The first night of playing was mostly getting all the teams in one place, going over rules and policy, and having a few quick, fun games. I fully exhausted myself by the end of the last game. It felt great. We went for drinks/food after and got a bit of socializing in.

I was sore for the next week. Muscles I haven’t used in years were complaining very loudly at me. “What have you done, girl!?!?” I think I was limping every day until our next game night.

I was worried about the logistics of playing in a league based in East Vancouver, considering i work in Richmond (near the airport) and live in Abbotsford. That’s a lot of commuting all over the place.

So far, it’s not that bad. Transit can get me close, and I can either walk, or catch a ride with a friend on the team.

The second night of playing, things took a bad turn. I took transit in to Vancouver, and decided I’d walk the 2.5 miles to the venue, as a warm up. I go walking all the time, I should be fine. I was wearing socks that didn’t cover my achilles tendon, and as a result my shoes rubbed my skin until I got some lovely water blisters on both ankles. The pain from that, affected how I was walking, and the walking itself was making me sore.

By the time I got to the school where we play, I was already fatigued, and my muscles, which had not recuperated from last week, were showing signs of being over worked. I was getting small muscle spasms. I tried to stretch as much as I could before playing, but I didn’t get enough in (I don’t think I could have stretched enough that night).

Within my first game, I pulled a quadriceps muscle in my right leg (near where I already have a muscle tear – from being equally stupid years ago). So, I played a LOT more conservatively that I would normally play. Not a lot of running, just being hyper aware of incoming throws, and making my shots count.

Somehow, I managed to play well enough to get voted ‘gold star’ (best player in the match) by the opposing team. I think it should have gone to another player on our team, but I did play decently.

The second match things got worse. I was trying not to push myself. Walking more than running, and just being mindful so I didn’t have to dodge much. I jogged up to the centre line to grab a ball, and as I reached for it, every muscle in my right leg said, “nope. You’re on your own lady,” and promptly gave out on me. I fell across the centre line (didn’t have much choice in the matter) and that put me out of the game. My calf was spasming, my hamstring was spasming, and my quads were spasming.

I figured I was done for the night. After resting, and more stretching, I was able to get in for the last game, and did not do too bad. But my leg was fucked. It still isn’t 100%, and we play again in 2 nights. And I will play.

Mentally, joining this team is huge for me. I have really missed playing team sports. Our team is not competitive. Some of us are self-competitive, but we only pressure ourselves to do better, not others. It feels very supportive. I’ve never been anything other than self-competitive. I’ve never blamed or shamed other players on a team, even when I was running on testosterone. I just wanted to play the best that I can.

I grew up as an athlete. I would say that role defined me more than any other. Athletics were also my favourite escape. When I play a sport, (and this still definitely happens) I focus on the game. Everything else fades to black. I poured myself into sports growing up because I could forget about everything else. It’s like meditating in that way for me. Gives my brain a break from all the damn over thinking it does.

I could ignore my dysphoria, my anxieties, my fears, my self esteem issues, my stressors, everything. It was and is pure relief. Nothing works better. Reading is still too cerebral, and I can have my other thoughts drift in. Gaming is a close second, but unless I’m raiding (team thing again) I don’t have that pinpoint focus that I do with sports.

Sports also offers the ability to completely physically exhaust myself. I find that being in that state, my emotional well being improves. The endorphins don’t hurt either.

So, I will keep playing as long as I can. I will try and not get more injured. And I will have fun. The only thing that will stop me from playing will be actually getting my surgery. Which, I should be a step closer to, after my appointment on Oct. 3.

Many of you already know, but I think most do not. Teresa and I are no longer a romantic/sexual couple.

There are a myriad of reasons for this, and I’m not going to go into the details publicly at this point (if ever).

It is not because I’m a woman. I’m the one who has lost the romantic spark, not Teresa. Teresa did everything right (for the most part) to keep us together during my transition. Transition did play a role, but not in the way most relationships fail during transition.

This actually happened many many months ago, and I/we tried to work on it.

We still love each other, and support each other. We’ve both committed to helping the other change careers. Our dynamic is different now though. More like sisters or best friends. We don’t fight nearly as much, and we don’t hurt each other as much either. This is a good thing.

We sleep in our separate rooms more often than not lately. We’re not against sleeping together, but with my school schedule, it makes sleeping in the same room difficult. Our finances are separate now as well for the most part. It’s like having a roommate again.

I have a fair amount of guilt over this. Logically, I don’t believe either of us are to blame. It’s something that happened, and not on purpose. But, as I’m the one that was not able to rekindle certain feelings, emotionally, I feel to blame.

The guilt is lessened by the fact Teresa is in a great relationship with someone. I would feel a lot worse if she were feeling alone during this. I still have that protector mentality, and when I hurt someone, it shakes me to my core because it’s the antithesis of what I’m about.

That is sometimes, why I make the mistake of not being honest with someone when I need to. Because I don’t want to hurt them, I try too hard not to, and then it all blows up in my face. I’m getting better at this, but I still fuck it up from time to time. Quite recently in fact.

So, anyway, we don’t know exactly what the future holds for us. For now, we’re still married and not legally separated or anything. It’s likely that will change, especially as our own personal relationships change, though we will always be in each others lives.

It sucks. Neither of them will be in my life anymore. The endings came about very differently for the 2 of them though.

The first friendship to die ended shortly after my blood clot diagnosis. Once again, I was in a place where I was unable to be there for someone else. I tried. As much as I could try without sacrificing myself. They probably don’t even feel like I tried at all, or nearly enough. From their perspective, that’s probably a fair take on things.

I’m not going to defend myself. I chose to end the friendship definitively – but I really think it had ended without me saying anything. They had disappeared from my Facebook, and it seemed like they had cut me out of their life. I didn’t blame them at all for that. We were toxic for each other at this point. I firmly believe ending it was for the best. What I hate about that, though, was I had promised to always be there.

Promises like that are meaningless though. It’s like promising to love someone forever. They sound good, and are meant to make people feel good, but they are meaningless. Situations change, and sometimes it’s better to break the promise than to endure a broken or hurtful situation.

The second friendship ended tonight. Or more likely several weeks ago. In my attempt to communicate and eliminate awkwardness, I wound up causing hurt, confusion, and resentment. It wasn’t going to recover from that.

I don’t take full blame for either of these friendships ending, but the lioness share is mine I believe.

To both people I humbly apologize for hurting you. I still have love for both of you.

Peace and long life.

Yours,
Jessica

Edit 2020 – Interestingly enough, both these people are back in my life. In healthy ways. Life is funny.

Being unemployed, and trying to deal with my blood clots has left me with a fair bit of free time on my hands, so I’ve been visiting friends as much as possible. It staves off the depression I get when home alone.

Headed out to my friend Jackie’s place for lunch, and we were joined by another friend, Rachel. In our own ways, we’ve all been beaten up a bit over the last few days, weeks, months. This was a chance to just get out, chat, and try and not dwell on the shit, just shoot it.

We wound up staying for about 2 hours, enjoyed the food, and the company. Didn’t notice any strange looks from anyone. Something I still look for. Presenting as visibly transgender now, I try to gauge those around me, and their reactions. As usual, everyone just seems to accept us.

Finally deciding to head out, as Rachel has an appointment to get to, we ask for the bills and start settling up. This is where things got interesting. After we just finished paying, a gentleman comes over from another table and offers to pay for all 3 of our lunches. We’re all kind of stunned by this, but ultimately, we agree it would be rude not to accept. (a policy I have long maintained – if someone offers you something, accept it. Including compliments.).

He goes back to his table after patting me on the shoulder. He had a genuine look of remorse in his eyes as he made the offer. It was all very surreal. We ask the waitress if she knows the gentleman, but no, she’s never seen him before.

So, as we tried to figure out with the waitress, how to reverse the transactions we’d just done, Rachel went over to talk to the man. She shakes his hand after a bit, and comes back. The look on her face was a bit of shock, and a lot of emotion. She explains that he’s American, and feels really bad about what’s going on in the USA with the bathroom bills and all. Feels it isn’t right, people should just be allowed to live their lives.

Then of course, the 3 of us got weepy. I went over to ask him his name, because I wanted to mention it in this blog. He said his name was Peter, and then he came over and talked to all 3 of us again. Reiterating what Rachel had explained. Peter said that he wanted to make some gesture to apologize, essentially, for his countrymen. He said he just really supports transpeople, wasn’t gay, and just wanted to make the gesture.

We thanked him again, and he patted me on the shoulder again, as he left.

It really affected all 3 of us. In differing ways I’m sure. I won’t speak for my 2 friends, but for me, it just left me feeling optimistic about the future of society in general. Obviously with the ‘not gay’ comment, he doesn’t fully understand what it means to be transgender, but that doesn’t change the fact his heart was in the right place at all. It shows that even without understanding, you can support and accept. This is something a lot of cisgender people need to realize. Peter already has that part down.

Thank you Peter, for brightening our day, and our lives. <3

I’ve had a lot of people ask if I was, or assume I was nervous about the whole thing. I was, but not for the reason most people would think. The vast majority of my grad peers are supportive and accepting of me already. I had come out to as many of them as I had contact information for. So, that wasn’t an issue. I also was fairly certain, anyone that did not know about my transition, would have been ok with me anyway. Our grad class is just like that. 25 years on, and we almost all still stay in touch. It is awesome.

What I was nervous about, was how I would handle being misgendered, and reminiscing, and remembering times from that part of my life. After all, there were going to be people there that hadn’t interacted with me in person since I began transition, and there was going to be alcohol which would probably increase the number of slip ups.

I don’t remember how many times I got called James, or how many times I was referred to as he/him. And it doesn’t matter, because it didn’t bother me in the least. These were and are my friends. There was zero ill intent behind any of it. If anything, they were enthusiastic to talk with me, and reminisce.

And that’s where things went weird for me. It was the memories that I was most nervous about. I figured I’d be good with the misgendering because I am very forgiving of friends and family that do it. It’s when complete strangers do it to me that it’s a problem.

When people started bringing up the past, my memories were rewriting themselves in real time. I was picturing everything as if I’d been Jessica my entire life. Sometimes those memories made no sense, like seeing myself as Jessica on the boys basketball team. But that is really how I was seeing it, in my mind. I had heard from a friend that this is something that happens in transition. Our brain works to make our life seem coherent to us. It reworks memories so that we see ourselves as we view our true selves. It has to do with our self image, and the way that works in the brain. I figured it’d happen at some point, but I was not expecting to actually be witness to it happening in real time.

Besides the coolness of memory rewrites, the rest of the evening was spectacular. Of course there was not enough time to talk to everyone. There never is, but this is the first of the 3 reunions where I wanted to talk to practically everyone there. I talked almost non stop for 6 or 7 hours. By the end, my throat and my voice were shot. But I was on such an emotional high. The food was incredible as well. There was plate after plate of amuse bouches, meat platters, fruit platters, and then dessert.

I had a few drinks, but I really didn’t need anything to loosen my tongue. The conversations I had were better than I expected.

The stand-out conversations and events were:

one friend, who had no foreknowledge of my transition, chatting with me about about his niece who transitioned.

another friend chatting about seeing a friend of mine perform slam poetry.

a brilliant conversation with my LAPD friend.

one of my best friends from high school getting in cab and heading off to the casino to play poker.

that same friend earlier, saying too bad I didn’t know in high school, I would have dominated the girls’ sports teams. To which, I said, I did pretty damn good on the boys’ teams for a girl.

getting bought a drink by a guy for the first time ever.

hearing that some people were asking who the tall woman was, because they couldn’t remember any girls that tall in school.

getting a lot of hugs.

being told by one peer how much he admired me and respected me, even though he didn’t really remember me from high school. It was so genuine, I almost cried. I’m hoping to chat more with him.

and just overall the feeling of being accepted. It’s one thing to have it in writing from everyone, but to be in a room with 40-odd people and not feeling the slightest bit out of place, in fact, feeling a greater sense of belonging to this group of people than I ever have in the last 25-28 years.

Cheers to all of NSSS class of 1990. Love you all, and thank you.

Jess

Something changed, I’m not sure exactly when, or even what changed. It wasn’t wholly the being alone thing, it was some dysphoria stuff as well. Somehow, I’ve changed.

I had a very bad Friday night – trying to activate my new VISA. My voice, that I thought was halfways decent on the phone, this night, turned out to not be the case. My initial attempt ended when the CSR asked if I was phoning FOR Jessica, and then asked to speak to Jessica. I hung up at this point. Since Teresa and Rain were over, I thought maybe my voice was being compromised a bit by them being in hearing distance, so I went out to a park to be completely alone (bad idea really).

I tried the phone call again, and got passed the ‘I AM Jessica’, only to get my birthday wrong. For some reason they had my wrong day. So, then, all the other questions started about Teresa. All of which I got right, until they asked the last payment on the account. I’m in a very dark park at this time. I have no clue what Teresa paid on it last. It ends with me just asking if this would be better if I went in to the bank, to which he said yes, and I said very quickly, ok, thank you, goodbye. *click*

I started to sob uncontrollably at this point. On a bench, at 11:30pm in a dark park. I wasn’t making any effort to be quiet, and a guy walking his dog asked (twice) if I was okay. I managed to blurt out a lie of ‘yep’.

Eventually making it home, I said goodnight, and cried more in bed. I also said and did some things that night that I’m not proud of, and I’ve apologized for, and they don’t need to be shared here.

This was the worst dysphoria I have ever felt. I was basically told that I was invalid. But I think, the bad way I reacted made me realize I had to change some things. Going on like this was not going to be good for my marriage and my friendships, and I’d truly wind up alone.

It may simply have been that thought that triggered this change. It may not be that at all. I really don’t know, but I do know something intrinsic changed. A whole part of my mindset is different now. My level of dysphoria has been reduced to a quiet controlled background hum. Almost comforting, instead of the discordant crash of noise it was before. I have a new feeling of being ‘right’, of things being the way they should be.

I’ve gotten some of my patience back – my physical changes are quite slow at the moment and that was causing me additional stress, which is now gone.

I had lost a lot of my confidence Friday night with the severe misgendering. It has returned, strongly, along with a companion feeling of just knowing things are right. It’s almost a feeling of ‘screw what everyone else thinks’ but it’s not. I still care what people think, I just know that if they misgender me, they’re wrong and I’m right.

Things with Teresa have gotten better too. All because of this mindset change. I’ve been able to be alone at work, alone at home, alone while out, and no self negativity at all.

I can’t explain it. I wish I could. I am very happy it happened, and I seem to be very happy overall again. It seems more natural too. When I first started transition, I was very happy – but it was just a happiness to be transitioning. It was overlying other negative feelings, which eventually broke through. Not that I wasn’t happier with being me, but I have other issues as well, not just being transgender. But now, I feel truly happy. For the first time in a long while. And for the first time ever (in memory), I’m happy AND happy being me at the same time.

Yay for inexplicable changes in how I think!

I entered, and took a seat in between two new girls. There were 5 new girls. Unfortunately, this time around I’m not remembering the names of the 2 I sat between. There was Ry, Pa, and Sa.

So, got to do a new introduction, revised it from last time. Just basically said how long I’d been transitioning, how long on hormones, name changed, birth certificate changed, and oh yeah, transitioning at work on Monday.

Topics varied that night, everything from hair removal to gaffs. The coolest thing that happened though was Sa reciting one of her slam poems, in my opinion. I absolutely loved it. Not just the words and the message, but the delivery as well. The cadence, the facial expressions, the body language. It was so beautiful to watch.

I had coordinated going to Jenn’s after drinks/food with gals from group to talk about what’d been going on with me recently. Just feels more ‘right’ doing it in person with her. As I’m in group, I get a message (that I only noticed because I was writing something in a memo) that Rain wanted to go for a walk. I really needed a walk. So, at this point, I turned into please everyone person. I was going to make all this work. Told Rain, yes to walk. Continued on with group and would figure stuff out after.

Group ended a bit early because Dr. had to leave. So, we filed out, and said goodbye to the girls that weren’t going for drinks. Was disappointed that Sa wasn’t coming. So it was L, P, Sh, Ak and me. We went to a local pub that was strangely unpopulated for 5pm. Service seemed pretty good.

While at the pub I started coordinating things as best I could. I’d go walk with Rain, get back to car, driver her home, then head to Jenn’s. Figuring I could get to Jenn’s around 9pm. Told Rain I was going to have a snack and coffee, and then we could meet.

I really like the girls from support group. Especially the ones that went for drinks because I knew them from last session. I can easily see us all becoming good friends. After coffee and food, I headed towards meeting up for the walk. Finding each other nearly outside the parkade where my car was, we decided to just buy more time here, and start the walk.

I had half expected a short walk, or at least shorter. But I also half expected she’d still be all gung ho to do the entire sea wall. lol. And it was the latter. I was wearing better shoes this time, so I didn’t try and talk her out of it, even though she was wearing horrible shoes for doing this. Which she paid for.

We almost made it to the bridge, which is about half way through Stanley Park. We probably did 6 km one way, but then had to go all the way back to the car. So, 12 km total. The return trip was a bit slower as Rain’s feet were getting sore, and eventually I got sore as well. We stopped briefly at a bench, but didn’t stay seated too long.

I was trying to get to Jenn’s still. I was hoping she’d be able to stay up a bit late, and it looked like it might be working out. After dropping Rain at home and saying goodnight, I started towards Jenn’s. It looked like I was at least half an hour away, and it was already 9:30. It wasn’t going to happen. We need more time than that. So, we’re going to try a night this week.

I’m sad that Jenn’s didn’t happen, but I very much needed the walk with Rain. Conversation was good except a few times where I got awkwardly quiet because I still have trouble taking compliments (there’s more to it, but you all don’t need to know that).

I got home to Teresa, and we stayed up another few hours because my brain was wired about workplace transition. I finally got tired around 1am. Another hour after that I was finally asleep.

Then Full Time happened.

I haven’t had the best week, or month for that matter. I have started a second blog that only a select set of close friends get to see because it’s where I write about daily stuff – and it’s very raw and open. Once it’s been digested a bit, or something has resolved, or whatever, then I feel I can reveal at least some of it on here.

I actually started this blog post before starting the other blog, but in light of the last month, it was relevant enough to mention it. And I had put this one off since starting it. So, now I’m finishing it. Some parts will necessarily be vague, but I think you’ll get the point.

I have punched several times since I last wrote that I thought I was a big girl and all done punching things. I could simply cry about stuff and make it all better, so no punchy punchy.

Well, I was having an extremely dysphoric Friday a few weeks ago, and found myself in a bathroom on the verge of bawling my eyes out – I was at work. Instead of just doing the smart thing and, you know, actually bawling my eyes out, I punched a concrete wall very hard to distract myself from emotional pain.

Physical pain is so much easier to deal with. It hurts. You know why. You take painkillers. Problem solved.

Emotional pain is not like that. It hurts. You usually don’t know exactly why, if you’re lucky enough to have a clue. You can take drugs, or alcohol, or something else. Problem is usually not solved. Repeat.

So, just to make sure I wasn’t going to start crying, I punched the wall again. My knuckle hurt for several weeks. So, it worked for the time being. Until I got home. It was all I could do to hold it together long enough to get upstairs to bed. I collapsed onto the bed, grabbed Charlie, and squeezed him so tight as the tears started. During this cry, I even developed a new self harm where I dug my fingernails into my shoulder to the point where I drew blood. Oh yay.

After this occurrence, I tried to pass it off as me being in James work mode. I wasn’t being myself fully. That’s a total cop out. Which I realized last week.

Last week, I had an episode with a very close friend, where I wound up feeling utterly rejected. It was probably the most powerful emotion to hit me in a VERY long time (decades). I instantly shut down. I told Teresa I had to go for a walk – it was 7pm. To her credit, she let me. She wouldn’t have been able to stop me, I was pretty much unreachable right then.

I started walking. I didn’t have a destination in mind. Every ten minutes or so, I’d stop and break down in sobs. I didn’t care if anyone saw me. And then I’d continue on. Two times during this walk the pain was too much inside. Two times I punched steel lampposts. Very hard.

Rejection and failure are two things I don’t handle well at all.

There’s no real point to this entry other than to confess to it. To be honest about it. To all of you, and to myself. This isn’t something that magically goes away because you finally realize your true self. It’s something that I will probably always have to deal with and always work on.

– Jess

I need hope.

I’ve kind of been lacking in that department lately.

I got a text out of the blue today, from the friend that hadn’t replied to my emails in about 2 months. He asked if I was going to be home this afternoon. Apprehensively, I said, I’d be home around 4. I wasn’t sure if he was wanting to drop stuff off that he may have borrowed, and say goodbye or what.

The next text was, Mind some company for a bit?

Company is different than ‘talking’, so I took that as a good sign.

I got home at 3:15, and spent about half an hour redoing makeup and wardrobe. I didn’t want to go overboard and freak him completely out, but I also didn’t want much of a reminder of my old self (for my benefit and his). I settled on a pink t-shirt, and jeans. Subtle makeup. I think I looked pretty good.

Started tidying a bit in the kitchen to kill time until 4. Teresa had gone to yoga.

The doorbell went off at 4:05. My heart proceeded to pound very loudly and try desperately to get out of my chest cavity. Taking a huge deep breath, I went down the stairs to answer the door and give him a parking pass.

There was a strange look in his eyes, and we both said our, ‘hey’s. And he went off to put the pass in his car. I went upstairs so as not to cramp him at the bottom of the stairs. He came up the stairs, and the strange looks continued. I was totally expecting this. It’s a perfectly normal reaction to seeing that your best male friend is now a woman.

Then there was some awkward talk which was mostly about how weird this all was. I agreed that yes, even for me, this was weird. Which was followed by more looks, and more telling me how weird this was for him. And how he’d always just kind of shunted away thinking about anything trans whenever he came across it. So, here I was, kind of making him think about it.

The small talk eventually led to him mentioning his new car. Which I knew he had gotten, but hadn’t seen. So, we went out to look at it, and then he offered to take me for a ride. If you know what I mean. wink wink. Just Kidding!!!  While out on the drive, we actually did bring up the trans stuff a bit, mostly hormone jokes to break the ice. He didn’t deflect, or shut down when the conversation went that way, so that was good.

Mentioned that my name change had gone through. And we decided that J or JJ would work for now if Jess was too much. I have a few other friends that call me JJ, and I like it just fine. It seemed like something mentally clicked when I told him the name was legally changed now. Maybe it will stick.

We got back home, and went inside and talked some more. I don’t remember every detail, but it wasn’t all trans related, there was a good mix of just all that was going on. I eventually asked if he was hungry, and we decided to go for food. Which then turned into just picking pizza up and coming back home to watch hockey. He seemed to have zero problem being seen in public with me, in fact, it didn’t even seem to register that this might be an issue.

So, over pizza and hockey, we talked for about another 5 hours. At no point did he seem like it was so weird he needed to leave. And he actually seemed to become comfortable as the night went on. My voice was all over the place as expected. I don’t think I ever totally dipped down to my male voice as I don’t use it at any time anymore, but I definitely got out of my Jess voice a LOT. Oh well. He didn’t seem to notice.

He got my pronouns right a lot of the time, not that it came up very much. And when he did get them wrong he corrected it all by himself. Every time. *happy dance*

I wish I could say I became more comfortable as the night went on. I had so much nervous energy when that doorbell went off, that I wasn’t able to dissipate it all night. It became very draining, and I was exhausted emotionally by the time he left. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it, or it didn’t make me happy that this night happened. I’m very happy it happened. It’s renewed my hope. Renewed my faith in my ability to choose good people as friends.

So, all in all, a good night I think. I’m happy.