A Long-delayed Explanation

Anonymous Wrote:

Hi Hailey, My husband and I are in a very similar situation. He is a non-transitioning xy tg girl, who lives fully as a man to the outside world. We are also new to our Christian life as well as our tg life. We found your blog about a week ago, and felt like we found kindred spirits in you and your wife. We were surprised to see your post about your hrt appt and beginning the transitioning process. If you don't mind my asking, what changed? And, what about your wife and little ones? How are they dealing with this change of plans? Thank you for being here online. It means a lot to us to have found someone dealing with similar things. You've been a comfort to my husband. 

I've known I'd have to write this post for some time, but, as things often go, have tried to delay the inevitable.  When I started this blog some months ago, my whole hope was to combat my dysphoria through my writing.  I thought, if I could keep reminding myself of all the reasons why transitioning "will hurt everyone," that, through patience and discipline I could keep that hammer from falling onto my brittle life.

So what's changed, since then?  I guess it's been a lot of things, some lesser, and some much greater.  My line of reasoning for non-transition was really three-pronged, and each of those three ideas have been challenged.  Firstly, my wife didn't want me to change.  That alone, I thought, would keep me locked up forever.  I would die for her, so why not live, albiet as a man that I'm not, for her?  Secondly, my kids... How to even begin expounding all the ways society would make their life difficult because of me...  and lastly, because, in love, I'd rather be hurt than to hurt; to sacrifice rather than require sacrifice, to cry myself, day after day, rather than cause tears.

What I hoped, was that in reminding myself of these, in clear, plain writing, which has so often helped me focus my thoughts and encourage myself, I might help myself endure, and, with any luck, help other people who are trying the same thing.  I'd found nobody else like me, after all, and figured that if we were out there, nobody would know, precisely because we weren't transitioning.  I thought maybe, somebody out there, might feel less lonely and hopeless because of me.  Vain, maybe, but not the worst kind of vanity...  Something inside of me wanted to know that I could be a positive addition to the world, rather than a problem only...

And it is that longing which has finally made the difference.  I am afraid, that whether by design, or by some "failure" to endure, that I am not able to keep these weights on my shoulders...  I love people, and want so badly to be a good thing to them, but when my whole self, my heart and soul,... all of me, has to be chained up, erased, and forgotten in order for others not to be hurt... it just makes me feel miserable.  This word has been used too much by teenagers, I think...  What I mean is real, soul-breaking misery.  I am not valuable enough to be.  The people I love most will only be hurt (and terribly so) if they see who I really am.  So went the thoughts.  It is unbearable for a soft spirit like me to know that, at best, I can only come out even with the world... add enough good to somehow make up for the apparently horrifying, disgusting truth hidden away inside.  But how can I live as a wash?  A compromise solution...  And so, the old thoughts crept back in.

They are mourning over me already... and as long as I'm here, they will always mourn the loss of the boy they knew, that this "new me" has slain... might I spare them the lifetime of mourning all-together, and myself be free?  My death would hurt my family, but I started wondering if it would hurt less, in the end, than my life.  Kids, after all, lose parents all the time, and, if they are young when it happens, aren't too much the worse for the wear once they've grown... These are false statements, all, but that's how the mind works...

When I realized I'd become suicidal again, I knew that I'd lost one of my choices.  I am terrified of being in that place again.. I've spent too much of my past on the verge of death... and I am terrified of it.  I can't lose myself.  If I die, even inwardly, then all the things that I am hoping to keep for my family are lost as well.  A nice-looking, soul-dead father is not a father at all, nor a husband... I wish I had been someone else, someone stronger, or someone without emotion... someone else... because then I wouldn't be this problem.  But, for better or for worse, God was pleased to let His daughter live.  He liked me enough to allow this strange life...  He knew the tears I'd cry all my life, and was willing to cry them with me, because I was valuable to Him.  So, finally, I choose life... in what ever form I can have it, and I will hold up just as many of these plates as I can; maybe once a few come crashing down, we'll realize that the remainder are still quite nice to live with.

A Few Other Things

So there are other aspects of this.  My wife realized, fairly recently, that, in insisting that I stay masculine, had lost her position as my safest place.  There are defences I have to hold when I'm with her, so that I don't hurt her, and so when she says things that hurt me, even well-intentioned things, that I don't retaliate or make her feel bad for who she is.   She realized that, if we take this path, she will always have been my de facto jailer... and the relationship between us could not be what either of us wanted.  She wants to be the safest place on earth, for me, but cannot be that place if I have to find other people, mostly other trans girls, to cry with.

Hold that thought for just a moment so to add one more thing.  Since I am in my 30's, I am nearing certain genetic cues that will make me very much more masculine than I have been. I will start losing my hairline, my beard will start becoming that "sexy" ash-tray look that the males in my family all have... My forehead and jaw will continue to become more angular.  My body is getting hairier.   These are horrifying things for a girl to go through... If that girl is already crying about having to live in a boy's body, these changes are entirely defeating emotionally.   I cannot face it...

So these two reasons are why we decided that I really need hormones.  I will no longer continue becoming more masculine, and that will buy both of us time to process.  My wife's also been looking at pictures of post-transition women, and has realized that all her mental images are of drag-queens, which are NOT what most trans girl wants to look like... fairly counter-productive if all your feminine features ACCENT your masculinity, rather than erase it, after all.

Our Current Plan, and Unresolved Issues

So what she's suggested, not without a lot of fear, and a strong agreement not to set any of this in stone, is that I will go on hormones, and, once my body is far enough along to pass well, then start transitioning with clothing and such, but only at home.  This is a bit backward from many ladies, who transition socially at the same time, or before, starting hormones, and then letting their bodies catch up.   She knows, even though she doesn't like it, that seeing me in a "half-and-half" position will illicit a lot of transphobic gut-reactions, and she doesn't want that.  Once I've transitioned at home, we'll also let our Church and local friends know, but not present as female in those places at first.  The reason for this are two-fold.  First, everyone needs time to decide whether they'll stick with intolerance or not.  Forcing something on somebody is a very good way to get their negative counter-reaction, rather than the positive one that may (or may not) come through relationship, conversation, and contemplation.  Secondly, and more importantly, it will mean that our girls will not have to be secret keepers.  Everyone in their life will already know, even if they haven't seen, that I am transgender.  There will be awkward moments, of course, but we hope that this will help reduce much of the shame they might otherwise feel.

We also want the two girls (our son is not yet one year old) to take part in the process.  Let them help with things like clothes or hair, things we already do together, but now with me involved as a female.  Our oldest, in particular, we want to be involved.  Since the hormone changes will be so slow, it should give us a very nice long while to rework our family dynamic.  I hope this will help. 

What we don't know how to manage, is all of our old friends, churches, and, of course, family... there are some very intolerant people out there, and while most of them are not close friends, many are friends of friends, and will make things very challenging.  My wife feels a lot of shame, in this regard.  What will people think of her, after all.  Will they look down as a mother, for keeping her kids in such a "toxic environment."  Will they degrade her in their minds as one of "those homosexuals."
 There's just all kinds of wonderful things to worry about in this category...

We also don't know how things will be in regards to intimacy and romance.  We'll work on it, and rest assured, I will NOT blog about it much. (quite shy... and private... yeah...)  There are religious questions that we are still grappling with as well.

So yeah, a lot of changes.  The thrust of it is that I cannot be anyone if I am depressed and suicidal.  Since this is not a chemical depression, but one caused by social marginalization, drugs would only help if they made me into a vegetable... so I've lost my choice to stay male.  With that option gone, we are trying to make the best of what options remain.  It hurts immensely.  I know that the hammer is starting to fall... and it will fall on my wife most of all.  The pain she feels is unbearable for me to see...  but I cannot blame myself like I used to.  I just can't go there again.

I am sad for the spouses that may read this blog.  I hoped that I could encourage them... as much as the trans girls themselves, their wives face terrible emotional and societal abuse.  I want to be helpful, but I don't want to be deceptive either.

Finally, anon, I want to encourage you in your faith. I WOULD NOT BE HERE except for Christ. He was the only one that held my hand through all the suicidal nights, all those many years.  He is far more real than many people realize, and has been my ever-present help and encouragement.  I would not know how to love, or to bear with, or to sacrifice except that He showed me first.  Pray and listen, and He will help you both through this.  He designed and chose both of you, and IS WITH YOU NOW.  He will not abandon you to this, not ever.  You are not alone with your spouse in this struggle, and He, unlike us, DOES see what's ahead, and brought you on this road.  There is a reason for it, and it is a good one.

Thank you for your comment.  I am sorry it took me so long to write this.  Look me up on tumblr (haileygirlme) if you or her would like to get to know me (or potentially my wife, but she's a bit shy online).  There are not very many Christian-identified transgender girls and spouses that I have met, but the few that have, have been so very good to know.  You can message me through this blog, as well, if you like.

So to all who read this, thank you for walking with me through this.  The love and support I've found in some of you ladies has been crucial during this period of my life.  All my love and kindest regards!

- Hailey -

Feeling very awesomely girl today

I didn’t have nightmares or even bad dreams all last night, which is first in a long while. I actually had some sort of good dream (even rarer) in which I was my real gender. All my good dreams are like that… they just don’t happen very often… a couple times a year. Hey, it’s only the second week of this year… so either I’m going to have a great dream-year, or I’ve already used one up. =)

I wore a pretty scarf on my bike ride to work. My hair is long enough now that all these little curls are peaking out from under my bike helmet and I LOVE them. I lost too much weight over break due to stress, not eating, throwing up because of stress, and not eating because of stress… and I was pretty stressed… but, now that I’m eating again, and feeling somewhat healthier, I decided to take a look. Here’s the thing, I’ve got pretty thighs. (Nicole knows how embarrassed I am to say such a thing out loud). Apparently I passed some corner there with the whole bikeriding thing.

I’m not sure just why I’m having such an up day. I think its because of the genetics research they just announced (even if the article version called me a transsexual man…). I don’t mind the idea of having developed a female mind because of unknown, rare environmental triggers, but if they are right, it means my genes need to be in place too. There is more to it than just genetics, but the genetics look like they have to be there. What does that mean, you ask? It means that I am not just a psychological girl; I am a genetic female. We think of XX and XY being the whole story, but they are just the typical patterns that are followed. There are, it seems, other pathways. Certainly, all my other T related genes are NOT what I’d like them to be, but, with a bit of gene sequencing, they’ve shown me that it was part of my design all along to be a girl… not a mistake… not just circumstance… but from a biological perspective, what I was designed to be (given the correct triggers). And thank God for that, because without those little gene sequences, I might have been a boy…

Christmas Dreams

The following is a short excerpt from the book of Hebrews (in the Bible):

¹³ All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. ¹⁴ People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. ¹⁵ If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. ¹⁶ Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one.Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

I watched Avatar again last night, for the first time in a long time.  I'd forgotten just how much the story and imagery move me... and how much dysphoria is the inevitable result.  How well I relate to living in a body not my own... of wanting my love to finally hold me in her arms and say, "I see you."  Of wandering through the dream, yearning for the world as it should have been, yet is not.

The author of Hebrews probably didn't have much notion of aliens, and certainly would never have dreamed of such a thing as cinema, but the thought in the passage above is the same heart of both dreams.  There has to be something better than this...  We yearn for it... feel it... need it... some of us breath it... Our deepest dreams and longings are wrapped in cords of beauty, wonder, flight, and kinship.  To be free of these fleshly bodies, our minds loosed to live the dreams we have always had, no longer bound by the flesh which so often is mistaken for our definition.

And yet... here I am...  This is not my body, and this is not my home...  I know that I am designed for something different, for something far more perfect.  My humanity makes me want to order and construct.. to design and engineer, to break the world into pieces I can understand and control... but that is not who I really am.  But even this creation, marred as it is by our ingenuity, need, and greed, is an amazing place... it just can't be all.

It is Christmas in a few days.  For me, a Christian (one who takes it seriously), the season brings nearer a sense of wonder, fear, and immense hope which is present in Jesus' coming.  I don't know how I could survive myself, in this half-truth of a body, without the hope Christ has brought to us.  "Those who wander in darkness have seen a great light."  God with us, dreaming with us, and drawing us on, through this dream (more often a nightmare for so many) to the day when we finally awake, in the country we WERE designed for... His country... floating mountains and beautiful creatures on whose backs we soar through the clouds will be forgotten in the far-surpassing wonder of that place... and I will be free.  Free of this schism of my soul.. of the tears and aching.. of waiting, thirsting, and starving for real life, real water, and real kinship.

So this Christmas, awkwardly sitting amongst by beloved relations, still not talking about what they know about me, making merry for the superficial things, and some, for the real things Christmas is about, I will lift my eyes to something greater than my dark clouds of dysphoria, of the real pain caused by this lifelong inundation of testosterone, and dream of what may yet be...  This Christmas I will remember that Christ, too, endured a body not His own, and was killed for telling the world who He truly was, and that He did that precisely because He means yet to free us, to free me, His sister, His daughter, from the nightmare.  He entered our dream so that one day, we might finally awake, and hear, and say, "I see you."

How I Told My Mom

First of all, let me allay one point of confusion:  My actual Mom and Dad are extremely unhelpful people and will be quite a way down the list of people to come out to.  All further references to my "Mom and Dad" in this post refer to my wife's parents, who care a great deal more about loving people, and to whom I am as endeared as any daughter (or son) to her (or his) biological parents.  I love my own parents a lot, they're just difficult, and always have been.

So yeah, I came out to my Mom last night.  My wife and I have been talking at length these last months and we've finally struck on a compromise that may work for us.  Transitioning to a female body and lifestyle is too much for her, and would be, at best, harmful to our children.  Its sad that society would be so happy to emotionally beat them for having a loving, but trans parent, but that would be the case, nonetheless.   However, as most trans folks know, living as the wrong, biologically enforced gender forever is also extremely harmful.  I feel like I'm bottling up the acid and poison of the world's hate for me and soaking my heart in it; hoping in vain that by staying secret, I'm helping someone.  But that very real hatred tears and shreds the soul, and my heart's endurance is failing...

Neither can I change to a woman, nor can I live as a man.  In one way or the other, I am neither.

My wife put it this way.  She cannot probably survive the social and familial upheaval of a transition, and could not sleep but in tears next to a fem-styled man whom she once was attracted to.  But at the same time, she cannot be the jailer for someone she loves so dearly.  She cannot bear the pain and misery of her companion's shackled life, knowing that she holds a key to her female husband's freedom.  Yet using that key will slay her.

So it seemed we were at an impasse, and that's not a place we are willing to be.  It has begun to look like we needed to start helping each other dig some other tunnel out of this cell.

What we've decided is that, first of all, I need to be out.  I cannot carry the secret between just herself and I any more than she can, because we will always have very real, legitimate, but unfortunately opposed desires.  I need to be able to tell my family and friends who I am.  We all long to be known and loved, and though in my case, being known means shocking a lot of people, it is the same basic desire of every human heart.  "Please know me. Please love me."  Not everyone will, of course, but that too is a reality that all humans face, whether they are so fortunate to be cis- or not.

Secondly, we are going to explore how I might start a slow process of presenting in an androgenous way.  I thank all the "metrosexual" style folks for opening some doors for more feminine looks for men.  I also thank the courage of the gay community for forcing the issue of looks on the world: it seems they may have bought me an opportunity.

We're still working through the beginning details, and for her sake, we are going to be extremely slow and self-evaluating in the whole deal.  I'm growing out my hair, and finally (FINALLY!) going to be able to shave off all the rest.  I'll use girl deodorant and all those fun things that nobody will notice anyway.  That's the start, but its all still invisible to all but ourselves.  Next will be a very slow (spelled: budget) change in my wardrobe.  Not sure how to go here, but again, looking for close-fitting, sometimes mens' styles that help me look and feel more girly, without crossing too many social boundaries.  Lastly, we're talking about a very subtle makeup routine.  Just masking and brightening, the stuff actors do, and maybe the faintest of eye makeup.  Who knows where all we'll end up, as dysphoria may pop up in places I don't expect, but we're going to work on it together.   There will be some things that will cause her a great deal more anxiety than others, so we will avoid them (earrings may be on this list, sadly...).  The main hope is that we'll strike on a look that I feel good about (especially in my daily routine, which will feel GREAT), that will make some people pause and wonder.  I hope that I'll be asked if I'm gay, occasionally, because that will mean that enough of my real self is shining through as to be recognized.

So we'll see how it goes.

Back to my Mom though.   My wife decided that there was no point in forestalling the first step, as she'd just get more and more anxious as days ticked by.  So I called last night.  I hoped that both of them would be around.  Certainly they deserve to be able to grapple with it together.  But my Dad is on a business trip at the moment.  I talked briefly to my wife, and she said, just do it.  So I did.

"What do you know about transgenderism?..."

The first thirty minutes were very good.  She was shocked, naturally, and had a huge surge of compassion; wondering how I'd managed to survive it all, etc...  I talked about my childhood, and the science of it (brain differentiation and all).  Her mind started catching up with her emotions at some point, however, and one by one, her defense mechanisms whirred into action.  How wonderfully attentive to distress our minds are!  Thankfully, even after another hour, her opposition was not as bad as it could be.  She naturally feels threatened by me telling other people, and would rather a very VERY small circle ever know (like, herself, her husband, and that's it).  There is a real concern that her other daughter, my wife's sister (mostly because of her husband) would deny our family, or at the very least, myself, any access to our niece and nephews.  Can't have me corrupting their sons, after all.  I hear it's contagious...  So yes, joking aside, she's concerned, as she should be, that my "problem" will hurt the family... and it probably will...

She finished by desperately asking that I don't talk to my Dad immediately.  She seems to know something about his likely reaction...  He is a very respectable man, by the way, in whom I have the highest regard.  Religious, and extremely loving, which tends to go hand in hand with those who actually live as Jesus suggested, rather than just hammering on those who don't.  Part of what has made him such a great person is his dedication to his family, and willingness to tough it out for anyone under who has found themselves sheltered by his arm, related or not.  A man's job is to take care of his family, no matter what the cost, and no matter what his wayward heart my tell or ask of him. (Can you see where this is going?)  Furthermore, he respects me, and will absolutely tell me the truth, if I am going to hurt myself or other people.  He was the only one who was tough enough to keep me in college, for instance.  So his advice is going to sting an awful lot, I'm afraid.  Partly because he, like most others, will not see me clearly for quite some time, and partly because I myself have already told myself those things.  I know what my responsibilities are, and I will keep my promises to my wife and children.  I suffer excessively in knowing that I have not been strong enough to keep this all locked up inside.  I wish I could just bear it, but my life has shown me that I cannot.

In humility, I have to admit that I cannot maintain my role as a man by myself anymore.  I hope that I'm a girl who's made out of strong stuff; courage and resolve, patience in affliction, and all those qualities I so admire in my heroines and role models...  So he will be right. I "should" have been strong enough to deal with it all... but I am not (and that is not how God made me, it seems).

So we will see.  I hope that our imminent trip down to see them (in a few weeks) will help alleviate some of their fears.   I am as I have always been; my personality is authentic.  I hope that seeing me play with the kids and talk and love as I always have will help them see that I am neither a freak, nor psychologically deranged.  Lots of hopes...

Finally, a very positive note that has made me smile.  Why end on a downer, after all?  My mother-in-law, having heard my story, started thinking out loud.  "So many pieces are starting to make sense."  I asked her what kinds of things were coming to mind.  "Well, there are quite a few... but for instance, you've always had a way of flowing into the room, like when you are coming to get the kids, and so many of your mannerisms are so very soft and gentle... I've always noticed that about you"

=)  See, I really am buried inside this XY flesh somewhere!  I didn't know that I could be "flowing" in anything... always been sort of clumsy, I thought.  Well done, female brain!

A Crying Day

Its just one of those days.  I've been on the verge of tears since I woke up.  I always hope that the weeks and months of melancholy will be punctuated by weeks and months of peace, but this latest bout  is worse than it's been before.  My wife is watching me closely, wondering if an explosion is immanent; some horrifying break with all she's known and cherished... and of course, that is precisely what I can be... a very loving, caring, possibly ticking bomb.  We just don't know.

In the mean time, I want to cry, and can't, because of my Y-chromosome...  It's just not socially acceptable, even tolerable...  and I couldn't tell anyone what the matter was anyway.  Will it pass soon? I pray it will, but I don't know precisely where His plan for me actually lies, so I know not how to hope, except that I can hope in Him in a general way...  Isaiah 40 records the prophet asking, "why do you say your way is hidden from the Lord?  Why do you say the Lord has disregarded you?" (paraphrase).  But He, like so many of you, know how hard the emotions can be.

Sometimes a girl just needs to cry... even if she's a boy.

Loving Haters

I wonder how many people, if asked, would think of me as something of a contradiction.  Not only am I a girl with a Y chromosome (p < 0.05...), but I am also a very sincere Christian. To be sure, there are a lot of Christians who believe all sorts of things, even those who find their own, personal theology to follow... but I think you would find, if you delved a bit, that I really am fairly centric in the greater distribution of Christian beliefs... and yet, I am not against transgenderism.  

I understand the hang-ups... believe me; I've grown up cherishing every word of the Scriptures, and know which ones might be talking about me... and I understand the way my brothers and sisters see things...  What makes me so sad is how the community I love, to which I will always belong, tends to fall into old, worn-out, hatred on issues like this.  It really doesn't bother me so much that many men and women around the world who would gladly have me serve in their ministries would also choke and yell "repent" if they understood my "psychology."  The fact is, I love my community.  I love them.  I want to serve them, and in all of that, serve my King.  He's a lot nicer they are, and very worth serving.

But here I am, loving the very people who hate me the most.  I support the Church, even though it, by and large, would not support me.  I hope, someday, that I might have a role to play there.  If I navigate this whole, non-transition thing, I would be as much a contradiction to them (doing what they want on the outside, but refusing to on the inside) as I am to those who have been hated by Christians.

For the behavior of my community, I am very, very, sorry.  I do not excuse their hatred for you and me, or anyone else.  It is very easy to judge other people when you've been convicted as to the waywardness of your own heart.  It's the wrong response, but one that we are all very good at... I've done that myself, on other issues, so I can't really blame them for doing it too... I just don't hate them back, I guess... and hopefully, maybe, some day it won't be so bad...

Thanks for reading, and much love!

-Hailey-

PS:  So if you have questions, by the way, especially theological ones, or "how could God..." sorts of things, I think you'll find me a fairly neutral source.  I have not been through seminary or anything, but I've spent a lot of time and energy on the topics; more of an educated layman than an expert;  but conversations with laymen are sometimes more helpful than lectures from experts. =)   I'd like to think that I can do some good in defusing some of the tension, even if it's only one-sided for now. (The Church will take some time...)

Non-Transitioning

There are a lot of reasons for a choice like transitioning from one body to another. Each story is filled with it's own mix of stresses, wishes, and road-blocks... and at the end of all the soul-searching, many people make the leap. For me though, there continues to be a difference.

It doesn't matter how many times I ask myself the questions, or how many ways I try to write the outcomes... once all is said and done, and as hard as it is to come to the same conclusion again and again, I still think the right decision for me is to continue living my life as it has always been. It hurts, often unbearably, but the pain still adds up to less than the cost of transitioning.

For clarity, I ought to say that by non-transitioning, I mean that I am not living in any way as the female that I believe (I think) I am. My XY body is as convincing as the next, and through the three decades of my life, I've become quite skilled at playing the role. I don't have any girl clothes or makeup, and as far as anyone has ever known, I'm a well-adjusted man.

Well Adjusted. How many times have I heard people speak of me that way. It is sadly ironic, tragic even, how bad we are at summing people up from their appearances. Probably the better way of labeling me would be, “...considering the life-long emotional turmoil and fear that she has had to live with, Hailey is not too badly adjusted...” Its like being surprised that a smashed car still drives... sort of...

But nobody sees the battered car with its shattered windows... They see “well-adjusted” me; the XY Boy, on the outside. I wish it weren't that way... I cry and pray and wish... but what can I ask, that people can see my soul instead of my body? It can't be.

Still, the question remains, why is it that I'm not transitioning?

Love is the answer. I am not alone. If I were, it would not matter what I looked like, after all. But I am with people. I am married, and have three children, and a really wonderful set of family and friends. Furthermore, and more importantly, I am a very convinced Christian. (Please bear with me here... I know a lot of Christians have some pretty negative things to say about transitioning... I am not one of them.)

My wife has known for several years, and she's been phenomenally graceful. It is very hard on her too, harder than I can bear, some times. She loves me as a man..., the man she's always known and always sees. I know there are some partnerships out there where permission with acceptance is possible, but that comes down to how each of us is wired. That story is not our story. My wife loves me to death, but she is terrified of what it would be like to live with me in an XX-styled body. I will not subject her, purposefully, to shame and fear. The peace I might otherwise gain from finally being outwardly congruent with my own self-image would be completely lost by the turmoil I would create. The net gain would be emotional rejection... and I am one who has borne enough of that in my life already...

She is not the only reason though. It is possible that some day, she will be happy enough with it all that for her own sake, not much would be lost. But even if that were the case, my children are in another category. I am not sure what kind of life a kid would be forced to live if their dad couldn't be called dad anymore. I can certainly imagine how I might have reacted to a similar change in my own parents. Shame is a terribly destructive force in human hearts. I love my kids like nothing else in the world. The thought of the probable shame they would bear each day of their lives; at any mention of coming home, meeting parents, asking after family... even getting a family Christmas photo... The alienation would be unbearable for me, and the life-long uncertainty and loss of that parental relationship would be a sad loss for them. Certainly it is possible that they would grow up with a more understanding world-view than the world at large, but that does not necessarily translate into the same relationship they can have with good-old “Dad.” A caveat, of course, is if I were to live as a sullen, depressed sort of Dad... which would be worse probably, than a happy second...mother???, but I'm not really like that.

It pains me deeply to think that my kids will never really know me, but at the same time, I remember that no child really ever knows their parents completely. No matter what they're like, they'll always be “mom and dad,” in some way or another. They don't need to love me and care about me as deeply and dearly as I do of them. Even if I had been an XX girl and borne them myself, that would still be true.

Lastly, my faith applies here. I love Jesus, and He has been more dear to me than any other person I have known. I believe His words about how we should live, and know absolutely that the best parts of my life are a result of me giving up bits of myself to live more like He does. It has always been better for me to love others than to love myself, and so it is in this case. If ever I decide that my own plight is more important than the lives of those ones who love me most, I will have lost an awful lot more of myself getting to that point than I could ever gain by transitioning. I would rather be a loving XY girl than a selfish XX girl, because, after all, it is what is inward that drives us, not what is outward. I like who I am, even in this body, so I cannot sacrifice who I am on the inside to become just another body on the outside.

Finally, I will also die, one day, and on that day, I will shed all these burdens and see the One I love. It will take a while... a long long while... but at the end of it, I think I'll finally be His girl, if we even care about our gender when we are with Him. No one else who is there will care either, which is an awful lot different than the people who are here. So non-transitioning is not forever... real life is forever, and we will not be broken when we are truly alive.

So there's my story... without all the history leading up to it. Certainly if I had been born 15 years later, with all the treatments they have now for pre-teens, and if I had been part of a very different (tolerant) family, I would have transitioned.  But we can all tell "what if" stories, and they've never gotten any of us anywhere.  Besides, I would not, even now, go back if I could.  To lose the life I've had with my wife, and to never have met these three children... it would not be worth it.  The dysphoria is aweful... and it will always be that way... but it will always be worth it, and my soul can be still, knowing that He made me with a purpose, and bears the pain along with me, knowing, in His great wisdom, what will have been gained by the long sacrifice.  

(please comment if you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear from you!)


(Later Edit)
PS: A little more on this topic: http://haileygirlme.blogspot.com/2012/11/in-pressure-cooker.html
PPS: And a little more, changing the plan a bit http://haileygirlme.blogspot.com/2012/11/how-i-told-my-mom.html