LifeDay

This is one of those posts that have stewed in my head for a very long time. With some of these posts I find that I have to write, and go back and mod, sometimes over a period of weeks as the thoughts form. This won't be one of those. This will be done in a single sitting.

The reasons why are easy. In your life you have inflection moments. Those sequences of events that shape your existence for all time going forward. For some it is a birth or a wedding, others the loss of somebody close. Maybe it was a harsh word, or one of encouragement. Maybe it was one where you made some deep mental connection that changed your perception about life and your very existence.

Exactly twelve months ago I had such an event. I have eluded to it in other posts but never put it right out there. So here it goes.

In November 2008, for the first time in my life I admitted to another person that I was a transsexual. I did not know what the implications of that were, or would be for me. I had established a rapport with my therapist on the topic. And had disclosed the nature of my GID to my spouse, whom I had told some 20 years before that I had "an issue".

On the Saturday prior to Thanksgiving my spouse and I had a somewhat nasty discussion. After which I managed to whack my head into the sheetrock of our front hall. I left an impressive dent in it. The nature of my lament was I had "come clean" on what was in my head, and had taken away that that answer would never be good enough. I had hoped that my honesty would allow for forgiveness. It did not. On this evening I was tortured by three separate demons.

The first of having to make amends for not being true to my family and spouse. In this argument it became clear, she would likely never forgive me for what I was, that our marriage could never go back to "business as usual", that she would forever hate the person that my male persona had been.

The second that although I knew in my soul I was female, that my exterior would "never" be a success in the world in creating a convincing female presentation. On this one I have been chastised by other TS women. Their claim seems to be that if you feel it to be so, the whether or not you ever pass is not important. My answer, bullshit. For me to view a transition as practical I needed to know that I could go on with my life, as a woman, not some concoction of a woman.

Third the specter of what a public transition might do to my family, my business, and all of the other aspects of my life. This I could not picture.

In fact it was this that was the primary instigation to my next act. I took some pills. I am not saying what, or how many. It was enough to make me pretty sick. My spouse intervened and I ended up in the hospital. I am not going to speculate on other outcomes.

I found it ironic that 24 hours ago we celebrated the TDoR, but had I been a bit more industrious I might have been a candidate for the list, but my guess is I would not have made it. What I mean is there are probably many such tortured souls who never told anybody they were Trans and so they will never see that recognition of having their name read.

And so a day later, Sunday morning sometime, I awoke in a hospital in a wing where the doors have keycards and nobody left or came of their free will. I would stay in this place for 3 days. Again I will not cover the gory details of my delightful long weekend. Suffice to say, it sucked.

In all of this there is a silver lining. You see around the second night there I met the night nurse, Ruth, who changed my life forever. Not a shrink, or a loved one. The night nurse. As I sat there with my eyes glued on a clock Ruth came over to talk to me.

"What is the matter with you honey?" she inquired. At this point I figured she already knew. It was probably plastered all over the chart "WARNING: THIS PERSON HAS A GENDER ISSUE!". So I just told her, I am transgendered, and likely a transsexual. She looked me in the eyes and said in the most matter of fact way, "Is that all?". I about fell out of the chair. She then proceeded to tell me she knew a lot of transgendered folks, and that she made jewelery for all of the "girls" at the hospital. I said "All?" She said yeah, there are a bunch here, I asked "That I can count on my fingers and toes?" She said, "yes".

We went on to talk about me, and my "affliction". What it would mean to my kids, my spouse, my work and the rest of the world. She joked, "Well one thing for sure, you will be a plus size girl." She was right about that one. And after a few hours of conversation I realized she viewed me as a woman. And it was at that moment that I had my "inflection" point.

I accepted that I was Transsexual. That is different than you knowing you are. That is something that usually happens when you are young. This was a different place. This was acceptance that I am what I am without shame. Without condition, that I would go on living and have to learn how to live knowing this about myself and that others outside of me would also know, and that it was ok.

I do not want to leave you with the wrong impression of events. It was some weeks later that I began to get to my next step. That of embracing being "trans". Taking it. Owning it. Being it. That would come later and I will post on those events eventually. Nor has this been a cake walk either. That acceptance has a pricetag. A hefty one in some cases. For me it cost me my marriage, and now effects a heavy toll on my wallet, my person and my time.

Which is most unfortunate. Because without her intervention that night I might not be writing this post. I would have never seen Sharon in the mirror. Would have never had the real me see the light of day. Would never have let my kids meet and get to know my true self. There would probably be no TransParentDay for others to enjoy. So I owe my, soon to be former, spouse for all of that. I have no idea if she ever reads this stuff I write here. But just in case. Thank you for my life. I am sorry we have fallen apart. I wish it could be different. But it is what it is, just like me.

And so here I sit, exactly a year later. Wondering what comes next. No not on the transition trail, that stuff feels like mechanics to me. Do this, do that, take this, don't do this, etc. etc. Box checking, something I am really good at. No I am wondering when I sit down a year from now and reflect on 2 years since that dire night where will I "be". Not geographically mind you. Where will I be as a human being. I am not afraid as much as I am curious. On my nightstand is "Comfortable With Uncertainty". I am learning how to deal with that uncertainty. It seems to be an ever so gradual process.

I think I am going to call the Sunday before Thanksgiving "LifeDay". It is the day I started living again. The day I accepted me. Good and bad. I suspect many of us have a LifeDay. We don't celebrate them like birthdays but I suspect they are way more important that just noting another personal orbit of the sun.

So is there a purpose in this post? Yes. I have no regrets of those events of a year ago. It proved to be a catalyst. Without out it I might not have figured out as much about me as I have. Would I recommend that method to others. Absolutely not. Let me at least be the harbinger of good fortune. To those of you with personal angst. I know your pain. To those who do not see a way out, or forward do not go into the dark place. If you possibly can, take something from my experience. If not I do so understand.

If I have any any one single purpose on the planet I want you all to know that no matter how impossible you may feel your situation to be. No matter how dire. No matter how alone or unloved you may feel at any instant. There is always hope. Please believe me. You can overcome this. You can be you. And you are so very not alone in this.

Come take my hand and walk with me in the sunshine of a new day.

Happy LifeDay to me...

Sharon in Neitherland

Sorry if you read me "regularly" as I have been remiss in posting. That has been for a lot of reasons of late. I won't list them all here, well maybe just a few. Custody case, divorce proceedings, getting settled in new place, getting son squared away with life changes, and of course transition stuff. Gee I guess that is actually all, or at least most of them. Or as they say, life, that stuff that happens while you are making plans. Yes indeed, life.

Of late I have had this recurring "funk" I get into. Kind of a "why bother" thing. Why bother putting on your hair and makeup, you only have to take it off later, read on...

At the moment I am stuck in this "in between" state. Not he, not really she either. In fact, on some days I am he, and others she. This is really a misnomer, inside I am always she. However on some days I have to present as he. In a recent week I toggled daily, and sometimes twice in the same day. Meaning part of the day I was he, and part of the day I was she.

My lawyer (who is Trans too) told me that at this point in the journey we are actually forcing ourselves into an artificial split personality, our own little self induced schizophrenia. It is not chronic mind you, just acute. It goes away quickly when you can stay one way or the other for a day or two. Interesting though that the longing to be just one, her, never goes away.

So as a funk goes this one is troubling. Now I know all the lectures about being andro/metro whatever. Where folks want you to be in the dude or the chick column and not straddle the two. And I know for me, eventually, the chick column is home. But as many of you dear readers know, it ain't quite that simple. So I find myself like one of those sci-fi adventure heros where the earth has formed a big crack and I am straddling it as it grows wider. Eventually I have to leap to the left or the right or fall in. However today is not the day I need to leap, despite the urgings of onlookers shouting, jump! jump!

Yesterday my lawyer makes a housecall, she transitioned over a decade ago BTW. And oh you are noting, a lawyer that makes housecalls? Yeah, they exist, I got one. Anyhow, I am working from home that day. Mind you in what I now call, soft mode. It means my now growing hair is let to fall down and frame my face. I sport a girl watch. Sometimes my clothes are boy, fatigues and a polo, sometimes girl, jeans and a fem t-shirt. This day I am boy. I answer the door, she looks at me, smiles a bit, and then shakes her head back and forth. Almost in a disapproving manner. I cannot tell if she is amused, or thinks I am foolish, or is recalling her own days of transition. I poke her on it but she has a clever habit of changing subjects on such things.

But without really pressing her I know what it is. It is the Neitherland effect. I look softer, in the middle, not girl, not boy. She has already told me she does not approve of slow transitions. Not like she has much say about mine. But I got her silent point. I am a "tweener" right now.

My take is this stage is inevitable. Unless you are the sort that goes home on Friday and comes back on Monday "re-gendered", to the shock of everybody. That seems harsh, and uncalled for. Maybe it is easier. I do not know, it is not on my path.

So back to that funk. Today is a really good example. I could have had an all girl day. I have a treatment at laser this AM, voice class later, some friends have invited me to dinner. But the treatment at laser is a micro-derm on my face (they tossed it into the package). And although that sounds just fine, as I present today I still use the wig. And wearing that, and having somebody do stuff to your face with liquids and creams and such seems problematic. Mind you I go to electro with wig on, but in that case 90% of my electrologists clients are Transwomen, so no biggie. So today I get up in a funk. Be she, or be he, that is the question. What a question to ask oneself. Like it was red socks or green. Paper or plastic. In the end I decide it is just "easier" to be boy for laser, then come home and be girl for the rest. Neitherland here I come.

I know at some point this crap will no longer matter to me. I am soon there. I have started going places in my neighborhood as Sharon. This is either wise or foolish, probably both. But I have determined that few see him, when the see her. This works for me, and I will play it, but eventually the connection will be made. I am hoping soon for the day when I just get up, and be me and not worry about presentation. The goal of "oneness". I am not sure how far off that is. But I am certain there are two parts.

The first part is oneness out there. Meaning folks see me, as me, and not as two people with different genders. That still has some work for me to do. At this point on my business and public service sides of the coin. The second is oneness within me. So that I do not care about the wig, the forms or any of the rest of it. That I can just go about and be me. That is also going to take some effort. However that effort is all in the wetware (the stuff between your ears, hon).

So in the meantime I will continue to explore my Adventures in Neitherland. This conundrum of who to be day by day. I will seek integration of all of that. I am reminded of a conversation with my shrink (a term of endearment BTW) from last year. I asked is there a way one can integrate these male and female aspects of yourself? She said yes there is, and it has a name. I was thrilled to know this, I asked what it was called. She said transition. I laughed then, but she is right. So I will continue to explore Neitherland for a bit more. Ooh look there is a cup that is labeled "Drink Me" I wonder what that does?

Making Noise

So some of my friends were giving me some grief this past Saturday night at our support group after dinner. You see the next day was the big march in Washington, DC. The National March for Equality which would apply itself to the nation's lawn, the National Mall and environs.

She was posing questions to the members of my support group. "Will you be there?", "Why not?", "What could be more important?". She will read this so I will qualify anything I say here further. We are good friends, and good friends can agree to disagree and be civil about it. And we are, civil that is. I told her I had a different opinion of the march, and frankly of a lot of those sorts of things in general. In my opinion, they are ineffective.

So here is my take. Marches are common now, too common. I think next week the Society Opposed to Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches (SOPBJS) will march on the nation's capitol to make a point of some kind. Something about legume rights... If they are lucky a few reporters might show up and say something or do something to report on it. Maybe. Maybe not.

In the 60's marches made a difference. Why? Because they were unique. Groups of people taking to the streets have existed for centuries. Usually with violent outcomes. The 60s marches of Dr. King, war protesters and other rights advocates were effective because they were either non violent, at least on the part of the protesters, or those opposed to them used violence against them. Think Bull Connor and firehoses, or Kent State. This made an impression because at the time they were news.

Today's march, will be a footnote. By next week a memory. In a month, forgotten. I know all of my marching friends will say, that is not so. (I am probably making enemies at this point as they read on...)

I have another friend who was at the march, she has blogged on it. From her perspective, and she used to be in the public relations business, the march should generate some news, and as she called it, free press. I think her sentiments were well placed, however not quite right. Shortly after noon today another friend, who is pretty prominent in our community posted this to facebook. "Finally marching! LOTS of people, not much media." I wanted to post back, "And you expected what?"

A quick check of the media reports on the event describe it as "Tens of thousands of gay rights activists marched past the White House to the Capitol yesterday, demanding the right to marry and serve openly in the U.S. Military". Good thing those Transfolk attended (Remember it is LGB + t), Good thing the inclusive ENDA was on the radar out there. Please no cards and letters, I think anybody should be able to marry anybody they want. And have the freedom to enjoy the court system for the future divorce if applicable.

I went to CNN, an arguably "lefter" network than the others, and looked at the homepage, top stories. The photo I see, I guy with a clown nose, in a spacehelmet. This is the top news. I scroll down, Naked burglar caught on surveillance Video, TV shows that lasted one episode, scroll down more, see a few references to Obama speaking to the HRC (that is a good thing), then A dog helps children read, and there at the very bottom of the list Thousands march for gay rights...

Wow already a footnote, only hours old...

Please do not take this as crepe hanging. You see it is just that the march thing, is so 20th Century. It is something we do autonomically because we think it has impact because it is in our memory that it does. We remember Dr. King and his speeches, and other advocates. But marches do not do much for your elected officials. Nope they generally care about two things, money and happy registered voters in their districts.

The march also disrupts folks in the local area because people cannot get to work, or shopping, or just plain home. And I can tell you, pissing off somebody is not the way to get them to be sympathetic to your cause. I am not sure we think about that in that context, but as a person that has lived in the DC area for the past 20 years I have personally cursed visits from presidents, domestic and foreign, as well as many other dignitaries. Hell even the Cherry Blossoms are reason NOT to go downtown in the spring.

That all said, it is indeed a "feel good" event. I made the same comments to some who were at various "pride" events. I was unsure of the purpose of the events. I suppose it is to let others know we are there. But I will go back to my previous comment about such things being so very 20th century. I have more power in my keyboard than the whole march. Yep, right here. Why? Because it can be the genesis of ideas. And with those electrons streaming out, I can build communities, dialogs, debates and the free interchange of ideas and opinions.

How many people had their opinion of LGBT folks changed by the march? Few I suspect. How many would have them changed by a personal conversation with an LGBT person. What if that person was a loved one. This is the path. I know many are not going to agree with me. Let's look clinically.

I will assume for a moment that you actually live within driving distance of DC. And you have decided to go to the march. And that you will take the metro in or have to park in DC. So my guess is you might all average $10 each to get down there. Lets say for sake of argument that there really were 300,000 people there as posted by some (Check that, the Washington Post says tens of thousands actually but ok). And lets say that the average schmoo will spend 6 hours this day participating. That is $3,000,000 (three million folks), and 1,800,000 personhours.

Now maybe that headcount is wrong, we will probably know if a few days. But I am pretty sure that if $3M popped in to various lobby and support organizations they would take note, and apply it to doing good on our behalf. And then lets say that each of those 300,000 took part of that 6 hours to write their congressman, or senator, or local legislator a letter. Asking them for consideration. Only 1.8 million cards and letters, and I figure in 6 hours you could probably write or email all of those people, so it is more like 10 million. How about we do that with our time and money.

So to those of you who went down there, I am happy you did, I hope you feel inspired and energized. Me I am going to break out my checkbook, and my editor and do something that might really make a difference. [Thump, sound of getting off the stump]. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

In Between

Yesterday I met a friend for coffee, she her usual self, the epitome of cuteness (hopefully that was what she was going for). Me, in drab. She comments on seeing me that way, "Wow I almost did not recognize you". I am trying to figure out if that is a complement or not. On one hand, she has not seen my drabself since late in 2008. So it could just be that she forgot. On the other hand it could be that she has grown so accustomed to my femself that it was kind of a shock to see me otherwise.

All of which led me to consider something about me. "He" looks different than "her". And I guess by estimations of most folks she looks ok. So that is a double edged sword so it seems. For one, it probably means she can go almost anyplace and nobody is going to make her as him. This sounds like a good thing, as I am still leery of those who know only him seeing her without some preamble. Have I lost you yet? On the total other side of that coin (watch it flip), I am one person and it bugs me that when I am drab or femme people see two different persons. Which poses the question, when do I become just plain old me?

Many days I work from home. On other days, transdays as I call them, I have things to do that are transition related. Electro, Laser, Voice, The Shrink, Support Group etc etc. Those days, or parts of those days, I am my femself. I have just started getting up in the morning and have a "pink" day from that point on. There are other days where I have to go and be him. Work, meetings, social functions, volunteer work, etc. And so I get up as him on those days. It seems simple right? Wrong.

Take today for example, I have might to go to a meeting this morning (him), voice at 1PM (her), and then drop my son off at school at 6PM and pick him up later at 8PM (him, although I have done it as her at least once). So as I am lying in bed in the morning post alarmclock haze I ask myself the question. Who you gonna be today honey? My heart says her, and put off the meeting. My head says meeting helps put food on the table. I debate this for several minutes, and then go with "him".

Of course now I am confused about what to wear. It subsides of course. But I will need to cut my meeting short, so that I have time to go home and become her. That of course takes some time. Then go to voice. Then come home and undo it all. So something that would have taken a normal woman an hour to deal with in her day, will take me three. And that is nuts. Whereas if I just got up, was my femself, and went with it. I could just go to my meeting (assuming I still have that job) and then to the appointment. Like a normal person.

Usually I have a clear cut idea, today is a girl day, today is not a girl day. But as of late, I find myself with days where I could go either way. And I am manipulating my work and my life to allow it to fall to the girl side more and more often. At least it seems that way. It sure would be nice to just let it fall all the way.

So with each advancing day I seem to be stuck at that place in the woods where you need to choose who you are, at least for that day. And I will be frank, I am getting tired of finding myself at the same place in the woods, day after day. I would rather just walk on one path.

The Grass Is Always Greener

I started to call this post "Amnesia". You know that magic ability to forget something, usually painful, or unpleasant from your past. I have often said that women with multiple child births behind them suffer from this. If you did it once, I am not sure how you would manage to do it twice, let alone three or four times. I have postulated that the body makes some "chemical" in women who have just given birth. I makes them forget the bad bits and remember the good ones. I will never know of this for certain of course, and naturally I am a little jealous of the rest of my natal sisters. Thus is my lot. On the other hand, I have seen this first hand. Can I say this -- Oooowwwwwww!

But that amnesiatic drug must also exist in some form in transwomen, it might in transmen too I have not talked to one about it yet. It seems, and maybe it is just me, that my friends who are over the fence, be it full time, or post-op, are somewhat impatient with me and my proclivities and progress. Many have posed, "What are you waiting for". And "You should be full time now." And this from a dear friend, "Sharon, you have already transitioned, you are just trying to figure out how to make it full time". One friend tells me, call up Dr. XXX, make the appointment for your face, and then just do it, let the rest of the world catch up. Wow! Now I know that it is not that simple, but she sure makes it sound so.

A few girls in my local support group have been monitoring my progress with all of this, they have been wagering on when I will crack, and just make the leap. I get questions like, have you come out to ___________? (fill in the blank, co-workers, relatives, business partners, customers). The reality is if I was not in a legal battle I likely would not have come out to anybody other than my friends in the community, and medical professionals. But this court case necessitates disclosure so that anybody I put forward in my favor not get hit by the "Trans Truck" driven by my wife's (ex-wife's?) lawyers. I could never do that to that to a friend or family member.

My lawyer is trans, she kind of has a matter of fact attitude on it, I listed a friend as a witness, but indicated we had not yet had "the chat". She said, do it, now. That must seem so easy, standing on the other side of the fence. Maybe it is. Maybe I am the only one wrapped up in angst, about who knows, why, what their reaction is, what the impact is. But on the other hand, I know many, many, many girls who's stories are horrifying.

I met a friend recently who is a physician. She announced her transition at work, where she was a highly respected practitioner. A few days before FFS her, up to this point supporting employer, got a threatening letter from her ex-spouse. The letter threatened that "they" were upset and might take their wrath out on the clinic. My friend was dismissed from a job she loved, where she was doing good work. She got fired not for being Trans, but because somebody else got scared about what a few throwbacks might do to the business. That is real. There are nutjobs out there. And me being a business person, I might find myself in the same conundrum if on the management side of the coin. So please my friends, lets all not be so casual about full disclosure.

I almost feel like I am being "rushed" by a fraternity (er sorority rather). When I hit college, I went around to the Greek houses, it was the thing to do in those days. They kind of look you over and decide if you would "fit" into their house. If you were lucky, there were 2-3 houses that would then court you. Free beer, food etc. My current house (TKD - Tappa Kegga Dae) that I have been visiting, they apparently like what they see in me. And want me in the club as soon as I can get there. I think they want me to be the Secretary or Treasurer or something. One person told me I should be a spokesperson, I guess the "Otter" of the house, apparently I "give" good presentation (I will admit, "he" is good at that). I am flattered, but ask me again next fall.

But there seems to be an air of lack of memory on the part of these transwomen I know. Like they have forgotten their own transition pain. Like they do not recall that abject terror of discovery. The panic of the first time out in heels. The angst of being called him, or getting a "sir" even though you are obviously trying not to be. The look on the face of your friends or kids, or parents when you tell them about your trueself.

Most of you came out when you had a date or event of some kind. "I will be full time as of [fill in date]". Or "I am having surgery on [date]". Or whatever. I don't have that, what I have is, this is how I am, this is what I am doing, this is how strongly I feel about it. And that is it. There is no closure event. And so I am in a limbo state that lets them keep watching me for signs.

Now I am not complaining here (hey stop snickering!). I am just saying. Those of you on the other side. I am coming, but I am going to do it my own damn way. At my own damn pace. There, I said it, take that. Now please do not go away just because I told you that. I do need all of you, you have walked the road. I still have a long way to go. And I am sure looking back, for many of you, you have found that most of your fears were unfounded. That people are better than you thought. That this is not as big a deal as some of us think it is. But that is all hindsight. And I do not have the benefit of your hindsight, I need to make my own.

Here is perspective, I have been at this for about 9 months. I started some chemistry 7 months ago. Stepped that up to the big "E" 3 months ago. By any perspective, I am a newbie. Maybe I am the freshman who looks like a Heisman candidate. That is great. Let me finish my first season and then lets talk about going to the NFL.

So as much as you might not like it, I will get there on my terms. I like the look of the grass, I do not mind coming over and playing on your grass now and then. I am researching how to make my lawn look like yours. Someday it will be the same, and I will move the fence over one more lot and peer at the next girl who wants to come over. I am hopeful though, that I remember, just what this was like, and only offer her encouragement, and comfort. Not impatience.

TransParentDay.org

I wanted to let you know that Erica F. and I have launched a new site called TransParentDay.org

We are trying to establish the First Sunday in November as TransParentDay, an alternative, or addition to Mother's and Father's days. The site promotes that and stories and resources for Trans Parents and their children.

We will be at SCC handing out our www.TransParentDay.org pink/white/blue awareness bracelets to those of you who are parents, or have trans parents. Please go to the website and take a peek, we also have a group on facebook.

Erica will arrive there tonight, I will show up Wednesday night. See ya there...

Sharon

Strata

I studied rocks for a bit in my geeky past. Those sedimentary ones that form end up as layers, like in a cake. It often makes for some pretty colors and creates a portal into a time machine of sorts. I always thought it was neat that the time we may have spent on the planet as a species often does not amount to an inch or much less on some of these structures. Seems funny that we think so much of ourselves when the rock clearly mocks our sense of time and scale.

But that layered image can teach us something about being Trans. I hear about a heirarchy in our Trans world. There seems to be some rule about being more Trans than thou, or more authentic or the "real McCoy". I don't get it. I mean I get the need for humans to apply taxonomy to things. We like categories. We have all seen the "official" definition list. Almost like the one that is used for animal classifications LGBT->Transgendered->TS->Pre-Op w/Hormones->Not FT->No Marker Change. Or whatever floats your boat.

I have a friend who is currently pre everything. She dresses, has done so for more than 20 years, and frankly passes really well. She does not need FFS (seriously), she is one of the lucky ones. Recently she got told she is not authentic. The person charging her with that is also TS, but is on hormones. So somehow in her head, she is superior to my friend who is not on hormones. That sounds like bullshit to me. "I am more trans than you because I am further on my path". How arrogant.

There is no way you can know what another person's issues are about not moving forward. Or do they even have to move at all? There are too many variables, both internal and external. I have friends who are post, pre, non, maybe and "I don't know yet". I have some that are FT, PT, and Group Time. Some that pass with ease, some that do not. Some on hormones, some not. Some are out, some are not. Some that have a lovely voice, others with a baritone. Some with perfect skin, others not so blessed. Some who claim they are CD and have no desire to transition. But I have never decided that I was better than any of them, none of those ahead of me on the path have ever made a comment about my being serious. I have never made a comment to anybody about their path unless I could see they were conflicted, or in denial in some way. But it was never a critique of where I was relative to them.

I do have one friend who asks me questions about being serious, but she does so that I might figure something out about me. It is not about her being serious and me not. That kind of critical question is helpful. The other is not. It is not a race, it is not a competition. Will never be. Cannot be. Everybody gets to run at their own pace.

And so if I look at that strata, I pose the question. Ain't it all just rock? I mean yeah the yellow and pink are pretty, but are they any less valid than the grey or the tan. Sure one is harder or softer than another. Do you think the pink looks down at the yellow, "hey you are not pink!" No I do not think that happens. And yet in our trans world it does. And it makes me sick.

First off there are so few of us we need to get over faction, and find a way to embrace all comers. Now I will say this. Those of us who are TS. And are indeed looking to "conform" to an accepted social ideal of a woman tend to think of ourselves in a certain way. And there are indeed those in the community that have other objectives. And my personal take is sometimes, there are some of us that embarrass or diminish who the rest of us are trying to be. I have written on this topic at length.

I do not mind that you do what you want to do. What I mind is to be painted with the brush you are using. And there in lies what I think the pain is and why the strata exists. What you do reflects on me. I have another friend, she will not meet you unless she has seen you. Another will not meet with you unless you are in your preferred gender expression, she does not want to see or know that "other" you. It is probably too painful to process.

I started this article months ago but I am finishing it as I get ready to go to SCC this week. I suspect I will see all sorts of strata in Atlanta, some I will anticipate, some I will not like, some I will envy, some I may get to know really well. And all of it will be rock. And that is ok with me.

I Can See Clearly

This past week has been a bit of a roller coaster.

On Monday I had eye surgery. As some call it cataract surgery. This was in my left eye, my right eye had a similar surgery in 2007. The surgery was uneventful, I will spare the squeamish the details. But as of Tuesday I was 20/20 in the "new" eye. And now 20/20 in both eyes for the first time in my life, no more glasses, no more contacts, ever. That is great news, as I can now see everything, including having a much easier time putting my makeup on which I did a very lightweight, Sunday housewife, homebody version today. Now this was no usual Sunday though, as it was the first Sunday in my new home, and the first where my eldest Son was asleep in his own room...

As some of you know, I started moving into my own house two weeks ago. And I have been enjoying some of the freedom that has brung. On Friday, unbeknownst to his mother, my eldest son (15) moved into my new house. This was his choice, he had told me on many occasions that upon my departure from the "marital home" he wished to come with me. And so it was done on Friday.

I can condense his mother's reaction to one word, pissed. So pissed that that very evening she had all the locks on the house changed, for fear that I might abscond with Son #2 (who is 13, 5-9, and nearly 200 lbs). Did I mention that Son #1 is 6-3 and 265lbs? Oh I just did. These are hardly kids that I can "make" do anything. None the less, he is here in my house. And so on Saturday, I proposed that he might meet "me", the real me, Sharon on Sunday.

I asked him how he felt about it beforehand, and he said, he would have no issues with it, and that I should do what makes me comfortable. So this fine day, I got up, got dressed, put my hair on (god I hope the rest grows faster) and a minimal makeup. I was stressed about my outfit, as I wanted to "scream" normal to him. So capri jeans and sandals, white cami and and a nice orange shirt from Coldwater Creek over the top. Can you say Soccer Mom. I can. And this was me.

I tapped on his door but did not go in. I told him to rise, he went back to sleep. So I went to the kitchen and in a Donna Reed-esque frenzy whipped up a batch of blueberry muffins from scratch. The aroma got him out of bed, and I warned him prior to entry to the kitchen that Sharon was home. He came in, blinked his eyes a bit, and said, wait for it. "Not Bad". I told him I had only a touch of makeup on, that I usually wore more, but with the eye thing I was limited. He said it was ok.

Now my Son has Aspbergers. And that means a few things. For one, he is not really good at reading your feelings, and second it means he kind of just tells the truth as he sees it. For example, he might just say, "hey you are fat", instead of "you could stand to lose a few". And so any comment from him would be the unvarnished truth as he sees it. I said, in response to the "not bad", ok what needs fixing? He said, not very much, he suggested I might get some surgery on my face to "soften" my look. Oddly enough that is something I can agree on. And is probably my first date with a surgeon's knife on this journey.

I asked about my voice, he said it was almost perfect. But could use a little more help. I will take that too, I start some local therapy there too in a few weeks, although I have friends that tell me I do not need it, I will let the experts tell me I don't instead. I asked about my look, clothes etc. He said "you look great".

We went about our chores today. We talked about me, my plans, my friends. About full time, I asked him if he knew what that would mean. He said "you would be a girl all the time". I asked how he felt about it. He said fine, he expected to get used to it as he felt upon seeing me today that it was inevitable. We went the rest of the day hanging speakers, putting furniture together, cooking, cleaning and other chores.

While sitting at dinner I ask, "Well you have seen me for a whole day, if you did not know me before what would you think. My son says, "I would think you were a woman", "It works... Surprisingly". He takes me as a woman, and has treated me that way all day and at the same time, I am still "Dad". The dichotomy perplexes even me. And I should be ok with it as I am both a woman, and Dad, at the same time. Confused, well you should try being me...

And so, now peering from my new and improved eye I can start to see a future that works. My wife will not let go and I suspect there will be some kind of legal action against me this week. But I am pretty sure, having your son move in with you, when it is his choice is ok.

In fact we stopped back home on Saturday and my soon-to-be ex spouse tried to make hay with my son on me being Trans. It did not work. I am sure she thinks I have brain washed him. But not only did it not work, it backfired. My son clearly sees that her primary issue is me being Trans, something she denies and yet uses at every turn to further her case. A subject that he thinks is a personal issue for me. And her told her so. And even after those dire warnings from her he was still ok with me, all day today.

We talked more, and he tells me I can be Sharon anytime I want, and that he would be happy to go places with me. I will not try that with him for a while. First I want him to meet my friends, get comfortable with other Transfolk. I expect he will be meeting a lot of them in coming weeks. And he will see a lot more of the real me. He is a remarkable kid, I am truly blessed, not only can now I see 20/20, my son can see me 20/20 too.

Flying Solo

Years ago I had started lessons flying sailplanes, you know, the ones that do not have an engine. I remember convincing myself that this was the way to learn how to fly. At least there is no engine to "fail" and I figured that if I learned to FLY first and then added the power that would be something that served me well. And if the engine ever did really die, I would have the skills to "put er down" without a mishap. And so I started to log some hours in my book, oh so long ago.

The sad part was that after I was married, and in particular after having kids, my wife "grounded" me. She said it was "too risky". That I had responsibilities now. And so I stopped flying, a few hours short of my solo flight and have never been back in a glider since. Mind you, I wanted too, but I respected her wishes.

I tell that story as it bears on my present situation. No I am not running out to resume my training and get some stick time. I am on a completely difference "solo" excursion. As some of you who know me are aware my marriage in in the crapper, she asked me to go. And as of this very day, I have officially "moved out". Now do not get me wrong, I still have many "things" at the old house, it is just that I have moved out most of the things that are really important to me. All to my new house. And so I suddenly find myself, living alone, or more accurately, apart. And for the first time in over 21 years.

Now that on the surface might be a challenge to some, old habits to kill off if you will. But I am finding it a relief at the moment. One of those things you hear about when you are with somebody else is compromise. You want red, they want blue, you pick blue. You want your broccoli cooked a bit more, they want it al dente, you eat it al dente, you want to get an early start, they want to begin midday, you roll out by noon. Ok, you are getting the idea. I am not complaining really (some are saying yes you are Sharon). Sometimes compromise is a good thing, it tempers your indulgences. But after a while it grates on you, and you either get a blister or a callus. Both are unsightly, one hurts more.

So I find myself today, in my as of yet empty house. My situation with kids is not quite resolved yet. They have yet to meet Sharon in person. Even though they have known me all of their lives. But both have told me that I can be myself with them. Of course the proof will be in the pudding. But for now, I am me when I am at home. And this is a very good thing. I feel free, I can leave my purse on the counter and nobody cares, I can do my wash, clothes of mine of both genders in the same tub. I can go to bed as me, and wake up, as me.

Another freedom I have found is in decorating, or at least planning it. I recently got a new bed, and when my choice of sheets was to be made I picked ones that I liked, instead of ones that were "acceptable". I find myself doing this with many things in my world now. Previously I would only pick the drab or mundane selections. Now I feel free enough to do whatever feels right. It is like reclaiming lost territory. Land I had ceded to a foe. The foe has retreated, and the land is mine again. I can now include feminine in the Venn diagram of things I like. I still have to be careful, as there will likely be unwitting friends and co-workers who may drop by (no pink bedroom, not that I would ever have one). But I am going to have things that I like regardless of my gender. Subtle things. My new desk is glass, and white, it looks like it came from an Apple ad. It has curves like the ones I am trying to establish on my person. Soon we will compliment each other, or so I hope.

Today I am going to see my therapist. I woke up as a woman, got ready as a woman and I will walk right out the front door, as a woman. No concerns, the neighbors do not know me. That lack of familiarity allows me more freedom. To those who may ask at some point I live here with my twin brother, we will see how long he stays with us. I am sure that they will figure it out eventually. My plan is to be in this house for about a year and then move on to something that I will own, and that house I will truly "make mine".

So now for the first time in months, I almost feel a little relief. That things might be ok. I still have a lot of work to do, I need to get settled, things put away, organized etc. My legal/personal/family world is unresolved yet. I need to get that worked out but I suddenly feel like I have a little bit of of control.

So for now, I will climb into the cockpit, signal the tow to go, fly the box, pull the ball and bank away. Ooh feel that bump, lets cut back for it. Nature is about to give us a free ride. It is nice to get a lift now and then.

Patience Grasshopper

I will be showing my age (not that it is a secret) with this post. I do not know how many of you will recall this, I saw it as the first run way back in 1972. The scene is a Shaolin Temple. A young boy, Caine, approaches an old blind monk, Master Po, the boy is impetuous but the Master puts him in his place.

Master Po: Close your eyes. What do you hear?
Young Caine: I hear the water, I hear the birds.
Po: Do you hear your own heartbeat?
Caine: No.
Po: Do you hear the grasshopper that is at your feet?
Caine: Old man, how is it that you hear these things?
Po: Young man, how is it that you do not?

From that point on the Master calls the boy "Grasshopper". Many times in later dialogs Caine is impatient with his progress in training, the Master often retorts, "Patience Grasshopper". I need to heed the Master's advice as well.

I am about to enter week four "on the patch". And I can say at least this, the ride goes up and down. I have yet to see the physical complaints that some have, but in my case they have mostly come in my mood. It ranges from elated to dejected. I am not talking about a dysfunctional set of extremes, far from it. To date it has mostly manifest in self doubt, mostly about my appearance. Frustration in some cases about not being further along, making realizations that I am not as far along as I might think I am on any given day and on, some days, down enough to consider bagging the whole exercise. Now I am talking about transition, not life, so everybody relax.

The good news is I am smart enough to know that the chemistry is part of what is making me oscillate like that annoying fan in the corner of the room. Back and forth, back and forth. I am practically a pendulum. You could strap me in a clock and I could power it with some regularity. I am hoping that the effect dampens over time. Note that I have not been so frustrated that I have removed the patch. No it stays. It stays at least until I can see that it does something for me, or against me as the case may be. It might stay for forever (or at least a really long time). I do not know yet.

I need to keep perspective. I only really got started on this path since the beginning of this calendar year. Sure I started the laser on the face last October but that takes no real effort on my part to perform. I keep trying to tell myself "Sharon, you have only been at this for seven months, it takes a while". I know from talking to several other girls that there is a lot of internal pressure to move this along. And in many cases girls go full time well before their "planned" date. I totally get why.

One of the challenges I am finding to be the hardest is the moving between persona's. I know there are some of us who are exactly the same person regardless of their presentation. Congratulations, however I am not one of them. I am very concerned about how comfortable those I am interacting with are perceiving me. And probably to my detriment. My mother noted this this weekend when she saw me. It might partially be the curse of knowledge but she said I know you are less inhibited but there is something about your demeanor that is bothering me. It seems to happen when other people are around. I asked what, but she said that she could not put a finger on it. It was some combination of arrogance and being disingenuous.

I though about that for a long time. Then it hit me, she is talking about me in guy mode. And then I realized that I had lost my "mojo". Meaning my ability to be a guy, at ease with myself, in public. It looked contrived, mom noticed it. And here I thought I was doing a great job passing as a guy. I told her it is the context switch of the persona. It is easy to be Sharon. But everything else is hard. Like a pedal powered helicopter, stop peddling, you fall out of the sky. I told her since I have been spending more and more time as Sharon, my guy impression is having problems.

She asked me, is it hard to go back and forth? What a loaded question, but I guess a natural one if you do not have GID. I said it is getting harder. And the fact that you picked up on me not being quite right means others are going to too, and probably soon.

I had friends laughing at me recently. When I got started I told them I had a five year plan. Ha ha ha ha. Now I currently have a no year plan, I kind of just punted on it for now. Things will happen as soon as they can happen. There will be no numbers mocking me from a calendar. I suddenly remember a cartoon with Ralph Phillips day dreaming about a battle with numbers on a calendar. I liked that one.

But this all begs the question. What am I waiting for? Doh, right, separation, custody case, place to live, come out to partners, employees and customers. But that is not all. Like Grasshopper, I need some more training. I have some trials to pass. I want my hair to be mine (FT with wig does not appeal to me, apologies to those sisters who have no choice, I feel your pain). I would like to get to my real weight, see a little development maybe. Then maybe it will be time to take the plunge. But how long is the right amount of time. Six more months, a year, two? Dunno.

In the meantime that frustration of not being there yet is killing me (not literally like not accepting who I am was). I want to be done, it is like kids in the days before Christmas. The desire to open those packages is almost overwhelming. But I know, and have even advised others, this takes time to do its work. And so I wait, tick, tock, tick, tock. And I hear the Master's voice. "Patience Grasshopper, Patience"