I had a dream last night; one of those half-day dreams that happen near the edge of sleep, when you're not sure which parts you crafted yourself and which parts are from dreamland. I was invisible.. just a watcher. My wife stood on an empty sidewalk, peering down at the figure of a man, walking slowly toward us. She choked back a sob as she realized who it was, unbelieving that it could be true.
The man was me, only, not me, but the person I've tried to be for so much of my life. He was everything everyone thought I was until I told them otherwise, now a complete person; and I was gone. In dreams, you often know things that are known, somehow, to everyone. In this dream, he, and she, and I all knew that this man was real, and that no part of me or my gender was left in him.
He walked slowly up, smiling gently. "I'm back," he said. In two words, all her fears and horrors were dispelled, and all her most earnest hopes and dreams returned. They embraced and cried. She held him so tightly, clinging to every future hope that he represents, knowing that her own nightmare had finally ended.
...
And as I stood there, watching, alone and unseen, I was at once, so very happy, and so very sad. What I would do to buy that moment for her, to grant the girl I love the dearest dream and hope... one that had been promised, but falsely, long ago, and to which we've worked and laboured together for so long. Our Future. Our Life. But in that moment, knowing, and more so, feeling so keenly what relief had swept over her cut such sharp contrast over reality. That man doesn't exist. He's never existed, and I can't give him to her. The only person here is me, and as I walk up a sidewalk, there are no tears of joy... I am, in a terrible way, "half the man I used to be," or likely a bit less. A compromise solution.
So I pause here, keyboard awash in tears, wondering what it is I've done wrong. I've carried this storm with me my entire life, and now that it's out, it's reeking exactly the chaos I always feared it would. How happy my dearest loves would be if I didn't exist, but some other person. But I can't give them what they want, and they must tolerate, rather than love, who is left... my bare heart, aching and yearning for love... just a girl asking to be loved...
Showing posts with label Trans Girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trans Girl. Show all posts
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
A Painful Request
I've been meaning to write about the great things that have been happening to me these last few weeks... but, as life goes, by and by, the pain of one thing overwhelms the joy of the others. I'm sorry to cry, maybe, since so many of my posts are really a translation of my silent tears... unspendable on warm, caring shoulders, as I have none close enough. (How I cry for you, Nicole... I could use you today...)
Last week I got my blood work for HRT done. Everything came back great... healthier than I've ever been, in fact. My counselor enthusiastically wrote "the letter," knowing nothing better for my psychological well-being than the medicines to quell this androgen disease.
But my wife isn't ready. Originally, we had planned to see the doctor together, but as I visit the campus clinic, hours don't readily overlap well with the schedule of a family of five. The first few times, I went myself, because of this. But now we're ready to start, and my wife feels like I've betrayed some small part; some large part... of our agreement. She feels like I've removed her from the picture, and am moving forward, down my own road without her.
I understand the sentiment... though it was not my intent at all. So, instead of going in tomorrow... ... ... I'm rescheduling for some new appointment in the future. Hopefully it won't be too far out, but i'm not hopeful. They are quite busy. Two more weeks won't actually kill me, right? My wife has asked why such a short time weighs so heavily on my heart.
To voluntarily give up the medications... to wait a few more days to eat, starving though I am... to wait another hour for an ambulance, though I lay bleeding on the rain-soaked pavement... (yeah, I'm getting a little melodramatic... I know...)
I want to express how hard it is for me to do this... and have tried, but she is unmovable. I want her to be a part of this very badly. I can think of nothing better than to transition together, rather than alone, but this is very hard.
She has no intention of saying no to HRT in general; but only wants to talk to the doctor; to feel like she's in the loop. I understand that quite well... I wish it didn't hurt so much to wait...
So to all of you ladies out there who DO understand how it must feel to deny myself this, I just wanted to say, I'm crying... and I'm crushed.. and I'm glad that you understand, and that some of you care. I don't now how I'd make it through all this without you all. Really.
All my love, and with all my heart.. broken though it is.
Your Hailey
Last week I got my blood work for HRT done. Everything came back great... healthier than I've ever been, in fact. My counselor enthusiastically wrote "the letter," knowing nothing better for my psychological well-being than the medicines to quell this androgen disease.
But my wife isn't ready. Originally, we had planned to see the doctor together, but as I visit the campus clinic, hours don't readily overlap well with the schedule of a family of five. The first few times, I went myself, because of this. But now we're ready to start, and my wife feels like I've betrayed some small part; some large part... of our agreement. She feels like I've removed her from the picture, and am moving forward, down my own road without her.
I understand the sentiment... though it was not my intent at all. So, instead of going in tomorrow... ... ... I'm rescheduling for some new appointment in the future. Hopefully it won't be too far out, but i'm not hopeful. They are quite busy. Two more weeks won't actually kill me, right? My wife has asked why such a short time weighs so heavily on my heart.
To voluntarily give up the medications... to wait a few more days to eat, starving though I am... to wait another hour for an ambulance, though I lay bleeding on the rain-soaked pavement... (yeah, I'm getting a little melodramatic... I know...)
I want to express how hard it is for me to do this... and have tried, but she is unmovable. I want her to be a part of this very badly. I can think of nothing better than to transition together, rather than alone, but this is very hard.
She has no intention of saying no to HRT in general; but only wants to talk to the doctor; to feel like she's in the loop. I understand that quite well... I wish it didn't hurt so much to wait...
So to all of you ladies out there who DO understand how it must feel to deny myself this, I just wanted to say, I'm crying... and I'm crushed.. and I'm glad that you understand, and that some of you care. I don't now how I'd make it through all this without you all. Really.
All my love, and with all my heart.. broken though it is.
Your Hailey
Friday, January 18, 2013
A Long-delayed Explanation
Anonymous Wrote:
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 -
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 -
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Dysphoria Curveball?
Most days, the patterns of dysphoria are so well-worn through my mind that I could draw you a roadmap. Sometimes, though, completely new ones show up.
Today I got a very cool letter. Apparently, some work I did a while back has earned a national award. The letter was to inform me of this, and to invite me, expenses paid, to the award ceremony in Washington, DC. (I know, right?)
So a very nice letter to get. But here's the thing. What do I wear? (DYSPHORIA!) I won't have transitioned yet... but hormones should be around the 4-month mark by then, which might make me passable. My hair will be long enough, etc... And of course, its not like you have the opportunity to dress fancy and thank an old guy for a plaque very often... but... really??? in a suit??? =(... I just... I'm a girl...
I don't own a dress, and I likely won't by then... but... yeah...sort of spills the wind from the sails, a bit... At the very least, I suppose I'll be far less boyish by then, and might manage a snappy androgynous number... yeah... that's the spirit, Hailey!
Today I got a very cool letter. Apparently, some work I did a while back has earned a national award. The letter was to inform me of this, and to invite me, expenses paid, to the award ceremony in Washington, DC. (I know, right?)
So a very nice letter to get. But here's the thing. What do I wear? (DYSPHORIA!) I won't have transitioned yet... but hormones should be around the 4-month mark by then, which might make me passable. My hair will be long enough, etc... And of course, its not like you have the opportunity to dress fancy and thank an old guy for a plaque very often... but... really??? in a suit??? =(... I just... I'm a girl...
I don't own a dress, and I likely won't by then... but... yeah...sort of spills the wind from the sails, a bit... At the very least, I suppose I'll be far less boyish by then, and might manage a snappy androgynous number... yeah... that's the spirit, Hailey!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
The Interesting Thing About Life
So I'm a grad student, and am taking a lot of rather cerebral classes lately. I know I shouldn't be embarrassed about being intelligent, but there it is. In any case, in one of my classes, we talk a lot about assumptions being made to support certain predictions. If such and such a thing is true, then this and this and this... you know, logic and math. But the other day, in my theory class, we started talking about WHY we make certain assumptions.
The thing about our assumptions, sometimes, is that as normal and required as they may seem; simple and obvious even, they really aren't always quite so rational... (Okay, miss Hailey, get on with it) (Oh, right!)
So the thing about life, is it goes on. Its always gone on, for all of you, and always goes on for me. But thinking about it... why doesn't it end when we go to sleep? Maybe some moment when you blink, your eyes don't open again... why not? We make the very valid assumption that time continues. So I've been thinking about this a bit. I don't know why I've been given the gift of a continuous time stream, stretching out in front of me, filled with the unknown future, but the thing is, whether I understand the assumption or not, it seems very true. And when you look at your future, knowing full well that all else in life is based solely on the notion that life continues, there are two options:
Hope or Despair
(Now she's getting somewhere!) For so long, the future has seemed so bleak for me. I don't know how best to love my dear, wonderful girl. It seems like no matter what I do, there is a high chance of her being extremely battered and bruised. She's clearly not ready for any kind of transition, and is equally un-ready for a life of keeping me in a cage... So that's how I've often thought, and its a heavy weight to carry. Most days I cry if I think too hard about it all.
But ultimately, I still do assume that life will go on, and in light of that, the mathematics are still quite plain. Life will be filled with its critical points and inflections no matter what we do or don't do. That will always be true. Its not a flat line... things change, we change, people change. So we are at something of a drawn out critical point right now (yeah, math people, I know... make it a flat-line discontinuity, if you like). Where life goes from here is a bit unknown, but that it will go somewhere is something that I'll take on faith. So, the only real question is, how best can I live? I can still love, and give, and cherish. I can still encourage and bear with. Some things are exogenous to my equation. I may not have too much choice left in transitioning. I will not willfully add suicidal depression to my variables; not again. So with that constraint, I will still do the best I can. I will make my choices so that in the end, I won't be able to blame myself for not loving where I could have, or not caring where I should have. People will have their ups and downs too, but not all of that (most of that... any of that?) is in my control.
So yeah, mathematical emotions... its how I am. At least, if it bored you, you wouldn't have gotten quite this far. =)
Well, I'm off to counselling. Yay for mental health! (Don't you just love healthy minds?) I'll try not to use the same terminology on the poor intern I'm seeing today... social science major, after all. (kidding! i'm kidding!)
Much Love!
- Hailey -
The thing about our assumptions, sometimes, is that as normal and required as they may seem; simple and obvious even, they really aren't always quite so rational... (Okay, miss Hailey, get on with it) (Oh, right!)
So the thing about life, is it goes on. Its always gone on, for all of you, and always goes on for me. But thinking about it... why doesn't it end when we go to sleep? Maybe some moment when you blink, your eyes don't open again... why not? We make the very valid assumption that time continues. So I've been thinking about this a bit. I don't know why I've been given the gift of a continuous time stream, stretching out in front of me, filled with the unknown future, but the thing is, whether I understand the assumption or not, it seems very true. And when you look at your future, knowing full well that all else in life is based solely on the notion that life continues, there are two options:
Hope or Despair
(Now she's getting somewhere!) For so long, the future has seemed so bleak for me. I don't know how best to love my dear, wonderful girl. It seems like no matter what I do, there is a high chance of her being extremely battered and bruised. She's clearly not ready for any kind of transition, and is equally un-ready for a life of keeping me in a cage... So that's how I've often thought, and its a heavy weight to carry. Most days I cry if I think too hard about it all.
But ultimately, I still do assume that life will go on, and in light of that, the mathematics are still quite plain. Life will be filled with its critical points and inflections no matter what we do or don't do. That will always be true. Its not a flat line... things change, we change, people change. So we are at something of a drawn out critical point right now (yeah, math people, I know... make it a flat-line discontinuity, if you like). Where life goes from here is a bit unknown, but that it will go somewhere is something that I'll take on faith. So, the only real question is, how best can I live? I can still love, and give, and cherish. I can still encourage and bear with. Some things are exogenous to my equation. I may not have too much choice left in transitioning. I will not willfully add suicidal depression to my variables; not again. So with that constraint, I will still do the best I can. I will make my choices so that in the end, I won't be able to blame myself for not loving where I could have, or not caring where I should have. People will have their ups and downs too, but not all of that (most of that... any of that?) is in my control.
So yeah, mathematical emotions... its how I am. At least, if it bored you, you wouldn't have gotten quite this far. =)
Well, I'm off to counselling. Yay for mental health! (Don't you just love healthy minds?) I'll try not to use the same terminology on the poor intern I'm seeing today... social science major, after all. (kidding! i'm kidding!)
Much Love!
- Hailey -
1st HRT appt Success!
Ok, last night was quite hectic, but I have a moment (right now) SOOO:
The appointment was really good. I dressed as girly as I could, because it helped me feel confident (right?). I had my purple tshirt on under my (purple) dress shirt all day, so I just quick pulled of the dress shirt in the bathroom before I was called in. Pink bracelet, hair foofy.. it was fun.
So as I was waiting, I was arguing with myself about whether or not I should use my new voice, or not. Actually, I was arguing about it all day, but it didn't get heated until I was waiting in the lobby. But then I realized, I will feel pretty awesome about myself if I get through a whole appointment in my girl voice, and I won't feel better about myself if I don't... SO... I did, and it rocked! So I did'nt go as high as I am able, but definitly kicked it up several notes.
OK, so the appointment itself. The Dr is really nice, and very kind. She was very up front about wanting me to feel comfortable and would adopt any terminology or definitions that I used, rather than try to nail down her own vocab (cause lets face it, everyone uses all the terms differently, on the best of days). She has treated only 3 other mtf's but is taking over for the psychiatrist on campus who used to do this but is retiring. She went through the professional contacts she'd made in the last few days to prepare to help ME (like, she's been on the phone with other doctors specifically for me!).
We went through all my medical and mental history, and all my family's history, and much else. She was convinced at the end that I definitely seemed ready to go on permanent-change allowed hormones, but since she's not an expert, wants to have the pscych people to talk to, as well as me, to move forward as a team. Seemed reasonable to me. =) I really like how humble she is about not knowing, but how clearly dedicated she is finding out what she needs to know. So, for follow-up, she booked two, double-length appointments to talk more in detail. One in two weeks, and another in four weeks. Hopefully, in that time, I will have had a couple two or three appts at councelling to get that end of it moving.
The last thing, as we were saying goodbye, was that she asked as to my name. "Are you going to keep your current name?" she asked. So I said no, and told her my chosen name is Hailey, with the whole "Hey, Lee," and family being able to call me Lee, for short, stuff. She was really tickled for some reason.. thought it was a great name and a great way to bridge to female, etc.. So then, she took my hand, and said, so sincerely, I could feel it, "Thanks for coming in, Hailey, I'm really glad that we are going to be able to work together on this." (I LOVE HEARING MY NAME!) happy sigh... =)
So yeah, she was very kind, and clearly very supportive. We didn't talk about timeline, really, but it was clear that once my councelor thinks this is a good idea, she'd have no reservations in going the next step medically.
YAY!
The appointment was really good. I dressed as girly as I could, because it helped me feel confident (right?). I had my purple tshirt on under my (purple) dress shirt all day, so I just quick pulled of the dress shirt in the bathroom before I was called in. Pink bracelet, hair foofy.. it was fun.
So as I was waiting, I was arguing with myself about whether or not I should use my new voice, or not. Actually, I was arguing about it all day, but it didn't get heated until I was waiting in the lobby. But then I realized, I will feel pretty awesome about myself if I get through a whole appointment in my girl voice, and I won't feel better about myself if I don't... SO... I did, and it rocked! So I did'nt go as high as I am able, but definitly kicked it up several notes.
OK, so the appointment itself. The Dr is really nice, and very kind. She was very up front about wanting me to feel comfortable and would adopt any terminology or definitions that I used, rather than try to nail down her own vocab (cause lets face it, everyone uses all the terms differently, on the best of days). She has treated only 3 other mtf's but is taking over for the psychiatrist on campus who used to do this but is retiring. She went through the professional contacts she'd made in the last few days to prepare to help ME (like, she's been on the phone with other doctors specifically for me!).
We went through all my medical and mental history, and all my family's history, and much else. She was convinced at the end that I definitely seemed ready to go on permanent-change allowed hormones, but since she's not an expert, wants to have the pscych people to talk to, as well as me, to move forward as a team. Seemed reasonable to me. =) I really like how humble she is about not knowing, but how clearly dedicated she is finding out what she needs to know. So, for follow-up, she booked two, double-length appointments to talk more in detail. One in two weeks, and another in four weeks. Hopefully, in that time, I will have had a couple two or three appts at councelling to get that end of it moving.
The last thing, as we were saying goodbye, was that she asked as to my name. "Are you going to keep your current name?" she asked. So I said no, and told her my chosen name is Hailey, with the whole "Hey, Lee," and family being able to call me Lee, for short, stuff. She was really tickled for some reason.. thought it was a great name and a great way to bridge to female, etc.. So then, she took my hand, and said, so sincerely, I could feel it, "Thanks for coming in, Hailey, I'm really glad that we are going to be able to work together on this." (I LOVE HEARING MY NAME!) happy sigh... =)
So yeah, she was very kind, and clearly very supportive. We didn't talk about timeline, really, but it was clear that once my councelor thinks this is a good idea, she'd have no reservations in going the next step medically.
YAY!
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
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…
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Christmas Dreams
The following is a short excerpt from the book of Hebrews (in the Bible):
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."
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."
Saturday, December 15, 2012
A poem for my friend
So I have a friend now, as I mentioned, and she's already meant the world to me. For all the emotion I normally have to bury for other people's sake, I now have a "secret" tunnel. So when I saw the season's first snowflakes, falling, hidden, amidst the rain, today, I was inspired, doubly. We two will always have to weather some storms... its what being made trans* means, in this world, at this time. But in all storms, there are rays of hope, and help to be found.
To my friend, a woman who has been hope, and help, to me, though the storm rages on.
For My Friend
The night our life in darkness shroudshiding hopes and tainting dreams.
When dark fogs snuff the starlit gleam,
You’re the shimmer in the clouds
Troubles ours, many sorrows shared
but burdens lessened by the sound
of loving songs; kind words, profound.
For hope, it seems, our souls are paired.
So cold the wind may blow again,
pouring down a grey sky’s tears.
When life stings cold; aching cares,
You’re the snowflakes in the rain.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
New Difficulties of Being Non-op
Some of you may know that I'm avoiding an outward transition... Plainly, I'm trying my best to do what's best for the hearts and lives of my wife and children, even if that's hard on me.
Last week I came out to my parents (-in-law) and my wife's brother. Someone on tumblr compared the emotional side of coming-out to riding a roller-coaster during an earthquake. Yeah... something like that...
It's not been too bad, as I said in my last post... but a lot of that is due to my family's relief that I'm not rushing into some change that they're not ready for (or accepting of, as of yet). They're still very much in the beginning of the process. What is transgenderism? What does this mean? Is he crazy? Why does he think he's a girl? Maybe it was his parents' fault? We all know he had a rough childhood... Does this mean he's made a homosexual out of our daughter? Is their marriage valid in God's eyes?
You know, the works. They're at the beginning, and I have much faith that they will move past some of the sillier questions soon. They really are good people; honest, and serious about their faith, but loving more than most other things.
But there is an emerging problem that is worrying me. Having told them that I am, metaphorically, locked in a strange sort of tower, but for the world's sake, staying inside for the time being, they are more than willing to say, "no problem, we'll help you keep the door shut! Just tell us how we can help. We love you and will stand by you through this... just stay in there and hang in there!" It's more than a little invalidating, but also, by the nature of my choice, something like inevitable.
I'm worried that having suffered through life as an unknown girl, that now I may have to suffer as a known, but invisible girl. Its easy to ignore a unwanted person who is "happy" enough to stay invisible for you, after all. Furthermore, if I'm willing to repress myself for their sake, it will be much easier for them to view me as repressing an affliction of some kind, rather than what I'm actually doing: masquerading as the boy version they're all so comfortable with.
Difficulties...
So I'll give them time. I have hope that, at the very least, they'll start seeing me as an extremely feminine boy, even if my choices allow them to ignore the final bit.. (I'm not a boy...) That will be worth something. There will be a few of my more imaginative friends that might, someday, realize that we are all just souls, piloting these strange biomechs, and though many of us have appropriate markings on the exterior, such happy coincidental match-up isn't true for all of us.
We'll see where it goes. Time isn't my enemy, for the moment. The dysphoria is shockingly bad, sometimes, and I've cried a lot more than is probably healthy... just afraid that giving them room to breath will leave me with precious little.
Much Love,
-Hailey-
PS Anyone out there tonight? I'm feeling a touch lonely... love you all!
Last week I came out to my parents (-in-law) and my wife's brother. Someone on tumblr compared the emotional side of coming-out to riding a roller-coaster during an earthquake. Yeah... something like that...
It's not been too bad, as I said in my last post... but a lot of that is due to my family's relief that I'm not rushing into some change that they're not ready for (or accepting of, as of yet). They're still very much in the beginning of the process. What is transgenderism? What does this mean? Is he crazy? Why does he think he's a girl? Maybe it was his parents' fault? We all know he had a rough childhood... Does this mean he's made a homosexual out of our daughter? Is their marriage valid in God's eyes?
You know, the works. They're at the beginning, and I have much faith that they will move past some of the sillier questions soon. They really are good people; honest, and serious about their faith, but loving more than most other things.
But there is an emerging problem that is worrying me. Having told them that I am, metaphorically, locked in a strange sort of tower, but for the world's sake, staying inside for the time being, they are more than willing to say, "no problem, we'll help you keep the door shut! Just tell us how we can help. We love you and will stand by you through this... just stay in there and hang in there!" It's more than a little invalidating, but also, by the nature of my choice, something like inevitable.
I'm worried that having suffered through life as an unknown girl, that now I may have to suffer as a known, but invisible girl. Its easy to ignore a unwanted person who is "happy" enough to stay invisible for you, after all. Furthermore, if I'm willing to repress myself for their sake, it will be much easier for them to view me as repressing an affliction of some kind, rather than what I'm actually doing: masquerading as the boy version they're all so comfortable with.
Difficulties...
So I'll give them time. I have hope that, at the very least, they'll start seeing me as an extremely feminine boy, even if my choices allow them to ignore the final bit.. (I'm not a boy...) That will be worth something. There will be a few of my more imaginative friends that might, someday, realize that we are all just souls, piloting these strange biomechs, and though many of us have appropriate markings on the exterior, such happy coincidental match-up isn't true for all of us.
We'll see where it goes. Time isn't my enemy, for the moment. The dysphoria is shockingly bad, sometimes, and I've cried a lot more than is probably healthy... just afraid that giving them room to breath will leave me with precious little.
Much Love,
-Hailey-
PS Anyone out there tonight? I'm feeling a touch lonely... love you all!
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Stress
So the anxiety and stress related to the whole, “I’m telling my family
this week” thing is really making things hard. My health isn’t doing so
well (nausea, headaches, insomnia, awful dreams, the works).
Translation? My female mind is kicking my male body’s butt! (Is that good or bad??.. hmm…)
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
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!
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!
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Terrible Hope
I knew it was coming; much like a runway knows, inevitably, that the jetliner will touch down. The shock and weight of its arrival still hurts terribly, anticipation notwithstanding.
Just another airplane for the tarmac, and just another holiday for me. Thanksgiving has arrived in the U.S., and I find myself clawing and scraping to climb out of this well of tears. I wonder, "will it just go on forever?"
I finally watched Lana Wachowski's speech. So many people have said that her story "could have been mine." Something about her goofy, beautiful words capture so well the struggle we face; certainly the struggle I face. My own story is somewhat different in the details, but so similar in the essence. I cried and laugh (and am crying now, as I type) as she carries me through my own inexplicable life.
What strikes me hardest, is the response of her brother and parents. How I long to be loved as a daughter and protected as a sister. (more crying). Her success has given me more hope than I thought I could have, and that hope has crushed me. How can I hide and secretly cry when I have this hope... that I could be loved as the daughter I am. (still crying...) The beautiful people I call family, might, some day, call me beautiful too, or defend me when someone points out that I'm not (Y-chromosomes have that effect).
Maybe it's just as well that we won't see our family this year for Thanksgiving. A move to a new state has isolated us painfully, but even so, I don't know that I could bear to be there in my shirt and slacks, crying my eyes out on the front porch and not being able to tell anyone why.
And of course, if it were only me in the world, and them, then I would throw the dice and see if I could be as fortunate as Lana. But my wife may not survive such a change, and she is everything to me. She was cheerfully cooking until a moment ago, and to see her downcast face, hugging me as I cry, trying not to cry as she reads my draft... Crushing hope indeed. From here, it looks as though we will always pain each other, one way or the other, in this struggle. There is nothing wrong with either of us, and in all other aspects, we fit perfectly... but in this, it is so hard to hope with any certainty. I love those blue eyes, and the perfect smile. I cannot live without her, and I cannot live without me... at least it feels that way today.
Just another airplane for the tarmac, and just another holiday for me. Thanksgiving has arrived in the U.S., and I find myself clawing and scraping to climb out of this well of tears. I wonder, "will it just go on forever?"
I finally watched Lana Wachowski's speech. So many people have said that her story "could have been mine." Something about her goofy, beautiful words capture so well the struggle we face; certainly the struggle I face. My own story is somewhat different in the details, but so similar in the essence. I cried and laugh (and am crying now, as I type) as she carries me through my own inexplicable life.
What strikes me hardest, is the response of her brother and parents. How I long to be loved as a daughter and protected as a sister. (more crying). Her success has given me more hope than I thought I could have, and that hope has crushed me. How can I hide and secretly cry when I have this hope... that I could be loved as the daughter I am. (still crying...) The beautiful people I call family, might, some day, call me beautiful too, or defend me when someone points out that I'm not (Y-chromosomes have that effect).
Maybe it's just as well that we won't see our family this year for Thanksgiving. A move to a new state has isolated us painfully, but even so, I don't know that I could bear to be there in my shirt and slacks, crying my eyes out on the front porch and not being able to tell anyone why.
And of course, if it were only me in the world, and them, then I would throw the dice and see if I could be as fortunate as Lana. But my wife may not survive such a change, and she is everything to me. She was cheerfully cooking until a moment ago, and to see her downcast face, hugging me as I cry, trying not to cry as she reads my draft... Crushing hope indeed. From here, it looks as though we will always pain each other, one way or the other, in this struggle. There is nothing wrong with either of us, and in all other aspects, we fit perfectly... but in this, it is so hard to hope with any certainty. I love those blue eyes, and the perfect smile. I cannot live without her, and I cannot live without me... at least it feels that way today.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
A Date with Dysphoria
Sometimes it just gets bad. I have no idea why some days, weeks, even months are easy and why, suddenly, the next one isn't. That's the way it goes, I guess. They call it "gender dysphoria," a word my Kindle doesn't even know apparently... that terrifying emotional tsunami that threatens to drag your whole life into the depths.
I don't know if my particular cloud of gender schism is any harder than it is for others... its hard though... very hard. Maybe I'm just easily overwhelmed by it. But whether the drowning girl is a good swimmer or not is hardly the point, is it? The simple fact is, she needs help!
So that's my question. As a non-transitioner, I've got the unlikely task of needing to find things that will help ease the emotional pressure, but without fueling it in the long run.
All my girl-wishes are no good; painted nails, earrings, shaved legs... they're all very visible, at least to my LW, and more importantly, they are things I identify with my female self... and that would make me want it even more... can't allieviate the tension by adding yet more torque to the lever, after all...
But there must be something. I've been thinking of taking up painting, for instance. I really like a lot of the Japanese styles, old and new. I figure nobody would really notice anything amiss if I started painting lotus blossoms and cranes. I'm a plant lover already. But the point is, of course, to paint in all my favorite pinks and purples... colors I'm only currently allowed in dress shirts and vintage tees. The aesthetic sense appeals to that side of me too.
But what else? What do non-transitioning types do when it gets bad? I'm in this one for the long run, so it'd be great to have as many tricks up my sleeves ad possible.
I don't know if my particular cloud of gender schism is any harder than it is for others... its hard though... very hard. Maybe I'm just easily overwhelmed by it. But whether the drowning girl is a good swimmer or not is hardly the point, is it? The simple fact is, she needs help!
So that's my question. As a non-transitioner, I've got the unlikely task of needing to find things that will help ease the emotional pressure, but without fueling it in the long run.
All my girl-wishes are no good; painted nails, earrings, shaved legs... they're all very visible, at least to my LW, and more importantly, they are things I identify with my female self... and that would make me want it even more... can't allieviate the tension by adding yet more torque to the lever, after all...
But there must be something. I've been thinking of taking up painting, for instance. I really like a lot of the Japanese styles, old and new. I figure nobody would really notice anything amiss if I started painting lotus blossoms and cranes. I'm a plant lover already. But the point is, of course, to paint in all my favorite pinks and purples... colors I'm only currently allowed in dress shirts and vintage tees. The aesthetic sense appeals to that side of me too.
But what else? What do non-transitioning types do when it gets bad? I'm in this one for the long run, so it'd be great to have as many tricks up my sleeves ad possible.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
My Story - Who I am Today
Who Am I?
Who am I... I'm a boy, and I'm a girl, and a lot of times, I'm not convinced I'm either one. Sometimes I wonder what it means if a person can't answer such a straight-forward question about themselves... but that is where I live: in the space between 1 and 2, in a world where there are no decimals.Sometimes I hate being a girl just as much as I hate being a boy. The amount of stress and heartache it causes, the endless volume of emotion spent on seeking impossible answers, and worse, the dark cloud of UNKNOWN that hangs over my only confidant, my beautiful wife, takes its viscous toll on both of us. But if there's one thing you can't sacrifice on the alter of contented living, it's your self. This is not something I can give up, whether I would or not.
In the midst of it all, however, there are still a few things that are more certain than is my gender. I love God, fully and completely. My whole life is His. That love, second to His own, defines me and carries me through all the storms of life. He has been my dearest friend. Next, I love my wife and my three beautiful children much more than I love myself. I could never choose to help myself by hurting them; it's just not in my nature. These five loves; God, wife, two daughters, and son, define me more deeply, and more meaningfully, than my outward appearances and societal roles. Love is why we live, I think. So those things I am sure about; and all else comes second to those sureties.
Day to Day
If you like, you can think of me as a pretty thirty-something with a thing for long, sleeveless dresses, flowers in my braids, and a shy smile. That's me in my mind's eye... the dream of a wish that no fountain or faerie can grant. But in cloud castles, we can all be beautiful... As I write these thoughts, as this anonymous digital persona, it is this young lady is who I am trying to be, or maybe its better to say, it is from her eyes that I am trying to express myself.If you met me on the street, the person you wouldn't probably notice, is a thirty-something man in business attire... average and boring enough not to affect anyone's day, or attract any particular attention. It's simple enough to say, yet painfully difficult to live with. Guys aren't supposed to cry either, even if a shy, mild-hearted girl is lost underneath all that social acceptability. So there I am, as plainly and vaguely, yet as honestly, as I can express.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
A first time...
I've heard that there's a first time for everything. For me, this is a first time...
I am a gender variant.
Some people would call me a transgender girl, that is, a girl who was born with a boy's body and genetics. Others probably say that I have a gender identity disorder, pointing at that elusive mismatch between what I "am" and what I "feel like I am." Of course, the list goes on from there...
It is very hard not to be able to answer the question, "who am I?" I know some girls in my position are confident that their biological gender is just an artifact of their inherited genes, and that they are girls, through and through... or at least once you get beneath the skin. I'd like to be as confident as that, but I'm not. All I really know is that I have always played the role I've received from my genes and society, but never wanted that role.
I hope that I can, by writing here in this magical, anonymous, digital space, make a little headway in knowing myself, and ultimately, to live peacefully and honestly. I hope that I meet sympathetic people whom I can learn a little from, or maybe just vent with. And I think, hopes are good to have.
So bear with me as I find words to express the tangle of emotion and memory. If anything, I'll try to be as honest as I can, primarily with myself. I think my final hope is that my life, and my honesty, might help someone else, somewhere.
Thank's for reading,
Hailey
I am a gender variant.
Some people would call me a transgender girl, that is, a girl who was born with a boy's body and genetics. Others probably say that I have a gender identity disorder, pointing at that elusive mismatch between what I "am" and what I "feel like I am." Of course, the list goes on from there...
It is very hard not to be able to answer the question, "who am I?" I know some girls in my position are confident that their biological gender is just an artifact of their inherited genes, and that they are girls, through and through... or at least once you get beneath the skin. I'd like to be as confident as that, but I'm not. All I really know is that I have always played the role I've received from my genes and society, but never wanted that role.
I hope that I can, by writing here in this magical, anonymous, digital space, make a little headway in knowing myself, and ultimately, to live peacefully and honestly. I hope that I meet sympathetic people whom I can learn a little from, or maybe just vent with. And I think, hopes are good to have.
So bear with me as I find words to express the tangle of emotion and memory. If anything, I'll try to be as honest as I can, primarily with myself. I think my final hope is that my life, and my honesty, might help someone else, somewhere.
Thank's for reading,
Hailey
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