Transition Experiences: I took my mom out to lunch last Saturday and we went to a local restaurant she frequents with her boyfriend where she’s on a first-name basis with the owner, who she introduced me to. As parents are wont to do, she introduced me. It went something like this:
“This is my…my…child…”
“Child?” the owner asked, puzzled.
More firmly, “Yes, child.”
Seeing his confusion and that my mom had gotten stuck, I extended my hand and said, “Hi, I’m Heather.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said while shaking my hand and glancing at my mom with a look of, “What was all that about?” on his face.
After we sat down, I asked her if referring to me as her daughter was a bridge too far. Her reaction made seemed to imply that up until that moment I’m not sure she ever considered the fact that I’m her daughter, because she started like she’d be shocked.
“Daughter? I guess you are.”
To be clear, while being introduced that way was annoying, this vignette wasn’t a big deal. It’s just illustrative of the journey my mom is on and how she’s still adjusting to me.
She didn’t do it out of spite or cruelty; she’s just learning and making a pretty good go of it given her background and age. She seemed to settle into the daughter concept fairly quickly. With her, I find that I need to keep educating and telling her what I expect and she eventually gets there.
Since I know her boyfriend is a Fox-news-watching social conservative regressive who has put forth some racist things in the past, I asked her if he had an opinion on the transgender bathroom stuff. She rolled her eyes and said that he had become “frothing” about it and said that if his daughters were still of school age, (his eldest granddaughter just graduated from law school,) he’d pull them out of school.
The weird bit? He uses my name constantly, and my mom says hes better at remembering it than she is. I do notice that he refers to me as he most of the time, so it’s hard to say what’s going on there.
Emotional: No two ways about it. I’m depressed. I’m burnt out, tired, and still trying to shake this fucking cough. I’m going to try and get into the doctor again tomorrow.
But I’m at a low ebb, with the post-transition blues. Transition solves for gender dysphoria, and that’s it. All the other stuff is still here, and if anything, those other things have assumed a truer shape now that the weight of dysphoria is no longer crushing them almost out of sight.
My job is tiring and wearing me down. When I hired it, I made it clear that I was a builder, not a maintainer, and it feels like I easily spend 75% of my time in maintenance mode. This is a severe de-motivator for me. A project I recently wrapped up needed a report written from information delivered by an outside vendor and I finally churned that out and sent it to my boss to review. Without any acknowledgment whatsoever of the work I’d done to distill and annotate the source report, he told me that it didn’t fit the criteria and that it needed to be re-written. Add in the fact that the work that needs to be done based on the report won’t happen for months, and I perceive it as a massive time-suck and waste that takes away from what I was really hired to do. It makes me cynical and further makes me wonder why I’m bothering.
It’s for the food pellet of a salary and medical benefits. I know that, and I need those things. But where I’m at mentally makes it excruciating to be there and try to do anything.
Physical: Sick. Fat. Tired. The antibiotics didn’t seem to knock out what I had and it just sucks.
Weight: 182 lbs.
Dose: 7 mg/day estradiol via tablets, split into AM/PM doses of 4mg/3mg.
[Looking for detailed information about male to female hormone replacement therapy dosing and effects? Read my Brief Overview of Feminizing Hormones post. You might also be interested in The Trans Woman’s Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) Tracking Chart I created.]