I might have been diagnosed as having bipolar II, but I'm still getting used to the concept. I'm still trying to spot the signs of hypomania. The depression side of things is what I deal with 99% of the time, so that's easy to know because I basically live there, full time. But I've only had a few potential known hypomanic episodes. During the first one, which was several years ago, I decided I was going to be one of those people who vlogged on YouTube. I went out with my xmas money and bought a web cam and video editing software. I've always been terribly camera-phobic and hate hearing myself speak and seeing myself on video. I'm not particularly interesting or funny or creative when it comes to that stuff either. So I just got the idea in my head that I wanted to do it, so I did. I obviously didn't become a YouTube sensation or anything. Once that state of mind was gone, I tried to make videos, but realized that no one would ever want to watch them. I didn't even want to watch them myself...I was boring and didn't speak loud enough and couldn't say anything the way I wanted to say it. This year, I had an episode where I was quite euphoric. I first decided that I was going to apply to colleges for my masters in cave science (even though prior to this I had no interest whatsoever in going back to school). I contacted an old geology professor that was listed on a cave research site I came across and even went out and bought the 2013 GRE books (which I still haven't opened). At the same time, I was convinced that I could write a novel. I spent all my time thinking about this story I was working on when I was at work and then would dash home and just spend the rest of the night writing. Sometimes I would even forget to eat. When I would get into bed, I'd think of an idea or some dialogue and jump out of bed to write it down. All I talked about and thought about was my novel. I checked about 30 books out from the library that were in the same genre as my potential novel to use as research. I'd agonize over finding just the right names for my characters. I spent a whole night coming up with the perfect elevator pitch. I filled nearly 50 pages of notes in an artists sketchpad over the course of a week and a half. But my enthusiasm and confidence disappeared as suddenly as they had come. I decided my whole story idea was crap and I could never really get to the point of writing an entire novel.
So, today, or should I say this morning, at 4:13 AM I'm unable to sleep, too wired with too many thoughts going through my head and obsessed with the idea that I might be transgender. I've definitely had gender identity issues in the past. I don't know how, but I'm convinced that my mental illness, sexual orientation and gender issues are all related. I couldn't say which caused what or which are a symptom of what, but I think they are all connected. That being said, no matter what it is, I never feel 100% anything. I always feel like I'm in the grey area or on the borderline. This has been the story of my life. I feel like therapists have just given up on trying to figure me out so they finally stop saying I'm borderline this or have traits of that and decide to pick a random diagnosis from a hat, slap it on me and say we'll go from there. Or more likely, I come in there convinced I'm X, Y or Z and then they are now biased and that's all they hear when I speak. But that never really gets to the root of my issues. I don't care what the labels are, I just want to understand. I just want to know the truth of who I am. It's probably so difficult because I have a lot of things wrong with me or the depression blankets everything else making it hard to see through. And unless you treat the depression successfully, you can't see what's underneath. But nobody ever asks about gender and sexuality. And I suppose they feel there are so many more pressing matters to deal with, that we talk about those first and never get to the gender and sexuality stuff. I have brought it up to therapists years ago, but they've all kind of dismissed it and said there's nothing wrong with me or something equally lame and unhelpful. It's not about, tell me what's wrong so I can fix it and be normal. It's about, help me figure out what's going on so I can feel happy and good in my own skin.
I could spend hours talking about gender. I've already spent hours talking about it with myself while in bed, not able to fall asleep. It's like this thing that takes over me. In college I drove myself crazy obsessing over sexuality. Then during my senior year, the concept of gender took over. Four years ago I filled out Kate Bornstein's My Gender Workbook and wrote in the margin of one of the pages that still thought I was a gay male trapped in a female's body, which meant I had been thinking about it even before that. I wrote that I had already come out to my family and friends as a lesbian, but I no longer identified that way and wondered, what the fuck do I do now? I've come out to an assortment of people as either asexual or a lesbian. I even came out to a girl who I knew was a lesbian when I was taking a survey on HIV while in Washington DC. It was for Americorps I think. I knew this girl was looking over my shoulder as I stared at the box for sexuality. I considered writing in a box for asexual, but instead checked the box for lesbian, secretly hoping that she really was looking over my shoulder (and she was!). My pen also hovered over the box for sex as well. It was one of the first times where I really didn't feel like male or female fit quite right. When I was studying abroad in Australia (a year earlier), I considered myself an "undercover lesbian" in the Queer Club. I did go through a phase where I thought I must be bisexual because I'm not attracted to men or women. That was before I knew the word asexual as anything different than a term from science class. I was very excited to go to my first pride parade believing myself to be somewhere on the queer spectrum. I loved the term genderqueer and the concept of androgyny. In college, I worked gay topics into as many class assignments as possible. I did an English paper on Will and Grace even though at the time, I had never even seen an episode (I got an A though). I did an essay on the play Bent for my Theater and the Holocaust class. My first short story for my creative writing class (which was also published in the university's literary magazine) was about a transgender child, who was born female, but knew he was really a boy. I had an idea for a story once where all the characters were referred to with gender neutral pronouns. I even did an assignment on asexuality for my human sexuality class (I chickened out on doing a speech on the same topic). And even though my intellectual knowledge of the LGBTQA world has expanded astronomically since college (as well as my movie collection of the same), I still don't think I have any clearer picture of who I am. My friends (the few that I have), have all been very open and supportive. Some of my family has been supportive too, while others choose to live in denial and completely avoid the topic.
I've spent a lot of energy at times trying to be more masculine. Or at the very least, less feminine. It snowballed from not wearing anything pink to not wearing makeup to no longer carrying a purse to purchasing a binder (which was unfortunately way too uncomfortable for me), to getting a "lesbian" haircut to wearing more men's/boy's clothes to adopting male mannerisms to no longer wearing jewelry to no longer shaving. Now I have some women's shoes and some men's. Most of my clothes are currently from the women's section, but none of them are feminine. Some are unisex. Some are women's sizes, but are men's style (like athletic shorts). I'm always jealous of the color schemes for men's clothes in catalogues. Women get the bright ugly pinks and yellows and purples, whereas men get pleasant earth tones. Honestly, the clothes thing is never a real issue unless we are talking highly gender-specific attire, like swimsuits or dress clothes. I'll tell you right now, my brother's wedding is the last time I'll ever wear a dress. It was the first time I had ever worn high heels. I had to find the lowest possible (that were still considered "heels") for my part as a bridesmaid, because I could not walk at all in anything over two inches. At this point, I do not own a bathing suit. Besides my general dislike for swimming, I also have a terrible time dealing with wearing a swimsuit. There is such a binary when it comes to men's and women's swim wear. Women have to cover two parts and men only one. If I ever go swimming again, I'll definitely be wearing some kind of tank top/t-shirt and shorts combination. I do not dare delve back into high school or before. Only just so. I will only say that I have never liked and will never like having breasts. I wore two sports bras, a cami with a built-in bra, plus one to two more shirts over that throughout my first year of high school. I search for "lumps" in the off chance that I have cancer and could get a double mastectomy. I wrote in my journal at age 13 on the day I got my first period that "my life is ruined forever!!!!!!!!!!" (I still agree with that statement). And I have never liked having a curvy figure. I have been jealous of every girl with no hips and small breasts. I wonder if I would have done the tomboy thing full time if I'd have had a bit more convincing body to work with from the outset. But there are parts of me that are decidedly female. Most of them are social or cultural aspects, not physical ones.
I've spent some time thinking about what it would be like if I were on testosterone. Are there more pros or cons to the changes that would take place? Let's start with the pros: menstrual cycle would go away FOREVER, breasts may atrophy a small amount, increased muscle (or at least ability to grow muscle), fat would re-distribute to a more male pattern (less at hips). I'm a bit neutral about voice deepening. Body hair could go either way. Skin would most likely get oilier, which would be fine for me because I have really dry skin. Acne would definitely suck. Clitoral enlargement, definitely not sure how I'd feel about that. Sex drive may increase. Since I have lived 28 years without one, that could either be a really good thing or a horrible thing. But it would make being a gay male easier. Ovaries would no longer work so no babies, fine with me. Aside from a few cons (and potential ones), the biggest con would be a possible change in mood and personality. It would be the not knowing if that would work out ok and not knowing how it would affect my mental health. I already have trouble controlling my anger when I have mood swings, so it could make that worse. Instead of throwing something at the wall I might punch a hole through it. Another very obvious con would be the fact that I'd have to poke myself with a needle every week. That could be problematic. Oh and a major con: balding. I certainly wouldn't do any of this without support from other transpeople. I'm pretty sure doing it alone would be more depressing than staying in a body that wasn't quite right.
Ok, so this must be hypomania. It's almost 6:00 in the morning now. I don't know. Is it crazy that I'm actually excited that this could be real, the more I write/think about it? This is a terrible example, but I remember when I finally thought, you know, I've hated meat all my life, but ate what my parents told me to eat, but the thought that I could actually never eat meat again and that would be ok, that is the most incredible thing ever! I immediately launched myself into vegetarianism. I'll take nuts and legumes and beans and even fucking tofu over meat any day.
