Pondering Existence

For the past few years I've felt like my mind is right on the verge of a lightbulb moment regarding my perception of the universe. 

Every time I feel I am about to have that lightbulb moment I have had an immediate existential anxiety response and I have to derail my train of thought before I go into a frantic panic attack.

It felt almost like this is something my brain is not meant to think about. Like there's some kind of implicit limitation in my wiring to block this concept I am so curious about.

But recently concepts I've been pondering for over two decades feel like they're starting to form. Science and spirituality are not antagonistic, but rather I believe they are different ways of seeing and explaining the same things.

And thus begins my rant about morality and the human condition...

Our opinions about what is and is not life are so misguided with bias. Who are we to define what is and is not alive when we are so small and insignificant ourselves? We struggle with our tiny self-created problems while so much outside of humanity has already advanced to a level of self-sustainment we barely understand, and yet we believe ourselves to be on some higher level.

We strive for some kind of greatness, never allowing ourselves to be content with where we are. We believe so many things drive us toward progress, when really our insatiable greed drives us toward our own ruin.

Which form of life is truly superior? Why does any form of life need to be superior? What does it even mean to be "superior?" Ultimately all these questions are meaningless - rather than trying to categorize and arrange things in some hierarchy we could simply be existing alongside everything, not believing any of it better or worse than anything else.

The belief that we can exist without harming anything is also pointless, as our very species by nature consumes to exist. Who's to say whether it is morally superior to eat animals or plants? They are all living beings, so we are killing no matter what we do. If it must be done, we could argue it's not what we're eating that makes it morally correct, but rather the act of not letting any of it go to waste. If we have to kill to survive, the least we could do is respect the life that was lost for our benefit, and share what we don't use with those who would use it.

What do we imagine when we think of sharing our scraps with others? Handouts to people on the street? Soup kitchens? Food bank donations? Delivering leftovers to our neighbors? Feeding scraps to the dog? Or the chickens? Throwing scraps out into the woods? Composting? Burying food scraps in a garden?

We see ourselves as so disconnected from the rest of the life on this planet, and we arrange our civilizations in such a way that encourages this mentality. But for what? What exactly are we trying to achieve? What is the goal we are setting for our purposes in life?

If our perspective controls how we respond to things, then all of life is what we make of it through our own perception. It is not some mysterious question that needs to be pondered for a lifetime. It simply is. How we see and respond to it is up to us, and what comes after it doesn't matter enough to ignore what's right in front of our faces. 

This life is an opportunity. This is a beautiful gift we are given for a limited time, and we are using it in such a wildly bizarre way. Building shopping malls, obsessing over appearance, stepping on each other to gain currency that only has value because we say it does. Devoting the vast majority of our entire lives to the acquisition of an imaginary wealth, just so we can experience what life we have left in a form of superficial comfort. 

And then, only in our later years do many of us realize, now that we have the spare time in retirement to just live and experience our lives, how fast it all went by. How often we were disassociating, on autopilot, not actually experiencing this gift we have been given. How many regrets we may have, how many people we stepped on, how many times we ignored people who needed help. How many times our pleas for help were ignored, the same way we ignored others'. So often do we only realize our mistakes once they affect us directly.

Our purpose and legacy in this existence is crafted by our own actions. We are capable of independent thought; it is just a matter of using it. So many of these answers are right in front of our faces, and yet we continue asking why, as though something put us here for some reason other than to exist. We are so desperate to avoid using this independent thought we are given, so afraid of the perceived responsibility, but what if it was the very meaning behind our existence? Or what if the very system that encourages individualism and "everyone for themself" is the temptation so many religions warn to avoid?

All of these issues, every one of them, is unnecessary - artificial - fabricated by our own selves. We are at a point on this Earth where we can have nothing to fear. And yet we are so deeply terrified at the very thought of not being afraid of something that we invent things to be afraid of. This very nature within ourselves has generated a culture of many fears, nearly all of which are imposed by our own species.

But again, we are so wrapped up in all of this, despite the fact none of it will matter whatsoever in the end. We believe it to be so important, and yet it is all meaningless in the face of changes we cannot prevent. We are so limited in scope that we only see in 3 dimensions, yet our only thought is to try and expand past our limited sight, rather than to simply enjoy what we have, where we are, right now.

Right now is forever.

All of time is now. If we cannot live in the now, then we will not have lived for all time. 

If we cannot be true to ourselves, then can we be true to anyone?

If we refuse to contribute to making this a better place to live, can we truly acknowledge or accept that we are partly responsible for so much unhappiness, including our own?

Practically every single religion and spiritual belief we have ever developed has this one rule in common: 

"Treat others how you would want to be treated."

It's such a simple concept, and everybody knows it. I can't think of anyone I've ever met who hasn't been told about this "golden rule."

But how many of us are really practicing it?

How many of us ever think about it in our daily lives?

How many of us believe it is actually something worth pondering?

I'll tell you how I would like to be treated:

I would want people to listen to me.

I would want people to truly see me, rather than the picture of me they painted themselves.

I would want people to try to understand me.

I would want people to treat me with kindness by default, unless I have given them reason to do otherwise.

If I hurt someone, I would want them to ask why, rather than immediately hurting me back.

This sounds nice, right? Does it sound hard to do? If so, why? That may be an important question to ask. The answer may be relevant to your own feelings of purpose in this life.

What if this golden rule, shared by all, is the meaning of life we so desperately seek?

What if truly trying to understand each other is the answer to the big question we ask ourselves?

I know you've likely heard speeches like this one before. But you know what? I think it's worth saying again, even if we're conditioned to forget it within a few hours.

Because I believe in this golden rule. I believe that if you read this far, you listened to me. And that means something to me. In return, I will listen to you. I will see you. I will try to understand you. I will show you kindness. I will give you benefit of the doubt.

You will have every opportunity to be your best self in my presence without judgement. Whether you take that opportunity is up to you. 

I love you and I care about you.

A RuneScape Love Story

Back when I was around 15 or 16, long before my transition, I used to play a game called RuneScape. The game is a virtual medieval world where everyone around you is another real person playing the game, just like you.

My character was a girl. I couldn't explain exactly why I created this girl character, I just wanted to see what it was like. It turned out guys loved to give things to girl characters randomly for free, so I took advantage of that and started acting like a flirt. Guys gathered around and gave me plenty of attention. I ate it up, and I found it funny when I shut down their advances by telling them I was a guy.

One day I was out doing quests and I met a boy. I can't believe it, but I actually remember his name: LegatoSummers. I was being attacked by giant rats on my way back to town and he rushed in to help when he saw my health getting low. I said thanks and we parted ways, only to bump into each other again as I returned to the area about 10 minutes later. Legato was hunting down more rats. When he saw me he cleared a path for me to walk through and began following me.

He didn't offer me gold or items or random stuff like everyone else, and he didn't beg me to be his girlfriend. Instead, he volunteered his time to be my bodyguard, and he entertained me with witty humor. He asked if we could friend each other so we could travel again.

The more we interacted and travelled together, the more it became clear that Legato had genuinely developed a crush on me.

I couldn't explain why, but I was so committed to "pretending" I was a girl in real life for Legato. Even when he asked for my name. I didn't want to lie to him, so I told him to promise not to laugh. When I told my real name I said it was so embarrassing that my parents gave me a boy's name, and that I planned to change it someday. He said it was okay, and that he liked me anyway. Afterwards we actually had a really nice romantic walk through a park in Varrock where we opened up about some vulnerable and personal subjects and danced together by a fountain for over an hour.

He did a kiss emote with his character and I got really uncomfortable when I realized I was blushing, and that I liked him too. Then I got really nervous when I found out he lived less than 20 minutes from my house. 

We said our goodbyes and I logged out that night, realizing that that was basically a first date. I didn't log in again for weeks. 

I asked myself what I was doing. Why did I let this get this far? What was I hoping to accomplish? What started as something I found funny turned into a genuinely emotional experience. I could actually hurt this guy, and I really didn't want to hurt him. But I realized that telling him I'm a guy would also hurt me. I didn't question why, I just knew it would, and I would feel so sad that we wouldn't have more dates like that. I wanted to be the girl he thought I was. But I obviously couldn't keep this up forever or he would find out what I actually was. I put myself into a very awkward situation...

After my hiatus I logged back in. He messaged me and asked if I was okay because he hadn't seen me on in am unusually long time. I said yes, and that I was spending time with my brother. As I said this, I was logged in with a second character at the same time, and I introduced Legato to him as my "brother."

Gradually I tried to get him to become friends with my "brother," and I logged in less and less with my girl character, saying that I was busy with school, until finally I stopped logging in altogether.

One day, many months later, shortly before logging out I told him that my "brother" was actually me, and that I was truly sorry. He said he was starting to suspect as much. After talking to him and logging out, I sat in my chair and cried. I wished I could have met him, and I wished I hadn't deceived him.

We briefly said hi a few times after that, but we became distant and we both stopped logging in so much. The friendship fizzled away...

... This story feels so bittersweet to tell. I wish it had a happier ending.

I really don't understand how that whole experience didn't crack open my eggshell. How was I so oblivious to the fact I wished I was actually a girl so I could meet him in person? How was I so oblivious to the fact that the feelings I felt for this guy could have meant I wasn't straight?

I guess I thought there was no possible way for me to make this dream a reality. I didn't know transgender people existed back then. I had no representation, nobody to talk to, and no reference for other people feeling this way.

It's amazing the number of red flags I overlooked growing up simply because I never saw representation.

Well, Legato... Wherever you are, I hope it didn't hurt too much. And I hope you enjoyed the time we did have while it lasted. But if by chance we ever met again, I swear I truly am a girl this time, and I promise I will never break your heart again.

My Transition - Work Life, Part 1

Throughout my transition posts I've mentioned my workplace in passing, but I've never really talked about what it has actually been like to be in the workplace as a transgender person. 

I think it's time I went down the timeline of my gender journey again, similar to how I did in the Discovering Myself post, except in the context of how it affected my professional life.

My first job

I'm going to start with my first job, because even before I started questioning my gender/sexuality, there were little tidbits of things that happened that I feel were related to my development. I still remember them so clearly.

I was a deli clerk at Top Food and Drug, a grocery store that has since been replaced by Haggen. It was 2008, I was 18 years old, and I had no idea that I was trans. This may have been my first job, but I took it seriously, and I never wanted anything I did to be considered sub-par. I took pride in my work, and I wanted to excel above and beyond the call of duty. Eventually, when I got used to the job, I believe I did just that. I served the best damn Chinese food. If the food ever started to look dried out, I'd stir it around, and sometimes I'd even add just a tiny bit of water if the sauce was getting too thick. I secretly looked over the recipes in the back so I knew that I was doing when I was tending to the food. A few nights I even made extra chow mein and fried rice after the cooks had gone, because when we ran out of those we couldn't serve any of the combo meals. I think my cooking came out just as good as the other cooks (don't tell them that, they'd be pissed). In the dish pit, I cleaned those dishes spotless with time to spare.

This has generally been my work ethic ever since. I believe that if it's a job worth doing, it's a job worth doing well. This has caused some friction between my managers and I, because they believe a job is only worth doing if it doesn't make you go outside your regularly allotted hours for the week.

There was one employee who I considered to be a marvel. The perfect model of efficient and effective work. He was so fast and accurate with everything he did, I used him as the model of what I wanted to surpass at that job. 

I'll never forget the story of how we met...

I had been working in the Chinese food section of the store for about 3 months, and my boss finally tells me that it's time for me to get experience in other parts of the store. So he moves me over to the deli one day. As we're walking over there, I'm scared, because the deli is a whole lot bigger than the Chinese food section, and I have no idea what I'm doing. So my boss tells me that I'm going to be trained by Esteban, and he'll show me how things are run back there.

After my boss gives me the general look around and explanations of how things work, he takes me to the walk in freezer and says,

"Okay, Esteban, you can take it from here."

I turn to the freezer and I see a guy fidgeting with some balloons. The guy turns around, revealing that he stuck two balloons into his shirt, like boobs. He poses seductively against a nearby table and says to me,

"Come over here, big boy."

I'm a little bit in shock, because I've never seen anything like this in the workplace before, and I didn't know how to act. I turned to my boss, who was kind of giving Esteban a glare, and I turn back to Esteban, who is still posing seductively. He gives me a wink, and I totally break out laughing. I walk over to him, and the beginning of a great work relationship was born.

 

The Dress Code

 

At this grocery store they strictly expected me to wear white button-up shirts, black pants, black socks, polished shoes, and a tie, in addition to my apron/vest and hat. They also said that we could have no facial hair below our upper lips. This meant I was tying a tie every day, cleaning my shoes, and shaving regularly.

One day a store manager approached me and told me I needed a haircut. I pointed out that there's no rule in the dress code that says my hair must be short, and they ignored my reply by saying,

"If you can't stuff your hair into your hat, then it's too long."

I replied by saying that if that were true, they'd be telling my female co-workers to cut their hair too. They let two of them wear ponytails out the pack of their hats, and one of them wore her hair in a bun. My manager merely replied by saying,

"Yeah. They're women. Get a haircut."

To this day I find this memory infuriating. What the hell does gender have to do with this? Everyone has hair. The fact of the matter is that they're human beings with hair, just like me, and they're allowed to wear their hair long. And for some stupid arbitrary reason, I'm not.

So I didn't get a haircut. Instead, I stuffed my hair into my hat as best I could every day. This irritated that manager, but he couldn't order me to cut my hair if my hair was not sticking out of my hat whenever I was clocked in. I was jealous of my female co-workers, who had these wonderful ponytails out the back of their hats. I felt like it was completely unfair that I couldn't do the same thing. I wanted a ponytail, but because I had to stuff my hair into my hat, I wasn't able to grow it long enough to get one.

 

Misgendering

 

We had a customer enter the store one day who appeared to be a tall transgender woman in a lovely floral sun dress. My supervising cook kind of jabbed at me to look at her with a smirk on his face, since I didn't immediately notice. I looked up, saw her, smiled, looked at my supervisor, shrugged, and went back to work saying, "Alright."

This was the first transgender person I had ever knowingly seen in real life. This was before I knew the word transgender, and the only word I knew that fit the description was transvestite, which is a derogatory word the trans community really doesn't like, myself included. Most trans people consider it to be a slur, so I'm very glad I didn't say it that day.

So this customer was being served by my boss in the deli, while I was in the separate Chinese food section. My boss never serves people food, so this seemed particularly interesting to me. I figured he probably intended to serve her himself because he was gay, and felt that maybe he'd do a better job? I glanced up at the trans person, from time to time, out of curiosity. I wanted to talk to her for some reason, but I felt it'd be rude of me, and it'd just make us both uncomfortable. So I just continued to do my job while overhearing tiny pieces of what they were saying to each other. 

At some point, I heard this exchange:

"How about this one, sir?"

"I AM A WOMAN!"

The customer stormed out of the store, and when I looked up I saw tears welling up in her eyes before she made it out the door.

The cook and I looked at each other for a moment, I looked back over at my boss, who had a look of guilt and fear on his face. The head cook chuckled to himself saying something along the lines of, "Heh, wow. Dramatic..." To keep up appearances, I pretended to let out a little chuckle of my own and said, "Heh, yeah."

But I felt bad for her. She was visibly hurt and upset, and laughing at someone for being upset felt wrong. I didn't understand why she wore a dress, but I at least understood that I shouldn't be laughing at someone for crying. My supervisor's commentary made me feel rather uncomfortable.

Nobody ever spoke of that situation again, but it's a memory that stuck in my mind. As a trans woman now, thinking back at this memory, I feel so bad for her. She must have felt so terribly alone, and that misgendering must have just been the last straw after an awful stream of misgendering. If anything like this ever happened again, I'm glad I'm in a better position to help now.

That Time I Spoke Chinese

One other memory from this job that stuck in my mind is a short exchange between me and that same cook at the beginning of my shift one day. He always used to say, "You 'da man!" Or he'd just generally call me "'Da man." It took a little getting used to hearing that from a Cantonese accent.

I came into the dish pit at the beginning of my shift one day, and I started throwing things into the scrubbing area and filling it with water. I made a lot of noise back there because of how quickly I worked. The cook comes into the back and says,

"Hey, [old name]! 'Da man!"

In response, I do a quick fist pump and say,

"Boohah!"

He erupts in laugher, and I'm sitting there utterly confused at what just happened. I stop scrubbing and just stare at him, quite puzzled. He walked away, still laughing, nodding at me and putting his hand up in a half wave motion.

I figure at this point that he must've thought my reaction was really funny for some reason, and that he's just a strange guy. I continue doing the dishes for about 10 minutes until the cook walks back into the dish pit and says something.

I couldn't quite make out what he said, so I stopped and asked him to repeat it. He repeated it, but I still had no idea what he said. I thought maybe his accent was just making it hard to make out.

"I'm sorry, what? I still didn't catch it."

His expression turns from laughter to straight, and then confusion, as he asks,

"Wait... You speak Chinese?"

"No, I don't. Why? Did I say something in Chinese?"

He starts laughing again,

"You spoke Chinese!"

"What? I just said boohah! What does that mean?!"

He continues to laugh, seeming reluctant to tell me what I said.

"No, come on, what did I say??"

"You said boohah. Means 'no chance.'"

So he explains to me that he called me "'Da man," and I replied by saying "No chance." Basically, how that got interpreted was that he called me a man, and I denied it. And the specific dialect I spoke in was Cantonese.

So, basically, I accidentally told my supervisor in Cantonese that I was a woman about 3 years before I actually started questioning my gender.

Reasons For Surgery

I was asked by somebody back in December what my reasons were for wanting surgery. I thought it might be enlightening for some people if I were to post those reasons here. Here is the copied response I sent to that person:

"Oh dear, where do I even start... I guess I'll try to list off all the reasons that make surgery worth it to me. But these won't necessarily all be relevant to your situation.

1. It gets rid of my bulge forever so I will never have to tuck again. That's a massive plus in so many ways.

2. It will make it so much easier to use a vibrator.

3. I'll be able to walk through the swimsuit sections of clothing stores without feeling so depressed.

4. I will be able to look at myself in the mirror without having to avoid dysphoric eye contact with my crotch.

5. I will be able to take a shower without feeling dysphoric about my crotch.

6. I will be able to have penetrative sex without having to use the "back door."

7. I will never have of the option to pee standing up again. I hate peeing while standing, and I hate when people suggest it in situations where it would solve problems finding a bathroom. I don't even want the option.

8. It will fix a painful issue that I have with my epididymis, making it so that I can never feel like I'm kicked in the balls again.

9. I will be able to go to the Olympus Spa, an affordable local women-only nude spa.

10. My underwear will fit me properly, allowing me to wear thongs without bulge.

11. I will be able to rub it in people's faces if they ever try to use my genitals as an excuse for me not being a woman, thereby giving me more opportunities to educate bigots.

12. When I jump, I will never feel my genitals flop or jiggle again. Just my boobs, and maybe my stomach.

13. I will most likely feel more confident in every aspect of my life without ever thinking about what I have in my pants as something that will out me."


About 4.5 months after typing this list response, having now gotten through stage 1 of my surgery, I can officially confirm number 13. <3

My Transition - Hygiene

Biological Content Material!

This is literally a post where I talk about what's happening with my genitals. If you don't want to hear about this stuff, you best not read ahead.

You know one of the things about daily life post bottom surgery that I didn't fully critically think about beforehand? The way it would affect my everyday hygiene routines.

Honestly, I knew I was going to have to wipe after peeing, and I had some vagina smell before from the hormones, but wow that smell gets much stronger now if you skip a shower day.

Also diet. I've been making homemade Thai food, and CJ made green curry tonight. These are foods that contain fish sauce, and I have now been reminded first-hand what that means for my nethers.

I don't think other people notice it as much as I do. I'd probably have to sit with my legs wide open and someone's head on my lap after skipping a shower for someone to notice. But whether they do or not, I really like smelling nice. So I've developed a nightly routine of spraying down the area with water in the shower. No soap or anything, of course, I don't want to mess with the microbiome developing down there. Water is sufficient, just to reduce smells. It seems to work quite well, and it's nice to feel clean. 

After a while I didn't like how quickly we were going through toilet paper, so we got a manual bidet sprayer, and I am fully converted. Because of the water rinse every time I pee I've gone from a lightly fishy smell to a lightly floral smell. And this is from water alone.

There really is a special amount of maintenance involved with vulvas. But I suppose that's part of the fun. At least it is for me. ^_^

Independent Change

I was born into a conservative Christian family, assigned a gender, given a name that matches that religion and gender, and all the interactions I had growing up reinforced an identity that I never chose.

I have since disassociated myself from my assigned religion, changed my gender to match my true identity, changed my name to match, and now I fight for people's rights to live their individual lives in peace, as themselves. I will continue to spend years training myself to forget all the subtle treatment I got from people my whole life that reinforced upon me an identity that wasn't mine.

I cannot change my birthplace or race, but I can be aware of what my race represents in the world, and I can behave according to what I believe is right based on that combined with my ideals.

Despite the conditions of our birth, we can still choose to make our own decisions and change our lives to match our own identities and ideals. :)

Feminine HRT Changes Resource

Here is a handy website that details the changes caused by spironolactone, estradiol, and bioidentical progesterone. 

Personally, I believe this website to be the most accurate list of HRT effects I have yet found, and I believe it to be a far better resource that what medical professionals provide their patients for informed consent.

https://curvyandtrans.com/p/5011BD/second-puberty-101/