Planning Out The Holidays

     As we all know, Christmas is an international holiday that appears to immediately follow Thanksgiving. I don't demand much of anything around this time of year, especially now during my transition. I would love to say to my parents that I'd like to get a new pair of denim jeans and a small argyle sweater but I can't. I know they wouldn't go out of their way to get it because they aren't aware that I am doing this transition and that I'm scared that they would say that my partner is an influence on me. I ended up asking for things that seem neutral. Like a t shirt with a gaming icon and a hat because the only hat I have is a SF Giants hat that was given to me a while ago when I started my transition. I wear it all the time when I go out. Of course some people have it worse than me when I say stuff like "I can't tell my parents that I want something I can't have." because that would be awfully arrogant of me. Whatever they give me, I'm sure I'll make good use of it but I'd just love to have something that looks neutral and is warm. I'm sure a bunch of kids my age ask for clothes instead of electronics or anything since they'd rather survive winter than make it less painful to live in. Instead, I picked myself some miscellaneous items that I could wrap myself and address it to myself so I have something to open when Christmas comes along. I got myself a peg board and some beads and I considered that a gift. Like I said, I don't demand much and I'd rather get myself something than ask people to get me something that I wouldn't really need or want. I think it's simpler that my parents see that I'm taking initiative to do something instead of demanding people for something in return of well, this holiday which people are obligated to give to others. 
     Of course with buying, money is involved. There's hardly anything free nowadays unless if it's something that's torn up. I've taken a great interest of taking old things and making something new out of it; Upcycling. 

This is a flower vase I made out of an old jam jar.
This is just one out of a few. 

       There are many ways to use an old object and make something useful out of it. I'm thinking that my next project will deal with wooden pallets. 
     To some people, it's art and would greatly accept something like this as a gift. To some others, they would think that I didn't have the money to buy them something worth my time. If I had the time, I would make something for everyone I was to give gifts to. Before, during the times of steam powered boats and business succession, people made their friends and family gifts they were to use throughout the years to come. It was worth something when people took their time to craft something to give away. Some people were lucky to have such loving friends and family. 
     We now live in a time where instant gratification is something that people find acceptable. And making a gift is hardly worth anything. It's understandable when one is crunched with time and they had to go someplace to find something for that other person. I've done that quite a few times but I'd rather make something for someone who I love the most and would like to say "I took my time to make this. I was strapped with money but I should hope you like it." and would just give it like that. 

     This comes to another argument about men and women stereotypes. "Women were crafty and fun since the beginning of time. Men go out to do their thing and come home with food." Interests are interests. Some women like working on cars and spending their time working jobs that a man may normally do. Vice versa with men, too. Some men like to cook or clean and some of these jobs or interests are things normally a woman may do. I've come to the point where I don't really care how people think of my interests and hobbies. As long as it makes me happy, I'll keep doing what I'm doing.

     I suppose I can't always make people happy by buying them things they'd appreciate or making them something that they'll absolutely adore and keep for a while but it's always good to ask questions. 
     I'm just waiting out until the holidays are over. Listening to some disco-indie and ignoring all the hellish bustle that the holidays bring. Hopefully, no one really notices me. I'm not one to like the holidays all too much. I'm really only in it for the food haha! Well, let's see how long I hold out! 

Growing Up As A Boy/Contemplating Hormones

     Of course for most of my life, I've grown up awkwardly as a girl. I had really no friends that helped me "feminize". Not even my mum because she was scared that I would whore myself out. That meant no make up or miniskirts. Until I was 17, I was able to wear miniskirts. I experimented with makeup of different colors, painted my nails many ways, dressed myself with ridiculous clothes and I had to learn all of it myself. I regret that I never asked for help early on but I thought that I could manage. Yeah, happened not to be the case. I was fairly a... plain girl who tried too hard. 
     Growing as a boy is about the same experience with me. I'm having a hard time trying to express myself, dress myself, fit a stereotype with the way men are men. Not in a very perverted, "I have no emotions" way. The fact that I want to provide for my partner, open doors, be the first to talk... Basically, a gentlemanly personality. Before, I was a polite "goth" kid but I wanted to build a reputation or some respect.
     It's hard for me to make that transition with these social norms that I'm trying to expose myself to. It's going to be hard regardless because this is unexplored "land" to me. 
I'm still practicing with the way I dress. Buying new clothes, getting hand-me-downs and taking pictures of the way I dress to determine what looks good on me and what I like. Just earlier this week I got myself a pair of boy pants. It's amazing! I don't know why I hadn't done this earlier! I like the fact that I can actually move and I that I have pockets! And that I have space in the inside to fix my boxers. I hated girl pants because it didn't have any room to even breathe. But then again, designers fit a stereotype with females. They don't wear anything underneath besides clingy clothes so.. why should they have room? I'm not complaining about girl pants; just making an observation. 
     Earlier this month, I did get a binder for Christmas from my partner. Honestly, it's a hassle because it's a compression tank top that I fold to overlap but I love it because it's a binder and it's comfortable! I have never in my life been so happy about a flat chest. It's been a confidence booster for me. My parents hadn't thought of anything of it because it looks somewhat like a sports bra and I don't leave it around the house or anything. I don't think they would really notice anything different. I have been wearing baggy looking clothes in order to compensate but it hasn't necessarily been an issue to me. I'm starting to be a little more proud of myself for forcing myself in stores and looking at clothes. Trying them on by myself and determining if that's something that will help "deform" my figure. I get weird looks but it's nothing that would really make me self-conscious. I see it as if they don't come up to me about it, I won't come to them about it. Example: Them-"Those pants are for boys" me-"I know. That's why I'm getting it." or Them-"That jacket doesn't look nice on you" me-"Thanks for letting me know, I didn't think that plaid looked good on me. I always liked argyle" or Them-"That purple tie doesn't suit you." me-"I wish it did, I know I look better in red." I'm trying to get to that point where I really don't want people to get to me emotionally. Because that's something that they want. I know that people have a hard time accepting others because of something they don't understand. I suppose it'd always be a thing passed through every generation but it's nothing that should really affect me. People will always have opinions on things that they don't understand and so do I. It's something that will probably help me transition in a mental state too.

     I've thought about where I want to go with this. I'm not sure if I really should start hormones just yet. I want to be able to get it when I have my own insurance and when I can actually afford doctor visits and the medications itself. I was diagnosed with PCOS so, I want to be able to get the reassurance I need. Like mammograms and (ashamed to say) pap smears. I want to make sure that I'm healthy and the hormones won't kill me in a matter of years seeing that my diagnosis can become fatal. I wouldn't want to ever have it affect the person I love with all my life. I know she would want the best for me and that's something that I would make the extra effort on. Making sure I'm healthy. That's the main reason why I stopped smoking. I needed to quit making bad habits. I know it would do me good in the long run. 
      Growing up has a majority of choices that affect the rest of our lives. Some of them we make without thinking. Some of them are well thought out or further planned ahead. I just hope that the decisions I make while growing up are ones that I can live with.

Dreams: Sigmund's Theory

     As some of us know, Sigmund Freud(1856-1939) was a psychologist who studied the mind structure, concepts of unconsciousness and the fundamental properties that occur during a dream. He believed that dreams were representations of what we've encountered in our consciousness that has taken part of our subconsciousness, like memories and emotions. There had been numerous arguments stating that dreams consisted symbolism. Another argument was that dreams were neural impulses which sparked the brain active and tried to create sense to whatever the Dreamer is dreaming.

     Most of my dreams don't particularly have ever made any sense. I start off someplace doing something then end at another place still doing the same thing, if that made any sense...

     A few weeks ago, I had this dream where I was walking to the men's bathroom at some mall. I took a sip of water by the fountain separating the two gender segregated restrooms. This was to look casual to the public but make my decision without really thinking about it in the dream. I ended up going to the men's bathroom anyways. Opened the door and saw two guys at a urinal, staring at the elongated mirror that stretched from one end of the restroom to the other end. I felt awkward so I turned to look at the ceiling and then walked the other way around. I walked out thinking about using the women's bathroom but it came to the point where one of the guys that I encountered in the restroom was on his way towards me. I wasn't sure what to think or how to react. He just took me by the collar to his face and started with, "You like looking at dick? You a homo?". I couldn't respond because I was scared my voice would give me away. He shook his head like I've done something so wrong. Then he took me by the hair and dragged me back into the men's bathroom. He threw me on the floor and kicked me numerous times and then responded with, "I'll give you what you deserve." And at that moment, he started undoing his pants. I knew where this was going and I wasn't going to let it happen. I was scared for my life, I made the dangerous choice to run for it. I ran out of the restroom and into a department store with a circular coat rack. I hid in the middle and tried to keep quiet. I screamed and broke into tears when the clothes suddenly spread apart revealing my location. I soon found out that it was my partner, Lillian. I ran into her arms and held onto her, never letting her go or answering any of her questions. I just responded with, "Let's go home." And so we left. 

     I woke up crying because out of all honesty, I am scared that something like that would happen. I know for a fact that I don't look like a guy. I still look like a girl. Not that it causes any dysphoria but I can't submit myself to separate from the female stereotype when the social norms contribute in a daunting manner. I can't do it. I'm not ready just yet to do something that can impose risk on my life, too. If there was a possibility of it happening, I want to ensure that I'll be able to at least protect myself in some way or another.  I know that people have rational and irrational fears. I'm not entirely sure why death is something I'm constantly worried about, but I know that if that time comes, I want to make sure that I say the things I need to with the people I love. I don't necessarily believe that dreams are just meaningless neural impulses but I don't necessarily believe that it's completely symbolic... I just need to watch what I do and make sure that I'm doing what's best for myself. 

First Few Months

     First few months were crucial to me. Of course, it was hard for me because I never knew how to start or where to begin. I'm only about three months into the transition; if it's even called a "transition". I don't know where I fall into the trans spectrum but I know I fall someplace. 
     I didn't really have very supportive friends to begin with. Everyone else was caught up in their own life. I don't blame them since it was senior year of high school. People were already thinking of how to move out or elope in some secretive way no one would find them. Basically ignorant plans for the future. No escape plan, no way to figure out how to stand on their own two feet and make things work even when things aren't working. I didn't make plans for my future. As far as I was concerned, it was community college and then maybe following some interest of mine as a job or career. That was if there was a chance of that possibility. I was in the middle of trying to figure out my position in the community as well. I don't think I really was a female to begin with. Although I was born as one, I don't think I was the kinda person that would be okay with carrying a bag with a long strap or wear ridiculous looking shoes that strained my posture. For the longest time, I thought I was a slightly masculine girl. I didn't like the gender specific dressings or the fact that either men and women had qualities that either sex could or couldn't do. Certain occupations like construction and landscaping; a man job. Toys; dolls versus trucks. Colors; reds and blues. To this day, I'm angered that the women's section is on a separate floor as the men's section in some clothing department stores. I guess that's just it for my rant on equal rights...
     As I've said before, when I first started, I didn't have very supportive friends because they were preoccupied with other things. I needed to know that. Not that I had an issue with it but I needed to go through things myself. I needed to know these things for myself. I started with small things. Growing out my leg hair, wearing only pants and wearing a t-shirt with a flannel. My partner would give me her old clothes in order to help me figure out what to do with them. She gave me some old boxers and shirts and a pair of shorts. It took me a while before I could wear boxers on their own and nothing underneath. Now, it's gotten to the point where I can't wear panties because they dig into my skin and cause rashes due to irritation. Wearing cologne became a ritual. I'll wear it after I get dressed and ready. Same with "male deodorant". The first few months, I began to think about my sex. I defined as a male but was I happy? In fact, I was. Significantly happier wearing clothes that felt right to me. Honestly, I don't remember when there was a time I was happy when being "a girl". 
     I remember my mum gave me a 400$ necklace for Christmas one time and I was MAD. I wasn't going to ever wear it. I didn't care if it were diamond on silver, I didn't do anything to deserve something like that. I didn't even like it. It wasn't the fact that it was something girly, it was the fact that it was too expensive for the usage. Realistically, I wasn't going to wear it and for her to spend money on me like that... She could have told me. I feel terrible to flying off the handle like that. But she had better means of spending than on me. That was like three grocery shopping trips. Or at least a mortgage payment at the very least. I'd prefer to keep the basic necessities than a few pieces of metal and rock. 
     Two or three months into the transition, I now have a few outfits that are genuinely male. I haven't been binding as much as a trans man should but I've been wearing baggy looking t-shirts and wearing compression bras in oder to well, compress my chest. 
     Like many things that go terrible rather quick, all it takes is one time. Earlier in the month, my dad saw me scratch my knee. Not an issue until I rolled up my pant leg to relieve my itch. My dad saw my leg was hairy, I didn't have a problem with it, but he did. He said, "That's fucking disgusting. I know we buy you razors. Use them.". As a natural response, I said "okay" and never did anything about it. This issue didn't dissolve like I thought it would. He kept pushing me to shave. I kept using "okay" as a response. It came to the point where he'd threaten to have my mum watch me shower and make sure that I had shaved my legs. I teared up but I didn't want to show him any sort of emotion towards this situation. I didn't want him to know that this was part of something that means something to me. To this day, I don't want my immediate or extended family to think that I was influenced because of my partner. I didn't change for her, I'm doing it for me. 
     This morning I did what my dad told me to do which was shave my legs. I lathered my legs with soap in one hand and a razor in the other. I closed my eyes and made the first stroke. I lost it then. I couldn't keep quiet and I couldn't make noise because I didn't want my family to think something is wrong. They always assume that it's my partner but she's never done anything to make me cry the way I did in the shower this morning. I was torn. I was physically cutting something out of me that helped me define myself and cope with how I feel. I know hair grows back but... it was a part of me. 
     I ended up spending most of my day out with my partner because I couldn't stay in the house and sulk about how bare my legs are. They'll grow back and I need to remember that. She helped me in a way that helped me socialize and keep my mind off of these things. Sometimes... I wish that my basic hygiene wasn't a concern to my parents. I'm tired of them telling me, "I'm not raising a boy" when the tightness in my throat persists on keeping me from saying, "I AM your son". One day, I'll tell them... right now is not the best time. 

Self Discovery Starts With A Name

     My "Journey" started with my name. Of course, at birth everyone is defined by their sex and given name. My given name was "Nicole", was born a female and I'm eighteen years old. I never knew who I wanted to be when I grew up. Whether it was a body builder, singer, firemen, race car driver... never was there a doubt that I wanted to be something that would give me some pleasure as to who I was as a person. Of course there were many things that prevented me from being who I wanted. 

     Sexual preference was a complete controversial issue when it came to grade school. I was the type that kept to myself; socially awkward but quiet. My biggest secret back then was the fact that I liked both boys and girls. I never knew how to express these feelings. I wanted to tell some of my other "friends", but I was scared I'd lose them all. I was right in some way or another. I had a hard time socializing because people used to poke fun at me for being lonely and weird. I was basically the only person I trusted in the world of Public School.

    I never lived a life of luxuries like some kids who went camping with their parents or had sleep overs with their friends. I would come home from school, do some homework, watch tv,eat dinner and go to bed. It was a daily thing. On the weekends, I used to play with my GameCube and Gameboy. Like many kids my age who owned a Nintendo gaming system, my favorite game of all time was Pokemon. My first game was Pokemon Red and I used to play it until the save cartridge corrupted. I was never athletic, to be honest. I used to play Pokemon Red during recess instead of socializing with other kids. It may have contributed to my social skills now, but it's not like I don't know some social norms. It was basically the only world I wished was real. Being able to venture in the wilderness and not a single care in the world.

     I was nine and like many girls my age up to twelve experience different emotions and physical changes with their body. It was one of the very few traumatic moments in my life. I never knew what was going on with my body until my mum knew I started menstruating... at the age of nine. I developed a size B chest by the time I was eleven. It was very odd for a girl to develop at an early age as mine so my parents scheduled appointments with doctors to figure out what was wrong with me. During the time, I waited. In my class of 34 kids, I was the only girl going through puberty. Of course, I kept to myself like I always had and did the things that I always did to seem like a normal kid. I remember that I learned how cruel some people were fairly quickly. This girl was named Sabrina and she was one of the most popular girls in the class. Every girl wanted to be like her and I wanted to be her friend too. She knew through one of our common friends that I liked both boys and girls. She would also make fun of the fact that I was a lonely person and that I was the only person going through puberty. I hated standing behind her in line because she would always pull on my bra strap like if it were some slingshot. I hated how she would always come over with her posse and say something that made me feel insecure about my body. I was fat. I was developing... I went to bed at night crying because I never knew what was wrong with me. Later in the year, I visited my doctor to find that I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian syndrome). My dreams of being a fireman soon disintegrated. I would never grow anymore taller than 4'9". If I never fixed my unhealthy diet, I would develop cancer and probably die of it at the age of 40. I was born with this unknowing that it'd affect me for the rest of my life.

     Middle school began and I was even more awkward than ever. I became a little more social but still never really made friends. I used to wear extra large baggy jackets to hide in. I felt comfortable in them. I never liked my breasts to begin with and I felt even more insecure whenever I had my period for the month. It was then where I began to be a little more vocal about what I liked and wanted. I came out as bi when I was thirteen. People told me that I wasn't. They used to come up with excuses as to why I wasn't. "You never kissed a girl" or "you hadn't even dated a girl". To be bluntly honest, I never even kissed or dated a boy. I was more interested in girls than boys and that was something that kept frustrating me. I wanted to stay on one side and not go to another. I felt terrible because my parents were both moderately religious. I didn't want to tell them or else I'd disappoint them. At least that's how I felt about the whole thing. I was an angry person. I wasn't fun to be around because I was at the point in my life where I was stuck in an abyss of insecurities which caused most of my depression. I hated my body, I hated who I was. I had no plans for the future. I was suicidal. Tired of living with people telling me I couldn't do something or be someone. Tired of being the way I looked. Tired of being the person that I was. But with every attempt, I failed. I used to cut, I used to pop pills... It was really hard for me to live life as it was then. In some way or another, I do believe that there was something that prevented me from doing these things. I don't know what it was but something kept telling me that things will be okay in the end. That someone would kiss my scars and reassure that they would do their very best to support me. 

     It was during my high school years when I came to realize that there were people who have been through the same stuff as I have had. I never knew that the complete stranger in my photography class would be the most important person in my life. She was like me. Although we were born of different sexes, we had the same issues. I later found out that she was transitioning from male to female and she made some true friends, kept some old friends and, unfortunately, "friends" who all they did was respect by calling her by her name. We were dating during the time and her transition made me realize my position with my sexual orientation and identity. It was simple coming out as pansexual. I love people for them and nothing regarding their body. I know a ton of people say that stuff but I'm honest in that regard. I didn't know until then was it okay to feel like the opposite sex. I never felt serious about anything. Not even my future occupation. It was only who I was and the woman I love. I tried coming out with her by responding to male pronouns and asking people to call me by Nick. She, like everyone else, believed I was embracing my "gayness". I started binding my chest, wearing only sports bras and changing my panties to boxers. I wore neutral clothing because I didn't want my parents suspecting anything. Although, I'm 18, I hide a tie by wearing a scarf because I still live in my parents' house. I wish I could come out but I'm scared that my parents would think that I'm being influenced to be the way I am. I have never felt happier defining as a male. I love my name "Nick". 

     They say that your childhood is a foundation to your future. I realized that earlier in October. I thought the only reason why I liked guys was because of their charms. It wasn't. I liked guys because I wanted to be them. I want to be tall, I want to dress the way they do. I want to have a deep, suave voice. 

     I hadn't had a suicidal thought in regards to my body for years. I wish I were taller, I wish I didn't have chesticles. 

     A month after my birthday, I got a tattoo of bulbasaur to represent the only glimpse of light in my childhood out of a few. 

     I plan to marry the woman who kissed my scars and told me that everything will turn okay. 

     If I didn't go through the things I have, I don't think I'd ever find internal happiness. All I can say is that I will forever and always love my Lillian. I won't beat myself for what has happened in my life or wish to change anything. I'll talk my problems out to help myself find clarity. I'm turing nineteen this coming February, plan to transition some more in regards to clothing and my childhood shaped my future.  

I am proud to be Nick Elliot.