My HRT regime has, for quite some time, consisted of a .5cc needle once a week. The joys of post op life is that there's so little to do in the way of meds. April 5th was my second anniversary on injectable estrogen and July 7th will be my second anniversary post-op. But, I'm not here to brag, just putting in some back story. Prior to injecting, I was on sublinguals for a couple of years, so it's not like estrogen is at all new to my body.
Now, pretty much every woman I know, or know of, who are injecting, have reported this "rush" when they get their weekly or biweekly injection. Over time, it fades away or you become so used to it, you don't notice anymore. That said, I didn't switch for the rush, but the convenience of only having to do it now and again instead of every day, three times a day. First shot however was so utterly uneventful, it was just another of those "oh, yeah, not a 'normal' transwoman" blues.
At least that's what I thought for two years. Until last night that is. Kinda freaked me out to be honest, enough I took my BP, Heart Rate, and so forth to make sure I wasn't having a problem. Heart was loping a long at 50 beats per minute, BP was fine, respirations deep and regular, so no problems. However I felt flushed, thought my heart had speed up, and had this "rush" I'd never run into before. Finally it hit me "Oh, this is what everyone has been talking about!" I just had no idea why finally after over two years it finally hit me like that. As I was taking a shower this morning it hit me. I've been living in a combat zone for years, between my own issues, and the crap that was being poured onto me daily, I never had a chance to really relax much.
I'm over 600 miles away from that madness and pain, and have been now for a good couple of weeks. The peace is starting to settle into me (reflected in my nice normal heart rate) and the little kick, that rush, finally was something I could feel. Kinda cool. Before moving, living where I did, my heart rate was usually around 110. Dig difference eh?
So finally I felt it...
Now on to the deep thought portion of our program for the night. As I was driving back from the grocery store it struck me, I might wind up being a lesbain after all. Not because my orientation has changed again, it hasn't, but because in my life I haven't dated all that many people. Out of the entire list, exactly ONE has been male, and I married him. Saying it didn't go so well would be like saying we dropped a firecracker on Hiroshima.
It's about to get dark from here. I'm sorry. Didn't mean******* WARNING *******
for it to get dark, but it has... So you may not want
to read this.
I have to apologize to Sara, I said there was back story, but looking at it, there isn't that much. So, sometime soon, I'm going to undertake documenting it. In the meantime, my one serious relationship with a guy, well it ended worse than any before. I was left seriously traumatized, and well he's dead. That's the super short version. I still feel a touch cheated by NOT getting my day in court, by having to run and seek witsec level of protections.
That one relationship not withstanding, all the rest of the serious relationships have been with women. I "get" women, can relate to them, mentally, emotionally, physically, and sexually. Men are still (despite being with Earl for 11 years) really alien creatures to me. Miracle of miracles I'm no long utterly terrified of them, but I'm still wary. The biggest problem really is I know less about them than say a natal who's been dealing with them since her teens.
So I can stay with what I know, or can admit to myself that I'm a 43 year old virgin. That's just weirding me out some. It really doesn't help much to remain attracted to women, but now also be equally drawn to men. Frankly it's taking a great deal of getting used to. Shopping for groceries tonight really set it off, well set off this train of thought. I'm walking around the market, and there were, truth be told, some good looking boys about. So I don't have to look, I mean goodness knows I'm not ready for a relationship with anyone right now. It's been a while since Earl ripped out my still beating heart and tossed it in a wood chipper, since he taught me that being beaten and raped by a complete stranger is a blessing. I'm slowly healing I guess, well at least I'm trying to do that. It doesn't help that my heart, my soul, so violated, still has love in it. Worse yet, for him. Two years he's been dead now, gone, burried, no more. Cannot hurt me or anyone else ever again.
So there's this part of me that wishes he were still around so Inigo Montoya could walk up to him and say: "Hello, you kiillled my sister, prepare to die!" There's also this part of me that if he were to walk back into my life would... I don't know. That's what scares me. How can I still love someone who makes me want to die so that he could never touch me again, hurt me again. How can I still love someone so full of hate and loathing that he would treat me the way he did?
How? Because there in my heart with all the agony, are the good things I miss about us. The morning of our honeymoon, walking across the street, no, really gliding across the street basking in the glow of a life beginning, a love so deep... I mean realistically by the time we got to that first day, we'd known each other for more than a year, had lived together for a full year before getting married, but I was on cloud nine, I was Mrs. Earl.(lastname) and we were on our honeymoon.
It was Meridith, New Hampshire, a perfect fall day, right there on the lake, and I all bit skipped across the street from the Inn to get to breakfast...
Okay, so not where I was going with this. To be honest, I think my mood has gotten a bit darker tonight because I'm finally watching season two of the LWord. Bette and Tina in so much pain, and still obviously in love with each other. So much more. I can feel it all. I know how they are feeling and then some. Then there's IVAN. He's a great guy. A guy who hates his female body and doesn't want it seen. He's a good looking girl, but it's not who he is. You know, I get that. Wow, do I get that... Taken me years of work to go from the guy I appeared to be, to the woman I've always been. To bring the outside to a point where people see ME, not that guy...
And of course, it brings me right back around to Earl, Men, and where I'm going from here. I know that someday, someway, I'll be able to let someone get close to me, even touch me heart, mind, body and soul, but I don't know who, how, when or what gender. There's this part of me that wants, finally, to be loved for real, for who I am fully. That wants and needs to be loved well, and properly. A part that wants to be protected and cherished, to feel safe being held again, touched again.
A part that is utterly terrified too. A part of me that is still so freaked out that the thought of another man that close to me makes me want to lock myself into the bathroom and after I stop vomiting and screaming, because my skin is crawling with revulsion wants to climb into a bathtub full of warm water and blue food coloring and have history repeat itself.
Wow, this got dark fast. I'm sorry. I think I'm going to leave it at this. I think maybe, just maybe, it's time for me to find a survivor's group, and start going.