well, I'm a little shaky thanks to a conversation with someone on the support site I belong to. She told me she was being used by her own father for sex, something she described in some detail, and she refused any idea of reporting him or stopping him.

I ache in grief for her, but I had to let her go because considering my background, it was all I could do to not throw up while she was talking, and I got very upset at her lack of interest in helping herself.

Ah, well.

Well, had a couple of very nice moments yesterday. First, while taking out the garbage before going to work, and the person who lives at the end of my row came out with a small dog, who had to give me a sniff. He said, "Dont worry puppy - she's a nice lady."

Now, I was dressed in my work shirt and pants under my coat, no wig, no makeup, and this guy who has no idea about me called me a lady which made me actually start to cry with happiness, and then when I got to work a co-worker complimented me on my hair which just about sent me over the moon.

Things are getting better, yes?

Finally finished "The Dead Kid." Its the last time I put up a story here without actually finishing it, as people probably gave up on the story. Ah, well.

well, I just had a funny moment. I was just chilling doing my laundry and wearing a skirt when the doorbell rang, and it turned out to be a pollster. I answered his questions, which included the gender of my mom as the only other person living here, but he didnt actually ask me my gender. I wonder what he wrote down?

Well, it snowed here last night, giving everything a wintery look that looks pretty as long as one is inside. But I'm going to be out in it today, as I'm going with my daughter's class on a field trip to the school she will be attending in September. Could be a lot of fun, or not.

Well, last night some co-workers and I were talking, and the subject of sex ed came up. Suddenly, i had something like a flashback of taking sex ed in elementary myself, and realizing for the first time that the equipment I had in my pants wasnt suddenly going to drop off leaving me with a nice girl set. (Until we were taught better, that seemed to be the prevailing opinion on how girls got made) I suddenly remembered being actually sick with grief afterward, but not really knowing why.

Take that for what it is, I guess.

Well, yesterday, I got a gift from a friend that helped pull me out of my depression. I had gone to lunch with her, and talked about my struggles, and she told me I have pretty feminine features and manners.

This is the sort of stuff I need to hold on to when I start feeling like I cant ever pass, or any of the other garbage that runs through my head regularly.

There are times when I question this strange thing I am, because in all honesty, it doesnt seem to make a lot of sense to me. I mean, intersex people, that kinda makes sense, and you can get tests done and know you belong to that category. But me, my fem side is literally only in my head, and short of an autopsy when I die, there isnt any way to be 100 % sure I 'm not just crazy.,

Ah, well.

Well, today was a tough day with my daughter. We took her and her two friends to West Edmonton Mall, played glow-in-the-dark mini-golf, and went skating at the ice rink. Sounds like fun, right? Well, not really, because the boys noticed I was wearing a woman's shirt, and so that became an awkward topic for conversation. Plus, I'm worried like heck about a friend of mine who is really struggling and has even talked about suicide.

Sigh.

It gets better, right?

At my counseling session today, my counselor suggested I find a way to process all the grief I went through as a kid by having some kind of mourning ritual. The death of my father, the loss of my innocence, the "burying" of my girl self, all need to be grieved over. I'm not sure what form this should take, but it sounds like a good idea.

Boy, if that doesnt get people reading, nothing would, giggle. But its more than just a "hook" , it really happened to me. It was like this: I was in high school, and found a small circle of friends playing Dungeons and Dragons. A couple of the girls who were part of that circle became very close to me. I think if I had been a genetic girl I would definitely called them my BFf's . Well, one summer day, one of them had invited me and the other to hide in their basement from the heat.

Well, I just got a call from the endocrinologist, and my testosterone levels have gone back up to 19, so he's increased my estrogen dose to 3 mg twice a day, and he's also sent a prescription for progesterone to my pharmacy, and I'll hopefully be able to get it in a couple of days.

Neat, huh?

Well, I was going to share about my trip to the endo doc in a skirt, but I made the mistake on my way home of turning on the radio in time to hear the sentence for Graham James for raping two kids while their hockey coach. Two years. Two years for destroying two lives. Two years for humiliating two teen boys into being his sex toys. I'm going to scream and cry into a pillow now.

I was talking to a friend at work, and mentioned my age, and then it hit me. I might have lived 45 years on this planet, but in some ways, I'm actually only about two. It was about two years ago that I went to my rape therapy dressed, which has led me to starting a transition. It would explain why everything feels so fresh, so new to me.

Maybe someday, I'll take things like having my hair long or developing boobs, or being accepted as a woman for granted, but it hasnt happened yet, and I kinda hope it never does.

Well, I managed to slip in the parking lot at work and landed on my back. Got a bit of a headache, now.
Sigh.

That's what my daughter just said about my hormones.

Can I cry now?

I know a lot of people dont like Stephenie Meyer's treatment of vampires in the "Twilight" books, but I'm reading a book by her called "The Host" and its dam good.

I had a good session, with one of the things I did was have an exercise where I pretended to punch my rapist, taking time to see how my body moved, what muscles I would use, and so on. Being given permission to be angry at him in a safe place felt pretty good.

I've been thinking about the surgery, and I realized a sad truth. Even if somehow I could magically afford it, who would be with me through it? And after it was done, what in my life would actually change? Plus, I might end up losing my daughter if I were to go further than I have, which would not be worth it.

Ah, well, just another day.

Well, I've written a little epilog to "Six Forty-Five", and I'll publish it tomorrow. With that little piece of business out of the way, I might be able to get back to focusing on my "Quest" story. Hopefully, it will be a bit more popular ....

Meanwhile, I feel a lot better for having written this, so at least in that way it hasn't gone to waste.

Well, I've managed to catch a cold. Blech.

I was shaving today, and as I tried to get rid of some more of the hair on my chest, I could see (and feel) some development in my breast area. Then I put on my shirt, and I could see my nipples sticking out and thought "My God - I've got real boobs at last !"

Needless to say, I'm pretty happy about this.

Well, last night I got a compliment that blew my case of "Tg PMS" (That's what Bailey Summers calls those times when I struggle with feeling like a fake). What happened was I started early, and I was talking with one of the evening staff who I dont know well, and was gushing over my daughter. His response "Ah, you're just a proud mom."

"Mom".

He called me "Mom"

During my little "TG-PMS" time, someone said to me my writing comes across as very female. I'm wondering, in what way? What makes a woman writer different from a male one?