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My First Attempt at Therapy. Anyone Care to Share Yours?


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It's difficult for me to recall how long ago this was. I must have been in my early to mid 50's. I'm now 72. So... 20 years ago give or take a couple of years? I had never done therapy of any kind. (I was brought up with the notion you don't air your dirty laundry in public. The lesson stuck.) Around the age of 50 I was diagnosed with prostate cancer & ended up undergoing a radical prostatectomy. This was a very strange time for me. Because, on the one hand, I was about to lose / did lose something at least one part of me didn't want to begin with. But I also knew there was the potential I would become impotent & incontinent. On the positive side, though, the cancer was caught at an early stage and I was able to avoid radiation or chemo therapy.

 

This was the starting point of my downward spiral into overt mental illness. (Prior to this I had always managed to keep the cork in the bottle, so to speak.) Anyway... without going into a lot of detail... it came to pass that I finally decided to see a therapist. And one of the things I knew I wanted to discuss was my life-long struggle with gender dysphoria (not that I was aware of the term, or the terms transgender or transsexual either, at that point in my life. All I could say was I had always thought I wanted to be a girl. [Yikes!]) And so after some not inconsiderable wrangling with my health insurer at the time I was finally able to make arrangements to see one of their psychologists (a Ph.D. none-the-less)! I knew, going into this, I'd be too embarrassed to meet with my new therapist & simply blurt out that all my life I thought I should have been a girl! But I also didn't want to beat around the bush. So I decided I'd write a letter and get it to the therapist prior to my appointment so he'd know, going in, what I wanted to discuss. This is what I did.

 

The day and time of my appointment soon arrived, my new therapist came out to the waiting room of the clinic to fetch me, and we walked back to his office where we, of course, sat down. He asked me why I had come in. I mentioned the letter. He then began flipping through the files in the file drawer of his desk and after a bit of digging pulled out my letter... unopened. He thereupon proceeded to open the envelop & read what I had written while I sat there feeling foolish & no doubt red-faced. Upon finishing my letter he looked up and said: "Oh... I just heard about this." (Great!) I don't recall anything that was said beyond that. But, at the end of the appointment, the therapist walked me back out to the waiting area. And, as we walked, he suddenly said: So which one would you rather be male or female? Taken aback, I think I said something to the effect that I wouldn't care. I just wished I didn't feel like both. (Later on it occurred to me I should have also added: "and neither at the same time".) I saw this therapist a few more times. But it quickly became clear nothing was going to come of it. So at what would end up being my last appointment I told him I was sure there were other clients who needed his services more than I did. And that was that. A few weeks later I made my first major suicide attempt which landed me in the psych ward of a local medical center.

 

Since then I've tried seeing a few other therapists mostly to no avail. The last therapist I saw (following my second major suicide attempt) was actually someone who was experienced in working with transgender clients. Talking with her about things I had kept hidden my entire life was a great comfort. But I knew I had to maintain my male role (the therapist talked with my wife at one point who said she could not / would not tolerate my transition.) So my therapy appointments felt more like talking things over with a close friend rather than actual therapy. And, after a half dozen or so appointments I quit one day when I was in a rage over something that had nothing to do with gender dysphoria or therapy. (I've always had a tendency to throw the baby out with the bathwater as the saying goes.) And that was the end of that... as this is the end of my story. That first attempt at therapy was frustrating at the time. But I can chuckle about it now.  I have no plans to try therapy again. 

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I went to a therapist already knowing who I was and what I wanted.  So when she asked why I was there, I said I was pretty sure I was transgender, and I wanted a hormone readiness letter.  We talked for an hour, enough for her to understand my history and verify that I wasn't making up my gender dysphoria.  Then she said, "Don't worry, you'll get your letter."

 

We did a couple more sessions to cover the necessary informed consent stuff, and that was it.  At the end of three sessions, she referred me to a clinic that does HRT, and that was that.

 

A year or so later, I saw another therapist to get one of my surgery letters.  Same deal: here's who I am, here's what I want.  I could have gotten away with one session, but I scheduled another to talk about which surgery I wanted, just to make sure I was clear in my own mind about my needs and wants.

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My first experience of therapy was quite peculiar, mostly because I was in junior high school I am pretty sure. The therapist was an older man and the office was right on a boardwalk and a train, it was a really nice setting. But I just didn't connect with him. So we played board games, and he got the same treatment I give everyone, I really am an open book but there are still few things that I share with only trusted people. We played a lot of monopoly and checkers and he always told me he was impressed with my skills, because in each game I planned every move, even if he was taking it easy on me, I would never know, I still had backup plan after back up plan. I was sent to a therapist after my parents found out I was harming myself, I am not going to go into depth about that because of TW, but not only did we move, but my parents saw that it really wasn't helping anything, this was also the time I was beginning to learn about being trans but I was WAY in the closet.

A few years later in uhh, I think either sophomore or junior year or in-between, I began to see a new therapist, at this time we have also just moved, but I was set on being Aidan, I came out my sophomore year of school and my family didn't take it well so it led to bad bad stuff, also won't go into depth because TW but the therapist was pretty cool and she really cared and I could tell. I really liked her as a therapist but it just didn't click. She gave me a "therapy sketchbook" and my parents didn't like that.

Then I got a third therapist and she was the one, she has ADHD like me and really understood and I spilled everything. My parents took me out of therapy when they figured out I was talking about my gender, and I am pretty sure my parents were looking for conversion therapy for me. But this last therapist I had was amazing, she held me accountable, and knew how to keep me on track, she could read me like a book and it felt like she actually cared about me as a person, she felt like a friend, and not just a therapist. She wasn't talking to me because it was her job. I am an emotionally stained kid, but I have hope for the future. 

I do plan on seeking a gender therapist when I move, and I am only a few months from being 18 and making decisions for myself :)) 

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Mine was less dramatic. I signed up with an online service that connected me to a therapist. While she's not a gender therapist specifically, she's an ally and familiar with our issues. I'm not her only transgender client. I am her (currently) longest-running continuous client.

 

Basically, back in 2018, my egg cracked. I started turning all my repressed thoughts into action. I'm a jump in feet-first kind of gal. Looking around on the internet, I came on the WPATH guidelines and realized having a therapist was probably a good idea. I went online because why not? I'm not a huge fan of driving and if I could do my therapy appointments remotely, all the better. I can talk to someone over video just as easily as I could in person.

 

After that I contacted the transgender program at UofM and they set me up with my first gender therapist. Later, they set me up with my second so I could get my letters of recommendation for GCS. They've all been lovely people and I've come a long way turning my self-loathing into self-love.

 

Hugs!

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1 hour ago, Aidan5 said:

We played a lot of monopoly and checkers

 

Monopoly? That MONSTER!

 

Hugs!

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1 hour ago, Jackie C. said:

 

Monopoly? That MONSTER!

 

Hugs!

Pfft- I think I was the monster there because I DESTROYED. he went bankrupt. I am slightly competitive haha! 

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I searched for gender therapist at Psychology Today and found one real close.  I called and left a message (yes I was nervous).  When she called back I was surprised (I don't know why) and told her I need to speak about my gender.  My first appointment was as the then current me in guy mode although she asked if I was wearing womens clothing.  I wasn't.  I just wore tailored jeans and pastel shirts.  We talked for a little over an hour but it was over in a flash.  I left walking on air.  Being that she specialized in gender studies I was in the right place.  She was about my age too and we connected on several levels.  Had I not been a patient she is someone I would have liked as a friend.  She later admitted the same.  We spoke of many things over the three years I saw her, some unrelated to gender but definitely worthwhile.  A good therapist is a good ally. 

 

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I don't even remember my first visit that was actually for me. I was very young and my parents were working on their sham of a marriage. I guess someone thought I needed therapy too despite the fact that I never thought anything was wrong. Maybe it was my lack of caring that bothered them or maybe the fact that I just didn't seem to fit in with the other children. I was clueless and I honestly don't remember anything the therapist even suggested. It was easy enough to blame all of my social difficulties on my parents failing marriage (and later my father for not being around) rather than the actual problem of the way I was being raised by my mother.

I would be in and out of therapy many times after that. Every single time I was the problem and my abusive mother was victim just trying her best with her out of control child. I never drank or did drugs, never snuck out, or did any number of other things most of teens did. I literally just stayed home and hid in my room because that was all I was allowed to do. Every single session was long and boring and at times just painful. I hated it and I hate being made to talk only for the therapist to tell my mother and her to spend the next however many days punishing me for it.

I got ONE therapist who saw my situation for what it really was. I saw them ONCE and never again. I had no voice in anything. All the therapy was for her to cry about all her problems and to attempt to force me into being her perfect daughter. I was constantly made to feel stupid and crazy. It's done so much damage that I struggle to tell my partners things that shouldn't be hard to say to people that I know love me and I can trust.

I know lots of people find therapy helpful and there are good therapists, but it's just not for me.

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