Adventure Ho!


In light of my last post, Ethernet Wars, I´m not sure how much time I have to write any post, but I´m going to go out on a limb and hope it lasts a bit. Keep in mind my connection troubles could come back, rendering me useless to WordPress, unable to write anything (mobile is too small for me!).

Small cold wars aside, there is another reason I will be absent in the coming weeks, and the reason is: summer camp! Realizing scouting is not for me, but I still want to help kids play outside and have a good time, I took my leave there. I was introduced to a different organization.

This organization plans camps for kids, some big (like summer camp: several weeks of camp for several different groups of kids) and some small (week-ends and evenings). The camps usually have some sort of theme and various games/adventures planned by volunteers such as myself.

I am very excited, partly because the other volunteers seem to be “my kinda people”. Scattered across different ages, ranging from the utterly normal to the fairly eccentric, interested in working with kids for a variety of reasons. It bodes well for our relationship during camp.

The situation is also unnerving because very few, if any, are aware of the extent my PTSD and anxiety issues go. I for one know that in any social situation, there is a chance of (mental) breakdown. If I have one, I will obviously not burden the kids with it and withdraw.

Nevertheless it is scary, because I haven´t been involved in such social situations for years. The problem is I can never know what I am capable of, and even if my PTSD is getting better, if I don´t give it a chance. This is what I love doing, so I am giving it a chance – here goes.

I will not have access to, or very limited, connectivity during camp (most likely, I will not have time for any type of social media). Naturally I will come back and give you an update as soon as I can (hoping that the Ethernet Wars subside within the coming month).



Ethernet Wars


Since my last post there have been a lot of things I´ve been wanting to write about. My exploits with the aromatase inhibitor Anastrozole, for example. Or about Minoxidil. I have also learned a lot of new things about friendship and about intense platonic love in those friendships.

Sadly, there is an aspect to my life that won´t be denied. Which appears to be the fact that for some reason, I seem to be having bad luck in the roommate department. Which in this case means roommates who have emotional issues (like me), and who do not like communication (unlike me).

One of the two is bad enough, but mix emotional instability with silence and you have a real recipe for disaster. And the disaster happened alright. We got into a idiotic fight over a faucet (I asked them to close it several times, which was greeted with stoicism, prompting me to close it very tightly).

It was a dick move, and they had difficulty opening the faucet, but instead of saying so, they went on an all-out war to get back at me, and I engaged with them in the same way. Super mature. Eventually the war seeped over unto other things, like garbage bags with smelly cat litter and recycling.

Things deteriorated in such a way that I am no longer willing to have a chat with them – I think the best thing for me to do would be to build my own emotional maturity and ignore their behavior, rather than getting back at them and sending indirect messages. So far so good.

Unfortunately, there is one aspect of my life which they can control, and apparently they are willing to. This aspect of my life is my connection to the Web – and the fact that they own the modem. And so (despite my continued payment to them), they found a way to kill my connection.

My skills in technology are mediocre at best, but thankfully I know my way around a search engine, and there are plenty of connectivity options on mobile, so I was able to figure out how to go around their barricade. It isn´t fun though, specially considering they will try new methods.

Cavity Time I


The last year and a half, I displayed classic dentist avoidance: if your experience with them blows, just don´t go. Until of course I checked my teeth in the mirror and discovered a big black hole. I had a choice: wait until that thing grows (probably taking my root in the process) or clench my butt-cheeks and go back.

Where there are visible caries there are usually more, so of course I had three – two on the same tooth and one on another, all in advanced stages – if I waited some more, I would probably be boasting a set of false teeth (although to be perfectly honest, it´s something I dream of – imagine having teeth that don´t rot out…).

Perhaps I´m just being stupid and having false teeth is not as great as I imagine it to be. Anyway. Back I went, sweating, of course, hoping that this time I could actually help the dentist understand my case of PTSD – which makes me not afraid of pain, but afraid of people touching me, specially people I don´t particularly care for.

There I was, a bit late, the dentist angered with me because losing six minutes of time is the worst that can happen to a dentist (or so it seems), I think they felt disrespected. Despite having taken diazepam (valium), I felt very nervous and finicky, so I tried and focus on my breath going in-and-out of my lungs.

The dentist kept on chatting in my ear, which although well-intended, sucked me out of my concentration and into a state of panic – and so I asked her if she wouldn´t mind just being silent, so I could focus on breathing. She understood but kept on talking anyway, so I had to ask again, and then again.

I was sort of managing, feeling like I would escape unscathed, until the dentist told me she was going to put this rubber expander in my mouth, used to facilitate their job. I know these things, they´re a PTSD nightmare, and so I said no. She then tried to shove it in there anyway.

Read on more about this thrilling experience in Part II.


General Update


I´d planned on going to the city today. I´ve been wanting to buy a pair of swim trunks (because yay, swimming) and buy something nice for a friend who has been going through a rough time. However my leg does not agree – my injection yesterday went badly and I´m stuck at home barely able to walk.

Fun. Up until now the site does not look messed up, or too swollen, so I am just going to sit back and wait. Hopefully for me, things are better tomorrow – because I have a job and it requires working on Sundays (sometimes). The school kids, with which I have been working, will be harvesting rhubarb from the gardens.

After that, I have a date. The last time I had a date, was far back in the pre-transition era, when my physique had fooled everybody into believing I was of feminine persuasion. Those days are far behind me now, and so are my dating skills. Plus, I´m not dating a dude.

Frequently I have wondered whether or not my “new” identity (and subsequent physical changes) make me a virgin. Or not. I think technically they do, because I have never been with women in the capacity of a man. Inherently this means that I am going on a date as a thirty-year old virgin.

Not the most comforting thought, but fortunately for me, it doesn´t bother me a whole lot either. The girl I am meeting does not seem like the woman from my dreams*, as far as exterior goes, but she´s very open and enthusiastic, which are qualities that I like a lot.

Being my first date ever with a girl, I´m not planning to be very secretive about my transition. She doesn´t know yet, but plenty of questions (such as past-partners) are guaranteed to put me in a spot where I either make something up, or just tell the truth. I´m going for the last one, and see how that goes.

*I am quite sure that the “woman from my dreams” is a mythical creature composed of several different girls, all attractive for different reasons.

The Inner Adult


I´m not having a meltdown, but the way I have been “dealing” hasn´t been ideal. Half-finished posts on the blog, half finished furniture scattered across the floor, about fifteen open tabs on my browser – the chimp “drives” home the point quite well: I´m in a state of chaos.

Faulty hormones could be, and are, possibly at play. My batch of “trusty” hormones ran out a while ago and I have been using some shady multi-dose vial I bought off some site. Intelligent? No. I bought gel there before, way back. The gel was in sealed packets, the type that are used by pharmacies.

Not as easy to mess with as the yellowish liquid I am supposed to believe is purely sustanon and nothing else. Considering I have been feeling weird ever since I started injecting with it, chances are it isn´t pure, and it is possible some other shady stuff has been mixed in with it.

The good news is I have an appointment with the endocrinologist on the 23rd of this month, finally. Legal hormones for the first time in two years! Hurray for me. In the meantime though I am still stuck with weird mood changes, and a truckload of anxiety for every occasion. I get upset about everything.

Not trusting people is normal for me, but I´ve been scared of sticky things, wet things, things that smell, things that drip, and loud noises. Yeah… try living in the world that way. I´ve been getting by with a mixture of valium, breathing exercises, and forcing myself to be mindful.

It´s challenging for me, not to be this total hardass – try to rely on that “inner adult” to guide that frightened inner child. Keep cool in times of irrationality, set an example, and more of such things. It´s been exhausting though. It´s a crash course in parenting if I ever had one.


Family Crisis (I)


Another brief pause on my blog… after the anxiety episode I had a few weeks ago, my mind got caught up in another cycle of “everything scares the crap out of me, so I will just be angry at everything“. Not fun. Almost broke another bone in my body, thankfully though it wasn´t broken, just badly contused.

Anyway. A few weeks of anxiety later, I am recovering again and working hard at gently guiding my brain in the right direction – as opposed of merely relaxing into its trickery or sinking into self-loathing. I´ve made a few decisions in the meantime, too. One is to break ties with someone who has been giving me nothing but pain.

The break-up upset my family, because, well, “they´re family” and “you can´t do that“, specially considering what this person has done for me, both when I was younger and more recently. She offered me her house to stay in after top surgery. And she made me feel like absolute shit all the time I was there.

The material things someone does for you, like take you in – or in the case of a parent, provide a roof over your head – do not justify the ways in which they might treat you. They do not grant someone the right to walk all over you, deeming it reciprocation for their generosity.

Perhaps guilt works in some families – until the situation implodes – but I´ve lived with my parents long enough to know that if somebody rejects you, you should walk away. I cannot let anyone waste my time, nor do I want to waste the time of people who think love grants them the power to tear me a new one.

My thinking and my words have not given me any new popularity with my family. I think who I am, and what I think, is finally becoming painfully obvious to them. My new strategy of just saying what´s on my mind has unearthed some deeply twisted mechanics in our family.

I´ll write more on that in “Explain, Explain!”.

The Stranger, II


I´d been raging against the tree, the traffic, and myself for about ten minutes, when a passersby on a bike came along. When he saw me taking it out against the world, he stopped to watch. I stared at him. “What do you want?“. He wouldn´t answer me, and just stood there. “Leave me alone!”, I said.

But he refused to move. I started to walk in his direction, to ask him why he kept looking at me, and to perhaps explain that I was just venting. When I was close, I asked: “Why are you standing there?”. He said: “I was just looking at the mess in this forest. You see? They never clean it up!

I was puzzled. Who was this man? Why wouldn´t he hurry along, alarmed by my uninhibited display of emotions? The answer he´d given me, was the exact opposite of what I´d come to expect from people. Instead of getting mad at me for having a tantrum,  he changed the subject.

When I replied that I wasn´t troubled by the chaos – fallen branches everywhere – he laughed and said perhaps he was too preoccupied with it. “I´ve always worked too hard“, he said, “and I´m trying to take a break“. He told me that he´d been an remedial educationalist – he´d helped troubled kids.

He´d helped juvenile delinquents, specifically. I looked at him, thought of every time I had been upset in a public place. Fearing intervention by the police and feeling like a criminal. Some of those kids are hard to help, he told me. They grow up in troubled households and fall back on old behaviors.

Then he glanced at me, and said: “I really stopped because I thought you were beautiful“. “You don´t care what people think“, he said. “And that´s why you´re free“. I stared at him. He thought I was beautiful for losing my mind? He smiled. “So many people are afraid to show any emotion“, he said.

Read more about our encounter in Part III.