2012
December 21, 2012 is the end of the Mayan calendar and rumored to signal the end of the world as we know it. Personally, I think the Mayans said, "You know what, 2012 is ages from now. Let's just stop. I got more important shit to do. We can update it again in a thousand years or so." Doomsday doesn't concern me, but there are some big events coming next year in my life.
First of all, I should be graduating from Collin with my Associates in May. There's still a long way to go in my academic career, but this is the first milestone since I decided to change my life in 2010. With any luck I'll be off to SMU to finish my Bachelors with a scholarship (hopefully a full-ride) or UTD. It will be a departure from "the basics" and more focused on my passion.
But the event that looms in my mind, and has for years, will take place in Thailand in the last week of July. Here I will meet Dr. Chettawut Tulayapanich, the man who is going to correct my birth defect. The thought of going through sex-reassignment surgery both delights and terrifies me. It's something I want to do and yet also something I have to do. I'm not implying that all transsexuals must get SRS, but this is something I've known I had to do since I learned about it at the age of 12. But as happy as the thought of surgery makes me, the looming reality also scares the shit out of me. It's not just the fact that I've never had surgery, never left the country and only have one shot at getting it done right, but the fact that I'll achieve something I've wanted for so long. I will forever look back on this day as a new beginning. And yet, despite my optimism I worry about everything. Will I have enough money? Will I have complications? Will I be satisfied with the results? Will everything go according to plan? And there's no way for me to know the answers ahead of time. No matter how many testimonials I read and result pictures I look at, it doesn't tell me what my experience will be.
It's been difficult to explain this apprehension to most people I know. My boyfriend is too excited to really understand (who can blame him?) I don't talk about "trans things" with my mom or sister, although my sister will be there during the surgery so I'm sure something will come up between us soon enough. Other trans girls I know are either jealous (because they're still saving for surgery) or dismissive (because they've already had surgery). And most other people I know either happy for me or want to know the technical details. It's odd having such mixed emotions about what will no doubt be one of the happiest days of my life. This is on par with my wedding day or bringing my first child home. The enormity of the event itself scares me. And still, I work toward it each day. I think about it multiple times a day and generally, the thoughts are happy. It's just something I have to push through, because the thought of not having surgery scares me even more.
First of all, I should be graduating from Collin with my Associates in May. There's still a long way to go in my academic career, but this is the first milestone since I decided to change my life in 2010. With any luck I'll be off to SMU to finish my Bachelors with a scholarship (hopefully a full-ride) or UTD. It will be a departure from "the basics" and more focused on my passion.
But the event that looms in my mind, and has for years, will take place in Thailand in the last week of July. Here I will meet Dr. Chettawut Tulayapanich, the man who is going to correct my birth defect. The thought of going through sex-reassignment surgery both delights and terrifies me. It's something I want to do and yet also something I have to do. I'm not implying that all transsexuals must get SRS, but this is something I've known I had to do since I learned about it at the age of 12. But as happy as the thought of surgery makes me, the looming reality also scares the shit out of me. It's not just the fact that I've never had surgery, never left the country and only have one shot at getting it done right, but the fact that I'll achieve something I've wanted for so long. I will forever look back on this day as a new beginning. And yet, despite my optimism I worry about everything. Will I have enough money? Will I have complications? Will I be satisfied with the results? Will everything go according to plan? And there's no way for me to know the answers ahead of time. No matter how many testimonials I read and result pictures I look at, it doesn't tell me what my experience will be.
It's been difficult to explain this apprehension to most people I know. My boyfriend is too excited to really understand (who can blame him?) I don't talk about "trans things" with my mom or sister, although my sister will be there during the surgery so I'm sure something will come up between us soon enough. Other trans girls I know are either jealous (because they're still saving for surgery) or dismissive (because they've already had surgery). And most other people I know either happy for me or want to know the technical details. It's odd having such mixed emotions about what will no doubt be one of the happiest days of my life. This is on par with my wedding day or bringing my first child home. The enormity of the event itself scares me. And still, I work toward it each day. I think about it multiple times a day and generally, the thoughts are happy. It's just something I have to push through, because the thought of not having surgery scares me even more.