June 2010 : almost 4 months off HRT

• I was feeling really burnt out on doing shots.
• I needed to find out if HRT was something that was necessary for me to feel right, or if I felt better without it, or somewhere in between.
• I wanted to confirm emotionally what I already knew cognitively–that my being perceived correctly (as male) isn’t tied to my maintaining normal testosterone levels.
• I didn’t want to elevate testosterone above other medications.  While it made my transition possible, at this point it mostly serves a maintenance function in my life and in my body.
• I was curious about the physical and emotional effects of discontinuing HRT, and how I would feel about them.  I wanted to know (to the extent that I could) what changes in my personality over the past few years were exclusively related to HRT.

I never noticed a drop-off.  It happened so slowly, I suppose, that I just never noticed.  I was neither more nor less tired.  I didn’t experience any spikes in dysphoria, anxiety, or depression.

Physically, I didn’t notice much in the way of changes.  My speaking voice didn’t change, although I found it easier to access higher notes when singing, and my falsetto range got better.  My facial and body hair grew just as fast and thick as it usually did, and might have continued to fill in.  I did notice that my skin was softer.

Of course, as I hardly noticed anything, certainly nobody else did.  I didn’t “de-transition” in any way.

My sex drive was definitely lower, though it certainly didn’t disappear.   I wasn’t as into porn, either.  There was no change in my erections.  There were some changes in scent and lubrication.

Overall, I was really into not being on HRT.  I felt less surly, and more emotional, though I think part of that was that I felt so happy not to be doing shots.  It was freeing not to have to think about it, not to have to do it.

Eventually, though, the freedom was replaced by anxiety over when I would menstruate.  I thought about that part of my body more than usual, and I was really dreading the event.  I began thinking about hysterectomy, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about menstruating, or about exams.

When I did eventually menstruate, I was pretty freaked out about it.  It didn’t feel right or tolerable.  I didn’t like the way my body felt, and I felt irritated and mad that I even knew what it was like to have a period.  The inconvenience and angst of menstruation (and of waiting for it to show up) definitely surpassed the inconvenience and angst about shots, so I gave myself a dose the day after i started my period.

That period was about 4 days long.  It took me a few shots before I got back on a regular schedule (I averaged a shot every 3 weeks).  Eventually, though, I started spotting when I was late.  I gave myself a shot then, prevented a full-blown period, and have been consistent with my dose since then.

I also noticed nothing when I began doing my shots again, except my sex drive fluctuates more with my shot cycle than it did before.  I figure that once my body adjusts and my trough t levels don’t go below the normal range, I won’t notice a difference.

On the whole, I’m glad that I discontinued HRT for a while.  As a result, I know that in the future I’ll probably want a low/no-maintenance endocrine system.  Switching to the Testopel implant would be one solution.

Another solution (most likely in addition to the above) might be a hysterectomy, either without salpingo-oophorectomy (removal of ovaries and Fallopian tubes), or leaving one ovary intact.  In theory, that would allow me to discontinue testosterone therapy either temporarily or permanently in the future, if I desire.  Leaving at least one functional ovary might prevent any loss of bone density from lack of sex hormone, although it comes with risk.

I particularly like the option of leaving an ovary intact.  A hysterectomy would be required for the phalloplasty procedure I’m considering, because it requires vaginectomy.

I wonder how long it takes for newly-approved drugs to be covered by insurance companies.  I can only imagine how much each dose will/would cost me out-of-pocket.

But whatever it is, I’d find a way to pay it.  An 8-12 week shot cycle.  Can you imagine?!  That is–at minimum–two months without having to do the grunt work of maintaining this body.

I wonder sometimes, about what would happen if I just stopped doing shots.  Would I lose my beard?  My back hair?  Would my voice rise a bit?  Would I lose some of my belly?  Would I get weaker?  Would my anxiety increase?  Would I have a regular period?

I don’t know if I could handle menstruating again.  I didn’t mind it too much when I did it every month, but now the idea freaks me out, kind of a lot.

If a long-lasting injection isn’t an option, I’ve been looking into TestoPel, which is the only FDA approved testosterone pellet.  The only doctors who do it nearby are urologists.  They’re covered by my insurance, but I don’t know whether they would be willing to treat a trans male patient.  It would be quite expensive, considering I’d have to have a lot of blood work done at first, plus whatever the cost of the medication is and the cost of the procedure.  I’m going to get as much information as I can, though, because more options is better.  Supposedly, each dose can last up to 6 months.

Options like this would, I think, improve my quality of life significantly.

subconscious sex

A subconscious, intrinsic, self-understanding that all people experience regarding their own sex embodiment. Cissexuals tend not to notice or appreciate their own subconscious sex because it is concordant with their physical sex (and therefore they tend to conflate for two). In contrast, trans people tend to be excruciatingly aware of their subconscious sex (as it is at odds with their physical sex). Trans people most often describe their subconscious sex as an intrinsic, inexplicable, deeply felt understanding that there is something “wrong” with the sex they were born into, or that they should be (or wish they could become) the other sex.

That nicely sums up some of my more current theories about myself.  Namely, I don’t feel like I have any sort of gender trouble whatsoever.  I’ve never had a particular attachment to any gender identity; my gender expression hasn’t changed in any meaningful way since I was first able to pull on my own shirt.  I was no more or less fine being treated as female than I am being treated as male–which is to say, I think that the social roles that men and women are expected to occupy are largely bullshit, and I intend to ignore them completely, except to challenge misogyny where I find it.

That’s the biggest thing I’ve noticed lately–that the trans people I know haven’t changed, and don’t intend to change, their gender expressions.  As a female-assigned person, people saw me as fairly “masculine”.  These days I’m perceived as an adequately (if not particularly) masculine man.

I’ve noticed that I’ve tended to describe my experience as “body dysphoria” rather than “gender dyshoria”.  My gender is still pretty stable–it doesn’t amount to much of anything, and I don’t really care too much one way or another.  But mybody is the problem, because my very visceral sense of myself, and of my internal rightness, is male.  My embodiment feels wrong.

I definitely can’t say that I wouldn’t have a problem if I had a male body but continued to be treated as a woman.  But that’s only because people aren’t treated as women for the hell of it–they’re treated as women because their bodies are perceived as female.  And for my dysphoria to be mitigated, I feel like I need to perceive my own body as male, and have other people treat my body as male..

I panicked a few nights ago while taking a shower, because I suddenly realized that my mental image of myself at the time was female.  when I imagine myself taking a shower, I see myself as a 14 year old girl.  I don’t know why, and I’m not even sure if other people have ‘mental pictures’ of themselves, so it’s hard to explain to other people.  But when I picture myself doing that particular activity, I see a woman showering.  And that is really disorienting.  All of a sudden, I worried whether or not that meant I was making a mistake in transitioning.  As if I was somehow ‘less trans’ because I was conceptualizing myself in a female body.  It took a while for me to talk myself down.

I have a female-appearing body.  I most likely will always appear somewhat female.  But I believe that even what we think of as “female-appearing” and “male-appearing” is completely constructed, and there are always variations.  The person I see showering in my head could just as easily be a male-appearing person, if I adjust my thinking.  For that matter, the person I see showering in my head is male, simply because I am male.

I still wish I could’ve had top surgery first.  I hope that a miracle happens and I can have it soon.  I love the changes I’ve experienced so far from the testosterone, but I feel like I would enjoy my body so much more, enjoy my puberty so much more, enjoy my life so much more, if I was doing all of this without breasts.  My hatred of and anxiety about an entire–rather large–section of my own body terrifies me sometimes.  When I’m falling asleep, I often feel like I’m going under general anesthesia.  I’m so convinced that when I wake up, they’ll be gone.

It’s really affecting the way I dress.  I’m changing sizes a lot these days, as my metabolism is sort of, as E says, being put through a blender.  My arms and shoulders are developing muscle that is pretty well-defined and noticeable for someone who isn’t working out.  I’m happy with most of my body, most of the time.  But the way my chest looks in the clothes I prefer to wear is really depressing.  Button down shirts and dress pants make me feel fat and female.  Sweaters emphasize my chest in a way that has brought me close to tears on more than one occasion.  It’s been the biggest self-image problem I’ve faced so far.

I feel like I’d be passing most of the time, even this early on, if I’d had top surgery.  I haven’t been binding much, oddly enough.  I’m not sure why, exactly.  I suspect it’s because I’m afraid that I won’t ever pass, even when binding.  I like having some control over how I’m read.  I like knowing that I’ll be read as something when I leave the house.  I like being able to tell myself that if I was wearing my binder, that this person or that person would have done this, or wouldn’t have said that.

I’m just afraid they’re too big, too hard to bind, too uncomfortable.  I’m afraid that it’ll be years and years and years before I can afford to have surgery, that I won’t pass without it, and until then I’ll exist in this in-between space where I more-than-occasionally fear for my physical and emotional safety.

I like having a choice.  I don’t like non-consensual genderfucking.  I don’t like the gender panic I’ve been having every time I need to take a piss–it’s so ingrained that it happens even when I’m in my own house.

I’m tired of thinking about gender all the time.  I want to just relax and watch my sideburns develop.