About 2 years ago when I was getting hot & heavy about starting my transition, I was required by my doctor to see a therapist, so I found the closest “sexual” therapist, the only one in the phonebook that would even consider seeing a trans-patient. I went on my own want and desires to transition and used my own money, took a very long bike-ride and bus-trip to her office, I was sweaty and tired but still did a little bit of make-up and looked very cute, and very passable. This was the first mental health professional I had ever seen, but I’ve seen every episode of Dr. Katz a hyperbole amount of times so I kinda knew what to expect?
Upon entering the pavilion, I gave my last name to the receptionist, she looked up and said my masculine first name at the same time, and she immediately turned red. She shuffled some papers and and corrected herself by calling me the name I set the appointment with as opposed to the name my insurance has, ok, bad start I waited in a huge open-air pavilion nervous, afraid and very self conscious., I see a small, Dr. Ruth (I will address her as such) looking older lady come out of an office, she goes to the desk and speaks with the receptionist in hushed tones, the receptionist points, Dr. Ruth turns and gives me a long stare and then continues with the receptionist. Finally Dr. Ruth turns to address me, and I stand and find myself in a strong handshake, the kind a big brother would give to her little sister, my hand delicate in her firm Austrian mitts.
I follow her to her office and sit down in a loud leather couch, unlike the stereotypical therapist room, it felt more like a job interview, her at a large desk almost out of ear-shot of a couch too short to lay on. We had spoken on the phone for a few minutes before, I had asked her how she felt about seeing a transgendered individual, and she assured me that even though she’s not an expert, she has seen similar patients and that she specializes as a sexual therapist. I wanted to talk to her about sex as much as I want to have the same chat with my grandma. I’ve known plenty of older kinky people and think age is no barrier for gettin’ it on, but my Dr. Ruth put out a very stern vibe, like the only people she talked about sex with were old married couples who consider a fuckfest a blowjob during the commercials of Everybody Loves Raymond.
But I digress, Dr. Ruth and I made small talk, and she asked me what I expected out of therapy, and I said I thought I was ready to transition, I’m healthy and ready to start, I just needed her approval. She asked me if I had a partner, and I said no, she asked me about my sexual past, and I mentioned how I had been in a relationship with a college professor for many years that just recently ended, and she stopped me to point out how unhealthy she thought that was, and it seemed she thought humans didn’t do terribly well on their own, everyone should have a partner. My relationship with my ex was unhealthy because I was underaged but it started out of mentorship and turned into some sort of love. I’m older now and legitimately attracted to older, mature guys, like many young woman. I broke-up with my ex because he dated me when I was so young, but we still never had sex until I was 18. She frowned at the whole concept and continued to ask me questions about my EX, and from then on she looked at me like a golddigging whore, even asking if I had become a prostitute at any point, “because a lot of girls like you go that route”. STRIKE 1, big time, I almost walked out.
I asked her what relevance my EX had to do with my current transitioning, and she became defensesive, telling me that therapy explores subjects that can make you uncomfortable, and healing only happens if you let it. I didn’t go to a therapist for healing, I went to a therapist to talk about solutions, and mostly a compassionate ear, but I kept quiet and she started asking about my parents, which I nervously answered, just basic questions about my life and not about transitioning. She asked “what prescription medication are you on” as opposed to “are you taking any prescription medicines”, which was a bit accusatory, I wasn’t on any medication and didn’t plan to be. She also asked if I took recreational drugs, I told her I smoked pot and she went into a long diatribe about how marijuana is a drug for idiots and how it leads to suicide and depression and heroin. I know marijuana isn’t the best thing for your mental health, but it’s done wonders for me in some ways, and hurt me in others, but her vigilance against it was Strike 2.
After listening to her Red Ribbon Club noise and silently nodding my head, she asked me if there was anything else I wanted to talk about. At this point in my life I was much less open about my AB/DL side, I thought this might be a chance to feel less stressed about it. I mentioned that I like to be a little girl sometimes, and wear diapers, my version of meditating etc. She had no idea what this was, and seemed rather creeped out by it. I told her that there probably a million+ people in the world that are AB/DL in one way or another, and that I would love to find a Daddy, an older man who like to play the Daddy role, diaper changes, reading stories, spankings, etc, not all the time, but someone who digs that stuff like I do. She straight-up said “That is a totally an unrealistic expectation”. Strike three, I’m out.
I lied through my teeth by agreeing with her, and didn’t bring it up again, I waited for the session to end, left and never looked back. She made a very insensitive assumption about something she knew absolutely nothing about, I didn’t even remotely trust her and I felt like a complete fool the entire appointment. I’m sure there are better therapists out there, but that really turned me off to the field. Most people are pretty mentally unstable, some are better at hiding it than others, and therapists are so good at hiding it they can get paid to teach others. I was very bummed out after this experience, and haven’t seen a therapist since. So how did I get hormones? You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out 😛