Time Out!

I’ve gone back and forth on this over the last couple of days. One day, I’m ready to go full time (reference last blog post). The next, I can’t breathe at the thought of leaving the house wearing female clothes. I start writing a blog post about how I’m going to take a time out until I get back into PTSD counseling. Then, half way through, I decide I can just hack it and use what I learned in my last PTSD sessions to get myself over this. But, while making a list of supposedly safe places where I could be myself for set periods of time, I thought about the way my face looks and how I’d have to probably talk to someone. So, I’ve thrown in the towel.
I can’t keep trying to kick in a steel door when I know where to find a key. That key, hopefully is at the VA. I did PTSD counseling there last year. But, shortly after, I ended up face palming myself when I realized none of the exercises out in the real world had anything to do with me leaving the house wearing female clothes. This is significant, because the spark that got the trauma going was the fact that I was wearing female clothes. How did we miss this salient point?
Almost every time I think about leaving the house in girl mode, I feel sick. I feel light headed. I can almost feel everyone’s eyes on me looking for any tiny flaw. And I start mentally preparing for what I just know is the eventual beat down. And beyond that, I feel incredibly unprepared. My voice is incredibly manly. And I have no idea where to begin when It comes to makeup. I hate looking at my face about 90% of the time (I brush my hair with the light off or w/I looking in the mirror). But, I do admit that, at certain angles, it does look a bit feminine now. I suppose it’s slowly changing. But, hormones won’t change the shape of my nose or where testosterone told my body to place extra bone around my skull.
A couple of friends have offered advice about finding confidence. And I’ve been thinking back and wondering what that step was that got me out the door earlier this week and last fall. At first blush, I couldn’t think of anytime in my life when I was confident. But, after a few minutes, I did remember that I was confident about my swimming abilities. But, even as much of a natural ability I may have started with (i.e. long arms), I didn’t go into a race until I had worked my ass off. In high school, we swam before school and after. We probably swam 10,000 – 12,000 yards a day. And that was a skill where I never felt like my life was in danger.
It doesn’t matter if my life really is in danger. That is my perception. And no matter what I do, I don’t know how to shake it. Only on two occasions recently have I just walked out the door. I need to figure out how to find that very elusive strength and figure out how to use that on a daily basis.
I don’t know when I’ll be able to start PTSD again. My regular therapist is trained in how to do it. I have an appointment with her in two weeks. But, unfortunately it comes a day after Pride ends. I was asked to march in the parade this year. But, given what’s going on in my head right now, I pulled myself out. I wasn’t planning on really presenting female in the parade. But, even then, I don’t think I could handle having that many people staring at me the entire parade route.


About Frogtosser

A former sailor and pizza maker who is done hiding from the world and is now living life to it's fullest extent. I'm a single speed bicycle commuter who enjoys writing and photography. I'm a voracious reader. And a huge geek!
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