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Torn with hope
Entry Category: Default Category
Entry Mood:
(Teary)
Published On: 03/14/2009 01:44 PM
Entry Mood:
(Teary)
Published On: 03/14/2009 01:44 PM
Why is it that so many things that should be encouraging end up making me feel hopeless instead?
I seem to only write these when I've feeling down. For that I've very sorry. I attended my first TG support group last night. The name of it is Renaissance. They meet at the Vision of Hope church in Mountville, PA which is in Lancaster County. My Mom was kind enough to give me a ride there given that its a little over 20 minutes away from where I live.
I entered with the jitters and shyness that always overwhelm me when I go someplace unfamiliar. I was "playing it safe" by being in my normal boy clothes; Black jeans, black tee, and a hooded sheatshirt because it was cold outside and because I wanted to hide the hair on my arms. I'm still getting panic attacks in the shower which makes it impossible to do anything as intensive as hair removal. My initial impression of the group was underwhleming at best. There were three guys in normal clothes and one "skinny guy in a dress" type. They were nice to me and introduced themselves using their prefered names. I used my real name "Steve" the first time I was asked my name but as I relaxed I used "Belle" afterwards.
Then Elizabeth came in. She was a vision as everything I wish I could be. Her beauty was just like what one expects from a girl in her 20s, only my "God's Eye" could see that she wasn't a "born" girl. Her clothing was a feminine blouse with a V-neck vest overtop and girl's jeans with a word I don't remember Bedazzled across the bottom. The only makeup that I noticed was her glossy lipstick and painted nails. I didn't notice her shoes until later and they were gorgeous as well.
From what I was told there are normally about 20 people who come but this group was smaller because of a conference somewhere. I'm glad it was a small group because I never would have felt as welcome if the room had been full. The meeting itself wasn't like a normal one either because of some organizational business that needed taken care of. The president was stepping down for personal and health reasons. That brings me to the new president who is the "Old man in a Wig and Dress" type. He was kind enough to everyone but I have trouble thinking of someone like that with female pronouns, but I did my best to use them anyway because they were polite enough to call me Belle even though I don't deserve it.
I told them about my fear of "coming out of the closet". Which is because I don't want to be a man in a dress, I want to be attractive, or at least pretty. Like Elizabeth. The new president was a chatterbox and wouldn't stop talking about "her" good experiences going out and shopping at different places. When it was all over I left with a desire to come back and do it right next time.
I had mixed feelings on the ride home. Mainly could I ever look even half as good as Elizabeth did. Once in the solitude of my Dad's house I broke down into tears. I've been crying often since Wednesday, but that night was the worst. "What am I supposed to do now!" I prayed. I've seen success and my doubts about myself were back in full force. "Jesus please make me a Girl." I repeated over and over like I have in almost all my prayers the past few years. "Lord please make me your daughter. I love you, please help me. I want to be your Girl. Please make me yours." I believe with God all things are possible and I hope that someday I can report that this prayer has been answered.
God has been silencing the Devil's lies and breaking the hold of the Dragon's power over me. The Dragon spirit that bonded with me at childhood so that I could escape the pain of not being man enough and deny the Innocent Girl I am inside. That Renaissance meeting was the first time I had ever used a girl's name for myself in person. Only God can change a person as much as he has changed me. I feel incredibly selfish asking him for more. The Devil wants me dead. I can feel it with every breath of the Dragon that still haunts me. I need to be transformed into a new creation to completely remove the Dragon from my midst. He has a claim on this body as long as its still so obviously male. I can't live like this! Being forever torn between opposing realities. Having no option but to live a life that I hate. I'm only free to be myself when I'm free from my "male" identity. Like when I'm chatting online as Fairybelle or playing one of my World of Warcraft girls.
My finances make any kind of feminization impossible on my own. Being on food stamps and $100 dollars cash assistance is just not enough to build a wardrobe, do hair removal, and experiment with makeup. In real life I just don't have the confidence that my online girl self can have. I have no idea what to do. I can't imagine working being torn and crushed as I am now. I'm applying for disability but that is alot of work for me too.
Maybe its my Bipolar disorder that makes me think in terms of ultimatums. If I can't be pretty, there's no point even trying to dress up. I'd rather die than be stuck as a man. I seem to want to die if anything less than what I hope for happens.
I seem to only write these when I've feeling down. For that I've very sorry. I attended my first TG support group last night. The name of it is Renaissance. They meet at the Vision of Hope church in Mountville, PA which is in Lancaster County. My Mom was kind enough to give me a ride there given that its a little over 20 minutes away from where I live.
I entered with the jitters and shyness that always overwhelm me when I go someplace unfamiliar. I was "playing it safe" by being in my normal boy clothes; Black jeans, black tee, and a hooded sheatshirt because it was cold outside and because I wanted to hide the hair on my arms. I'm still getting panic attacks in the shower which makes it impossible to do anything as intensive as hair removal. My initial impression of the group was underwhleming at best. There were three guys in normal clothes and one "skinny guy in a dress" type. They were nice to me and introduced themselves using their prefered names. I used my real name "Steve" the first time I was asked my name but as I relaxed I used "Belle" afterwards.
Then Elizabeth came in. She was a vision as everything I wish I could be. Her beauty was just like what one expects from a girl in her 20s, only my "God's Eye" could see that she wasn't a "born" girl. Her clothing was a feminine blouse with a V-neck vest overtop and girl's jeans with a word I don't remember Bedazzled across the bottom. The only makeup that I noticed was her glossy lipstick and painted nails. I didn't notice her shoes until later and they were gorgeous as well.
From what I was told there are normally about 20 people who come but this group was smaller because of a conference somewhere. I'm glad it was a small group because I never would have felt as welcome if the room had been full. The meeting itself wasn't like a normal one either because of some organizational business that needed taken care of. The president was stepping down for personal and health reasons. That brings me to the new president who is the "Old man in a Wig and Dress" type. He was kind enough to everyone but I have trouble thinking of someone like that with female pronouns, but I did my best to use them anyway because they were polite enough to call me Belle even though I don't deserve it.
I told them about my fear of "coming out of the closet". Which is because I don't want to be a man in a dress, I want to be attractive, or at least pretty. Like Elizabeth. The new president was a chatterbox and wouldn't stop talking about "her" good experiences going out and shopping at different places. When it was all over I left with a desire to come back and do it right next time.
I had mixed feelings on the ride home. Mainly could I ever look even half as good as Elizabeth did. Once in the solitude of my Dad's house I broke down into tears. I've been crying often since Wednesday, but that night was the worst. "What am I supposed to do now!" I prayed. I've seen success and my doubts about myself were back in full force. "Jesus please make me a Girl." I repeated over and over like I have in almost all my prayers the past few years. "Lord please make me your daughter. I love you, please help me. I want to be your Girl. Please make me yours." I believe with God all things are possible and I hope that someday I can report that this prayer has been answered.
God has been silencing the Devil's lies and breaking the hold of the Dragon's power over me. The Dragon spirit that bonded with me at childhood so that I could escape the pain of not being man enough and deny the Innocent Girl I am inside. That Renaissance meeting was the first time I had ever used a girl's name for myself in person. Only God can change a person as much as he has changed me. I feel incredibly selfish asking him for more. The Devil wants me dead. I can feel it with every breath of the Dragon that still haunts me. I need to be transformed into a new creation to completely remove the Dragon from my midst. He has a claim on this body as long as its still so obviously male. I can't live like this! Being forever torn between opposing realities. Having no option but to live a life that I hate. I'm only free to be myself when I'm free from my "male" identity. Like when I'm chatting online as Fairybelle or playing one of my World of Warcraft girls.
My finances make any kind of feminization impossible on my own. Being on food stamps and $100 dollars cash assistance is just not enough to build a wardrobe, do hair removal, and experiment with makeup. In real life I just don't have the confidence that my online girl self can have. I have no idea what to do. I can't imagine working being torn and crushed as I am now. I'm applying for disability but that is alot of work for me too.
Maybe its my Bipolar disorder that makes me think in terms of ultimatums. If I can't be pretty, there's no point even trying to dress up. I'd rather die than be stuck as a man. I seem to want to die if anything less than what I hope for happens.
Entry Tags: transgender,renaissance,jesus,hope,bipolar
 Post Comment |
I'm sorry I haven't visited your blog as much as I should've, Fairybelle, but I really feel I should say something here since nobody else has.
First of all, you're not alone; I'm a Christian too and I don't want you to feel afraid or worried of who you are. I feel a little silly trying to tell you who you are or who you should be but I don't want you to worry, that's all. God made both you and me as we are and He loves us both. For the meantime, please don't worry about being male. The thing is, you and me are both different; I do enjoy being male. I am male and I'm proud of that fact. But if I enjoy wearing feminine clothing, I'm proud of that too. It's my male side that allows me my feminine feelings, to express my feminine side and I don't see myself as any less of a man for doing so. I guess what I'm trying to say is just take things one day at a time, as you are, and don't worry about being male for the time being. One day at a time.
As for the inability to express yourself with your wardrobe, hair and makeup, I think the same thing. You'll get there, eventually. I'm sure of it, Fairybelle. One day at a time, until you get the opportunity and, until then, Fairybelle and your World Of Warcraft girls are there for you.