Hugs & Human Interaction Wanted

After a more than two-month roller coaster ride following facial feminization surgery, my physical woes seem to resolving, but my heart is in need of attention.  Many people support me and my journey, but I am still lonely.  I need hugs.

Physically, I am improving.  I have finally taken my last antibiotic.  My infection seems to be cleared.  My eye issue has resolved to the point where I can drive and work.  I can even see my jawline healing and revealing the promise of curves where there was once squareness.  In another four months, I should see the final fruits of the initial surgery.  My face will continue to heal and feminize until then.

However, over the last couple of months, my mood has been declining.  At one point, my wife was worried enough to tell me that my energy was similar to that just before I came out as questioning.  She is worried about me, and I have been in my head a lot trying to figure it out.

I have not been down because of the setbacks with my surgery.  Yes, it was disappointing to have to have a second surgery, but ultimately it was needed.  What was more disappointing to me how few visitors I had while I was in the hospital.  While I was extremely thankful my wife and children visited me each day in the hospital (which was about an hour drive from home causing its own strain on the family), I was sorely lacking human interaction.  Only one person other than my wife and kids visited me during my six-day hospital stay.  The hugs from my children were the only real comforting touch I had each day.

Once home, a few friends and family stepped up and offered food and company after I asked for help online, but most of support has come from Facebook messages and comments.  That’s nice and all, but it is not the same as sitting down and spending time with someone.  The best part of every day continue to be the snuggles, hugs, and kisses I receive from my children.  I love them without limits.  However, that’s about all the love and affection I get in any given day.

My wife has been supportive as she can be, but hugs and kisses are not something we share a lot of anymore.  Our relationship has changed so much.  When once we shared “I love you”s and kisses, those are now primarily reserved for the kids.  Parting sweet words have devolved to waves goodbye and talks of what’s next on the family calendar.

She occasionally tells me that she loves me, but it comes off hollow.  What part of me does she actually love?  Does she just say that to appease me in a time of personal sadness?  Is there still love in her heart, but she does not want to act on it?  She hides so many of her problems from me, I cannot help.  When I offer, she tells me I can’t because I am the source of the problem.  We have been going at this for over three years.  The near daily anger rages have been replaced by silent pain, invisible illness that is shielded from most friends and family.

When I married her, I always wanted us to have an honest, open relationship, where we would share everything and help each other in times of need.  Instead, there have been massive secrets kept (and revealed) over the years, some of which we both still keep for fear of a fight or hurt feelings.  Over the last three years, I have worked hard to be a better person, to love myself more, and find my happiness in the shadow of a giant gray marriage cloud.  I have worked harder at this than anything else in my life, and I know in my heart of hearts that I am more improved than I was when I met my wife.  That is not enough for her, though, because I now come in a female package.  Once again, coming to the realization that I will never be enough for her breaks my heart on a continuous basis.  She wants a divorce and says that I am the reason she cries herself to sleep most nights.  She is still living in the hurt and holding on to the pain from three years ago.  There are times I feel she stays out of an obligation to the children and to a pre-transition promise she made to my mother before she died to always take care of me.  How am I supposed to overcome those obstacles?  I could make myself into a multi-million dollar success story, an advocate for those in need, and be super mom to my children, and it still would never be enough for her to get past the fact that she married me.

I sometimes forget that I am in a losing situation.  Family trips to the fair or the science museum, joint appearances at school events, dinners out with extended family allow me to buy into the dream that we could still be a happy, functioning family.  That illusion is a trap.  It keeps me from moving forward with my life.  It keeps me from making long-term decisions about my future.  I continually need to re-learn that no matter how good things may feel in the moment or how much she helps me with my medical issues, there is a dark side to this life we lead.

The least simple thing I am re-learning?  That no matter how available I make myself, no matter how much I change for the better, no matter how good of a mother I am or caring and loving I can be, I still cause my wife as much pain as I did when I came out to her over three years ago.  That saddens me to no end, especially when I framed in the terms of the children.  When we work together, we are a loving family.  Despite being poor, we give our children as much as we can so that they do not suffer.  On the surface, we are doing well.  We are maintaining.  We are still together.  The truth is, we are scared.  We do not know what comes next.

Early in my transition, my wife pulled away from me physically because she is no longer attracted to me.  We have not had sex in 2 1/2 years.  We sleep in the same bed, but a body pillow separates us.  Hugs are rare.  Kisses even rarer.  I can’t remember the last time we walked hand-in-hand together.  There are no more date nights, trips to the movies, or anniversaries.  We have no reason to hire a babysitter so that the two of us can go out together.  I miss these basic loving interactions.  I feel incomplete without them.

There have been two women that have shown some interest in me since I went full-time.  To have someone interested in me was both uplifting and awkward—especially since I am still married.  When the first woman showed interest, I put up huge emotional walls that were nearly impossible for her to scale because I was not really ready for any kind of relationship.  Combined with her own stresses that complicated her life, there was just too much drama, and we were not meant to be more than friends.  The second woman broke down my walls a little more.  We even went on at least one date, but ultimately, that did not really work out for various reasons.  I am not even sure I am ready to consider dating anyone other than my wife.  Maybe it would be good for me.  Maybe it would divide us even more.  I really don’t know.

What I do know is that I am incredibly lonely, and it is leading to an emotional state bordering on depression.  My sex drive has actually increased a little bit recently as I become more comfortable with being the authentic me, but I do not have an outlet for that other than myself—and I am still dysphoric enough to not really want to play with myself that much.  My wife is not an option.  Dating is not really an option.  I really don’t have an option.

For me, though, sex is just a minor piece to the bigger desire.  It is simply boils down to basic human interaction.  I need hugs and kisses from people older than 7 years old.  I need to be wanted and loved, to be supported in more ways than a Facebook comment can communicate.  I need friends who will visit me in the hospital or at home.  I need to be held and told things are going to be OK.  I want someone to be interested in me for more than just my courage, my parenting skills, or my ability to work.  I really want to have someone interested in me for me and who wants to spend time with me.  I need a partner who will encourage me and share intimate embraces and touch on a daily basis.

I have worked so hard to love and value myself again.  I have embraced my journey and my identity.  But I am still a hopeless romantic, and without someone to love and to love me back, I feel empty.  I am lonely.

Support comes in many forms.  I am thankful for those that keep me in their thoughts and encourage me to be the authentic me.  I am thankful for those that understand that we are poor and provide financial support.  Emotional support is the most difficult to come by, especially when it is not easily available at home.  Combined with stress, this has all put me into am emotional funk.

There is a healing power in touch that I am sorely lacking.  Few people other than my children touch me these days.  That touch need not be sexual, it just needs to be meaningful and from the heart—willfully given and full of love, empathy, and feeling.

Hugs wanted.  Love needed.

 

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My FFS Dilemma: So Close, But So Far Away

Today, I had a conversation with the patient coordinator for the world’s foremost facial feminization surgeon in the world (who is actually local to me!). Last week, I had sent an e-mail to their office introducing myself. In the message, I said that I was seeking a consult for FFS and that I was covered by Medi-Cal. I was under the impression that the doctor did not take insurance, but I wanted to confirm. What was the harm in asking, right?

To my surprise, I actually received a response saying that they were interesting in talking to me. A glimmer of hope! After a few attempts to contact the office, I finally reached the patient coordinator by phone today. She took some information from me, and actually tentatively scheduled a consult for me in December. Yay, me! $365 non-refundable for the consult, she said. Then I asked about insurance, and the bubble burst.

The doctor will contract with insurance provided pre-authorization is approved, but he does not contract with Medi-Cal. I was given the option to finance my surgery through a health credit card or a personal loan, both of which I am sure would carry significant interest. I am already financially strapped. How do I pay for a $30K-$50K surgery with interest? I told them I would think about things. She said she would give me until Monday to decide if I wanted to schedule the consult for the date agreed to. So now what?

The idea that I could have a consult in December for a surgery in January or February is an amazing, dream come true. The fact that I even have a consult date at a particular date and time, if I accept, is incredible and makes this seem attainable. And… it is all with the most skilled FFS surgeon in the world. It sounds so perfect. In reality though, without an angel to finance me, the dream seems out of reach. I have not yet formally rejected the consult, but I have real trouble justifying going to the consult if I cannot follow-up with an actually surgery.

What if I go to the consult and walk away with amazing digital images of how beautiful I could be given the surgery. It would be kind of like looking at pictures of Hawaii without actually ever seeing it firsthand. Could that further my depression or cause me to make impulsive decisions that would affect the financial well-being of myself and my family? We are poor as it is. How can I justify adding to that debt for this?

My face is a sore point for me. I can still see the remaining masculine features in my face that need to go away for me to look like other women. If I see them, others can see them, too. FFS is more than a cosmetic procedure. It can have a profound effect on how I am perceived by the world and how well I am accepted. this truly is a quality of life issue; it is not simply cosmetic. This is why I am so stressed by this dilemma. I feel like I need to “fix” my face (at least parts of it). I need a skilled surgeon to do that for me, and I need that doctor to take my insurance.

There are other doctors that may take insurance (and even Medi-Cal), but how frustrating is it to have be this close to working with the protégé to the surgeon who actually wrote the book on this procedure? I have until Monday to sleep on it, but I don’t see how my situation will change by then unless some miracle comes my way.

I am losing control. So many things feel like they are out of hands, and I there is not really any assistance out there for me. It is these kinds of bubble bursts that prevent me from getting too happy and excited anymore. I continue to dream, but the dreams are darker or more unattainable. I don’t like those kinds of dreams. I miss looking at the bright side of life and the silver linings. When do the breaks start going my way again? What do I need to do make my dreams a reality?

Any miracle workers out there?

The Danish Girl

Anyone following me will know I am in a terrible state right now.  I am tired, stressed, and emotional.  Last night, I came home from a trying day (really, weekend) at work to my wife rushing out the door to party at the neighbor’s.  I collapsed on the bed and cried in my isolation.  I wrote last night’s post, then mindlessly watched some TV.  When my wife came home, she almost instantly went to bed without conversation.  There as no real opportunity to decompress with her, and it compounded my feelings of isolation I described yesterday.  Then, I decided to watch a movie, and what did I find?  The Danish Girl.

For those not in the know, The Danish Girl was released last year.  It is based on the true story of Lili Elbe, who was one of the first people to receive gender reassignment surgery (GRS) back in the 1930s.  The story details her transition and its affect on the relationship with her wife.  I had not seen the movie before.  I had always meant to get around to it.  I am not sure why I chose last night to watch it, but that is what happened.

The movie is not perfect and has its flaws, but it gets a lot of things right.  There were several moments that I could feel both Lili’s pain and that of her wife, Gerda.  Aside from the sexual aspect of Lili’s transition (which is practically non-existent in my life), there were so many things with which I could identify, especially when it came to Lili’s feelings and the obvious strain on their marriage.  Being married myself, I have experienced firsthand the devastation a transition causes.  The fights, the tension, the negotiating.  It’s all real and palpable, and watching the movie reminded me how real that struggle has been.  Like any transition story, mileage varies, and Lili’s transition does differ from mine in many ways.  However, the need to be one’s authentic self in spite of the severe and everlasting consequences cannot be understated.  Watching this movie was like being slapped in he face, a stark reminder of the reality of my situation.

I cried and cringed several times, and I bawled during the closing credits.  Waves of emotion crashed against me.  I could not help be reminded of the struggles of the last two years.  Further, the fears I have of the future were renewed.  Who will love me?  Who will accept me? What have I done to my kids, my wife, my family?  Will anyone remember me when I die?  If so, how will they remember me?  As a woman or something else?  My recent bouts of isolation and depression fed into these fears, and I lost it.  I must have cried for about 20 minutes, but really I have no idea.  It wasn’t like I was watching the clock at 2:30 in the morning.  A friend of mine happened to be awake, so I vented on her a bit, and then I fell asleep on the couch.  I woke up after sunrise and an hour before I was to take my son to school, so I stayed up and took a shower.  I took so long in the shower, that my wife ended up taking him to school, and I went to bed for a few hours.  When my daughter woke me up, I was still very sleepy and exhausted.  I continue to be.

I do not know why I decided to watch The Danish Girl on this particular night, but I did.  I am happy I got around to it, but no matter what I do and how much things improve over time, I cannot help but watch a movie like this and be reminded of all the uncertainty I still have yet to face.  I have overcome many hurdles, but there are several more landmines ahead, and just the the thought of them challenges my resolve and heightens my fears.  I feel like I am on the verge of mental breakdown, but no one asks how I am doing.  At least Lili found internal happiness even if cost her everything else.  My search continues, and who knows how much more pain myself and the people around me must suffer for me to find that peace.  Such a cruel trade-off.

I Am Falling Apart, and No One Seems to Notice

I have been told that this blog is sad.  True, much of the time I have the urge to write it is because there is something on my mind that I need to share.  Tonight, it’s not much different.  Why?  Well, I have difficulty finding a reason to celebrate, even though my transition is going well.

I am have been on HRT 18 months.  Next week will mark 8 months full-time.  I legally changed my name and gender 3 months ago.  I have come along way since I started my transition, and to accomplish these major milestones has been incredible.   Reflecting on those achievements should make me ecstatic, but still I find myself crying on this Labor Day holiday, sitting alone in my living room, with no one to talk to while my children sleep.  The weight of the world seems to be resting on my shoulders.  My resolve, which typically is quite strong, is failing.  I would cry out for help, but I don’t know what I can get help with.  So I write, hoping to at least make myself feel a little better by converting thoughts to words.

As the summer winds down, I realize that the season has actually been quite a difficult one for me.  I work as a retail supervisor, so that in and of itself has raised my stress level.  Now that kids are back to school, I am hoping crowds will simmer down until at least the Halloween rush, but still… I certainly do not get paid enough for what I do.  I put out fires and solve problems all day long, 5 days a week, but that does not give me adequate time to troubleshoot my own issues.  At the same time, I am also actively looking for a new job that pays me more than what I make, which adds to my to do list.

Working in the daily scrutiny of the public eye does not help my mood.  I am already at odds with myself over my voice and face, both of which I feel are too masculine and prevent me from “passing” everyday.  With thousands of eyeballs on me, I feel like I am constantly being judged.  While those that speak up are generally flattering (a month’s worth of compliments on the dress I wear to work has been nice), the negative moments linger in my head.  Just today, I had a woman ask, “Your name is Gabrielle? (seemingly pronounced correctly)  That’s my son’s name.”  In my head, I thought, “No, it’s not.”  Not two minutes later, I was called “sir” by another guest, despite my lace overlay red dress, make up, and earrings.  It is soooo frustrating, and why my mind is so focused on vocal therapy and the possibility of facial feminization surgery (FFS).  I cannot continue to endure these types of moments.  It won’t matter how long I have been on HRT or full-time if I cannot pass, because each “he” and “sir” I hear grinds me down that much more each time I hear them.

But even getting vocal therapy and FFS is turning into a chore that I just do not have time for.  I finally have an appointment for vocal therapy, but I have to wait an agonizing 3+ months before my first appointment.  Both my therapist and my wife believe I should get a consult for FFS.  That is a relief to some extent, but in the other hand, now I am searching for a skilled plastic surgeon who also accepts Medi-Cal.  That’s no small feat, and the longer it takes, the longer until I get the consult I desperately need.  I am open to suggestions if you know of doctors that meet this criteria.

My health is further affected by my emotional eating, which has caused me to regain 40 of the 90 pounds I lost last year.  I have also had a low-grade headache for the last month.  I do not know if that is related to a hormone imbalance or the fact that I am just a big stress ball these days.  I am checking the hormone situation very soon, though, so hopefully I can solve this problem, too, because I am tired of hurting.

That’s a powerful statement:  I am tired of hurting.  My head, my arms, my brain.  They all hurt.  My heart hurts from what seems to be isolation from my friends and family.  I feel like my body just cannot handle the 15 things I am asking it to juggle.  But much of what I am dealing with cannot be easily delegated or helped by others.  My wife cannot find me a job or a surgeon.  Money will not fall out of a tree.  Even though I have solved so much, there seems to be an infinite number of other things I have to control, and I am just wearing thin.  I am overworked, lacking sleep, and always “on.”

Tonight, after a long day at work and after my wife rushed off to the neighbor’s apartment to have a fun time, I collapsed on my bed and began to cry.  Non-specific reasons, really.  Maybe it was a co-worker’s news of a possible pregnancy which made me think how much I wish I was making a call to an advice nurse on how to manage my nausea (because I would take her place in an instant if it was medically possible).  Maybe it was the nonstop guest issues I have had to deal with all holiday weekend.  Maybe it was being misgendered.  Maybe it was the fact that I was left alone with my thoughts.  Maybe… maybe it is just too much for me to handle.

What compounds my issues is that my friends have seemingly faded away.  My transgender support group is now populated with many new or questioning people, which is great, but at the same time leaves me lacking for a people in a similar situation as myself.  I have turned into more of a mentor to help others.  There are fewer who share my issues which are related to more complex transition issues.  My trans friends are in their own worlds these days, and I find I do not talk to them as much.  I am feeling out of touch with my community, and now I am beginning to feel out of touch with myself because I cannot triage all of the problems at the same time.  I need help and advice, and I do not where to turn.  I am falling apart, and no one seems to notice.

Throughout my life, with very few exceptions, I have been strong and resolved when challenges face me.  I take things one step at at time, and solve my issues one at a time, usually with little help.  I became much better asking for assistance and seeking guidance, and that approach served me well at the beginning of my transition.  This time around, I just feel like I am left on my own to figure it out and there is no guidance to be had.  My issues are for me to solve by myself, for better or worse, and this time—this time—I am not sure how well it will turn out.  I am trying to stay afloat, but it is awfully hard and isolating walking through this barren desert.  I need an oasis.  I need a vacation and maybe a little help from my friends.

Next Steps: Vocal Therapy(!) and Facial Surgery(?)

In my last post, I talked about some of the celebrations that should have happened, but did not:  my court date, my birthday, telling my story publicly for the first time.  It has been a busy summer, even though it does not really feel like it.  The sadness I have felt over the lack of celebration has been looming over me, especially as my wife helps plan two weddings and, a few weeks ago, a neighbor’s birthday.  Combined with the continuing dysphoria surrounding my face & voice and my family’s financial struggles, I have not been in the best of moods lately.  I am tired, lonely, and isolated.  But, as I said in my last post, I do trod on.

I finally received some good news this week.  My insurance has approved me (without a fight!) to begin specialized vocal therapy, so that I can begin to properly address my voice and work to make it sound more feminine.  That should be a great relief to me, but the excitement was muted by the fact that my first appointment will not be until December due to scheduling availability!  I will have to wait for this about as long as I had to wait for my court date to come, and that was tiring.  Hopefully, a cancellation will move me up the wait list.

On the face front, I am flummoxed.  I am beginning to struggle mightily when it comes to how my face looks.  I really long to restart electrolysis that I suspended in June due to financial stresses.  That means I have to shave every day and then work hard to conceal that shadow that remains.  It is exhausting.  I love make-up, but I would like to be able to walk out the door without it every once in awhile if I am in a hurry.  Doing so now would just make me look awkward.  Also, for the first time, I have really started to take some time to look at the potential for surgery.

Since the beginning of my transition over two years ago, I have put off the notion of surgeries.  I had soooooooo much other stuff to work through that the idea of any surgery was put out of my mind, as I deal with the here-and-now.  But as time passes and I settle into my life as woman, I begin to think about the future.  My facial dysphoria has put the idea of facial feminization surgery (FFS) as an attainable way to correct the masculine features of my face.  To that end, for the first time, I have begun to ask questions of friends, analyzed my face to project the kinds of work I need (and luckily don’t need), and even gone so far as to begin researching potential surgeons.  The latter may be a bit premature, but at the same time, I know consults and surgeries have long wait lists, and it could be to my advantage to start the ball rolling now.  However, I really want to resume and finish electrolysis.  FFS does not seem smart unless I have finished what I can do without it.  So many questions, and no money to do it.  The thoughts weigh me down and compound my frustration with myself.

And of course, opening the door to surgery discussions, cracks open the idea of potential gender reconstruction surgery (GRS) down the road.  I am not quite ready to start that process, but I definitely lean in that direction.  But as I have done all along, I try not to jump ahead too much.  One step at a time.  I don’t really consider GRS right now because there are more pressing needs.  I don’t really consider breast augmentation because my breasts are still growing, even if at a slower rate than I would like.  But FFS seems attainable with the right surgeon and the right timeline.  It is something I need to bring up to my family, too, and I really have no idea how to begin to introduce that topic.  Surgery is a big deal and a big step.  It requires doctor’s visits, consults, the procedure, and the post-op aftercare.  How much support can my family provide if I take this step?

I am markedly happier as a woman.  Now 7 1/2 months full-time, I am still secure this is how I was meant to live my life.  But until a few things change, I continue to be insecure of how I present to the world.  That change will not happen on its own, and I continue to look for ways to make those changes happen.  I just wish I had more of a support system behind me to encourage me on my journey. Maybe then, someone would celebrate me and my accomplishments.

Alone & Keeping Busy

For the last six weeks or so, I have begun to fall on a downward emotional turn as I have begun to feel more isolated.  There have been moments of happiness, yes, but they have been tempered by a feeling I cannot shake.

I am lonely.

June was a busy month.  Early in the month, I finally had my day in court, where I officially was recognized with my new name and proper gender.  While the hearing itself was a formality, the significance of the day was incredible.  I longed for members of my family to be present, but alas, I only had one friend and no family present at the hearing.  And even that friend had to reorganize her day a bit to be there so that I was not entirely solo (and I do thank her for that!).  Still, while I had someone to celebrate with, I was still disappointed that no one else took the time to recognize the importance of what was happening.  Had my mom still been alive, she would have moved heaven and earth to be there.  No one else seemed to understand.

A few weeks later, my birthday rolled around.  For the first time in a very long time, I was actually excited about my birthday because I could celebrate it as my “first.”  My wife said she wanted to get me a pink balloon shaped like a “1” for my birthday.  I thought that was actually kind of cool (although, she didn’t end up doing it).  I expanded on that idea and came up with an idea for a birthday party themed like a one-year-old’s princess party.  I could wear a princess dress and a tiara, and we could make the party fun and childlike.  But that never happened.  My wife ended up away at a conference that weekend, which will be a benefit to her résumé.  She also took the children with her, which made sense she was running a children’s program at the conference.  That left me all alone to figure out my birthday.  I got a good friend to go out to dinner with me (split check), and then on the day I had reserved for my unplanned party, I ended up taking myself (with my tiara) on a solo day trip to San Francisco.  While I made the best of it, the day ended up a long way from the princess party for which I had got myself so excited.

Later in the month, I attended Pride.  I attended Trans March with a the same friend that went to my hearing with me, and we had a good day.  But she needed to leave when the march was over, so I ended up latching on to another group with my best friend, who I ran into while I was there.  It made for a good evening, but it certainly wasn’t planned.  When I returned to San Francisco for the big celebration and parade on Sunday, I had no one to go with me.  When I left the house, I had no plan.  Miraculously, on my way to the festival, I ended up running in to a former co-worker who I had not seen in years.  He was meeting up with friends in the City, too, so that’s how I spent the rest of my day.  Again, it worked out, but I much would have rather been travelling with a group of my closer friends.

At the end of the month, I told my story publicly for the first time.  Again, this was a significant moment for me, but there was no one to support me in the moment.  My wife was worried I was going to make her out to be some monster (which I don’t), and she did not stay to hear me actually give my talk.  Granted, she had to entertain the children, but again, I felt alone and solo for a milestone moment for me.

July was simply full of the stresses of life.  I feel like I walk on pins and needles at a job that underpays me for the amount of work I perform.  Money is tight for the first time in years.  My eldest child continues to show behavioral signs that highlight his lack of focus, which is especially problematic since school starts again in just a couple of weeks.  Family health issues, a minor car accident, volunteer commitments, complaining children, paying a babysitter more money than I earned at work that day, jealousy over my wife’s bachelorette getaway weekend…  It’s just getting to be overwhelming lately.

On the transition side of things, I am almost 7 months into full-time status.  I continue to remain comfortable and confident in myself—for the most part.  My dysphoria has been highlighted lately as I continue to stare in the mirror at the shadows on my face that continue to haunt me.  I had to stop electrolysis in June because of money issues, so I continue to have to shave.  And no matter how closely I shave, the shadow remains.  I have become very adept at applying makeup to hide and blend the shadows into my face, but it can be a chore.  I cannot simply wake up in the morning and leave the house without at least a foundation on to mask this blue undertones.  And the more I look at my face, the more I start to see the more male features that still exist, despite a significant softening of my skin.  My square jaw line and my large nose take away from the femininity I feel and I attempt to express to the world.  Combined with my unaltered voice, and I start getting in my head that no matter how awesome I look in the dress I am wearing, I still out myself as as trans simply by having my facial structure and my voice.  I am working on trying to find ways to get insurance to cover speech therapy and maybe even facial feminization surgery in the future because the longer I do not continue moving forward, the more I chip away at the confidence I have built up in myself.

Through all the issues I am encountering, I have found little solace in the majority of my friends, who all seems to have there own issues right now.  They do not seek me out as much.  I barely talk with my best friend these days.  My dad has not talked to me since my birthday, and my stepbrother still has trouble dealing with my transition.  My wife continues to do her best to support and shield me, but with the pain I have caused her, she may never be able to fully be ready to be there—physically nor emotionally—in those highly significant moments because she has more than enough to sort out on her own.

Combining the stresses of life with the distance I currently have with my friends and family, I am feeling more alone.  I am falling into an old trap of feeling like I need to solve my own problems and power ahead.  I have been so successful during my transition reaching out to others.  I really do not want to backtrack there.  But I also want to feel important enough that my friends and family actively include me in their plans and in their thoughts.

Life goes on, and so shall I.  I just need a little help from my friends and family to continue looking on the bright side of life in the face of challenges I still must overcome.