Sorry it’s been a while. I’ll do an update post soon, but this is going to be a pretty specific post.

I went to see my therapist last week, as mostly a catch up session; it’d been almost a year since we’d last spoken, and I’d gone through a relationship breakup, losing friends, blood clots, surgery approval, a new relationship, changes in self image, etc…

At the end of the session, I made another appointment, and told her a few things I wanted to discuss. One was about mourning the life I never had – much in the same way I’ve mourned the child I’ll never have. This is turning into a more complicated issue.

In a discussion with my girlfriend, or actually one of her alters, I found some startling similarities with how my mind worked in that regard as well. While I don’t believe I have Dissociative Identity Disorder (I lack a few diagnostic criteria), the mechanism that my brain used is quite relatable.

I essentially created James. He (as I’ve mentioned previously, James was as close to male as I could make him) wasn’t created over night. He evolved from a need, or desire, to conform to my world. In an act of protectionism, I created this persona to present to the outside world.

That persona allowed me to:

avoid being bullied
avoid being alienated
feel less abnormal
hide and/or fit in
disguise myself
have a life

Of course it wasn’t perfect. In situations like this it never is. I was drawing on those around me to base this persona on, because as I’ve found out, it certainly was not me.

So anyway, I was chatting with her alter, and recalled that my therapist had me try and manifest James and myself in a session, to see what they might say to each other. It was more meta than actually thinking I had 2 distinct personalities (and the reason I don’t think I have D.I.D. is that they are not separate identities).

When that happened, I had a rather profound moment of James apologizing to me. I’ve written about this in the past. But we didn’t really explore more beyond that. I got really emotional, and that kind of ended the moment. Now I’m exploring that a bit deeper.

The apology was, essentially, for keeping me locked up deep down, underneath all the shit that he couldn’t deal with (which included me – he didn’t really know how to deal with me). He tried letting me out in controlled environments. But I was still caged, and I don’t just mean by location. He would not give up control, he’d just enlarge the prison a bit. This is what my ‘crossdressing’ was, and why I always had trouble moving or expressing naturally until I got rid of the James part.

In my talk with Melissa the next day, I was saying that i didn’t really forgive James for what he had done to me, even though I know he was trying to protect me (that was why I built him). She then asked if things would have been better if I had been out 10, 15, 20 years ago. No. I would have been in a lot more pain, a lot more depression, WAY more acute dysphoria, and very likely suicidal.

So, James actually did save me. I can admit that. So, I can, and do, forgive him. The real issue is that I don’t forgive myself yet. I didn’t even try to unbury myself. I never tried to wrest control from him. The one time cracks did form in his protective bubble, I tried to kill myself. I needed him for sure – he kept me alive. But where was I? The real me? I can’t blame James for me not trying to exist.

In fact, it likely was me helping keep the self denial in full effect. I whispered that I was fine with existing in private situations. Why was I okay with this for so long? Why, when I did sense freedom, did I just want to end everything? (yes, there were other circumstances in play, but still).

Early in transition, I just attributed this to being so deep under everything, that I wasn’t able to exert in any way. I don’t think that’s true. I think it was fear. I was afraid of all the things I built James to protect me from. I never faced ANY of those fears though. They MAY have been true, real fears, but not once (to my recollection anyway) had I ever been threatened with any of that.

I had been able to live without any real gendered oppression early in life. I played with wigs and skirts and stuffed animals and cars and action figures. When I saw dozens more children, eventually, in kindergarten (or maybe it even started before that, and just accelerated in K) I decided to emulate those I looked like. I know I got asked often if I was a boy or a girl. Maybe someone said something about my long hair? I don’t know.

I’m rambling. The issue is why didn’t I at least try and face my fears. Why was I so content to go the route I went. I was a fairly extroverted kid until about age 5. I distinctly remember switching from outgoing to shy. That was the point James took over. What was I hiding from so early? It’s infuriating that I don’t have a ton of memories from this stage in my life. I have vivid memories from before this. Then things are muddy for a few years. Around age 8 I start remembering things again.

So, what do I need to do to forgive myself? I can’t change the past. It’d be nice if I could remember more of my mental state back then. By the time I start remembering again I’m in full self denial. There must have been a transition stage for that. Maybe I’m putting too much responsibility on a very young mind.

Hmm, maybe that’s the problem. Ok, this kind of makes sense. Because I, buried under everything, was not always super present, maybe it took me a while to grow up. Everything was coming in under a heavily processed filter. This could explain a few other things too (such as my inner child). I shouldn’t expect that I was as hyper self aware as I am now. Of course I wasn’t. I was just a kid. We don’t know why some children self assimilate, they just do. It could even be instinctual.

I know I’m not weak. I consider myself to be very strong. I feel I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. I’ve always been driven by frustration. Every major change or decision in my life is driven by frustration. For good or bad. Maybe this was true of myself even back then. Something about how life was going at that time was frustrating me. Something I didn’t know how to even process – maybe it was, in all likelihood, dysphoria. Seems like a good enough scapegoat.

Maybe THAT was what scared me, or frustrated me at least, to bring about ‘James’. If it was something that was rational like that, I can’t even blame myself. I survived as best I could. And I DID survive. Ultimately, that’s the most important part. I am finally out from my prison. James has been integrated and no longer exists as a semi-separate entity. I’ll go into that in another post.

I’m going to process this some more, but I think I’m on a good track. It’s something that makes sense. It may not be accurate, but I don’t think I’ll ever know exactly.

*******

A brief exposition on my personalities. I have a few. Most of us do. The extent of their separation varies from person to person. People who put on their ‘game face’, or inner child, or the salesman, the teacher, the domme etc…

My personalities have a bit more separation and distinction between them.

James – The protector. The outward male persona that developed over 30+ years of hiding myself. Also the athlete and the gamer. The one that did not like eating mushrooms, raw fish, squash, food on the bone. An introvert by necessity. The filter. James doesn’t really exist as a separate persona anymore. He’s been integrated. He’s part of why I ultimately identify as non-binary. I’ve tossed aside his ridiculous parts – the filter, the strange eating rituals, the introvert. But I’ve kept the protector, the athlete, the gamer, and a bit of the masculinity (which used to worry me, but I’m cool with it now).

Jessica – me. The totality of me. Including ALL my personalities. I grew up without really having a name except maybe Jamie when I was young, but then James co-opted that. It wasn’t until I was in my 30s that I got a new name. Part of me was allowed to express in total secrecy (Starting at age 8), and then my prison got larger as friends were allowed to see some of me. They were never getting all of me though, because James (as the filter) was still there. I am VERY strong. Extroverted. Talkative. Loving. Emotional as hell.

Lyrren – my inner child. I have claimed this name for this part of me. I express my inner child at times for many different reasons. I never want to lose my ability to play, and be silly. But also this part of me is ULTRA vulnerable. Lyrren isn’t seen directly by many, except a close knit group of friends. She’s the one that does Lego, does jig-saw puzzles even after saying I don’t like puzzles, and demands I get certain stuffies. Lyrren also serves as a way for me to recapture something that was lost to me. MY childhood. I grew up fairly fast, and from age 5 up, it was more James’ childhood than mine.

There are other nameless personalities too, more like what everyone else has.

I’ve even made progress with how I feel about my breasts. They’ve been growing ever so slowly, and yesterday I was able to go without a bra for the first time since June. Maybe I let my guard down because things were going so well.

Today started off well enough, but then after my shower I had to shave. And that’s when things went sideways. For some reason the hair on my upper lip and my chin were very problematic today. I wound up bleeding and splotchy right in the most prominent area of my face.

Then I was seeing masculine features again in my face. At this point I’m not sure if that was psychological or real. It doesn’t matter, my brain saw it. I broke down. Then after about 10 minutes of waterworks, I pulled myself together and covered the scabs and redness with foundation.

The rest of the afternoon/evening I was feeling normal again, until I got home from school. Then it hit me again. So, I cried a bunch more, and decided to write this post.

My coping mechanisms are working and I did not resort to self harm. Crying is still my best defence. I also played some video games to release more stress. And my support network also came through (I only needed a couple people to talk to and it helped). I’m hoping tomorrow will be a better day, and that today was just a one-off because of school stress, and a buildup of emotional fatigue. It feels like that is what it was.

It still takes effort to go out, no matter how confident I am. That effort builds up over time, and eventually I need to reset. I’m going to leave my homework for tomorrow and try and sleep this off.

Thanks for reading,
Jessica

In the last 6 to 8 weeks, I have developed really good self esteem.

Never in my entire life did I think I would ever have this feeling. I was sure that every time I looked in a mirror, I would see all the things that are ‘wrong’ with my face and ‘wrong’ with my body, because that was how I always saw my reflection. I had even, cursorily, considered surgery to possibly correct a few things.

Granted, things had gotten better with my body feminization from hormones. I was really loving my body more than I ever had before. I think developing that definitely helped with this overall feeling. Of course, there’s still one thing I need to correct with that, but I know that will happen.

The main part of this high self esteem is coming from my face. I am simply not seeing my past at all in the mirror. None of my features look particularly masculine to me anymore. Yes, hormones have affected my face some, but I don’t think to the degree that I am seeing. I think this is just as much mental as it is physical.

When I have low self esteem, all the little things stand out as ‘wrong’ or ‘manly’ or ‘ugly’ etc… That’s not happening anymore. Instead, I’m seeing all the little things that stand out as ‘right’ or ‘womanly’ or ‘pretty’ and they are overriding the negative view.

I keep mentioning to the people that I’ve talked about this with, that it is such a bizarre feeling. I’ve cried several times just walking in to the bathroom because the image in the mirror, to me, looks 100% acceptable and beautiful to me.

The opposite of dysphoria is euphoria. I do feel kind of euphoric. The only thing that has caused me any dysphoria lately has been shaving, and winding up with razor burn on my neck. It’s just weird I tell you. There’s no reason for me to have developed this feeling, other than from any actual changes that have occurred from hormones.

I’ve always had a confidence about myself since self-acceptance. This makes that confidence take a bit less effort to maintain. I’m glad for it, and to those that I keep mentioning this to, I’m sorry. I just need time to adapt I guess.

These are photos of me since I stopped trying to look cisgender. My everyday look more or less.

Enjoy.

Hi Jessica, I hope this isn’t strange or intrusive. Whenever I come across a person who is visibly trans, I like to take the time to say hi. I want to commend you on your bravery. You are truly beautiful to me. I hope one day, everyone in our society will catch up with the same idea. I have 3 children, and I promise you, that I will accept them and encourage them to be who they really are, no matter what. MWAH!! -Amanda

Messages like this happen every now and then, sometimes in person, sometimes via social media. To have this kind of support come in for me, and the transgender community as a whole, is very special. With all the bad that is going on in the world with our community, it eases the pain a bit to know there are people, outside our community, that support us and love us. That the bigots aren’t the only ones out there.

Personally, it helps ease the effort that it takes to present visibly trans. To have the confidence to present visibly trans is emotionally draining. It does get easier, every day I do it, and the reward definitely outweighs the effort, yet, messages like those from Amanda Cowper boost me even more.

So, I want to thank Amanda for her message. Thank her for having the views that she does. Thank her for raising her children with those same views. And to all those that are doing the same, thank you so much!

With Love,
Jessica

I went for a kidney ultrasound last week. A week before, when thinking about the appointment, I mulled over informing them I was trans before the test. Then I had 2 thoughts. First, it’s my kidneys, nothing much up there that is different for an XY vs an XX human. Second, they’ll obviously know I’m trans.

At my ultrasound, the tech informed me he was doing a bladder check too. So, I slipped my skirt a bit lower, lifted my shirt up, and he started. Pretty quickly he developed a confused look on his face. Then it seemed he was trying to find something – pressing harder, changing the area of search, etc… I really had to pee, and this was not helping as he was pressing all over my bladder.

He looks down at me and asks, “have you had any surgeries in this area?”

So, again, thinking he knows I’m trans, is asking if I’d had the vaginoplasty. I guess because things shift a bit during that surgery. So, I say, “no, no surgeries.”

He continues to examine me, looking more worried now than confused. Then it seems he finds something, and stops, and goes to my chart. Looks back at me, and looks at the chart, and says, “ermm… your chart says female….”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but I could tell it was a question. I realized he had found my testicle in the inguinal canal. “Oh! I’m transgender,” I say, as a bit of relief comes over his face.

He was worried I was a ciswoman with no womb, ovaries, etc… and didn’t know how to deal with that, because he can’t disclose anything diagnostic. Then when he found a testicle, things started to become clearer.

It’s very difficult for transwomen to deal with the medical community. We ARE women, but we often have physically XY bodies. We don’t want to always be bringing it up because a lot of the time it’s unnecessary, yet in some instances it is helpful for the person we’re dealing with to know.

What I learned from this, is that I actually pass. Well enough to confuse a medical professional, anyway. I even had talked with him a bit before starting, and he still didn’t clue in.

At first, I was quite happy about this. It leads to being privileged. Something I gave up with transition. To regain some of that felt good. For a little bit. Then, as I thought more and more about it, I started to really hate that it had made me feel good.

We shouldn’t HAVE to pass ourselves off as ciswomen. We should just get to be ourselves and seen and interacted with accordingly. Why do ciswomen have to be the standard for what a ‘woman’ is supposed to look like, act, talk, etc…? (I’m not blaming ciswomen, definitely not)

I see each and every transwoman as a woman. No matter where they are in transition, or even if they are transitioning or not. None of that matters to how I see them. This of course goes the same for nonbinary identified people as well, and transmen. Granted, in order to see people as they want to be seen, communication is sometimes necessary. And is that such a bad thing? It’s not that hard to talk to someone without gendering them.

I’ve decided to stop trying to adhere to a cis-normative look. I’m going to go out as me. A woman. A woman who happens to be transgender, and has a receded hairline, and thinner hair on top. If I wear a hat, headscarf, or wig it will be because I want to! I already do this with every other aspect of myself.

I may cause myself dysphoria. I may get negative feedback. This may be damaging to my emotional state. On the other hand, this may be a great thing. I’ve never wanted to hide who I am since transition. I’m proudly transgender. This will be interesting. My life is always interesting.

Me myself and my hair (and a headscarf)

I think it was fitting that today was the day this happened. I’ve been growing my hair since January. To finally go out with nothing artificial, and feel I’m presenting the way I really want to, is a very fulfilling thing.

Exactly one year ago today, I accepted that I was in fact Jessica. The day of December 8th, 2014 will forever be ingrained in my memory. More important than any other date. I accepted that she was not a small part of me, that I indulged every now and then. I accepted that I had buried her deep inside, and hurt her prolifically. I accepted that I needed to change. I accepted that I needed to be true to myself.

I threw away all my fears and doubts that I had been clinging to. Fears and doubts that had allowed me to deny who I really am. Losing those fears allowed me to finally open myself up. Discover who I really am – a process I’m still working on.

It has been quite the year for me. It went by so fast, and yet certain things seemed (and still do seem) to take forever. I’m essentially at a point, where I am fully me. Yes, there are some physical things to fix yet in the next year, but for all intents and purposes, I feel realized.

Life feels natural to me now. A feeling I never knew about until recently. Before transition, I was always making sure no one saw any outward sign of Jessica, not a natural way to live. Constantly guarded against slipping up, saying the wrong thing, like ‘Oooh, that’s pretty!’ Then in the early part of transition, it was better, but I was still worrying about how I was presenting, just in a different way. Yes, most of the time I had confidence, but it wasn’t the same as now.

Now there really is no effort in being me, I just am. I’m comfortable in my skin. I have bad days, I get misgendered. But the bad doesn’t last as long. The misgendering bothers me a bit, and then it goes away. I see myself as a fairly attractive woman. I’ve kind of accepted that I will get called sir occasionally. I just can’t see why. Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I’d rather delude myself this way, than the way I’d done it for 34+ years.

I am so thankful for all my friends and family that have supported me through this process. It is a very remarkable thing how many of you are there for me. Also remarkable is how many have joined after I started this journey. When I came out I had about 187 people on my friend list on FaceBook. I lost 2 acquaintances in the process. I now have 256 friends with only a few of those being very peripheral acquaintances.

I had zero connection to anyone in the trans community when I started this journey, and I really appreciate the friends that I now have, that share this road. To have people that I can talk to, that really understand what the hell I’m talking about it, is invaluable. And probably helped me from going completely insane, as well. You are some of my closest friends now.

In this last year I have changed a lot. Some of the changes are from throwing away my fears and doubts. Some are from hormones. Some are from life experiences. Some are from new people in my life. Some are from people that have always been there. I am no longer the shy quiet person hiding in the corner. I still lack certain social skills that I didn’t learn growing up, but I’m getting better. I’m predominately extroverted, not an introvert like I had thought my entire life. I thrive on being around people and being social.

I have learned a lot about my likes and dislikes, and how wrong and skewed they were before starting transition. Most of my likes and dislikes were based on my filters and how I thought I needed to present myself to pass as a guy. With those gone, my world opened up.

My life has complexities in it now that I never imagined even a year ago. I wind up saying this a lot, but, life really is interesting now. I’m constantly looking for new experiences, and I keep finding them. I’m not sure I’ll ever run out – and I don’t want to.

Thanks to everyone in my life, everyone that reads this blog, and everyone in the LGBTQQIP2SAA (look it up if you want to know). I love you all.

– Jessica Jaclyn Hanna Reimer

I said this recently to someone I was chatting with…

“The thing with self denial is if you know you’re denying at some level, you also know it’s true on another level.”

The more I think about this, the more I think it must be true. All the signs I found when looking back at my life, and wondering why I didn’t realize I was trans. I didn’t realize it because I already knew. Wanting to wake up as a girl because I didn’t want to have to transition, etc… I knew all along that I was a girl and then a woman. I just wasn’t allowing myself to believe it.

I think this had a divisive effect on my personality, or id. I split into 2 parts, denying myself, and accepting myself. The denying part won control for most of my life. Suffocating the other part. The denying part made me want to hide, keep my inner most thoughts only to myself, put a bubble around me that kept me safe. My denying side’s interpretation of safe anyway. Pretty sure my accepting side would have felt safer existing outwardly.

I’m finding now that I’ve shed that denial that a whole new me has emerged. I also commented recently to a friend that I never understood how girls could just be so casual about having their breasts stand out so much when all I wanted was to not have a bulge in my pants at all. Now I understand. I wasn’t having the ‘right’ feeling about my self image, and now that I do, I proudly have my own breasts standing out from my chest without so much as the smallest amount of shame. I’m proud to be me. (bit of a pun there for those who get it)

I can tell a complete stranger some of my most intimate thoughts, and I find it hard to keep things secret about myself. Discretion is called for, for a few things, but I hate doing it. I wish our society was more advanced. I want to just divulge everything. And I do to certain friends at least, which is such an amazing thing to finally be able to do.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to do self denial about anything anymore. Not that I think there’s anything left to need it. I don’t regret going through it, because it has led me to where I am right now, and I like where I am right now. The people that I have in my life, new friends and old, family, and the internet readers of this blog mean so much to me now.

Now that my personality is no longer split in this way, it makes it so easy to connect with people in a way I was never able to before. And that is probably the greatest gift to myself in my transition: connection.

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