I found out this morning that one of the members of my therapy group died some time in the previous week. That's all that anyone knows so far. I had an email from my therapist in my inbox when I checked it this morning.

Right now, I'm in a very odd mood as a result. I feel as if I should be more upset than I am, and that in and of itself is bothersome. I considered her a friend, and yet we weren't really that close and had little in common. We
knew each other through therapy, and not really beyond it. I enjoyed the time I spent with her outside of therapy, but it honestly wasn't much, and it wasn't over a long period of time.

I'm upset that it happened. Don't get me wrong in this. I wish desparately that she weren't dead. However, she is, and I can't change that fact. I can, at most, wonder what happened and if there were anything I could have done
differently. Nothing I say will alter the irrevocable fact of her death. 

What bothers me now, honestly, is the idea that I will be considered heartless or cold by those others in the therapy group because I am not  distraught by her passing. I spent quite a bit of time this morning talking with Jess about it, actually. I got told that I've got no reason to worry and that the fact that I'm concerned about it shows that I'm not as callous as I fear I may seem, but it's still a bit distressing. My current therapy group was to end this net week, and I wanted it to end on a positive note, but I fear that any chance of that is gone.

I hate it when events are genuinely beyond my control.

I still have no news about New York. The human resources director of that office said that she'd pass my information to the manager who expressed interest in my résumé today, but so far I've heard nothing. I hope I hear something tomorrow. I'm feeling antsy. 

I spent the weekend down in Austin visiting friends of mine and Jess's there. Having lived in the city, going back always makes me a bit nostalgic, and right now with the intent to move but the lack of concrete plans to do so, I always feel a bit like it might be the last chance I get to be there. I hate feeling like I have to move, but everyone with whom I've spoken admits that until and unless the Supreme Court reverses the Littleton case's current decision, there's no reason for them to try to talk me out of moving. 

I remember being in a long-distance relationship at one point, and putting off everything in my life because of the idea that "someday" I'd be moving and that there was no point to doing things, because I'd just have to do them all again when I went overseas, and so I never did them. In the end, I lost six years to procrastination. 

I don't consider what I did at the time a mistake, and yet I can't help but wonder if I'm doing the same thing, pinning hopes on "someday." I certainly haven't let it stop me from doing things. I'm going up to bring Randy down to Texas in three weeks. Jess is still looking for jobs in the area. I'm still going to work every day. I just hope I don't have to wait too long before I can start making concrete plans.

I really hate it when events are beyond my control, and not being able to plan for my own future makes me feel like that's how things are.


In redesigning the site, I had to go back and reread, from the beginning, everything I've written here since I started this project. It's not something that I do regularly, but in this case I'm kind of glad I did.

It's been almost a month since I've posted anything, and a great deal has happened in that time. All of it has been small movements, and yet when put together, it's representative of a lot of progress.

I'm not one for naked self-adulation, but I've changed a lot in the last six months, if not in terms of desire, then at least in terms of self-esteem and confidence that I'll be able to survive in my new life. I remember at one point being so scared of what I thought I was, where I thought I had to go. I knew what I needed to do, but I couldn't face it. Now, I've embraced it. I am Kristina Davis, moreso than I was ever the person I used to try to be.

Last Thursday, I decided I had waited long enough and I went back to my doctor's to have the bloodwork done so that I could have my hormone dosage increased. This prompted a lovely battle with my insurance company. it's become very commonplace for insurance companies to flat-refuse to cover any procedures that are classified as sex-change related. They don't have any valid reason for it; they just don't. However, they will all make a big
point of saying that they'll cover any medically necessary procedure.

What happens when you have a sex-changed related procedure that's medically necessary? I asked my insurance company this very question, and they refused to answer. They simply reiterated their two positions about half a dozen times. In the end, I told my doctor that my insurance company didn't know what they were doing or whether they would pay for it, and she offered to run it through their system and then just charge me if they wouldn't pay.I accepted, and I haven't paid since. It's been two weeks, so I'm of the opinion that the matter's settled.

I think I know why they say they won't cover it, when they really will. Saying that they won't stops about ninety percent of the people from even asking, because the book says they won't. Rejecting the initial attempts to have the insurance company pay will stop ninety percent of the people who ask. But if you're one of those one percent of the people who pester them and get nasty, they'll buckle because they'd rather pay for one percent of the treatments than risk facing a lawsuit and being forced to pay for one-hundred percent.

At any rate, my bloodwork came back to me on Monday, and my doctor called me to give me the results. After three months of being on estrogen and an androgen blocker, my estrogen levels are about where they should be for a woman my age, but my testosterone is about what one could expect in a rampagingly priapric nineteen-year-old male. Needless to say, this is why the hormones have felt like they've done very little so far. My dosages have all been doubled, and we'll see what that does.

The process of transferring to New York is proceeding apace. I sent a note on Monday to the HR manager there and found out that there are openings for which one manager thinks I'd be well-qualified, but she's been so swamped with work that she's been too busy to contact me, and this week she's been on vacation recovering from her overwork! They're like FlashNet, so understaffed that they can't take the time to train anyone. I hope when I get there I won't need too much of a learning curve.

Also, I've taken the matter of development of things into my own hands, so to speak. Having read several articles on Body Modification E-Zine about vacuum pumping, and having spoken with someone who succeeded in inducing permanent changes in breast size with this method, I've invested in a breast pump. I'm doing this with a healthy skepticism, but I'm willing to try it. If it works, wonderful. If it doesn't, I'm only out the funds and the time, which I don't mind.

I'm still making progress, but it's slow. Measureable, but slow.