Early thirties post-transition stealth Father and Husband
Once again, I’ve exhausted my list of ideas regarding posts relevant to this blog.
I am more than welcome to suggestions, although I can’t promise I will address all topics suggested as they may not be applicable or I may not have experience in that area.
Submissions are also welcome.
Everyone needs to stop asking Nick so many questions! There’s a lot other guys on here with similar blogs, and you’re burning this dude out.
50 answers a day and you still don’t get your message count down? That’s what I call dedication. Well done for being so resilliant.
80 followers, thanks all!
I’ve run out of ideas so if you have a question hit me up.
The other night I worked out how much money I’d need to get to serbia and have metoidioplasty, and it’s drastically less than I’d anticipated. Granted, still somewhere around the 20K mark including flights and accomodation for both my Wife and I for a good length of time, but it also includes the cost of surgery etc (most likely outdated costs, though). This has made it much more probable that I will get lower surgery in my lifetime, even if it’s about 5 years away.
I’m keen on buying a house first so our family can have security, but my Wife is ambivalent about which is more important. I personally would hate myself even more if I were to put my own surgery ahead of my family’s housing security and future.
None-the-less, it’s somewhat reassuring that it won’t cost the $50k I had originally estimated (fuck knows where I got that figure from). It’s also translated into dysphoric nightmares, which is fucked because sleeping is really the only break I generally get from dysphoria.
I can’t stop thinking about it. My Wife is utterly terrified of the procedure, because it’s so invasive and large and has the potential to have serious complications.
My rationale is; nothing can be worse than what I have in my pants right now.
I have not regretted transitioning at any stage. For me it was clear cut: either I took this scary step of changing my life, or I ended my own life. It was literally what it came down to.
I could not see myself living as a woman, growing old as a woman. I couldn’t even see my own reflection in the mirror as a woman.
If I could have been happy living in the body I was born with I would have done it in a split second. I wish I was. I wish I wasn’t born this way, because it’s not easy. It never goes away. The dysphoria is always there, hacking away at me – despite my physicality now reflecting what it’s supposed to for the most part.
I don’t regret the amount of money I have spent on my transition, I just wish I didn’t have to spend it on fixing my body. I wish it could have been better spent by purchasing a house, opening a savings account for my son. So many other ways I could have spent, and be spending, the money it takes to transition.
Regret? not for a single second. I would be dead if I didn’t transition.
I’m not sure I understand the last part of this question, but I’ll answer anyway.
I have never felt “non-binary”. I have felt confusion early on because I was not aware transsexualism was “a thing” – that is, when I was young I was not aware people who were female bodied were able to transition. I always knew I was not female, but did not understand what it is that I was until I learnt about transition.
My gender identity has not changed over time, I have not felt more female or more male. I feel like myself, which is male.
I often feel like social situations with cisgender men are complicated for me, generally speaking I do this “to myself” – it is dysphoria and self doubt around physical appearance that make me uncomfortable in male-oriented social situations.
I am married, and I live stealth in my daily life. My Wife is aware of my trans history, and has been from the start.
I choose to live stealth because what is in my pants is not relevant unless it’s for medical circumstances or you’re about to have sex with me. For me, it’s simply a condition I was born with.
Once again, I’ve exhausted my list of ideas regarding posts relevant to this blog.
I am more than welcome to suggestions, although I can’t promise I will address all topics suggested as they may not be applicable or I may not have experience in that area.
Submissions are also welcome.
On another note: this blog has reached 70 followers. Thank you for your support and I hope you find this information valuable.
I had my hysto approximately 2 years ago. I had it done laproscopically (keyhole), and had not only a complete hysto but also an oopherectomy where they take out all female internal reproductive organs entirely.
Surgically everything went perfectly and I found it less painful than my chest surgery. What no one prepared me for however was the emotional upheaval I went through the first few days after my hysto.
It is quite common to bleed for some time after having this operation, so be advised you may be triggered by having to wear sanitary napkins or something similar to catch blood.
I was really really lucky and did not bleed one single drop even the day of surgery, thank goodness. I don’t know how I would have coped with the pad thing.
Suddenly not having anything that produced estrogen in my body really seemed to shake it up physically and more so emotionally until my body was able to get used to not having that shit there I guess. It was pretty heavy days emotionally speaking.
Personally, I was ecstatic – that surgery meant I didn’t have shit in my body that shouldn’t have been there in the first place, that I could change my birth cert to male and therefore marry my Fiance of many years.
I’d been on T for 6 years at that point, but straight after my hysto I found myself bursting into tears for no apparent reason, being very irritable and irrational. I chalked it up to the hormones no longer battling away inside me for supremacy, and the fact that my endocrine system was getting used to a whole new set of rules. The emotional upheaval lasted maybe a week or so.
After speaking with Women who had the procedure done, and then later on other men like myself – they re-iterated the initial feeling of depression/irritability a few days after surgery.
Just exercise self care and be aware that you may become a little emotional in the days after a hysto. I have the emotional capacity of a walnut most days, and was sure this is something that wouldn’t affect me, but it did.
Having to deal with all the “boy issues” because you’re the man of the family…
Read under cut thing.
In our family, gender roles aren’t really a thing. We just sort of fall into them – meaning my Wife is the better cook out of the two of us, so she generally does most of the cooking. I am better at fixing shit, so I generally do those things. If we are travelling somewhere as a family, my Wife will drive as she really enjoys it, whereas I see driving as a bit of a chore.
Despite this, we neatly fall into some categories of gender roles – most specifically the notion that I am the man of the house, therefore I must deal with the man things such as penis questions from K, all manner of male social shit, ridding the house of scary insects, checking outside when a noise is heard, mowing the lawn etc. This has mainly been due to my Wife just not being able to cope with these things on her own, even though she’s more than capable – she prefers if I tend to these things.
This is all well and good, I don’t mind in the slightest.
Except for the part where it means I have to answer questions about penises, girls and general little boy inquiries.
As K has grown, he’s become more aware of his own body. As is normal. There’s been a plethora of penis related questions, and I’ve been able to answer them all accurately as they’ve popped up. That doesn’t do much to relieve the intense stress and dysphoria that also rears it’s ugly head alongside these little queries.
I feel, again, as though I am not one to be able to answer these questions accurately simply due to my history. As a direct result I’ve had to actually “step-down” in that particular role as “sole-penis-question-adviser” and relinquished part of that role to my Wife for when I don’t feel comfortable/able to answer myself.
I explained to my Wife why it made me uncomfortable; it’s a solid reminder that I myself never got to ask the same questions to my Father. That I didn’t grow up with the correct anatomy or socialization. And then it compounds in my head to things such as “I’m not an okay Father because of my history” – cue spiraling self-accusations. My Wife, of course, was mortified that I’d taken this long to speak to her about something that had made me so uncomfortable. She apologized for flippant remarks such as “Well I don’t have a penis, so how would I know?! Better ask your Father…” – because she forgets that I’m trans.
That’s really awesome, I wish more than anything I could forget too.
transmandad 