Unexpected HRT Side-effect #7

Scars

I should probably preface this with a content warning for discussion of self-harm.

I’m left-handed; when I’m receiving a vaccination or having blood drawn, I will normally offer up my right arm - as was recently the case when I received my first COVID vaccine dose.

While staring at my arm in the mirror, I realized that I had self-harm scars that are still very visible; and based on their appearance, very obviously self-inflicted. (This is not the case elsewhere - they have either faded, or are normally hidden.)

I’m mortified, as it means the provider that administered my dose absolutely saw them (and will again, as I tend to get pretty mean injection site pain and I really don’t want to experience that in my dominant arm).

More generally though, it got me thinking. The reason I struggle with others seeing what I did to myself is not because I’m ashamed, but because on some level I feel that my suffering was not legitimate - that I hurt myself not because I was truly in pain, but for attention. An imitation of the struggles of others.

There isn’t really a good answer here; just another piece of the puzzle to make sense of.

There's a point of discussion that comes up periodically in transgender advocacy circles. To paraphrase:

Do you love transgender people? Or do you hate transphobes?

That is to say: those that claim allyship with the transgender community should be motivated by love; for love begets help and support.

Conversely: those that are motivated by hate will seek, first and foremost, to attack others. While there is a time and place for opposing transphobia (violently so, even), this cannot be the preeminent response to any and all issues.

...

Mat Ward's tenure as a named codex author drew mixed responses. His overhaul of Necron lore, for instance, is generally considered a positive turning point for the faction. (His heavy-handed promotion of the Ultramarines, less so.)

If you are motivated by a love of the Warhammer: 40,000 game and setting, then you might wish that some of Mat Ward's more controversial contributions be corrected. As his work was published in what is now the distant past, it is also likely that your wish has already been granted.

As such, it does not make sense to expend energy on what is effectively now a non-issue.

If you are motivated by hate, however, then you might perceive Mat Ward's failings as forever unforgivable; his mockery and harassment not merely permissible, but necessary; and his departure from Games Workshop, a hard-won victory.

...

In this respect, @ladymirdan's 'Mat Ward Test' is an excellent barometer of an individual's motivations; and whether they are rooted in a love for the hobby, or hate in search of a purportedly acceptable target.

With this in mind:

I strive to research an issue prior to rendering judgement. In this particular instance (the introduction of female Custodes), I made a point of leafing through the blogs of those most vocally opposed, looking to understand their motives and character.

Time and again, I came across posts in which these people openly delighted in the heartless ridicule of others; justified upon the flimsiest of pretexts.

They do not love Warhammer: 40,000; but rather, are simply seeking excuses to exercise their hatred - of which Mat Ward, and now those championing Custodian Calladyce Taurovalia Kesh, have proven aptly suitable victims.

So I didn't take my own advice and started playing chess with the pigeons.

And my ultimate litmus test for a 40k player once again proved to work. I didnt even have to bring it up (they alway do that themselves).

And that is their opinion on Mat Ward.

This test has never failed me. He is the alt-right 40k boogieman, they haaaate him with a passion for some reason, but they never know anything about him. He has literally written the most popular characters in all of 40k and is responsible for a shit ton of 40k computer games and he incidentally is the reason why they don't print the name of the writer (guess the fuck why. *hint they send Ward actual death threats for changing the lore).

It has gotten to a point that I just block people talking shit about Ward after one warning. Because people who have this opinion has gotten it somewhere. Usually from hanging out with guys like this who think representation ruins the hobby.

I still have to make that “Why people are wrong about Mat Ward and he deserves better”-post/vid.

Ōkami

When my daughter was younger, we started the habit of co-playing video games. I would be in charge of the controller, and she would direct me. These are some of my fondest memories.

One of the games we played through was Ōkami; which is an absolute (but often overlooked) masterpiece. (For the uninitiated: you play the part of Amaterasu, a white wolf (and god); and her traveling companion Issun, a tiny artist. The selling point of the series is the latter’s ability to paint on-screen, triggering the former’s supernatural powers to solve puzzles and defeat enemies.)

The game was recently re-released on the Switch, and we sat down together last night to play it. In a charming reversal of earlier days however; now my daughter holds the controller and I advise.

When playing games herself, she’s generally adhered to more casual fair. (I really want to stress that there’s nothing wrong with this. Deus Ex: Human Revolution had an excellent metaphor for this approach: it has no “Easy” mode, only “Give Me A Story”.)

That changed a couple of years ago when she fell in love with Hollow Knight; and she’s been seeking out greater challenges ever since. Ōkami is the latest such iteration; and I could not be prouder of her.

A cascade of name changes

When I changed my legal name, I was required to provide public notice of the change. There are legal news services that exist for this exact purpose - you pay them a small fee; they put the notice on their website.

(At least in my county, you can request the requirement be waived; there’s a good argument to be made that it exposes one’s status as a transgender individual and that this invites unnecessary risk in today’s fraught climate. I myself did not pursue this option however.)

The website for the legal news service in my area is, uh... Well, ‘archaic’ is probably the most charitable interpretation. Sometimes I want to share the notice with people, but there’s no search function for non-subscribers - you just have to scroll through the notices until you get to the right one.

(Really, I need to bookmark it or take a screenshot or something!)

Today I was doing exactly that - trying to find my notice again - and I was struck by how many other items between mine and present day were clearly transgender in nature (i.e. from a masculine to feminine name or vice versa). I would estimate a good third or so met this criteria.

It fills a girl’s heart with warmth and hope to see so many people finding their true selves and living authentically!

Flowers

One of the first additions to my all-new female wardrobe was a floral raglan shirt. I own multiple dresses adorned with flowers; and my most recent clothing purchase was a pair of floral-bedecked high-tops.

As a kid, I spent a lot of time drawing flowers. I loved laying out the stems and leaves in intricate, rhythmic patterns; punctuated by colorful collections of petals.

I’ve documented previously my experience with PTSD-type issues; and during one such episode, I opted to seek calm via art therapy. I immediately defaulted to drawing a collection of flowers; each one different; ever-overlapping one another.

Incredibly, it only occurs to me now - far into my transition - that I love flowers.

It is a powerful testament to gender norms - to the guilt and fear they breed; the warping effect they have on our view of ourselves and the world around us - that only now, decades after the fact, that I can acknowledge this love.

Unexpected HRT side-effect #8

Skittering!

Strictly speaking I started HRT on year ago; but my endocrinologist didn’t want to go full-throttle with dosages until he had established that doing so would, in fact, not cause me to die (which seems perfectly reasonable).

It really wasn’t until around... April-ish?... that my levels actually got to where they needed to be; and the moment it happened, it was like a switch in my body just flipped.

Then I started skittering around the apartment. I would bounce off the walls! Dance in the kitchen. There was shimmying. Oh so much shimmying!

I told my spouse: “Sorry, I don’t know why I do this. I guess it’s just a thing!”

I’ll never forget their response: “You don’t need to apologize. It means you’re happy.” Beat. “I’ve... I’ve waited so long for this. For you to be happy.”

Of course, this does rather make it sound as if the preceding years were spent in unspeakable misery, and this was not the case. It might be accurate however to say that I spent a lot of time giving my love to others and never reserving any for myself. Undoubtedly there are greater acts of loving oneself out there; but I figure committing to turn one’s gender upside down is up there!

Here’s to my newfound physical expression of joyousness!

Silencer

My company had its employees work remotely for much of the pandemic. In June, with the widespread availability of vaccines and the dropping infection rate, we were recalled to the main office.

This was, personally, a terrifying prospect; for I had left the office a Lawrence, and returned as Lauren. Acceptance of my transition was overwhelmingly positive; but such events took place during the remote work era.

Put simply: in-person is a different matter.

Put bluntly: I was deeply frightened of now having to share a bathroom with my cis female coworkers; and how they might react to my presence.

For weeks and weeks post-recall, I tried to time my bathroom breaks in such a way that I never interacted with another employee. I wouldn’t enter the restroom if it was occupied; I would hide in my stall if others should enter the space.

Eventually the inevitable occurred, and I crossed paths with my coworkers. Some were obviously surprised at my (wholly logical) presence; but remained true to their word on embracing the new me.

I’m not sure I will ever quite shake the fear of a bathroom interaction gone bad; but for now, matters are manageable.

This does however bring me to a wholly unexpected observation, and the title of this post.

It’s a multi-stall bathroom. There were times where cis-women were present, and using a stall for one of its many intended purposes: peeing. Not just peeing, but peeing loudly. It was if someone had turned the spigot on a hose pipe!

The difference was only noticeable because I had, at times, found myself also trying to pee; and as stealthily as possible at that. Where theirs was a torrential downpour, mine was but an imperceptible and gentle stream.

It was in one of these strange moments of comparison that it occurred to me that I was capable of such feats - and they were not - because, anatomically-speaking, I am currently equipped with a silencer... And this metaphor has not left me since!

I love, love so much the way my daughter draws facial expressions. They’re always so animated!

eboy inkling go [squid noises] 

I am absolutely astonished that someone else knows this song; let alone in the year 2024!

(That bass line! The audacity to rhyme ‘empire’ with ‘vampire’ in a mock-Transylvanian accent! Absolutely spectacular on all fronts; 10/10, no notes!)

Song of the day is Bloodsucker by Paralyzed age teehee

Oh no

I was doing my progesterone shot last night and the plunger in the syringe got stuck 20% of the way in. I really put some force behind but, but it wasn’t moving and I was terrified that if it did suddenly give way I’d dump the entire contents of the syringe into my thigh in a split-second.

(I’m not sure of the exact ramifications for doing so, but my nurse practitioner was quite clear during instruction that this was an undesirable outcome.)

I really didn’t want to toss the rest of the progesterone (it’s not like I had more on hand), so I withdrew the syringe and switched to a fresh needle. Poked myself again, depressed the plunger, and...

...The syringe got stuck again.

As classic “Well, what the hell do I do now?” scenarios go, sitting there with an immovable syringe sticking out of your thigh has to count pretty highly, I reckon.

I wiggled the plunger a bit and applied more force than sensible, and finally the damn thing overcame whatever the resistance was and immediately dumped half the load (so I guess I will find out why that’s a no-no in short order). Everything proceeded smoothly from there.

I’m still nonplussed as to what the issue was. A manufacturing defect in the syringe itself perhaps? Some kind of sediment in the progesterone blocking the barrel of the needle? I have no idea.

I just really hope that this doesn’t happen again...

Update 1: I talked to my friend about this and her first go-around, the needle disengaged from the syringe while it was in her leg. OMG!

Update 2: I had more soreness than usual but was otherwise okay; so I’m guessing that firehosing half the dose didn’t do too much damage, thankfully.