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"