Saturday, November 30, 2019

The Magic and Missing.

Thanksgiving break here at Penn State, and all but the international students have left campus.  It's like a ghost town here- even the traffic is manageable!  For the freshmen, this is their first "real" break since arriving.  They get a whole week these days, while we only got Thursday- Sunday.

As the break began, my thoughts went back to my first semester at PSU, fall 1986.  Thanksgiving break was short, and yes, I went home.  I rode home on the bus, one of many with a trash bag full of dirty clothes in their laps.  The bus took me to the King of Prussia station, where my friend Mike picked me up in his brother's Camaro.


Me, Christmas break 86-87.  I'm wearing my Drexel fraternity jacket.

That whole break I was worried about a situation out of my control.  I detailed this situation in my book.  I was sort of seeing a girl I'd met up there, "Judy," but she had a boyfriend who'd graduated the previous spring.  She was seeing him over the break, when she was going to tell him about me.  We'd met already, but now she was telling him that we were fooling around.

Looking back, that semester was a magic time.  Penn State was new to me, and every day I discovered something new: a new building, a new friend, a new experience.  There were football games which were a vast party- a celebration of one thing I'd never seen nor had: school spirit.  Blue and white were everywhere, and we were all so proud.

It wasn't until Christmas break a few weeks later that I learned something.  I was at a New Years party thrown by a few of my friends from home.  There were only four of us.  We played drinking games, but by then my alcohol tolerance had grown substantially, and I was still awake after the others passed out.  I realized how much I missed being up at college.  I'd only been there for three and a half months, but I'd changed.  A lot.  And no one at home had.

I wonder if others reach the same conclusion I did.  Do they do so on their Thanksgiving break now? Do they even feel the same way we did thirty years ago?  After all, things are so very different now, with internet and cell phones.  They aren't as "isolated" as we were.  Back then, long distance calls were pricey, so we made few.  Now a person could call the call the other side of the globe without thinking twice.  We don't get as much snow now as we did then, and the snow also served to isolate us on campus.  The bone chilling cold kept us indoors some nights, and some of those nights are my most treasured memories- memories of just talking with people and learning a little more about their stories.


Floor plan, Beaver Hill apartments, 86-87.  My home that year.

When I returned to PSU after Christmas break, things changed.  One of my roommates didn't return from break; he'd dropped out of school.  However, he continued to pay rent, so that helped.  That left two of us in the tiny apartment.

Also, within a month, I started dating "Judy's" roommate, "Virginia."  Yes, it was a mess.  Looking back, I think one of the reasons I dated her was that I wanted to hold onto that "magic" any way I could.  We broke up a little over a year later, and part of the Pain I felt was because that relationship was, in a way, the last vestige of that "magic."

I remained friends with "Judy," and we are still friends all these years later.  I'd hoped to rekindle something with her, but I burned that bridge when I started with her roommate.  I fell into a deep depression during my last semester on campus, from which, in many ways, I never recovered.  When I left PSU for student teaching in December 1988, I was very ready to go.

I've spent the next few decades wishing it never ended, and trying to understand what happened.  That's why I wrote the aforementioned book.  I also wrote it trying to find the source of the deep Pain I felt in my soul. 

A few months after I finished writing the book, I found that source- the secret I'd buried for 25 years: that I was really female.  Transgender. 

It's been 30 years since I graduated from PSU with my bachelor's degree; eleven since re-discovering my Truth. 


First semester PSU fraternity photo- earlier this year

Now I'm back at Penn State: back in State College; a lifetime later.  I'm a very different person from the emotional wreck who received that diploma.  I'm not just 30 years older, I'd like to think I'm wiser.  Since graduation, I travelled extensively, married, had a daughter, buried several friends, and released my darkest secret- that I am Sophie.  I no longer have anything to prove to anyone, except myself.  One of the "benefits" of transition is learning who your True Friends are- and they are my support now.  I rarely go downtown to the bars since returning.  I can count the times I've done that on my fingers and have some left over.

I've met some wonderful new people, most of them far younger than me.  However, the Magic is still gone, never to return.  Penn State will never really be new for me like it was in 1986.  The people I knew are my age and parents.  Some are even grandparents.  Both "Judy" and "Virginia" are married and have wonderful families.  The Penn State we knew lives only in our memories, as it should be. 

Everything changes with time.  I certainly have.  While I am again a PSU student, this time for a doctorate, I know that this isn't "my" campus.  It belongs to those undergrads, who are making their own magic and memories, upholding traditions and making new ones.  I'm in a strange place- a part of Penn State's past AND present.  And, like all living alumni and students- part of its future.

Still, I miss the Magic.


Be well.






Saturday, November 16, 2019

Medical stuff

What I'm about to write I learned a couple weeks ago.  I've been arguing with myself about posting it ever since.  Why?  Well, medical stuff is private.  But this being transition related, specifically HRT, it could be helpful.

Yes.  No.  Maybe.

In any case, I've been too busy to write.  This PhD thing is hard, but if it weren't hard, everyone would do it.   It would be as meaningless as a republican promise.

I had blood work done for my HRT meds for the first time in a couple of years.  No money- no medicine.  I've been on hormones since December 10, 2012.  Not that I remember the date or anything.  For the past several years, when available, I've been on estrogen injections.

I've been doing injections for a couple of reasons.  One was to give my battered and boozed liver a break.  The second was that injected estrogen works faster than any other way.  And it did.  Within a year, I had C-cup breasts.  Yes, I got very lucky in the boob lottery.  They kept growing gradually, and seem to have leveled off at DD.  That would be more impressive if I didn't have that damn wide rib cage and aircraft carrier shoulders from decades of testosterone poisoning.  But I digress.


2 days ago


Of course, in addition to boobs, my skin and features softened.  However, there was another effect.  My mood became calmer.  Yes, really.  Those who knew me in my previous life know that I was constantly angry.  Not so anymore.

It's normal for people on injections to experience mood swings as injection time nears.  I injected every ten days.  If I missed for whatever reason, the Darkness came back- tougher than ever.  I quickly put together the correlation, but being completely depressed, I couldn't motivate myself to do anything, much less stick a needle in my thigh.

Anyway, bloodwork.  My testosterone level was near zero, as it has been for years,  but my estrogen level was over 700.  It's supposed to be between 200-300 tops. High estrogen is bad.  Possible side effects include weight gain, hair loss, and... drumroll please... mood swings.  As in very depressive mood swings.  Oh yeah, higher risk of clots and stroke too.

Let's examine these:

Weight Gain:  In the past few years, I've packed on 50 pounds.  All I have to do is come within a mile of food and I gain weight.

Hair Loss:  My hair has been coming out in clumps.

Mood Swings:  Of course, there's always the Darkness- that never leaves, but it's been especially bad the last few years.  I figured it was due to the fact I was unemployed and broke, and rarely saw Wife and Daughter.  I'm sure that's part of it, but this...

The doctor here at PSU pointed out that there still are no long term studies on the effects of HRT over decades for transwomen.  However, she put me back on estrogen pills.  In a couple of weeks, I'll go back for more blood work.  See if that helps.

I know many of us self-medicate hormones.  Lisa did, and she took a LOT of estrogen.  The level was on her autopsy report.  Did that play a part in her death?  Who knows?  I'm learning first-hand how hormones can really screw with one's brain. Maybe self-medicating is a bad idea.  I know not getting levels checked was bad, but I had no choice.  I'm paying the price now.

So, I guess the point here is *gets up on soap box* if you're on HRT, make sure you get the levels checked, and don't self- medicate.  *gets off soapbox*

More bulletins if I feel like it.  Back to work.  I have a paper and a report due on Monday and Tuesday. 

Oh, btw- I was asked to do a poetry reading on PSU's Transgender Remembrance Ceremony.  It was recorded.  It's HERE if you're bored. 

Be well.

Monday, November 4, 2019

October Thoughts and 11

A few weeks ago, I did a report about the use of Adult learning theory in a given doctoral thesis.  In that thesis, it mentioned how older students returning to school have anxiety about the experience.  The paper is cited at the bottom, if you care.  (Also if you care, when I started this entry, I'd done that report that day.)

True.  I am actually more conscious about my age than being transgender.  I am old enough to be most of my colleagues' parent.  I'm older than at least two of my professors (of three.)  I'm also the fattest, something that disgusts me every minute of every day.  "Do something about it!"  I'm trying.  (One thing I'm doing is not eating.  Despite people's generosity, medical bills [like the mammogram 2 years ago that wasn't covered because I'm trans] destroyed what budget I had.  I'll try the local food bank on Monday.  But, as I mentioned, I can stand to lose a few hundred pounds.)


Walking home from a missed tailgate

I wrote that PSU is a different place, and I'm a different person.  One thing is constant though: depression.  It hit me so hard the past few weeks.  Since I last saw my daughter, really.


One thing hasn't changed- there are So many gorgeous women here.  What has changed are the styles.  Now all the co-eds wear yoga pants which show off their curves etc.  Not that I'm jealous.  Ok, I am.  Curves.  No... birth defect.  When I was an undergrad, I always thought out they were all out of my league- why would they want to talk to me?  Occasionally now, someone sees one of my undergrad pics and says how "handsome" I was.  Yet, I couldn't get a date to save my life.  I digress.



How do cis women deal with this competition?  Granted, there are pretty much one guy for every girl at PSU, but some of the girls are stunning, while others are just beautiful.  Yes, I know I'm being superficial- but I'm still new at this.  Did the coeds think that way in my time?

They're young enough to be my daughters.  Get off my lawn.

I've had some Medical issues.  Since oh... June? my left arm has been pretty much useless.  As you can imagine, that made moving kind of hard.  Well, I finally saw a doctor about it.  X-rays.  A specialist with PSU sports medicine.  Annnnnd... well, it MAY be tendonitis, or it may be the rotator cuff.  In any case, the doctor gave me some hard core meds... but I'm afraid to use them as I'm afraid of dependency.  My arm is so bad, I need Linda's help to take off my bra at the end of the day.


A few weeks back was Homecoming here at PSU.  I went to the fraternity house, where they put on a small spread.  Homecoming used to be a big deal at the house.  Top shelf liquor, a formal, the house was scrubbed top to bottom... the works.  Now, the alumni were a couple hour afterthought.


And so last week was Halloween.  Halloween marked ELEVEN years since the night where I "rediscovered" myself.   I wrote the following on my facialbook:

"Today marks 11 years since my femme self re-awakened to destroy my life.
And it did."

This Halloween, I went to an LGBT Graduate student mixer.  There were six of us.  I had fun.  I also went to Chumleys for a moment.  Then home.  The guy across the hall was having a gathering, so I stopped there for a bit.  His brother was a hard core trumpanzee who kept misgendering me while staring at my breasts.


Halloween night


I went home drunk.  And tired.  And now it's November.



Clemente, K. A. (2010). Experiences of Adult Students in Multi-generational Classrooms.