Writing as a catharsis?

I wish i could write more. If i felt what i was writing held worth i would probably do it more. I, like every other blogger in the world, would like to write a book at some point in my life. I consider this blog as a practice ground. I can write here without needing to be perfect. Hopefully i will build up a style and beauty of writing enough for it to warrant publication. Enough of this.

I have been thinking that i should change the name of this blog. ‘Being a teenage trans-person’ doesn’t roll off the tongue. It is less recognisable in a search. Suggestions are welcome.

I have been wanting to dress more recently for different reasons than i am used to. I now feel like i want to be a girl as a comfort thing. Like eating ice cream or hugging a pillow, i put on a skirt and make-up. Clearly that is not the only reason i do it. It is merely the trigger that has been pushing me over the last few days. It is interesting how things control our lives. i use the word ‘control’ is a gentle way. Perhaps ‘guide’ would have been more appropriate.

I wish i were musical, then i could express my emotion properly. Sometimes words don’t seem enough and i can’t record my thoughts in a way that satisfies me. Music can bring out much more in the mind.

Does doing performing male actions in a female mind make me any less of a woman?

x

Things will change. The direction is uncertain, but the magnitude of the event will not be small.

I am sitting in a hotel lobby in Chicago thinking heavily about what is to come. A plan is formulating in my mind. I have yet to commit it to paper but that will happen soon enough. Hopefully, if i follow all the steps in the scheme, i will have happiness of a sort in whatever shape my body ends up in. My time in America is being documented, but in paper form. There is a girl who needs to read it more than anyone else. If she allows me, i will put it up here, but later.

I have been having lots of thoughts about lots of things. This is a difficult time but it feels slightly productive. By the end of the summer, a path will have been chosen and then all i will have to do it walk down it. I could run, but it depends on how nice the road is. I will have plans for each eventuality. Some more extreme than the others. Some that people won’t agree with, not even those close to me and who support me in what i am doing. They may have difficulty understanding why some stages of the plans are necessary. They are just things that need to be done for me to feel like i can continue.

Having a course makes things a little easier in my mind, but it still leaves a significant amount of unrest. Different unrest.

The plans may be published on this blog, but i may want to keep them to myself and only tell you when they have been done. I will decide later.

I miss people from home that made me feel better about being myself but being in a strange place is liberating. I spent all day practising my girl walk. All smiles. I may get it yet.

I hope to update soon.

xx

Why is a dangerous word for some trans people. It opens up a huge grey area of questions and unknowns. I hear many theories of why we deviate from the gender norms. Some are more comforting than others. Some make much more sense then others. Despite what can be read in some publications, there is no conclusive theory to explain such behaviour. There are many approaches each with their own idea.

I am not about to give an answer or solve the problem, but perhaps i can try and explain my own situation which can then be held up for analysis.

One possible problem that i have identified in myself is the lack of male role models. I struggle to think of a male who i look up to, understand and wish to emulate. The list of females is too long to document here. The only male i can think of who is close to being an inspiration for me is Stephen Fry.

Is this a fault of my cognition? Am i seeing a lack of strong males because of the way i think? Or is there a strange trend in society currently? I frequently see women around and i am jealous of their achievements and skills. It is rare indeed for the same feelings to be triggered by a male. Could such thoughts be leading me in my transition? Are they a product of it?

More later.

xx

My thoughts at the moment are so screwed. I can’t think about my present or future. So here is a little of my past (all fact).

My heart was racing. Pounding so hard in my chest that every beat felt like a hammer striking a bell. The stairs creaked horribly as I crept up and into her bedroom. The light was still on and cast a nasty brightness everywhere. Rain washed the darkened windows and the wind made unearthly sounds. A beautiful aroma that is only found in girl’s bedrooms found my nose. My ears were focused on the noise of the lower floor. I was ready to rush out were I to hear footsteps on the stairs.
This was the room where I could find many new and interesting things. This was a girl’s room. I was in the most forbidden place a five year old boy can be.

A few hours earlier the room had been filled with children. Running about and playing. It was a party of sorts, although I forget the occasion. It was all the children from my nursery. Naturally all the mothers became friends and had organised a get-together.

We had been going through the dress-up box when my brother found it. He held it aloft like a grand prize and proceeded to pull the costume on. I sat on the bed in a state of shock. My older brother had just done the impossible: he had just worn female clothes! The possibility of such a transition had not crossed my conscious mind before and it was a great shock.
He stood there in a fairy ballerina outfit. His legs smooth in white leggings, his torso covered in tight stretchy pink material and on his back was a pair of wings. At that moment in time I wanted nothing more but to be a fairy and to be a girl. The world stopped for me. All the other children found it highly amusing that a boy had worn a fairy outfit but they all tried it on. They took turns jumping off the bed floating on the wings of their imagination. I could do nothing. I didn’t dare ask to try it on. Would the others sense my eagerness and ridicule me? Would it not fit or suit me? Would I suddenly be a girl? My mind could not comprehend all of the possible apocalyptic outcomes. My brother came over and offered me a turn with the costume.I paused. I longed to say ‘yes’, to grab the beautiful garment and become lost in a total fantasy. I longed for the feel of the material against me and to see the reflection of my new body in the mirror.

I couldn’t. He would guess my intentions and tease me endlessly. I lowered my head and said no in a very soft voice. I was heart broken. The fantasy was to be denied to me. I could almost feel my heart physically drawn to the outfit. It was perfect. I was very quiet for the rest of the evening much to the puzzlement of the parents who perceived me as a loud and excitable child. They did not know that I was deep in concentration, planning and scheming. I had to have the costume. I had to put it on and be a fairy. I wanted to walk around the room with my head held high as a girl. I had never been a girl before and I longed to know what it was like to be on the other side.

The parents came in and put on a film for us all to watch. The sofa groaned under the mountain of 11 children struggling for the best seats. I was in no mood for a wrestle so I sat on the floor next to the arm of the chair. The movie began and I looked but I did not see. My mind was in the dressing-up box. I was besotted with my new found fantasy. There was no room in my consciousness for anything but beautiful dressed and wonderful clothes.

I gave up. I could no longer just sit there and dream. I had to go and touch it, smell it, taste it and try it on. Fortunately I was in a very good position to sneak out undetected. I left the room as silently as possible only pausing at the door to make sure nobody had spotted my exit.

Now I was in the room and I was shaking from nerves. The fear of being caught as I was dressing up as a girl was great. But greater still was my desire itself. I had made a great effort to note where all of the nice garments had been placed. The room was plundered of all its treasures which were placed in a pile behind the door and next to the mirror.

The next thirty minutes were some of the greatest of my life. Alas, they also shaped most of the next fifteen mournful years.

Kept up late last night by the crescent mood through my curtain-less windows, I was woken by the sun at a very early hour. Being cunning and resourceful as ever, I rolled over and hid myself in the perpetual shade. Three hours late I awoke and attended to myself. I ate, showered and made ready for the day ahead. The shower consisted of ridding my self of most of my hair, and washing that which remains. It seems odd to me how girls are not allowed (by social laws) to have hair anywhere but their heads, where it must be long and on show. Silly humans.
Mother went out for a shop while I wrote, read and composed. Not at the same time you understand; that would just be too much. Talented as I am, I am yet to reach such standards. I was considering a list I found in my old diary. It detailed attributes people would have and challenges they would have completed before I would fully respect them. I will publish the list fully whence I have reviewed it further and brought it up to date.
Mother returned home and I helped unload the shopping. I chose this to be the perfect time to find out what was making her feel upset. After a long interrogation, it became clear that the man she had been see of late, lacked fidelity (*gasps*). A woman had contacted mother through facebook saying that they should probably talk. There was a phone conversation and all was revealed.
Mother is now on anti-depressants, which I think is a bit too much seeing as she was just cheated upon. We mustn’t use psychotropic drugs so lightly. I cannot talk; for I was on them earlier this year, but I believe that my condition was significantly worse than mother’s is at the moment.
I have just glanced at my statistics for this blog and find it mildly distressing that most people have found it by searching Google for cross dresser porn. The shame. I will be uploading some photos soon, but none will be of a sexual nature. Sorry to all you horny bastards. You will have to manage with out my perfect body on your screens. Some photos will be very alluring, but none will be without clothes.
Lunch was a simple sandwich followed by a few hours of reading in the sun outside. I have missed having a garden. The past year I have lived in two houses which have been in the centre of towns and have had no gardens. It is a true freedom to have somewhere to roam. I made a BBQ and cooked far too much meat.
This evening I intend to dress up in my favourite skirt and watch a soppy film. Occasionally every girl needs an evening like this…
Ice cream may be involved.

Please comment if you enjoy my stories of life. They get more interesting with feedback. Coming up next week are my exam results so make sure you come back for that instalment. I am sure it will be full of emotion.
Till tomorrow,
X
- Alice