#49 – Change Is The Only Constant (Further Observations)

For the record, I stated that I am a “part time” girl, meaning that I have not been through any counseling or therapy, I am not on Hormone Replacement Therapy, Androgen blockers, what have you. I’m not even seeking SRS, or even living full-time as a woman. I’m nowhere near that point in my life, mentally, physically, financially, or even with a family and friend support system. If it ever happens, it’s years away from this point, should I choose to pursue that path. (And I know things will be more difficult compared to what my life is like at this moment.)

Still, I cannot deny that I am not quite the same person I was a year ago. I’ve noticed more and more in the last few weeks, I’m prone to fluctuations in my emotions. I’ve been trying to rid myself of occasional outbursts of anger (Which I’ve called “Rage of Angels”), but I’ve been finding myself getting more uptight and cranky lately. (I haven’t mapped it out to see if it follows a 28-day cycle.) I’ve been more prone to bursting out in tears if something really gets to me.

A few weeks ago when I last had the house to myself to dress up, I needed about an hour to go to a place that symbolized a safe haven, protecting me from hurt – My mother’s closet. I sat on the floor, in darkness, trying to think of anything that would get the tears to come out. What opened the floodgates, so to speak, was the hypothetical conversation that I have yet to have with my mother – The day when I’m going to have to come out to her and tell her about Julie Anne, that I never really stopped dressing up. Twenty-five years ago, she said some words to me that really hurt me deep down inside. (“You are a boy, you will NEVER be a girl!” – Of course, she did ask me at one point whether I’d be happier being a girl. At that time, I lied and said I’d want to remain a boy. I don’t know for sure if that was the best choice. I just didn’t want to put my parents through any trouble and money trying to “fix” me.) – That did it. I cried for about 45 minutes before I gave myself permission to not let it happen again.

Last night, and tonight, I was so worried about my pet – My precious kitty, whom I’ve had for about 14 years. She’s had some health issues over the last few days. I’ve spent money on her getting her to the emergency veterinary clinic for tests and medication, and I spent even more today for more tests, and confirming some findings I was told at the clinic.

The good news is, she came home, and she’s doing well. The bad news is, she does have something going on, but hopefully it is treatable with medication, and they want to see her back in a month. Thank God it wasn’t kidney failure, as with my last cat about six years ago.

She slept with me on my bed, and I laid with her, curling up with her, asking her to please stay around with me for just a little longer, as I was tearing up once again.

About 30 minutes ago, as she was eating a little light meal (I’m just glad she’s eating again.), I felt so sad, because I was so worried I would lose her like I lost my last cat. I’m glad she’s home, but I feared the worst. The tears this time were tears of joy. I just want to hug her, hold her tight, and never let her go. She is my “child”, since I have none of my own, nor someone to father children with. She is very sweet, affectionate, quite intelligent for a cat, and she loves me unconditionally. I’d be truly heartbroken without her.

If I were the typical “guy”, maybe it wouldn’t get to me so much, but life had other plans in store for me. All I know is that I’m paying attention to what I do, how I act, and my reactions to anything around me. I do seem a bit more emotional. I either hold it in, and sometimes it just comes bursting out.

If that isn’t evidence of the woman within me, I don’t know what is.

More as I continue exploring.
–Julie Anne

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