Raffaella is always on my side
raffa_will_fight
Registrant
After reading many posts and comments sharing their struggles with their identity and sexual orientation (I feel for you and hope you find peace; you deserve it), I wanted to talk about the woman that for 8 years helped me to get some rest.
I don’t put any TRIGGER WARNING because I feel the information I want to share are not triggering and I want it to be as clean as possible. I think it might help some to have a point of view different from theirs, when it comes to sexuality and identity. But my story is quite unique even in the trans community and often not appreciated when I talk about it. I DO NOT value any perception anyone has of themself, nor do I consider my experience right or wrong.
To understand part of my “momentary transition” I have to go back and forth a little. I work with different psychologists, psychiatrists and medical professionals over the years. Not only to start the transition, but mostly after going back to understand the dynamics that caused it. “The truth” is not one, I guess, but a combination of different theories and possibilities during these last years. Writing this out, thinking about it, is also an exercise for me to see if the work done in therapy had, at least, sense.
When I was 1 we were 5 family members. Dad, mom, my big brother (9 years older), my sister (7 years older) and me. I shouldn’t have been. Mom had done the math, measured temperature, dad pulled out. But I guess the world and my family needed me in some way
It was 1981 when my mom and sister had an accident, my sister flew out the front window of the car, was in a coma for one week and then died. My parents were broke. I still can’t explain how those two are STILL so strong.
Mom told me once that I was always a very quiet baby. 15 hours of sleep, eat, burp, repeat. While my sister was all laughs and hyperactive, the light of my parents. And she said that the day she had died it was as if that joyful soul found my sleeping self.
Only some months ago during therapy we came to the conclusion that even as a toddler this might have been a survival strategy: brother absent, parents emotionally unavailable. So to get my needs met, I had to cheer everyone up. the Xmas picture of that year shows 3 emotionally dead people and a 1 year old boy smiling in the camera.
An aunt told me that my mom’s constant phrase was “I want another girl”. Which a year later, 1982, happened. My sister was born, a girl that over the years obviously was smothered by the fear my parents had to loose another child.
They were there for me, I had everything. Material. Emotionally though I kind of was on myself. And I say this without any sadness. I understand the circumstances, the psychology of what happened in each of them. And mine as well. The girl gets all the attention.
I F*ING LOVE MY SISTER. We are like twins. Impossible to think not having her. And we are COMPLETELY different.
Not only physically (I am tall, kind of strong build, fair skin, green eyes and light hair. She is small, curvy, black hair, dark eyes). I am the “black sheep” of the family because I acted out a lot (which makes sense because of ADHD which was not diagnosed then), as teen I drank A LOT, drugs. She never drinks and was always the perfect daughter (and her consequent trauma to deal with of feeling that pressure of those times).
I am sorry if this is a lot and probably complicated to understand. But this is an important part to tell about because it makes sense today.
Growing up with my sister we always played together, most of the time with dolls, Barbies, or princess. When people asked me as a child how my name was, I always gave a female name of a cartoon character I was obsessed that the moment.
This didn’t make me question ONCE that something was wrong.
Until high school. The very first day a guy from my town came up to me with a group of people and asked if I were the Barbie of that town. 3 years of hell followed. I still work on those years that have scared me. But I saw how girl were treated differently.
And during the professional school from 16 to 19 I had a best friend ad school. She was BEAUTIFUL. Although guys were mean to her, they also fell for her.
1998 Raffaella was born. I had tried out some make up already before. But in a “male way”, if that makes sense. I just liked to play with my looks. At that time I thought that being a man AND put on make up was not an option. Man or woman.
So I started with hormons, therapy, endocronologists.
2001 I had surgery for breast augmentation. Without sounding too arrogant, but I was definitely a head turner. And people accepted my new self. MY mom had no issue at all. Dad, after some time to wrap his head around it, called me with my new name after 1 year. And my sister had a big sister.
After years of sexual experiences (kind of did everything to find the one), I met my first boyfriend. We stayed together for 6 years. But I had to break things up because he wasn’t out, and I was tired of living my relationship behind closed doors. It was hard though.
2005 I met a gay guy. Fell in love with him. We once had a sexual encounter after which he said he could never fall in love with a trans woman.
That triggered Raffa to wake up from his sleep and take over again.
2006 is one of the worst years, at least for my friends and family. I stopped the hormonal therapy from on day to the next. Got rid of everything feminine. My sister went with me to cut my hair. She cried because she lost her sister. I was… I don’t know.
6 month after cutting off hormons I had surgery to get the prosthetics out. I was lost that year. My body didn’t feel right (obviously it needed time to change). When my testicles started to produce testosterone again I lived through puberty once again. Kind of interesting feeling the power of hormons as an adult. It Would help heterosexuals to understand how much of a difference there is between men and women that are difficult to explain.
I fortunately started therapy, got medication. But alcohol was present. I don’t remember half of the year. Until one day my dad, crying, said they didn’t know how to help me anymore. And one evening my dad helped me up the stairs because I was to drunk, my sister, from the bottom of the stairs (I see her like it was yesterday) said that like this she couldn’t love me. She couldn’t watch me destroy myself.
That was the push to stop, go to some sessions with AA with my mom (also for her to understand me better).
My last T helped me to get to this conclusion and this helped with accepting myself a little more. My people pleasing was formed when I needed to “change” myself and swallow my emotions in order to get my basic needs met. To be seen throughout my childhood, to escape the hurt caused by the bulling in high school, to get a moment of “love” from men, to be finally “special”. But as soon I fell for someone who looked for a man, Raffaella had no purpose.
While over the years I kept changing (I had a brief Drag moment after the lockdowns and because of the reactions of men to me a moment of “should I start again?”), I got always back to what I know now is Raffa. A gay man who doesn’t feel feminine but enjoys his female side. I use make up when I go out, guys tell me that something is pulling them (I guess Raffaella is still there). And I am tired of those changes. Took a lot of effort and didn’t leave the energy to work on the things that made me and Raffaella do things just “for love”.
And when the little boy inside of me has a moment of feeling lost, a little mascara brings out that woman to help me get up, to put an armour around that hurt boy, and give him strength to fight. For whoever HE wants to be.
I don’t put any TRIGGER WARNING because I feel the information I want to share are not triggering and I want it to be as clean as possible. I think it might help some to have a point of view different from theirs, when it comes to sexuality and identity. But my story is quite unique even in the trans community and often not appreciated when I talk about it. I DO NOT value any perception anyone has of themself, nor do I consider my experience right or wrong.
To understand part of my “momentary transition” I have to go back and forth a little. I work with different psychologists, psychiatrists and medical professionals over the years. Not only to start the transition, but mostly after going back to understand the dynamics that caused it. “The truth” is not one, I guess, but a combination of different theories and possibilities during these last years. Writing this out, thinking about it, is also an exercise for me to see if the work done in therapy had, at least, sense.
When I was 1 we were 5 family members. Dad, mom, my big brother (9 years older), my sister (7 years older) and me. I shouldn’t have been. Mom had done the math, measured temperature, dad pulled out. But I guess the world and my family needed me in some way
It was 1981 when my mom and sister had an accident, my sister flew out the front window of the car, was in a coma for one week and then died. My parents were broke. I still can’t explain how those two are STILL so strong.
Mom told me once that I was always a very quiet baby. 15 hours of sleep, eat, burp, repeat. While my sister was all laughs and hyperactive, the light of my parents. And she said that the day she had died it was as if that joyful soul found my sleeping self.
Only some months ago during therapy we came to the conclusion that even as a toddler this might have been a survival strategy: brother absent, parents emotionally unavailable. So to get my needs met, I had to cheer everyone up. the Xmas picture of that year shows 3 emotionally dead people and a 1 year old boy smiling in the camera.
An aunt told me that my mom’s constant phrase was “I want another girl”. Which a year later, 1982, happened. My sister was born, a girl that over the years obviously was smothered by the fear my parents had to loose another child.
They were there for me, I had everything. Material. Emotionally though I kind of was on myself. And I say this without any sadness. I understand the circumstances, the psychology of what happened in each of them. And mine as well. The girl gets all the attention.
I F*ING LOVE MY SISTER. We are like twins. Impossible to think not having her. And we are COMPLETELY different.
Not only physically (I am tall, kind of strong build, fair skin, green eyes and light hair. She is small, curvy, black hair, dark eyes). I am the “black sheep” of the family because I acted out a lot (which makes sense because of ADHD which was not diagnosed then), as teen I drank A LOT, drugs. She never drinks and was always the perfect daughter (and her consequent trauma to deal with of feeling that pressure of those times).I am sorry if this is a lot and probably complicated to understand. But this is an important part to tell about because it makes sense today.
Growing up with my sister we always played together, most of the time with dolls, Barbies, or princess. When people asked me as a child how my name was, I always gave a female name of a cartoon character I was obsessed that the moment.
This didn’t make me question ONCE that something was wrong.
Until high school. The very first day a guy from my town came up to me with a group of people and asked if I were the Barbie of that town. 3 years of hell followed. I still work on those years that have scared me. But I saw how girl were treated differently.
And during the professional school from 16 to 19 I had a best friend ad school. She was BEAUTIFUL. Although guys were mean to her, they also fell for her.
1998 Raffaella was born. I had tried out some make up already before. But in a “male way”, if that makes sense. I just liked to play with my looks. At that time I thought that being a man AND put on make up was not an option. Man or woman.
So I started with hormons, therapy, endocronologists.
2001 I had surgery for breast augmentation. Without sounding too arrogant, but I was definitely a head turner. And people accepted my new self. MY mom had no issue at all. Dad, after some time to wrap his head around it, called me with my new name after 1 year. And my sister had a big sister.
After years of sexual experiences (kind of did everything to find the one), I met my first boyfriend. We stayed together for 6 years. But I had to break things up because he wasn’t out, and I was tired of living my relationship behind closed doors. It was hard though.
2005 I met a gay guy. Fell in love with him. We once had a sexual encounter after which he said he could never fall in love with a trans woman.
That triggered Raffa to wake up from his sleep and take over again.
2006 is one of the worst years, at least for my friends and family. I stopped the hormonal therapy from on day to the next. Got rid of everything feminine. My sister went with me to cut my hair. She cried because she lost her sister. I was… I don’t know.
6 month after cutting off hormons I had surgery to get the prosthetics out. I was lost that year. My body didn’t feel right (obviously it needed time to change). When my testicles started to produce testosterone again I lived through puberty once again. Kind of interesting feeling the power of hormons as an adult. It Would help heterosexuals to understand how much of a difference there is between men and women that are difficult to explain.
I fortunately started therapy, got medication. But alcohol was present. I don’t remember half of the year. Until one day my dad, crying, said they didn’t know how to help me anymore. And one evening my dad helped me up the stairs because I was to drunk, my sister, from the bottom of the stairs (I see her like it was yesterday) said that like this she couldn’t love me. She couldn’t watch me destroy myself.
That was the push to stop, go to some sessions with AA with my mom (also for her to understand me better).
My last T helped me to get to this conclusion and this helped with accepting myself a little more. My people pleasing was formed when I needed to “change” myself and swallow my emotions in order to get my basic needs met. To be seen throughout my childhood, to escape the hurt caused by the bulling in high school, to get a moment of “love” from men, to be finally “special”. But as soon I fell for someone who looked for a man, Raffaella had no purpose.
While over the years I kept changing (I had a brief Drag moment after the lockdowns and because of the reactions of men to me a moment of “should I start again?”), I got always back to what I know now is Raffa. A gay man who doesn’t feel feminine but enjoys his female side. I use make up when I go out, guys tell me that something is pulling them (I guess Raffaella is still there). And I am tired of those changes. Took a lot of effort and didn’t leave the energy to work on the things that made me and Raffaella do things just “for love”.
And when the little boy inside of me has a moment of feeling lost, a little mascara brings out that woman to help me get up, to put an armour around that hurt boy, and give him strength to fight. For whoever HE wants to be.
