundry without me wishing them to, so I’ll have to stop wearing panties, stop wearing the bra. I’ll have to find a way to hide all the clothing, in a bag none of my family will ever see. I’ll have to work through my gender identity roughly 14 hours away from any of my current friends. It’s not an exciting prospect, to be sure. Hell, such a thing scares me to death, but I do not dare come out to my family unless I am 100 percent confident in my decision to identify as trans, unless I am ready to defend myself from the accusations my parents will inevitably throw at me. Ideally, I can work on that confidence at a job away from them. But I am rarely that lucky.

That’s my thought process right now. Let me know what you guys think.

#transgender #transgender woman #trans woman #lgbt #lgbtq

[mirageofillusions]

casual, friendly reminder that if you feel like you’re “faking” being trans/nonbinary because you didn’t really question your gender until recently, you’re good

we don’t all get to grow up around informed or accepting people

being drowned in cis-hetero normativity makes it difficult to realize you could be anything other than what’s been fed to you your entire life….and even more difficult to accept it once you start questioning yourself

sometimes you need more time asking questions and appreciating other people who have already accepted their gender/sexuality to understand and feel comfortable with yourself

but once you do figure out exactly where you fit and find other people who respect and love you for who you are, it’s the most calming and beautiful feeling

[mirageofillusions]

Day 19 - 3/17/18

19 days? Interesting. I think my brain is lying to me. Anyway...

In the roughly nine days since my last journal, I convinced myself to come out to one other campus friend of mine, who very conveniently got herself a new apartment for the three of us to visit and cause all kinds of shenanigans.

Ever since I decided this was the right thing to do last week, it’s been one giant roller coaster of events. I wrote over a dozen possible female names and began crossing out ones I didn’t like and circling ones I did, narrowing my selection to Angela and Amber (I wanted to keep the A first name, since this has been an inside joke with my family for forever). My friends and I are leaning towards Amber primarily, but I’m holding off on actually testing it for a little while.

Today was the most intense, however, since today my friend and I went secret clothes shopping. Not a whole outfit, of course. We went to a thrift store and managed to find three tops I generally liked that didn’t completely cling to my middle like a wet undershirt. We followed up on what I was really worried about, however: a trip to Walmart to find underwear. My fears of being in a public place while trying to find panties was mostly alleviated by the simple fact that it was impossible for me to be the weirdest sight in a Walmart in the South. I took all the measurements last night (had to do it with an industrial tape measure, which was not fun), so I knew exactly which size I wanted. I even got lucky and found a five-pack of them. I smuggled everything into my apartment using my backpack and tried everything on as quickly as I could.

I lucked out, since my roommate has returned home for the night, leaving me to test out my new clothes in peace, meaning I am typing this in my apartment while my laundry runs in the dryer, sitting in my chair with panties under pajama shorts, along with a purple top that, while a large, is technically still not my size. This was a compromise I accepted from the start, since this was mostly concept testing for how general clothes fit me in the first place.

That is one of two things I feel true dysphoria about, if I can define it as such and not just general body image issues. My stomach is definitely prominent in smaller clothing. I and my friends know perfectly well my brain exaggerates its size, to be sure, but in women’s clothing, it is clearly more noticeable, and with the thrift store only truly carrying up to large and not women’s XL like I was hoping, I really didn’t have many options. But that’s just it. I don’t mind being a bit stockier (barring the genetic health risks our family has, but that’s a different can of worms), but I don’t like it sitting THERE specifically. It could literally go anywhere else: chest, hips, legs. Hell, even the arms would be better if it didn’t compromise every T-shirt I have right now. I just don’t like it in THAT specific spot.

The three of us were chilling at her new apartment last night, and while we were fumbling around the internet looking for directions on how and where to measure myself for underwear, I mentioned how I read weight would probably redistribute when on HRT. My friend light-heartedly replied I better get used to the idea of having fuller hips and butt, the whole package. And you know what? I didn’t recoil from that at all. ‘I wouldn’t really mind that at all,’ I said to myself. ‘That might even be nice.’

That’s how I know this is real. Before, my fears were about the validity of my suspicions, that I might be wrong, or worse, that this was against my religion and I needed to back away from this before I lost everything, the voices in my head threatening to tear me apart like loose-leaf paper. Now, with every step I take down this road, my only fears are about the speed in which I pursue each step, and how I would even attempt to explain this to people (read, family) who may or may not be as supportive as these tow friends have been. Hell, I’ve basically given up on boxers entirely: I snagged a deal and got a five-pack of the underwear, and they fit perfectly. As long as I’m doing my own laundry, my roommate will never know, and if I get an internship/job away from my family in Virignia...

I still can’t work up the courage to say it aloud, but I can say it here with certainty: I am trans, that I am a woman.

I REALLY want to get a job before even considering HRT, though. Not just to pay for the hormones, but because I shudder at how much all those bra replacements are gonna cost over the two or three years of active transitioning. Yikes.

#lgbtq #LGBT #transgender #trans woman #transgender woman #clothing

[mirageofillusions]

@youknowwhataidenmeans

I have a feeling this is gonna come up a lot.

That trans feel when: Talking about how I used to be in Boy Scouts is the most surreal goddamn feeling in the world.

[mirageofillusions]

it’s 2 am and this image materialized in my brain and i couldn’t sleep until i made it

[mirageofillusions]

I wish I could more clearly explain to folks how “I have always been a girl” and “I didn’t figure out I was a girl until later in childhood” can be simultaneously true.

‘Cause like. We have this weird idea that, like, either you’ve “always known”, or you never really were to begin with. And I don’t get how one follows from the other? Like, it’s possible to be something without knowing you are that thing; in fact, for trans folks in this culture, it’s practically unavoidable.