Glory & Judgement!

Secondary.

2010-07-06T22:17:00.026-05:00

It was around the time I graduated middle school that I lost all my "close friends." The kind of friends you could talk to who really were interested in what you had to say. Who had the ability to listen to you, and who you felt you could trust with your issues. The kind of friends you'd go out and do even the simplest of things with, and still have mad fun doing it.

Thing is, we all ended up going to different high schools. My best friend through freshman year, one of the few from middle school who came to the same high school, was only my best friend until the end of that school year.

I grew accustomed to moving between various cliques throughout my sophomore year. I'd wander and join with a random group that would have me for some time, then move on to the next, not really having a place to stay or a set group of people to be with.

And then, for junior year, I transferred schools and "my group" became people from the high school I'd just left who hadn't really spent all that much time with me before. There was a kind of bond between us then, but it seemed that most everyone else had one other within the group they could partner up with, making me the odd-one-out. This group also clashed with some of the friends I'd made at my new school, putting me awkwardly into the eye of a bizarre storm.

Now, after having been out of high school for over a year, "my group" has become a sort of mis-matched assortment that arose from the vestiges of what I'd had in years prior. But each one of them has separate groups of people they're involved with, with whom they identify much more, outside of our group. Something that I do not have.

The one constant that has lasted since leaving middle school, though, seems to be that no matter who I'm talking to now, they've always got at least one person higher on their priority list that they'd rather be talking to. The people I consider closest to me will turn away in an instant if someone else starts talking to them, regardless of whether or not I've finished what I'm saying.

This perpetuity of moving between friends who can't hear me through unless I'm alone with them, who often start grandiose arguments about what they assume I'm talking about, invokes a sensation of being trapped. I call this phenomenon the secondary entrapment phenomenon.

I define a "secondary" as being a friend who is not a best friend, but who is treated like one in their absence.

A secondary is not a "second best friend" or "one of your best friends" so much as it is treated like a convenient commodity and tossed aside when the real meat is on the table. Being a secondary is frustrating because it's almost like being ignored while simultaneously being accepted and considered an integral part of the group.

I'm not saying no one listens to me. One of the most wonderful things about being me is I can write this and YOU'LL read it. Or I can post a video and hundreds of strangers will see it and listen to me. Or tweet and people I barely know, and some I don't, will get it as a text message. In fact, I do have several confidants with whom I can discuss my darkest inner feelings just to get them off my chest. Being heard is hardly an issue that I personally face being a secondary.

The main problem is the loneliness it entails. When you're a secondary, your thoughts and ideas go either unnoticed, or unacknowledged. You exist in a place away from the action no matter how much you want to be a part of it. You are invited to parties as a last minute thought, and even sometimes merely by accident, and often you're remembered only because you have a car and someone needs a ride. It's a difficult and strange burden, being an enabler of other people's lives while feeling helpless to do anything for your own.

Living in a city where everyone is so impersonal doesn't help much either. The only way to really meet new people is to get involved with regular activities that require membership fees... Something a rather broke person having trouble with employment would hardly be willing to consider.

It isn't their fault I've become a secondary. Of course, it isn't mine either. Mostly it's because the people I spend time with don't have much of anything in common with me. With each other, sure. But not with me. And when they do, they assume I know nothing of it and instinctively exclude me from the conversation anyway. If confronted about it, they'd probably deny it because they don't realize what they're doing. And I know it's not an intentional thing. They aren't actively trying to block me out. And they do give me my moments to say a word or two every now and then.

But, I've accepted that most of my pet peeves will continue to be ignored by many of my "friends." It's part of the secondary's blessing.

I apologize if this sounds like whining, mostly I'm just trying to get some stuff off my chest and this is one of the only forums in which I can do that comfortably without being interrupted. I'm not saying no one loves me, I know if I died tomorrow, my good friends would drop by my memorial service to leave a bag of five guys fries next to the artist's representation of what I might have looked like.

Before I go, I'd just like you to think a bit about who you consider your friends. Do you have a secondary? Are you a secondary? What do you plan to do about it?

Medication.

2010-07-05T15:02:00.008-05:00

I will say that having the ability to stand up and walk might be worth the dizziness and worsened sleeping habits. I'm supposed to stay out of sunlight too, and maybe if I had a more interesting life that would be a cause for concern.

Trileptal. Doctor's don't know how it works, it just seems to. And it has a lonnggg list of side effects and potential dangers. The kind of drug that just sounds like you don't want to take it. And it's a bit frightening, too, knowing that I don't even have to take it.

My doctor said that taking the drug and seeing if it worked was the only way to truly diagnose Paroxysmal Dyskenesia, the movement disorder that has plagued me for years. My PD is "movement-onset," meaning I frequently experience "episodes" (in which I cannot properly control the right side of my body for a period of 5-10 seconds) as a "result of a change of stance" (ie. standing from sitting, starting to run from standing still or walking). Living with them for years, I've grown accustomed to them, and at this point consider them little more than inconveniences.

Since taking the drug (I started around last Thursday), I've only had one, maybe two, partial-episodes. Still, almost every time I stand it feels like I'm going to have one (that feeling is called an "aura"). Instead of having an episode, though, I either have nothing, or feel a little dizzy.

The worst part is probably that I feel even less inclined than usual to get out of bed.

Hmm... Stay out of the sunlight... Disinclined to wake up...

Probably a couple signs that I need to find a girlfriend. Which, I would like to point out, I've had more luck with in the past than I've ever had in finding employment. And considering that the ratio for phone-calls-from-ex-girlfriends to phone-calls-from-potential-employers is about 4:1, this is likely a cause for concern.

Enough of that tangent, though.

On Friday, I had my first appointment with the counselor. She's nice, but I couldn't quite escape the feeling that I was being interrogated. I know she has my best interests at heart, and that it's her job to make sure I'm "really" transgender and all that. I just hope I don't have to pay for too many sessions with her before moving on to the next step because I'm already dealing with enough financial issues as it is. Ask my friends, if you want, lunch for me often consists of the scraps from theirs.

But if life's only going to be a little under 100 years, I can't wait much longer to get out of this body. A few people I currently spend time with have already decided they're probably going to avoid me when I start hormones. They don't think they can handle me with [more] mood swings. I don't know if they're serious or not, but if they are I'll probably never forgive them for it.

Remergence.

2010-07-01T23:37:00.007-05:00

Every time I try to start blogging again, it seems to fail. Then again, the last time was Tumblr, and none of my friends there really took it too seriously as a blogging site. Then there's this thing that I keep forgetting I have.

I don't know if anyone is subscribed to this thing from way back when, but if you are - and if you remember who I am - I've deleted all my old posts. Why? Because, they were from a me of three years ago whining about an ex-girlfriend and if I manage to keep up with this, I'd like this to be my fresh start.

Today is Friday, July 2. In my time zone, at least. I begin gender counseling this afternoon. I don't know what to expect or how long it'll be before I actually start hormone therapy. But I'm happy I've come this far.

I first came out of the closet as transgender when I was in the eighth grade. Over four years ago. I was such an excited kid when I realized what was going on; why I'd wished I was a girl, why I got offended if someone told me what I was doing was 'too feminine.' The realization that I already was and had been a girl trapped in a boy's body was profound and exciting.

When I got back to school I pretty much ran around telling everyone "guess what! I'm a girl!"

Not that they understood. Not that people understand it much more today, four years later, when I'm much calmer and can explain it better. I just don't make a big deal out of it anymore. I know I'm a woman, so when people try to tell me I'm not, I merely find it annoying.

Just because I don't wear dresses every day or apply a thick, outer-shell of exaggerated makeup doesn't mean I'm not transgender. Most of my genetically female friends don't do that either. I don't think I'd get along with them too well if they did. I'm relatively ordinary for a Gen-Y girl, and if you can't handle it... Then you can't handle it.

My given name is Jules Ansel Ismail, but my real name is Julia Michelle Alice Lavigne.

Here's a breakdown -

Julia - Just so you can continue to call me "Jules." I've also grown rather used to being called and calling myself "Jules" and I'd miss it otherwise.

Michelle - My parents were considering this name for me before I was born, however my mother rejected it because it was "too feminine." Everyone called me by this name in the 10th grade, but went back to "Jules" because Michelle is a bit too common.

Alice - Five letters, like "Ansel." Could have been Anne, but I don't like the way Anne sounds with the rest of my name. Julia Alice, or Michelle Alice, or J. Michelle Alice, or Julia M. Alice, or J. M. Alice... Alice just works better. Plus I'm a big fan of the Alice books. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, And What Alice Found There.

Lavigne - Of course, taken from Avril Lavigne, who is my idol. Her attitudes and outlook on life equal my own and her music has helped me through some difficult times in my life. If I'm stressed, one of my Avril CDs can help calm me down. If I can't sleep, an Avril playlist on my iPod helps there too. Plus, it's better than "Ismail" which often gets mispronounced as "Is Mail" and that just ends up sounding like "Jules Is Male" which pisses me off.

Sort of like being called "he." If you call me "he," I'll have problems with you. Not just to me, but also when you talk about me and I can't hear you. I'm a woman; I'm a "she." If you can't understand that, we cannot be friends.

Think of it this way: if you insist that I'm male when I know that I am not, you are creating a new, fictional, version of me that is male. He does not exist. You are more than welcome to your imaginary friend, but he's not me.

I'll let you know how counseling goes. Talk soon.