So, being recently single has forced me to think about how to date, what I want in a partner now and the ever lingering question of when do you tell them that under your clothes, your body is not quite what they expect?
I actually joined a dating website, kinda out of boredom and curiosity. Nothing fancy, or that I have to pay for... just a toe in the water. I thought about seeking out bi-sexual women, hoping that their ability to be attracted to either gender might pave the way for more acceptance. Lesbians are kinda out if they are only attracted to women. I have found that this generally means they also feel more comfortable with the dynamics of two women rather than a man and a woman, in addition to being sexually attracted to the female form. As of now, I no longer have the female form. I have arrived at the place where my body shape, voice and appearance all register to others as male. If someone doesn't know... they just don't know.
But ultimately, I'd like to date and eventually marry someone who fully embraces the traditional gender roles. I think about the things that I have missed out on so far in life, having been forced away from my natural bent (like playing football, unabashedly opening doors and being the protector/provider, being called "Dad") and I long for a do-over.
But all this thinking about dating and future had me kinda fixated on my trans status. I think about what I am saying, how I am coming off, etc. and hope that I don't out myself because I am not an asshole and apparently (sorry, guys) the overwhelming majority of guys are. That being said a good friend of mine pointed out that being trans isn't what makes me do everything I do... it isn't what makes me who I am. Having been deeply entrenched in the process for the last 8 months, her comment was like someone "zooming out" on my image finder screen.
It occurred to me that I am not who I am today, I am not kind and sensitive and a hopeless romantic because I was born in a female body. I am not unique because I am trans- I am who I am today because of the cumulative effect of all the experiences in my life. I cannot even say that I can connect with women because I know what it feels like to be a woman, because I have never been a woman. I think my insight comes from two things- #1. Thirty-four years with more estrogen than testosterone (thus allowing me to be more aware of and in touch with emotions other than anger, emotions that now surface as anger but because of my experience prior to T, I understand are something else) and #2. Being in the inner circle of females for so long. Just as the boys club is now accessible to me and I am learning things about male culture that I didn't know before when I wasn't allowed in, I know things that most men don't because I was, erroneously and by default allowed in to the girl's club (though I spent most of my time looking for the emergency exit).
I will say that having this knowledge and experience makes me love and respect women even more. I know what it feels like to be the underdog in the power scheme. I never even really noticed how I felt walking around knowing on some level that most men around me could physically overpower me anytime they wanted to. I didn't realize the vulnerability that that creates. Now, now that I weigh 30 lbs more and am significantly stronger and I could physically overpower most women (no offense intended) I realize how different it is. And a man that has never been on the other side certainly cannot empathize. This gives me so much respect for women and their trust. If a woman allows me to be in her "bubble" I see that as a gift and am determined NOT to burst that bubble or fail to appreciate the trust inherent in the gift.
In short, though being trans is so difficult sometimes and it often feels like a curse, it more often feels like a blessing. My life, my experiences, the opportunity to have fought through an abusive marriage, divorce, faith crisis, undergrad, single mothering, custody battles, break ups and 85% of law school being perceived "as a woman"... coming to the place that I was proud of where I was and who I was and what I had accomplished was just the threshold to a new world, a new life-> to me. And I love this me and finally feel like I deserve success, respect and prosperity in all things. I finally feel like I can just be.
And as it turns out my trans status is not the forest; it is just a tree.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
From Boy to Man
So, today is my son's 13th birthday. Today is the day he steps into being a teenager. Today, by some cultures, he is a man. When I got to work today my mom sent me this message reflecting on his birth:
Wow! 13 years!
I remember:
Our trip up to the Continental Divide and you driving down, in labor, icy roads, yikes
You and Tom went to the movies while I waited at the cabin in case the baby came
The smell of chicken boiling while the midwife did her thing
The absolute joy of seeing Ben join us in this world
The cold, quiet, clear morning… sitting out on the deck
The very tiny, very precious little Ben snuggled up in the corner of the baby bed
We won’t mention some of the things like altitude sickness, migraine headaches, etc.
It got me to thinking... and evoked this response:
Crazy, huh?
It is so strange for me to reflect back on that time. I always felt so guilty that I didn't feel how I was "supposed" to feel about being pregnant, etc. I never had that giddy, maternal thing going on. I always felt bad about not "connecting" to that experience. It is strange how now, knowing what I know about myself, it all seems okay. I did a good job, a darn good job and somehow managed to stay present as a parent, even when I could barely be present with myself. Being pregnant seemed distant, even then. It was like an out of body experience, surreal in every way.
I am so grateful for the 13 years I have been blessed with Ben and the opportunity to bring him into the world and help grow him up into the person he is here to be. It is a little scary to have the job of teaching him to be a man, when I just barely ahead of him in the process. I guess at the end of the day, it is really about each person learning to be their own very best self. If my experiences have taught me anything, it is how to be true to myself and how to help others feel safe to be themselves. I think that puts me in a pretty good spot.
Thanks for all you have done to propel me down this path to self. I know sometimes you feel like you messed up. I know sometimes you regret things... but just know that you did a good job and I am grateful that you let me be a tom-boy (with perpetually skinned up knees and elbows, sweat dripping, dirt ground in and a soccer ball at my feet). That in and of itself saved my life, the life you gave me through your own sacrifice of body and soul. And each time you encourage me in my transition you give me life all over again.
Thank you.
We've come a long way, baby!
Your Loving and Ever Grateful Son,
-
Andrew
Wow! 13 years!
I remember:
Our trip up to the Continental Divide and you driving down, in labor, icy roads, yikes
You and Tom went to the movies while I waited at the cabin in case the baby came
The smell of chicken boiling while the midwife did her thing
The absolute joy of seeing Ben join us in this world
The cold, quiet, clear morning… sitting out on the deck
The very tiny, very precious little Ben snuggled up in the corner of the baby bed
We won’t mention some of the things like altitude sickness, migraine headaches, etc.
It got me to thinking... and evoked this response:
Crazy, huh?
It is so strange for me to reflect back on that time. I always felt so guilty that I didn't feel how I was "supposed" to feel about being pregnant, etc. I never had that giddy, maternal thing going on. I always felt bad about not "connecting" to that experience. It is strange how now, knowing what I know about myself, it all seems okay. I did a good job, a darn good job and somehow managed to stay present as a parent, even when I could barely be present with myself. Being pregnant seemed distant, even then. It was like an out of body experience, surreal in every way.
I am so grateful for the 13 years I have been blessed with Ben and the opportunity to bring him into the world and help grow him up into the person he is here to be. It is a little scary to have the job of teaching him to be a man, when I just barely ahead of him in the process. I guess at the end of the day, it is really about each person learning to be their own very best self. If my experiences have taught me anything, it is how to be true to myself and how to help others feel safe to be themselves. I think that puts me in a pretty good spot.
Thanks for all you have done to propel me down this path to self. I know sometimes you feel like you messed up. I know sometimes you regret things... but just know that you did a good job and I am grateful that you let me be a tom-boy (with perpetually skinned up knees and elbows, sweat dripping, dirt ground in and a soccer ball at my feet). That in and of itself saved my life, the life you gave me through your own sacrifice of body and soul. And each time you encourage me in my transition you give me life all over again.
Thank you.
We've come a long way, baby!
Your Loving and Ever Grateful Son,
-
Andrew
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Just Call Me Mr. T
So, Monday was T-day. I had my appt at the new clinic. At this point, I must say, "Thank you Ghetto Devil Woman!" This clinic is a gazillion (and yes, that is a technical term) times better than GDW's! When I made my appt, they were sensitive and took down the info they needed, being sure to have my preferred name. When I got there the waiting room was soothing, earthy colors with matching furniture and magazines galore! They had a huge, vaulted ceiling complete with puffy cloud things hanging from the "sky".
They called me back on time, WITH the right name and weighed and measured me... took my blood pressure, etc. Then I waited... the nurse practitioner was behind schedule so I sat there for about 15 minutes, mind spinning. I had no idea what to actually expect. Would I have my blood drawn? Was this just a consult? Would I actually get T today?
Well, she finally came in and she was just incredible! She started out just having a conversation with me about my process, she read my letter and we just chatted about me, T and options. Topical gel (which she didn't recommend), self injections, injections there, any combination. She said that Central Family Clinic was there for me and they wanted me to use the place however felt best to me. What a welcomed change! So, we ultimately decided on me coming in every 2 weeks for an injection. The fee is $10 and I can come anytime during walk in hours, no appt necessary! She said they love it when people do that because they get to see the results and offer lots of support. I like this idea.
Then, she said, well, today might be pushing it (it was after 4 already) but let me call the pharmacy and see if they have what you need on hand. If they do, you can run and pick it up, come back over and we will get you going! I said, "Don't you need to do a hormone level test?" She said, "I don't need a test. You have high estrogen and low testosterone and we wanna flip those!" I laughed and said, "alrightee then!". She will be doing cholesterol and liver function tests next time I am in, though.
She went on a little more about how much I am going to love the results and then called in the scrip. I raced over to the pharmacy (an independent place that accepts no insurance and sells scrips dirt cheap- like 20 bucks for generic z-pack) and got great service and a little vile of manhood. :) I carefully toted it back to the doc's office and wham! right into my left hip it goes! Just like that!
When I got back in my car, Free Falling was blastin' on the radio and I totally jammed out (just like Jerry McQuire- but don't' worry I am not as crazy as TC). I felt free and alive and SO EXCITED. Strangly, more so than winning the mock trial or the awards I got last week. I guess is feels bigger since it is something that will effect the future and is not just a culmination of the past.
So, last night I noticed my feet were swollen. Edema can be a side effect. That said, I did have a high sodium intake yesterday (mostly through sodas). I think I am gonna steer clear today. Also, my throat is sore. But allergies are raging here in ATX, so not sure I can really blame the T.
Emotionally, this is pretty much where I am at:
I also fear f'ing up my body.
i also fear alienating my kids.
i also fear them taking heat for my decisions.
i also fear getting the shit kicked out of my by some redneck weirdo
i also fear the financial burden.
i fear not liking the results and not being able to go back
i fear waking up one day and realizing i made a terrible mistake
i fear losing my grandparents.
never being able to feel comfortable at a family function again (not that i did before)
i fear being judged.
i fear be outed when it's not a good time or place.
i fear t not working
i fear losing myself
i fear zits.
i fear back hair
i fear a giant clitoris
i fear being seen as a freak
i fear losing jobs or job opportunities over this
i fear the top surgery leaving awful scars
i fear losing sensation in my nipples.
i fear being a fat ugly guy
i fear what is around the next corner.
i fear I will never be able to rest in who i am
I fear not being able to compete in team sports
I fear being left out of women's circles.
i fear being left out of the boys club
and really having nowhere to go.
no place to be.
i think that about covers it.
now that i am crying at my desk, again.
This is not a stop/start thing. I mean, sure, maiden form was a defining moment but I am still me. All my experiences (good and bad) will go with me. I have come to the conclusion that I can absorb A into D and be whole. Leaving A behind would put me in no better of a place than I was before. Denying part of myself. Which is NOT the point. I need A, I love A, I respect A and always will. So can she.
Oh, and I got this incredible card from a dear friend, the first person I told about my transition besides K. It was a "welcome to dude-hood" card. I am not sure if I get kicked out for crying when I red it. :/. Anyway, friends like that make the hard moments bearable and the good moment better!
-Mr. T. :)
So, Monday was T-day. I had my appt at the new clinic. At this point, I must say, "Thank you Ghetto Devil Woman!" This clinic is a gazillion (and yes, that is a technical term) times better than GDW's! When I made my appt, they were sensitive and took down the info they needed, being sure to have my preferred name. When I got there the waiting room was soothing, earthy colors with matching furniture and magazines galore! They had a huge, vaulted ceiling complete with puffy cloud things hanging from the "sky".
They called me back on time, WITH the right name and weighed and measured me... took my blood pressure, etc. Then I waited... the nurse practitioner was behind schedule so I sat there for about 15 minutes, mind spinning. I had no idea what to actually expect. Would I have my blood drawn? Was this just a consult? Would I actually get T today?
Well, she finally came in and she was just incredible! She started out just having a conversation with me about my process, she read my letter and we just chatted about me, T and options. Topical gel (which she didn't recommend), self injections, injections there, any combination. She said that Central Family Clinic was there for me and they wanted me to use the place however felt best to me. What a welcomed change! So, we ultimately decided on me coming in every 2 weeks for an injection. The fee is $10 and I can come anytime during walk in hours, no appt necessary! She said they love it when people do that because they get to see the results and offer lots of support. I like this idea.
Then, she said, well, today might be pushing it (it was after 4 already) but let me call the pharmacy and see if they have what you need on hand. If they do, you can run and pick it up, come back over and we will get you going! I said, "Don't you need to do a hormone level test?" She said, "I don't need a test. You have high estrogen and low testosterone and we wanna flip those!" I laughed and said, "alrightee then!". She will be doing cholesterol and liver function tests next time I am in, though.
She went on a little more about how much I am going to love the results and then called in the scrip. I raced over to the pharmacy (an independent place that accepts no insurance and sells scrips dirt cheap- like 20 bucks for generic z-pack) and got great service and a little vile of manhood. :) I carefully toted it back to the doc's office and wham! right into my left hip it goes! Just like that!
When I got back in my car, Free Falling was blastin' on the radio and I totally jammed out (just like Jerry McQuire- but don't' worry I am not as crazy as TC). I felt free and alive and SO EXCITED. Strangly, more so than winning the mock trial or the awards I got last week. I guess is feels bigger since it is something that will effect the future and is not just a culmination of the past.
So, last night I noticed my feet were swollen. Edema can be a side effect. That said, I did have a high sodium intake yesterday (mostly through sodas). I think I am gonna steer clear today. Also, my throat is sore. But allergies are raging here in ATX, so not sure I can really blame the T.
Emotionally, this is pretty much where I am at:
I also fear f'ing up my body.
i also fear alienating my kids.
i also fear them taking heat for my decisions.
i also fear getting the shit kicked out of my by some redneck weirdo
i also fear the financial burden.
i fear not liking the results and not being able to go back
i fear waking up one day and realizing i made a terrible mistake
i fear losing my grandparents.
never being able to feel comfortable at a family function again (not that i did before)
i fear being judged.
i fear be outed when it's not a good time or place.
i fear t not working
i fear losing myself
i fear zits.
i fear back hair
i fear a giant clitoris
i fear being seen as a freak
i fear losing jobs or job opportunities over this
i fear the top surgery leaving awful scars
i fear losing sensation in my nipples.
i fear being a fat ugly guy
i fear what is around the next corner.
i fear I will never be able to rest in who i am
I fear not being able to compete in team sports
I fear being left out of women's circles.
i fear being left out of the boys club
and really having nowhere to go.
no place to be.
i think that about covers it.
now that i am crying at my desk, again.
This is not a stop/start thing. I mean, sure, maiden form was a defining moment but I am still me. All my experiences (good and bad) will go with me. I have come to the conclusion that I can absorb A into D and be whole. Leaving A behind would put me in no better of a place than I was before. Denying part of myself. Which is NOT the point. I need A, I love A, I respect A and always will. So can she.
Oh, and I got this incredible card from a dear friend, the first person I told about my transition besides K. It was a "welcome to dude-hood" card. I am not sure if I get kicked out for crying when I red it. :/. Anyway, friends like that make the hard moments bearable and the good moment better!
-Mr. T. :)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Ghetto Devil Woman (originally penned by K so this is a 3rd person account- I am "D")
So, it's been a month and three days since the Moment of Epiphany at Maidenform for D. So far it's been a wild ride, with lots of other shifts and changes that have nothing to do with the transition itself.
Today was D's initial doctor's appointment to get started on T. The clinic specifically caters to those in transition and wanting to commence hormone therapy, as well as being a general practitioner's office. He had a letter of recommendation from his therapist all ready to go, as it's required in order to start hormone therapy.
We give ourselves plenty of time to get down to the clinic in time for his 8:30 appointment. His appointment actually was at 9, but the receptionist, who shall henceforth be called Ghetto Devil Woman, told him he needed to be there 30 minutes early in order to fill out all of the forms. As we're tooling down the driveway of the apartment complex, D. reaches into the backseat for his backpack, where the required letter of recommendation is safely tucked away. But his hand gropes air, and I stare at him as we roll to a stop.
"What are you looking for?" I ask.
"My backpack. The letter's in there. I thought I left it in the car," he replies, his face contorting in consternation.
"I don't remember you coming inside with it," I say. "Did you leave it at the office?"
"Oh, shit!" he exclaims, "I did!"
The office is all the way across town from the clinic. After a moment of deliberation, D calls the clinic and leaves a message on their voicemail about needing to get the letter, and that he might be a few minutes late.
We zoom downtown, narrowly avoiding the morning rush hour traffic, and D. ducks in and out of his office, letter in hand. By this time, it's 8:30, and we should already be at the clinic. But we think maybe we can still make it.
However, there's a problem once we get back across town. We can't FIND the clinic. We know the intersection, and vaguely where it's supposed to be, but now we're rolling around the parking lot of a mall, both of us craning our necks to see if we can make out a sign or something.
Fed up, D dials the clinic and actually gets a human being this time, I.E. Ghetto Devil Woman. I can hear her tsk tsking at D over the phone. Before she will even give him directions, she's berating him about trying to show up "late" anyway. It's still 15 till 9. She rudely complains about his tardiness for precious minutes, and tells D he will have to reschedule, and what was the name again?
"D***," he says, clenching his jaw while his eyes are still searching for this hidden clinic.
"We don't have a D*** scheduled," she spits back.
"A******," he says slowly enunciating his birth name for GDW.
"You're gonna have to reschedule. Our next new patient appointment is May 23rd."
"WHAT?!" D's voice cracks. By now we are pulling up to the clinic, which is hidden in a Chase bank building, of all things. "Can't you fit me in or something? If I come in and wait? I can't wait another month."
"You can come in and wait, but there's no guarantee that the doctor's gonna see you. I'm sorry," she says, not sounding very sorry at all.
"Okay, fine. I'm coming in," he says, and hangs up.
So we go in and take the elevator up. The clinic is dingy, painted in ridiculous cheery colors with mismatching furniture in the waiting room. It smells slightly musty, like a secondhand clothing store, not the at all like the sanitized, deodorized scent of a doctor's office. There are no magazines. Only two tables stacked with different prescription medication brochures. The walls are tacked with extensive rules and regulations about scheduling, payment, and the HIPPA regulations. Ridiculously, there are happy faces plastered here and there to somehow convey the attitude of friendliness.
We wait for an hour and a half, and are pretty much ignored by Ghetto Devil Woman.
She calls him up there by his birth name again in order for him to retrieve the precious letter and his driver's license. At this point, she has just outed him to the two nosy businessmen propped uncomfortably on the cheap couch across from us. For the rest of our wait, they are staring at us and making hushed conversation. After a while I glare at one of them and that stops his conspiratorial whispering.
At this point I snicker darkly to myself about the irony of those stupid smiley faces plastered all over this place, and the halfhearted cheery decor. It seems like a bad joke.
Finally, D. admits defeat and we leave. It's a hard moment, but I decide that it all happened for a reason. I have to justify shitty moments like this to myself because I have faith in the universe in general that when you want something, the universe tries to give you what you want in the best way possible, and steer you from things that may not be the best thing. I know it sounds hokey, but I think the Goddess is watching out for D. on this transition thing.
I want D's transition to have a sense of propriety, rightness, and trueness to it. I want him to be taken care of by people who give a shit about his process at least an iota as much as I do or he does. When we get home D searches online and finds a great clinic that looks like a better match for his needs. He schedules an appointment for next Monday to start his initial labs.
So, it's been a month and three days since the Moment of Epiphany at Maidenform for D. So far it's been a wild ride, with lots of other shifts and changes that have nothing to do with the transition itself.
Today was D's initial doctor's appointment to get started on T. The clinic specifically caters to those in transition and wanting to commence hormone therapy, as well as being a general practitioner's office. He had a letter of recommendation from his therapist all ready to go, as it's required in order to start hormone therapy.
We give ourselves plenty of time to get down to the clinic in time for his 8:30 appointment. His appointment actually was at 9, but the receptionist, who shall henceforth be called Ghetto Devil Woman, told him he needed to be there 30 minutes early in order to fill out all of the forms. As we're tooling down the driveway of the apartment complex, D. reaches into the backseat for his backpack, where the required letter of recommendation is safely tucked away. But his hand gropes air, and I stare at him as we roll to a stop.
"What are you looking for?" I ask.
"My backpack. The letter's in there. I thought I left it in the car," he replies, his face contorting in consternation.
"I don't remember you coming inside with it," I say. "Did you leave it at the office?"
"Oh, shit!" he exclaims, "I did!"
The office is all the way across town from the clinic. After a moment of deliberation, D calls the clinic and leaves a message on their voicemail about needing to get the letter, and that he might be a few minutes late.
We zoom downtown, narrowly avoiding the morning rush hour traffic, and D. ducks in and out of his office, letter in hand. By this time, it's 8:30, and we should already be at the clinic. But we think maybe we can still make it.
However, there's a problem once we get back across town. We can't FIND the clinic. We know the intersection, and vaguely where it's supposed to be, but now we're rolling around the parking lot of a mall, both of us craning our necks to see if we can make out a sign or something.
Fed up, D dials the clinic and actually gets a human being this time, I.E. Ghetto Devil Woman. I can hear her tsk tsking at D over the phone. Before she will even give him directions, she's berating him about trying to show up "late" anyway. It's still 15 till 9. She rudely complains about his tardiness for precious minutes, and tells D he will have to reschedule, and what was the name again?
"D***," he says, clenching his jaw while his eyes are still searching for this hidden clinic.
"We don't have a D*** scheduled," she spits back.
"A******," he says slowly enunciating his birth name for GDW.
"You're gonna have to reschedule. Our next new patient appointment is May 23rd."
"WHAT?!" D's voice cracks. By now we are pulling up to the clinic, which is hidden in a Chase bank building, of all things. "Can't you fit me in or something? If I come in and wait? I can't wait another month."
"You can come in and wait, but there's no guarantee that the doctor's gonna see you. I'm sorry," she says, not sounding very sorry at all.
"Okay, fine. I'm coming in," he says, and hangs up.
So we go in and take the elevator up. The clinic is dingy, painted in ridiculous cheery colors with mismatching furniture in the waiting room. It smells slightly musty, like a secondhand clothing store, not the at all like the sanitized, deodorized scent of a doctor's office. There are no magazines. Only two tables stacked with different prescription medication brochures. The walls are tacked with extensive rules and regulations about scheduling, payment, and the HIPPA regulations. Ridiculously, there are happy faces plastered here and there to somehow convey the attitude of friendliness.
We wait for an hour and a half, and are pretty much ignored by Ghetto Devil Woman.
She calls him up there by his birth name again in order for him to retrieve the precious letter and his driver's license. At this point, she has just outed him to the two nosy businessmen propped uncomfortably on the cheap couch across from us. For the rest of our wait, they are staring at us and making hushed conversation. After a while I glare at one of them and that stops his conspiratorial whispering.
At this point I snicker darkly to myself about the irony of those stupid smiley faces plastered all over this place, and the halfhearted cheery decor. It seems like a bad joke.
Finally, D. admits defeat and we leave. It's a hard moment, but I decide that it all happened for a reason. I have to justify shitty moments like this to myself because I have faith in the universe in general that when you want something, the universe tries to give you what you want in the best way possible, and steer you from things that may not be the best thing. I know it sounds hokey, but I think the Goddess is watching out for D. on this transition thing.
I want D's transition to have a sense of propriety, rightness, and trueness to it. I want him to be taken care of by people who give a shit about his process at least an iota as much as I do or he does. When we get home D searches online and finds a great clinic that looks like a better match for his needs. He schedules an appointment for next Monday to start his initial labs.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Day of Letters
So, I got my letter from my therapist yesterday that states that she agrees that me being on T is a good idea, of course in very technical terms. I was excited to get it and excited about my appointment this morning.
The excitement, however, was a little clouded by having to figure out when and how to tell my dad about all this. I had decided that him seeing my name in the program at graduation followed by him seeing me in a suit and tie wasn't the best way to go. So, I wrote him a letter. Well, an email. I thought that for those who might read this and be struggling with the same thing or those that are just walking with me through this journey, reading this might help you understand where I am at.
As of right now, we have called off all graduation activities. That makes me sad but I am glad my mom is still coming, at least. If it ends up being my mom, me and my kids celebrating afterward, then that will be good and special in its own way.
So, this is the email I sent my Dad. As of now, no response.
Subject: Here I Am
Dear Dad,
I have put a lot of time into trying to figure out when and how to tell you what is going on in my life right now. As I reflect on our relationship, I recognize that we have actually been through many phases together. Early on, I don't remember much- you worked, I grew up. Then, I got married and it seemed like we just drifted along without much foundation, without much connection. After the divorce and when I came out, it seemed like what little connection was there was strained, almost to the point of breaking completely. Then, on my 30th Thanksgiving, I tried to say what I felt needed to be said about me being me and you needing to give me the space to do that. Since then, on many occasions and in many ways you have been there for me, making an effort to engage and forge some relationship. But, of course, there is always the elephant in the living room. We have managed to figure out how to move around it and sometimes end up actually seeing each other, if even for just a second. Those moments often remind me of the few memories I have of us interacting during my childhood.
When I look back, I remember the soccer season you coached me and how good it felt to hear you tell everybody else to pass me the ball, cause I could get the goal. Then, I remember feeling sad when you had to start working Saturdays again and you stopped coaching us. Not only did we lose the rest of the games, but you were gone from my life again. I have some isolated memories of us trading punches until Mom made us stop, wresting, watching football, you teaching me how to change a tire, working out, playing racquetball, etc. I also remember learning from you that emotions are weakness.
Overall, I don't' feel like we had too much connection when I was younger. I do remember wanting your approval and always feeling inadequate to some degree. I recognize, however, that over the last 10 years or so, you have made considerable efforts to be more present, to tell me and show me that you love me and are proud of me. I also know that many things in my life have been hard for you to understand. I know that some of the things that you see as "choices" seem like mistakes to you and even sin. Being a parent myself, I understand how you could feel sad, angry, responsible and terrified when you look at my life in the context of your faith system, world view and life experiences.
Mostly, we have ended up in the place we are now- which I think we might both classify as "connect where you can and otherwise agree to disagree." It may or may not come as a surprise to you that there are some things about the way you life your life, some of the choices that you make, that I would not make for myself. I am certainly aware that some aspects of my life are disagreeable to you.
But, I think while the "let's just not talk about it" approach is a pretty good way to avoid immediate conflicts, I also feel it paralyzes our relationship and prevents us from knowing, understanding and respecting each other. When I stop and think about it, I really don't know you at all. and I don't' feel like you know me at all. Which brings me to an admission about myself- I am really just starting to get to know me. And I wonder if you feel like you know yourself. I do know that other people cannot know us, they cannot see us until we know and see ourselves.
Over the last few years I have been doing a tremendous amount of work on myself. I have peeled back layer after layer of experiences, feelings, thoughts and beliefs. I have spent a significant amount of time in therapy, getting help with this arduous task. And now, I have come to a realization, I have seen something about myself that I feel I must share with you if there is any chance that you will see and know me.
I am sure it has not escaped you that I was never a "normal girl." I do not and have never felt comfortable in what society defines as female space. In short, I have realized that I, on the inside, am male. That is how I relate to the world and that is how I want the world to relate to me.
I have already begun shifting in my educational and social circles. My friends are addressing me as "D" at my request and they refer to me as "he". I actually have been presenting male (introducing myself as D, wearing a suit and tie, etc.) for about a month now. I am experiencing a comfort and confidence I have never felt before. I competed in the mock trial as D, and not only won but got best advocate. I got my new job as D (of course the employer knows my legal name and background and they are supportive). B and B know and we are committed to openly communicating about this and finding a space for our unique family together. They have questions but the one thing I want to teach them is to be authentic, despite the possible social sacrifices. I want them to understand that real friends (and with luck, family) will let you find yourself, let you be yourself and love you unconditionally every step of the way.
Although I know this is crazy and probably difficult for you, the truth is, I have always felt more like your son than your daughter. And I say that not as a comment on your parenting but as a comment on my internal experience. This is not a reflection of you or anything you have or have not done. I do not believe it is a reflection of any failure or shortcoming on your part.
If you think about our interactions, the times that we connected they fall, without exception, into a father-son category. The moments that we tried to be father daughter- like that dance we went to or my wedding- just felt awkward. They felt very wrong to me.
The bottom line is that as I embrace this part of me, I would like to have a father. I would like to learn some things from you. I would like to get to know you and finally feel like you know me, like you see me.
I am willing to talk about this, from a sharing my experience perspective (but much less so from any place of trying to fix me or talk me out of it, etc.). I am willing to try to claim our relationship. I do not even want to try to guess what might be going through your mind right now and I understand if you need time to process. Even if that means you decide not to be at graduation where I will be wearing a suit and tie and be announced as D.
Son or daughter- really I am just me and I hope you can come and celebrate my accomplishments as a PERSON. I did not want this to be a public surprise and I also wanted to take a step out onto the wobbly bridge that connects where you stand and where I stand in hopes of someday meeting in the middle.
I love you. I need you, Dad. Now, more than ever.
-D.
So, that was it. I didn't cry when I wrote it but I cried when I read it out loud to K. It is so hard to reach out to him, knowing I will most likely be rejected completely. Mom has told be several times that I am going to lose my Dad over this. I guess I just figure that I'd rather walk through the fire for a 1% chance at a real relationship with my Dad then continue to be dancing around the elephant, our relationship paralyzed by the unspoken.
People say I am brave. Really, I just feel like I don't have any options in my life. Live out loud or you are not living at all.
K's gonna tell you all about our adventures with the doc this morning. That should lighten the mood a bit. That's all for now.
So, I got my letter from my therapist yesterday that states that she agrees that me being on T is a good idea, of course in very technical terms. I was excited to get it and excited about my appointment this morning.
The excitement, however, was a little clouded by having to figure out when and how to tell my dad about all this. I had decided that him seeing my name in the program at graduation followed by him seeing me in a suit and tie wasn't the best way to go. So, I wrote him a letter. Well, an email. I thought that for those who might read this and be struggling with the same thing or those that are just walking with me through this journey, reading this might help you understand where I am at.
As of right now, we have called off all graduation activities. That makes me sad but I am glad my mom is still coming, at least. If it ends up being my mom, me and my kids celebrating afterward, then that will be good and special in its own way.
So, this is the email I sent my Dad. As of now, no response.
Subject: Here I Am
Dear Dad,
I have put a lot of time into trying to figure out when and how to tell you what is going on in my life right now. As I reflect on our relationship, I recognize that we have actually been through many phases together. Early on, I don't remember much- you worked, I grew up. Then, I got married and it seemed like we just drifted along without much foundation, without much connection. After the divorce and when I came out, it seemed like what little connection was there was strained, almost to the point of breaking completely. Then, on my 30th Thanksgiving, I tried to say what I felt needed to be said about me being me and you needing to give me the space to do that. Since then, on many occasions and in many ways you have been there for me, making an effort to engage and forge some relationship. But, of course, there is always the elephant in the living room. We have managed to figure out how to move around it and sometimes end up actually seeing each other, if even for just a second. Those moments often remind me of the few memories I have of us interacting during my childhood.
When I look back, I remember the soccer season you coached me and how good it felt to hear you tell everybody else to pass me the ball, cause I could get the goal. Then, I remember feeling sad when you had to start working Saturdays again and you stopped coaching us. Not only did we lose the rest of the games, but you were gone from my life again. I have some isolated memories of us trading punches until Mom made us stop, wresting, watching football, you teaching me how to change a tire, working out, playing racquetball, etc. I also remember learning from you that emotions are weakness.
Overall, I don't' feel like we had too much connection when I was younger. I do remember wanting your approval and always feeling inadequate to some degree. I recognize, however, that over the last 10 years or so, you have made considerable efforts to be more present, to tell me and show me that you love me and are proud of me. I also know that many things in my life have been hard for you to understand. I know that some of the things that you see as "choices" seem like mistakes to you and even sin. Being a parent myself, I understand how you could feel sad, angry, responsible and terrified when you look at my life in the context of your faith system, world view and life experiences.
Mostly, we have ended up in the place we are now- which I think we might both classify as "connect where you can and otherwise agree to disagree." It may or may not come as a surprise to you that there are some things about the way you life your life, some of the choices that you make, that I would not make for myself. I am certainly aware that some aspects of my life are disagreeable to you.
But, I think while the "let's just not talk about it" approach is a pretty good way to avoid immediate conflicts, I also feel it paralyzes our relationship and prevents us from knowing, understanding and respecting each other. When I stop and think about it, I really don't know you at all. and I don't' feel like you know me at all. Which brings me to an admission about myself- I am really just starting to get to know me. And I wonder if you feel like you know yourself. I do know that other people cannot know us, they cannot see us until we know and see ourselves.
Over the last few years I have been doing a tremendous amount of work on myself. I have peeled back layer after layer of experiences, feelings, thoughts and beliefs. I have spent a significant amount of time in therapy, getting help with this arduous task. And now, I have come to a realization, I have seen something about myself that I feel I must share with you if there is any chance that you will see and know me.
I am sure it has not escaped you that I was never a "normal girl." I do not and have never felt comfortable in what society defines as female space. In short, I have realized that I, on the inside, am male. That is how I relate to the world and that is how I want the world to relate to me.
I have already begun shifting in my educational and social circles. My friends are addressing me as "D" at my request and they refer to me as "he". I actually have been presenting male (introducing myself as D, wearing a suit and tie, etc.) for about a month now. I am experiencing a comfort and confidence I have never felt before. I competed in the mock trial as D, and not only won but got best advocate. I got my new job as D (of course the employer knows my legal name and background and they are supportive). B and B know and we are committed to openly communicating about this and finding a space for our unique family together. They have questions but the one thing I want to teach them is to be authentic, despite the possible social sacrifices. I want them to understand that real friends (and with luck, family) will let you find yourself, let you be yourself and love you unconditionally every step of the way.
Although I know this is crazy and probably difficult for you, the truth is, I have always felt more like your son than your daughter. And I say that not as a comment on your parenting but as a comment on my internal experience. This is not a reflection of you or anything you have or have not done. I do not believe it is a reflection of any failure or shortcoming on your part.
If you think about our interactions, the times that we connected they fall, without exception, into a father-son category. The moments that we tried to be father daughter- like that dance we went to or my wedding- just felt awkward. They felt very wrong to me.
The bottom line is that as I embrace this part of me, I would like to have a father. I would like to learn some things from you. I would like to get to know you and finally feel like you know me, like you see me.
I am willing to talk about this, from a sharing my experience perspective (but much less so from any place of trying to fix me or talk me out of it, etc.). I am willing to try to claim our relationship. I do not even want to try to guess what might be going through your mind right now and I understand if you need time to process. Even if that means you decide not to be at graduation where I will be wearing a suit and tie and be announced as D.
Son or daughter- really I am just me and I hope you can come and celebrate my accomplishments as a PERSON. I did not want this to be a public surprise and I also wanted to take a step out onto the wobbly bridge that connects where you stand and where I stand in hopes of someday meeting in the middle.
I love you. I need you, Dad. Now, more than ever.
-D.
So, that was it. I didn't cry when I wrote it but I cried when I read it out loud to K. It is so hard to reach out to him, knowing I will most likely be rejected completely. Mom has told be several times that I am going to lose my Dad over this. I guess I just figure that I'd rather walk through the fire for a 1% chance at a real relationship with my Dad then continue to be dancing around the elephant, our relationship paralyzed by the unspoken.
People say I am brave. Really, I just feel like I don't have any options in my life. Live out loud or you are not living at all.
K's gonna tell you all about our adventures with the doc this morning. That should lighten the mood a bit. That's all for now.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Collision Avoided
So, as I was picturing this big graduation party my mom was going to throw me, I just couldn't figure out how it was going to be anything but a disaster. My very conservative family and my liberal friends all in one place. With me smooshed in the middle... um, no thanks. So, I was honest with my mom, who really is trying to let me take the lead on all this, trying to be supportive of my choices, despite their foreign nature to her, and I told her I'd rather just all go to dinner afterward. I will probably hit the town later with friends. Compartmentalizing is good. :)
In other news, I have my first doctors appt on Thursday, April 30! I am psyched about getting started with T, etc. I am not sure what all it will involve... poking, proding, etc. But whatever it takes to get me one step farther down the path.
So, I decided a month or so ago to do the last mock trial at school as D. I was hoping to test out the courtroom demeanor, etc. before anyone's actual life was at stake... turns out my partner, KH, and I won the whole damn thing. First time I have come away with a championship, and I did it as D. And to top it all off, I got "best advocate." That is like MVP for those of you who don't know the dorky world of mock trial. :)
I've been passing more lately and worrying less about it. I am finally able to think about other stuff and focus. The only time I really think about it now is when I need to go to the bathroom. Several people have asked me about this... here's a response I sent to a friend via email:
Well, if I am in public and not somewhere where people have known me as A., I go to the men's room and just use a stall. If I am at work, where I am out as Trans to my boss but there are lots of people in the building who know me but I am not out to, I go to the womens (these are one-holers so it really doesn't matter). For a week or so I was just avoiding the bathroom at school... where I was dressed in a suit and tie but most people I knew would expect me to be in the women's rr. Lately, I have tried to find a secluded men's rr.
In reality, most people who don't know me are't going to confront me and men are much less weird about a ? being in their bathroomthan a girl would be about a possible man being in the women's room... seeing as how women might think the guy is a perv. Men mostly mind their own business... especially in a bathroom. :) In this instance, the male tendency to be oblivious is helping me out. :) Let's hope I don't pick up THAT trait.
I am coming out to more and more people, with less and less fear all the time. It seems so matter of fact to me now. Which is good. So I can concentrate. Anyway, a friend sent me this GREAT article: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/26/fashion/26love.html?_r=1
Can't wait to share it with my kiddoes!
All right...you know that white collar crime paper I mentioned in the last post... that's due tomorrow... yeah... gotta go!
So, as I was picturing this big graduation party my mom was going to throw me, I just couldn't figure out how it was going to be anything but a disaster. My very conservative family and my liberal friends all in one place. With me smooshed in the middle... um, no thanks. So, I was honest with my mom, who really is trying to let me take the lead on all this, trying to be supportive of my choices, despite their foreign nature to her, and I told her I'd rather just all go to dinner afterward. I will probably hit the town later with friends. Compartmentalizing is good. :)
In other news, I have my first doctors appt on Thursday, April 30! I am psyched about getting started with T, etc. I am not sure what all it will involve... poking, proding, etc. But whatever it takes to get me one step farther down the path.
So, I decided a month or so ago to do the last mock trial at school as D. I was hoping to test out the courtroom demeanor, etc. before anyone's actual life was at stake... turns out my partner, KH, and I won the whole damn thing. First time I have come away with a championship, and I did it as D. And to top it all off, I got "best advocate." That is like MVP for those of you who don't know the dorky world of mock trial. :)
I've been passing more lately and worrying less about it. I am finally able to think about other stuff and focus. The only time I really think about it now is when I need to go to the bathroom. Several people have asked me about this... here's a response I sent to a friend via email:
Well, if I am in public and not somewhere where people have known me as A., I go to the men's room and just use a stall. If I am at work, where I am out as Trans to my boss but there are lots of people in the building who know me but I am not out to, I go to the womens (these are one-holers so it really doesn't matter). For a week or so I was just avoiding the bathroom at school... where I was dressed in a suit and tie but most people I knew would expect me to be in the women's rr. Lately, I have tried to find a secluded men's rr.
In reality, most people who don't know me are't going to confront me and men are much less weird about a ? being in their bathroomthan a girl would be about a possible man being in the women's room... seeing as how women might think the guy is a perv. Men mostly mind their own business... especially in a bathroom. :) In this instance, the male tendency to be oblivious is helping me out. :) Let's hope I don't pick up THAT trait.
I am coming out to more and more people, with less and less fear all the time. It seems so matter of fact to me now. Which is good. So I can concentrate. Anyway, a friend sent me this GREAT article: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/26/fashion/26love.html?_r=1
Can't wait to share it with my kiddoes!
All right...you know that white collar crime paper I mentioned in the last post... that's due tomorrow... yeah... gotta go!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
looking ahead in my rearview mirror
So, there are a lot of things coming up for me...
3 months and 5 days till the bar exam
43 days till our 1 year anniversary
42 days till my kids come for their summer vacation
30 days till graduation
30 days till family (most of whom don't know) and Friend (all of whom know) collide
25 days till my directed research hours are due
24 days till the 6 day a week law review classes start. I am an administrator as well as a student.
18 days till my final research paper is due
7 days till the Advocacy Awards banquet where I will be announced/listed as D in front of a couple hundred people; I am out to about 20 of them.
7 days till I start my new job- as D.
6 days till I get my letter for T from my therapist.
5 days till a 20 pager on White Collar Crime is due- which I haven't started. shhh.
1 day till my daughter turns 11
1 day till mock trial finals, as D.
Somewhere in there I will start T.
Somewhere in there I will have to talk to my father about all this.
No wonder I feel a bit stressed. . .
Seriously, though. I had my first apt with H as a private practice patient. It went very well. She asked me what I wanted to accomplish... I said, "I want to do whatever I need to do with this whole grief thing. I want to get it dealt with." To which she responded with a smirk... "well, that is your male tendency coming out... unfortunately, you can't just package up the emotions, especially grief and put them in a nice little box, all dealt with." I sighed and asked jokingly, then what am I paying you for?
The cloud I was under when I wrote my last post was definitely grief. It is weird to be so divided. I am thrilled to be moving forward but sad, too. Letting D out means on many, many levels saying goodbye to A. And I like A. She was a strong, amazing woman who acted as a fierce warrior and protector not only for B and B but also for D. She kept him safe untill now, when it is time for him to take over... to grow up and take care of himself.
She is smart and funny. D has learned so much from her. And I hope, as D, I can carry forward the amazing character that A forged. I hope, as D, I honor A and the blood, sweat and tears she shed for him. I will draw from her strength and handle the gift of life she has given me with care and gratitude. So much of saying goodbye to someone you love is picking the pieces to hold on to and burning the memory of the most cherished moments onto your heart.
I'll miss her, but I know she'll be there when I need her- just like always.
So, there are a lot of things coming up for me...
3 months and 5 days till the bar exam
43 days till our 1 year anniversary
42 days till my kids come for their summer vacation
30 days till graduation
30 days till family (most of whom don't know) and Friend (all of whom know) collide
25 days till my directed research hours are due
24 days till the 6 day a week law review classes start. I am an administrator as well as a student.
18 days till my final research paper is due
7 days till the Advocacy Awards banquet where I will be announced/listed as D in front of a couple hundred people; I am out to about 20 of them.
7 days till I start my new job- as D.
6 days till I get my letter for T from my therapist.
5 days till a 20 pager on White Collar Crime is due- which I haven't started. shhh.
1 day till my daughter turns 11
1 day till mock trial finals, as D.
Somewhere in there I will start T.
Somewhere in there I will have to talk to my father about all this.
No wonder I feel a bit stressed. . .
Seriously, though. I had my first apt with H as a private practice patient. It went very well. She asked me what I wanted to accomplish... I said, "I want to do whatever I need to do with this whole grief thing. I want to get it dealt with." To which she responded with a smirk... "well, that is your male tendency coming out... unfortunately, you can't just package up the emotions, especially grief and put them in a nice little box, all dealt with." I sighed and asked jokingly, then what am I paying you for?
The cloud I was under when I wrote my last post was definitely grief. It is weird to be so divided. I am thrilled to be moving forward but sad, too. Letting D out means on many, many levels saying goodbye to A. And I like A. She was a strong, amazing woman who acted as a fierce warrior and protector not only for B and B but also for D. She kept him safe untill now, when it is time for him to take over... to grow up and take care of himself.
She is smart and funny. D has learned so much from her. And I hope, as D, I can carry forward the amazing character that A forged. I hope, as D, I honor A and the blood, sweat and tears she shed for him. I will draw from her strength and handle the gift of life she has given me with care and gratitude. So much of saying goodbye to someone you love is picking the pieces to hold on to and burning the memory of the most cherished moments onto your heart.
I'll miss her, but I know she'll be there when I need her- just like always.
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