My second therapy session was pretty much just picking up
where we’d left off two weeks earlier. She asked questions. I answered
questions. She wrote notes about what I said. Then there were questions about
what else I wanted to do to transition. She peppered me with questions about
pronouns, name changes, surgeries, testosterone. She’d caught me off guard. I
knew I’d already said that all I wanted was top surgery, so this line of
questioning made no sense to me. I assured her that I was good with just the
top surgery and had no plans for anything more. She reminded me that my options
were open if I changed my mind. Again, I assured her that I was good with my
decision. I tried to figure out why we were even discussing these things. They
had nothing to do with my letter as far as I could tell. I didn’t need them or
want them. I could only figure that she was doing some sort of therapist thing
where they have to present all of the options, so I let her ask and I responded
– rather uncomfortably, if my memory holds. Besides, she was running this show and
I just wanted my letter and to be done. Clearly this therapist was thorough and
for someone who was all business, she was pleasant enough to be around; but,
the longer I sat across the room from her the more I knew that therapy was not
You know that thing that you don’t want to do but you know you have to do and it takes a whole lot of you convincing yourself that doing it is not only the right thing, but okay to do and something that you can do? Well, that was therapy for me. Walking into that first session was more difficult than any other part of my transition.
About a week ago the editor of PlanetTransgender.com invited me to join their blog as a columnist. Of course I jumped at the chance!
I’m excited to share that my first column post appeared yesterday. I’ll be sharing stories about my transition – kind of like on this page. There may be some crossover pieces and news – if I find something interesting to share with everyone. Here’s the link so you can check it out. My column!
When I was a kid everyone assumed I was a tomboy. I played by myself much of the time because I hated playing the girly games. I had the most fun doing my own thing – which often involved finding what appeared to others to be the most “tomboy” activity I could find. If I couldn’t be a boy, at least I could act like one. This was easiest to do when I could be outside and even more so when I got to visit my grandparents’ farm. Sometimes revisiting our past reminds us that who we’ve become may not be all that far from where we began.