Our community blogs
Reflecting back on the year 2016 I've very pleased with the decisions I've made and new friendships made. Now it's time to see what happens as hormones progress changes to my physical and mental attributes as most know as years go by hormones tend to incrementally change one's behaviorism and I have noticed in the past several months a noticeable change not per-say in moods but how I react to things and events that several years ago I would had reacted totally different than today.
Thinking about assimilation into a female role where many leave the trans world behind at my point in my journey I'm still going to mentor and assist those less unfortunate then me in regards to being able to transition with virtually no issues while the majority are on the opposite end of the spectrum. When not with transgender people I never bring up the topic unless someone else starts a conversation e.g. "I've noticed a surge with transgender people..." and is not directed at me but with a group of people.
Had a conversation with a cross dresser recently who heads up a cross dresser group indicated 99 percent of those who transition in her group leave the group and want nothing to do with them anymore. I said, can you blame them? Personally I rather see them do that but hopefully some will mentor others who's goal is to transition and need someone to assist them.
That brings up an interesting thing, while out with a cross dresser group last weekend one of the girls said her future son-in-law was coming and that he is also a cross dresser and his future wife knows about this, wow, times are changing. I'm learning that many couples are accepting of their cross dressing partners but a few I talked to said if they even consider transitioning they were done with them, in short they married a male and need a male yet accepting of their partner showing their female side.
It's a brave new world emerging.
It's been an extremely long time...but yeah, I'm still here. Nothing much has changed and I lost the ambition to blog because it was an endless parade of the same thing every day. It felt like a waste of time to keep repeating myself. Not sure why I'm here again, but I think maybe on the rare chance that anyone was wondering where I went or, by chance, was worried; I wanted to let everyone know that I'm alright.
Whats New: Just over a year at my job in Security, and nothing has changed too drastically. We had a conflict during my shift between a civilian and a staff member and I clicked back into my pre-training when I wanted to be a State Trooper and handled the situation the only way I knew how. I got in the middle of it. I was able to defuse the situation safely and separate the two individuals, writing a detailed report on time, location, involved parties and descriptions of the would-be assailant. I didnt think anything of it. It's my job, it's what I do.
Well, apparently the higher-ups of the company I work for didnt think it was just "what you do". They called a meeting, held a conference, and low and behold...I was upgraded. I'm now full-time, with benefits (soon, not yet. Paperwork is awaiting) and I was given huge praise from both the Town Police Officers and the Academy I work for. Not only that, but the situation forced them to realize that we, as Security, are vastly ill-equipped for our jobs and finally have decided to listen to our needs and provide us with new supplies. A newer, larger vehicle that we can safely transport clients and students in (we are using a little P.O.S. hand-me-down Ford Ranger right now which is horribly cramped all the time and I hate driving it.). I'm still in work-mode so my typing is kinda professional still Anyway, we're each getting water-proof, theft-proof, USB charging Dock equipped backpacks that will have flashlights, mace, first aid, notebook&pen, a security monitoring computer and etc. We're also all getting new uniforms and much-needed spotlights and gear that we SHOULD have had months ago. It took my situation with an aggressive individual for them to realize "hey, these guys COULD get hurt while protecting these kids...we should gear them up." FINALLY.
So that's work.
(Plus I was at the Post office today ((with my security jacket on....because it's basically the only winter coat I own.)) and one of the postal workers stopped me and said his son goes to our Academy and asked about a drug raid he'd heard about. I explained that one particular student who will remain nameless had supposedly had prescription painkillers in his possession that were not his, and we confiscated them. I assured him that we do frequent and random sweeps of dorm rooms and dorm buildings for anything they should not have, and he seemed happy with that. The last part that got me was just before he walked away, he said "Thank you for protecting our kids. You guys do a great job." Finally....recognition.)
YOUTUBE: Yes, I am still recording YouTube videos! I am HORRIBLY behind on posting them, unfortunately, but life's been a bit hectic atm.
FACEBOOK: I now have TWO pages up on facebook for my Youtube channel so you can stay up to date. One page is specifically for my channel videos, while the other is dedicated to my craft hobby (which just started so its very very slow) where I am selling crafts that 100% go towards my top surgery.
(Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatYoutube & Facebook.com/dubstepheartbeatCreations)
Oi vey....where to start....So I still havent had my surgery, obviously since I have my creations page to pay for said surgery....I have been fighting continuously with Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield on getting them to pay for my surgery, even if just a portion. They refuse. The reason is this: My LEGAL gender is MALE. My Birth certificate says FEMALE. I cannot change that without GRS which I will not do. Anyway...My ID says Male on it. So when they filed for my surgery, they initially filed it under FEMALE BREAST REDUCTION. Well, since my ID says Male on it, they cannot do that. Because I am legally male. So it would go under Gynocomastia, which I do not have. Which..frankly doesnt matter because they dont cover it anyway.
I've spent a minimum of 4 hours on the phone every time I call, explaining over and over and OVER again that I am Transgender, I am legally male but physically female, and that this is a breast reduction not because I'm transgender but because of spinal damage, pain, interferance with work, and a damaged trapezius muscle. All of which has been noted by my doctor FOUR TIMES, including all the necessary paperwork (and more...) sent to them REPEATEDLY. They either claim that A: they never got the paperwork, B:It lacked a piece of info they wanted, C: They have it and are reviewing it OR......D: They cant find my account at all. I spent TWO HOURS on hold just for them to tell me that the line I HAD BEEN TRANSFERRED TO...doesnt handle what I'm looking for so they transferred me BACK to the people I ORIGINALLY WERE TALKING TO. Absolute, complete, utter flipping NIGHTMARE!!!
With my anxiety & Depression issues, it came to the point where I would completely avoid calling them because it would completely destroy me for days afterwards. I've had people offer to help with with the call or figure things out, but either they offered once and never followed through or they simply werent understanding that everything they wanted to try...I've already done it. No one....GOT what I was trying to say. It started to feel like no one cared anymore either.
I called GLADD FIVE TIMES. I only ever got ONE response, which was "we'll call you as soon as we have more info for you.". That was months ago....nothing.
I called the State of New Hampshire's Offices for Insurance to figure out what to do. "We'll call you back." They never did. Not only did they not return my calls, but every time I called them back and demanded to talk to someone, they'd just keep saying "Ma'am, someone will call you." Misgendered AND ignored. Thanks for that.
I called SIX...ADVOCATES...FOR TRANSGENDER PEOPLE IN MY STATE. Again, either they didnt know how to help, didnt call me back, or simply said "keep trying". For someone with severe Anxiety, the phrase "just keep trying" is like saying "Haha, well that sucks."
I cant keep trying. It causes me such dysphoria, severe depression, anxiety and physical illness that I have to call out of work, take days to recooperate and fight of the HORRIBLE sensation of the NEEEEEEEEEED to self harm. I'd been able to stay sober of it thus far, except for one episode involving a fight with my homophobic, trump loving, transphobic, Democratic-hating sister&mother-in-laws...(Long story short, I had just worked 14 hours, was tired and exhausted; and was accused of abusing her animals. Not by the mother, but by the sister-in-law. Who is basically the princess of the castle. I lost it.) So the insurance company locked me out of my online account conveniently a week before my due date to switch insurances, so I couldnt even access my account to change insurance companies before the due date ran out and....low and behold...I was renewed with Anthem BCBS for another year. I dont have enough swear words and foul language names to throw at them to express how I feel...
I also, by the way, emailed Anthem personally either through Twitter's Anthem Help page or their main help page, which ran in circles up to the point of them calling and leaving a message ON THE ONE PHONE I SPECIFICALLY ASKED THEM NOT TO CALL BECAUSE I WONT GET THE DAMN MESSAGE, then when I called them back, I got nothing. Just an answering machine. FOR THREE WEEKS.
When I mentioned this to them, they shrugged it off. Yeah.....F You too.
(BEFORE YOU OFFER TO HELP ME WITH THE INSURANCE THING:::::::No, I do not need the help right now. Thank you for thinking of me anyway. But with my job title changing, I'm getting new insurance and there is absolutely no reason I can think of to try and pursue Anthem BCBS's jerkoffs when I'm leaving them really soon. Thanks anyway.)
So, anyway....thats life right now. As you can see, not much has changed. New promotion and same insurance b.s.
Oh, and apparently I have dissociation with my chest. Which doesnt surprise me. I found out because I was in the shower, washing like I usually do with my eyes squeezed shut and my heart breaking at the sensation of having to wash those stupid boulders on my REAL chest underneath, and....what's this? I look down and I apparently had a pimple or something that had developed on the underside of my left breast, but had gone unattended to for god-knows-how-long, so it festered and became raw and infected. Did I notice? No....I didnt even feel it. I've always had next to no feeling or sensation in my chest since I was cursed with them, but I didnt think much of it. This made me really realize...I have no feeling in them whatsoever. So I experimented. I ran my hands along the sides, fronts, top and bottom....but nothing. If it werent for feeling it through my fingertips, I wouldnt feel it at all. Absolutely nothing. It's like...I feel the pressure of my hands but that's it. Not a tickle or a whisp of sensation. I have completely, entirely, absolutely dissociated with my chest so much that I no longer feel it. It's no longer 'mine'. Its just...there. That's what kills me even more.
Theyre there, theyre attached to me...but if I dont even have feeling in them, they feel even more alien to me. I'm not supposed to even have them and this just proves it even more. It didnt hit me as hard as it did at the doctors when I casually mentioned it and she was confused. Apparently ciswomen are SUPPOSED to have feeling in them. Like...everywhere.
It's weird. It's like a feeling of abandonment. That I've hated them so much and for so long that theyve finally given up and just died, but I still gotta carry the corpses around. Now, more than ever, I just want them gone...It's almost too much to stomach. I choke up thinking about it. I feel like a part of me has just died, staring me in the face and flipping me the bird before being just completely gone. But instead of leaving, it lingers in the doorway and stares me down, laughing at me and mocking me because they wont go away.
It sound stupid but I feel like theyre taunting me. Like "We know you dont want us, so we're gonna take away any sensation of being here, except you'll still have to carry our dead weight. You cant get rid of us, you will still have a huge lump in your shirt and we will NEVER allow you to touch your real chest underneath. You hate us, and we hate you. So live with it."
I even opted out of my nipple grafts so that the surgery would be cheaper. Not just for a cheaper price, but because I've always had issues with those parts anyway so there's no point in hoping they'll heal and stay where they put them when a huge part of me knows they wont. They dont heal well, never have. I get pockets in them where sweat and crap lingers and I have to clean the areas like pimples. I dont want them anymore. I dont want anything to do with any of them.
But I still have to bind them.
I still have to readjust them in my binder.
I still have to wash them.
I still have to toss and turn to find a comfortable position between suffocation, smothering, pinches or unending sweat.
I still have to put lotion on the extremely dry and chapped skin from binding.
I still have to carry them around on my aching shoulders.
I still have to nearly suffocate with them just to tie my shoes.
I still have to feel them jerk and yank on my sore back when I try to use a treadmill.
I still have to make sure there's no sores because they dont bother to tell me when something hurts anymore.
I still have to try and save up 8000$ to get rid of them because insurance doesnt give a flip.
I still have them.
And they taunt me.
My relentless bully...is my own body.
I've been coming out to professionals, friends, and family, over the past few months, and yesterday evening I decided to send an email to a male friend. I've been apprehensive about telling him I'm transgender because I have sensed that he may be less understanding than others and might say something hurtful. Nevertheless I sent the email that covered all the bases: my gender-related desires and feelings since preschool, my shame and depression, and how it all adds up to the fact that I am transgender. I felt it was comprehensive but not too long and I hoped that as a friend I've seen for a dinner every month for more than ten years he'd understand and express sincere support.
Here's what I received:
"Well, I hope that there was nothing that I said or did over the years that made you think that I would be hostile or unaccepting or anything like. I try to be tolerant and I hope that I seem tolerant too.
Anyway, none of what you wrote is offputting or means that you're stuck from the "friend" list. I don't want to say something that will be misinterpreted, but the sexual proclivity or gender choice (I realize that these are two different things) of my friends just doesn't matter any more than their height or color or whatever. (Now, if you came out and said that you voted for Trump, that might be a problem.) "
Maybe I'm being too sensitive - it wouldn't be the first time - but I needed to clear at least one thing up, so here's what I wrote back to him:
"No, there was nothing you ever said or did that particularly worried me. Sharing my secret is tough, that's all. It's like finally admitting to a lie.
Not to put too fine a point on it, but let me say that it's not a proclivity or a choice. I agree that it's like hair color or height, or being gay for that matter; modern science agrees that it's biological. I was just born this way. It's a tough row to hoe."
Although I know that emails and written "conversations" are fraught with misunderstanding I wanted to be clear that being transgender is certainly not a choice. He hasn't responded yet but as I think about it this morning I think all will be okay.
That said, overnight I mulled his use of the word "tolerant" as if hey, he's tolerant so isn't that good or righteous? It came to me this morning that it is not: I tolerate a spider on the ceiling, a few dust bunnies in the corner, and dirty dishes in the sink after dinner. But eventually I grab the stepstool and a tissue to nab the spider, vacuum the room, and wash the dishes. So yes, tolerance is better than hate or rejection, but it's not enough.
I don't know exactly what is enough but tolerance isn't it. In an ideal world being transgender would be like having blue eyes or blond hair - not even thought about by most, perhaps appreciated by some. But we don't live in an ideal world so I feel that I have to come up with a compromise. Maybe and especially from friends and family I'd like to hear that, regardless of my being transgender, they love and support me. I don't think that's too much to ask.
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Update - 12/6/2016
To say that a lot has happened since I last posted is an understatement. I will post more later.
I am currently recovering from FFS surgery on Dec 2nd. I had a brow reduction & lift. Upper eyelid surgery, rhinoplasty, fat transfer to the cheeks. Chin reduction and shaping and tracheal shave. Tomorrow I have an appointment to hopefully take some of the stitches out and splint on my nose..
I have been off from work since Dec 1st and will be returning to work as Lisa on Dec 19th. I changed my name with the court and my name and gender marker on my SS card. In a few days, I will be going to the DMV and later the passport office to change my name and gender marker there as well.
TW: Rape, abuse, PTSD, talk of suicide.
I thought I had more to write, but do you ever get afraid of losing the people you love because everyone talks about you and talks to you as if there is a ghost of the person they thought you were in the room. There is this ghost person called Charl in the room that everyone knows and loves, but it isn't me. My mom still talks about her "big boy". I don't know who that is. I found myself crying to myself, who is this person they're talking about? Why does nobody see me? Why am I afraid to bring it up. I'm so afraid of losing everyone. Yes. I'm in a very bad place right now. It's ongoing. This is always a bad week for me, this time of year. PTSD is bad, as I wrote before and four years ago other things happened that I can't write about right now, but READ HERE (please trigger warnings for rape). Sorry, this is more rant than coherent thought. It's stupid, but I'm considering getting myself checked in somewhere for help. Strangely I am not suicidal, I generally am when I get like this, but I am safe, I have spoken to my psychologist. I dunno. Sorry. Mostly a rant here.
So my recovery seems to be going well. I had my follow-up with the surgeon and they removed the packing and tubes. That felt so much better! They showed me how to dilate - wasn't too bad.
Yesterday I came home - I've never been so happy to be home! Recovery is easier in my own place with my own stuff.
For 4 weeks I have to dilate 4x a day for 20 minutes each. I'm still working on my positioning, it gets a little uncomfortable and tedious, but I'll survive :-)
Otherwise for now it's a lot of TV and reading. Barring complications I should be able to go back to school and my internship the week of the 23rd.
At a more fundamental level - as swelling starts to recede it's easier to see what I have now, and it's pretty awesome 👯
Trans Workers UK is a Facebook closed group that advances Trans rights in the UK workplace, I'm a member of the group and regularly advice is sought and given by trans workers on most aspects of being trans at work. However by far the most numerous postings are for trans who are still "in the closet" as far as work is concerned, who are wanting advice from those of us who are fully out in the workplace and in life. Most of these folk have come up against the societally conditioned old barrier, that they'll be ridiculed, or lose their jobs and workmates, this is by far the biggest hurdle that we have to overcome, it's our pre-judice, based on experience in society at large. Most don't realise that it's 2016 & not 1975 anymore, and that attitudes have moved on.
Anyway I posted my recent experience to help them overcome their fears;
"Last week my employer (a County Council) sent me on a Fire Risk Assessors course, with a view to my carrying out Fire Risk Assessments for the Council's properties. This sort of fits in with my existing role as a H&S Advisor. Anyway I was kinda nervous about attending the course which was held at the Firefighting College in Moreton in the Marsh. I had imagined it as being a very male orientated place, and half expected to be stared at or have the occassional joke or wise crack made at my expense. I couldn't have been more wrong, I was pleasantly surprised to find that doors were held open for me by smiling young firefighters, who were also very polite. I thought wow, if anyone had told me 3 years ago that I'd be wearing knee high boots, treggings, leopard print top, make-up and attending as a woman at the firefighters college, I'd have said "yeah, in your dreams". But there I was doing it. So to all who are contemplating gender change at work, but think it's impossible, think again, I've done it, it's so much easier than you might think. No, as a male I was not a small built effeminate man, I was a 100 kg 5'10" bloke with wide shoulders and narrow waist, and yeah, I thought it impossible to do what I've done, and yet here I am as Eve, my true self. I hope that this helps to inspire others to to do what they really want and not hang about wasteing time, I regret not doing what I did much earlier in my life. Good Luck to you all xx".
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Today is St. Distaff's Day. Compitalia, celebrating the household Gods. Today we honor Frigg and her followers, the "Freefolk". "Partly work, and partly play Ye must on Saint Distaff's Dayu" the old adage goes. It is also time for me to "shield in place". I need to take a break from the constant ups and downs regarding "my" dysphoria. My affliction. Tired of facing inward and trying to fix something that in the scope of my life? A lot less of an "issue" than it needs to be, considering. What? Well, let's throw out some things shall we? I have recieved some excellent "counseling" from someone who says my dysphoria is NOT my biggest concern. OK. Good to know. My counselor is a pretty decent person. Specializies in helping people who's professional lives expose them to some very traumatic stuff. I was amazed at how good this person was at getting me to talk. Good to find someone I can be comfortable with. A person that is familiar with the "problems" people who work in compartmented "projects" all they're lives can develop. I thought I was lossing it to Paranoid schizophrenia! The counselor just laughed at me and said "No, that's called self preservation. Johnathan Pollard actually existed. That actually happened. Your pretty much screwed for the rest of your life, just stay frosty and relax". Showed me this picture and said if you can balance these? Your mental health issues will be skosh. When I broached "dysphoria"? Push me over with a feather, the counselor replied "You'd be astounded to know just how many people I deal with could use a little clarity on THAT subject". Love them Doc's that don't beat around the bush!
How is your 2017 going to go? I have a good idea of how mine is going to go. Lots and lots of time in medical facilities. Lots of appointments. Lots of testing. I am VERY HAPPY about that. This flurry of medical activity surrounds my Soulmate and not me. She is FINALLY going to get the medical assistance and screening that she deserves. She is. not me. I am working on my "blackouts" and my manic depression issues, but for now, I am good. I have a mea culpa. I have NOT been a good spouse for a while. My prediliction with my tripartite self. I have been selfish. So, there you go. "Ronnie" is a steady state for me. 50/50. MODLOC. I have a lot of "new" things to deal with. I can NEVER drive a car on public roads EVER again, unless it is the most dire of emergencies. I can't get on an airliner. I wouldn't be able to fly a plane. I'm not even supposed to operate power tools without supervision anymore! But that doesn't mean I have to stop living or caring about the awesome folks I've met here.
I was going to leave this site and then I thought, why? It can help me. Hopefully, I can be of help to someone else. I have 41 and in a less than a month, 42 Y E A R S invested in the person that I DO love most. Violet pretty much is my Universe and she deserves better from me. Sure, some will say that I may be "disengenious" with regard to the "community". That I am not being "true" to myself. Really? I exist in a different "plane" than most people. The person who is my betrothed is also a Petty Officer in the US NAVY, like I am. She saved my life. That's what she does. She can make a towering Marine break out in a sweat by snapping a rubber band, holding a syringe and saying "Need to draw some labs". The only things that can make the USMC hesitate? Godzilla and Hospital Corpsman. Oops, my bad. Hospital Corpsman THEN Godzilla. Got to preserve the natural order of things as the Creator has made them. Nope, for me? This fight isn't about a community. It's about my sanity and I am the ONLY one that can fight it and that means being in it to win it. I may never be "complete", but I promise, I will try NOT to be boring. But I'm not that salty so having a wingman? PRICELESS. I know she always has my back. BRAVO ZULU Doc!
So for this new blog, I chose "Scutum" because I need a shield right now. Something that will insulate me from the Demon I have just gotten to go back to sleep. Scutum is called "Sobieski's Shield" in some places in Europe. Jan III Sobieski was a bad ass. Your writings here and how you look at the World and what you are doing to cope and just the minutiae of our everyday existence can be the exact thing I need to stabilize when I start to get wiggy! 2 anchors are better than one. I have Violet and I have you all. I am blessed. Monsters from the id. They're real.
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Over the past several days, I've been coming out a little more. Back on 2-22, I told my oldest sister and her fiance. It all started when I mentioned that I feel like several people live in me and at least one of them is a girl. The only reaction I got was when my sister told me not to get the surgery, and she believes Bruce Jenner would not look good as a woman. I told her that I'm not sure where this will lead. I couldn't afford treatment, anyway, and the pain would really make a cry baby out of me.
Just yesterday, I let my one friend from church hear more about it. This is the same one I told back on February 8 and I wrote about it in the first blog about spilling the beans. I let him know this is far from over, because I spent so many years trying to deny this thing, swearing up and down that I cannot be this way. My friend believes I might have to receive my sight in order for this to go away. He reassured me that I'm still part of the body of Christ. This friend dreamed, several years ago, about me receiving my sight. He strongly believes it's going to come true, someday. In the meantime, he's keeping my transgender confession between us. Any time I'm alone with him, I feel I am going to have to keep pouring this stuff out and getting it off my chest. I cannot even open up to my parents about this. It will give them more of a reason to call me a weirdo and tell me I just need to grow up. I've heard that stuff, all my life, for other reasons. Anyway, a key confession I told my friend, yesterday, is how, when it comes to needing someone to lead me to a bathroom, I prefer women to do it instead of men, never mind my biological designation as male. I am more concerned with what's between my ears and what's inside this shell of flesh and bones. The friend never criticized or warned me I will go to hell if I don't straighten up and fly right. He just listened. He's at a loss as to what to tell me other than his belief that it would have to come with divinely receiving eyesight through Jesus' healing power. I am a firm believer in miracles, and I ask God, all the time, to heal me, as I am created by Him and for Him. As long as he leaves the thorn in me, he will give me the grace to deal with it. That's especially comforting when I often have to deal with unexplainable physical discomfort I get in the manly region. Doctors haven't been able to figure out why I burn down there. I don't always empty the bladder, and that's a mystery. All they can say is I just need to learn to live with it. I told the friend of this bizarre connection between the feeling female around men, something that's been there since I was 4 or 5, and the burning sensation I've had for several years. We just leave it up to God. Only he knows what good is possibly going to come from all of this. So, as for now, I am blind and I am transgender, and there's nothing I can do about it. I cannot deliver myself. It's up to God, and if he's at all offended by the way I am, he alone will change it. It is what it is. He knows I long to be saved in the end.
Went for my bi annual endocrinology check at the end of January 2017, and all went well.
Then for a urology check up, more like an appointment date for my bilateral orchidectomy on 2 March 2017. And got an appointment date for 7 March 2017, which was yesterday.
I had 4 days to prepare for surgery so went and stocked up on pads (sanitary towels) for the possible bleeding, paid the doctors fees of basically R4000.00 and the requested the bill from the hospital which the doctor estimated at another R4000.00+.
Chose my shoes, as the last time wearing heeled boots was a bad idea, I took my slip ins, and an easy to get in pants.
Get to hospital at 06:40 as I needed to get booked in by 07:00 and find the doors still locked. But at 06:50 a nurse pulls up and says, hello Michele, follow me. You can go book in so long, I will be with you shortly.
So far so good friendly staff.
Everyone enquires if I'm Afrikaans or English speaking, I say they choice is yours. Just dont ask me to write in Afrikaans, I write very poorly in that language, just speak it predominantly. And the forms I left open on title, I see Werner the receptionist at the helpdesk for surgery admission made it Mej the Afrikaans abbreviation for Miss of Ms. So glad even though I hadn't put anything he put the right abbreviation on as my title.
Pre operation theater, doc comes and says this is going to hurt and injects me 3 different places and the last one just above a crack was the most painful. Ouch... 10 minutes later gets asked to walk to the theater as I'm number 1 on the list.
Now the uncomfortable section, lying there exposed for the world to see. The nurses start using female pronouns to make me feel at ease and when the doctor who is uncertain about the pronouns to use, just falls in with continuing the female pronouns the whole way.
They tell me that it might burn me, and I smell flesh burn. I just say, can't feel anything so do your thing. They have this green sheet up between us so we can't see each other and we chatting the whole way through. Somewhere near the end as they move to the left, I start feeling what they do and say. Now I'm feeling, but continue and get it over and done with. Here as promised I started giggling in my Mortisha Adams sleeping pose. We talk about my nursing days and weird scenes I've attended to as a police official.
Now he starts taping me up and explaining that I must only wear tight underwear. I ask him if he remembers the shape of the underwear I use, and all of them are tight doctor, so no worries. They say I can move to the recovery room where coffee is offered to me, and I drink it because my head was spinning, yes a dizzy baby.
The nurse fetched my bag with 2 steamed beef dumpling in it. I ate them and drank my coffee.
Well in the morning one of my friends were supposed to drive me there and take me home, but in this case I felt like I was late and drove myself home again. Pain levels as I left the hospital before getting behind the wheel of my car was a 3/10, but as soon as I started driving the pain went up to a 5/10.
Get home and everything draws out of my body and I walk like an old woman with a walking stick. I ended up for today and yesterday with pain levels around 7/10 maybe an 8/10. I know, closest pain I've ever felt was a full blown migraine. Talking a migraines, apparently my migraines are Testosterone related, the more present the stronger the migraine.
The last I managed to number 2 was yesterday morning before leaving for hospital. I'm micturating with ease.
My pain starts just below my diaphragm and ends just below my pelvis area, with only my ass spared from the pain.
Well tomorrow is checkup day, precisely a week later. I've been bleeding everyday, but small amounts. So nothing to write home about. The pain is sometimes unbearable, but I'm a big girl. Some sswelling to my right side, just hope its not an infection, because then more pain...
On the bright side, started having a guy over, and had the transgender discussion, but I wanted him to read my fb profile which explains it, but his friends saw it first, and now he has this attitude saying it doesnt change me, and they should be concerned about their lives, and then he said I should read a message from his mom who is also not approving of me being transgender and getting to know her oldest boy better. So I am enjoying his company and my oldest sister has met him, we officially met on 3 March 2017.
Live your life accordingly.
And dont be forced to take the road you dont want too.
Somewhere around here, I've shared the fact that my mother is NOT accepting of my transgender being. She was. At first. But then something changed, and she wanted to hear no more about it. She let me know she bore only ONE son [and that wasn't me]. She's also gone so far as to say that there is "nothing 'wrong'" with me, I was just adversely influenced and affected by my work environment and the people I worked around and with - all men. She refuses to accept that I wanted to be in job where I felt comfortable, and felt more myself - that being, with other men.
I already knew that my mother was a "girly girl." She was the kind of girl growing up that laid across her bed, looking at fashion mags and dreaming of a big wedding, a husband, children and a family. In fact, my mother did not leave home until she was married. My mother also used to draw and water colour. What did she draw? Women in all the top fashions of the day. She could have been one of those people that illustrates the envelopes that women's sewing patterns come in.
A few years ago, I learned that my mother is perhaps (I hate to admit it), a bit on the vain side. In a rant one day, the rant that pretty much shut down all future conversation about me being a transgender man (and despite that the topic really was irrelavent to a degree about me being trans), she talked about how any man she had ever dated had to be physically fit (no pot bellies, for example), had to be a good dresser (that didn't include jeans, or as they were most often called back then - dungarees), had to have neat [appropriately short] hair, and be the quintessentially perfect gentleman. She went on to let me know that my father was a very nice dresser and a gentleman.
Now, yeah, nothing wrong in dressing nice when the occasion calls for it. And nothing wrong in a man being a gentleman. But my mother was the type of woman that expected and demanded those qualities to the Nth degree. Of course on the flip side of that coin, she expected that women should dress a certain way with strict attention to whatever the occasion was, AND there were things she felt that only [bio]men should do, be able to do, know how to do, and that unless you are a [bio]man, you don't know jack about those things. In those things, she would and still does defer to men and take only the word of a [bio]man.
Example: cars. Doesn't matter what I know... if I try to tell her something, suggest something, advise her of a problem, give an opinion, offer to repair something...she will invariably ask me what do I know about it, how do I know it, who told me or how did I learn it. If it's something very minor, she may accept what I suggest or recommend. But anything more than minor, she will wave me off saying, "I don't know." Later, she will make it a point to ask a man about it whether that man is a mechanic, burger flipper, surgeon or pencil pusher.
In fact, I have learned since my dad died that there are things my mother does not know how to do. Doesn't have a clue. Things that, if she'll let me, I do for her 'cause... she doesn't have a clue. She will let me know, "you father always took care of that - I didn't have to do those kinds of things." It's not that my father didn't let her do these things, it's that in my mother's world, those things were his job to do, and she expected him to do them. My father, being the quintessentially perfect gentleman, acquiesced.
And so now, we come to the present. Over breakfast the other day, mother was telling me that she had stayed up a little too late the night before - she had been watching a movie that "had Madea in it." She couldn't remember the title of the movie and was describing some of the characters. When it came to Madea, she stumbled over what to call the character choosing instead to say "Tyler Perry." I said, "Madea." She said [paraphrasing], "he, Tyler Perry, he plays Madea." Then she went on trying to describe a scene, referring to Madea as "he." I retorted with, "she. Madea is a woman." My mother came back with, "but Madea is played by a man." This was supposed to justify her referring to Madea as "he" and "him."
My mother is so steeped in a strict male/female society, that she can't even refer to Madea as a woman, like most people apparently seem able to do, though I'm sure for many it's only because it's entertainment. It hit me then -- how will I ever expect that my mother will see and accept me as a man, when she can't even use the proper pronouns for a fictional character in a movie?
Today I received a call from a trans center; the person on the phone invited me to a group meeting at 4:00pm to 6:00pm. I called them about a month and a half ago, and didnot here a thing till today, 2/6/2012. So I got ready<as best I could> and I drove over to the adderess I was given.
I arrived a little before 4:00pm, about 10min early; So I desided to sit in my truck and see if I saw any other transfolkes. The reason I did this is, because I learned to be cautious as a serpent, yet mild as a dove.I also, know this area very well, and know it is a known hood for gang members; I grew up there.
So I sat there ......I didnot see one Transperson; I said to myself, "if I see one of them I go in the building." I waited till the clock read 15 min past 4:00pm; all I did see was a family come out of the place, and many gang members go in; not one of them looked to be trans/nada!!
So I left then I decided to right this experience down....Be Careful!!
When you look for a center on line.
Thats where I found this one, I didnot like the area...Call me a chicken, but I'm a live one!!
This was nothing like the LGBT Center I belong to!! So in short I just don't want to read in the news paper about another transgender person getting hurt, or worse. I don't like anyone taking advantage of one of us. In my eyes if one of us gets hurt we all get hurt!! I really mean this; it's how I feel.
Peace Out!!...>^.^<..and be smart & safe!!
Magnolia flowers as with many plant flowers have perfect flowers or another term bisexual flowers. This means the flower has both a functional male stamen & a female pistil flower part. Also in nature some plants are mono-ecious, meaning male & female flowers are found on different parts of the plant. This is extraordinary to me because in nature it is so common place for organisms to posses both female & male qualities. A magnolia tree could be called transgender, without an...y other conditions or stipulations. If there is such evolving happenings taking place in nature all the time. Are we as human beings not part of this earthly experience? We are so caught up in female & male identities when in nature adapting to ever changes of environment is just all about preserving life. As long as the conditions within the environment are right, nature seems to find a unique way of reproduction.
In my opinion, there are three kinds of people when it comes to celebrating the holidays.
The first group of people had wonderful memories of the holidays. Even if they came from dysfunctional families, sometimes all the dysfunction stops during the holiday, and, however so briefly, everything is "normal," or even idealistic during the holiday, before returning to the dysfunction of everyday life. Often, as adults, they strive to recreate these idealistic holidays they enjoyed as children, which is often unrealistic and leads to frustration.
The second group of people had nightmarish holidays as children, usually caused by dysfunctional and addictive behavior by the adults in the family, which the now-grown children strive to "put right" for their children, only they often have no vision of what a healthy family celebration should look like. If they are lucky, they may have functional/healthy neighbors and friends to show them what a healthy holiday celebration/tradition looks like.
The third group, by far the smallest, were lucky to have a functional (although not perfect - no one's perfect!) family life and holiday celebration. Often they are able to replicate it as adults, but not always.
Here are some alternatives to celebrating the holidays:
- Volunteer during the holidays, ie, helping out at a soup kitchen or at an apartment complex for seniors, nursing home or Adult Congregate Living Facility. Also consider helping out at a hospital, preferably a children's hospital.
- Contact a LGB/T - friendly travel agency, and ask about cruises and vacations during the holidays. If you are single, ask about Christmas vacations that are geared for singles. Often, holiday excursions are deeply discounted.
- Go out to a restaurant (especially one with beautiful holiday decorations) with a friend or relative that has no one to celebrate the holidays with.
- Instead of gifts, make donations in honor of friends and family to charity. This is most important when it comes to well - to - do people, who are often very difficult to shop for.
- Shop year 'round for the holidays, if you can, instead of the last minute.
- Celebrate the holidays year 'round, such as treating friends and relatives to lunch or giving surprise gifts, and then on the holiday itself, call them or send them a holiday greeting card.
- Cut back on sending greeting cards.
- If you are artistic, make greeting cards. There are often free or low cost classes on how to do this, as well as ideas on the Internet.
- Explore a hobby during the holidays, such as creating artwork, writing or making music.
- Look at http://www.meetup.com to find holiday alternatives in your locality.
- Some churches and organizations put on holiday parties on the date or near the date of the holiday.
- Contact your nearest LGB/T Center for any holidays they may be celebrating or parties they may be giving. Many have these occasions on the actual date of the holiday.
- Seek out others who may be alone for the holidays, and celebrate with them.
You are not alone. Remember almost all people experience stress during the holidays and for a variety of reasons.
You can, reduce holiday stress by taking the time to finding your way of celebrating the holidays, instead of following how your family celebrates the holidays or copying how others celebrate the holidays.
Wow So much has happened in the last year (since 5/1/2014) the day first saw my therapist and she said those fateful words “oh it sounds like you may be transgender.” I’d never heard those words before. But those words that have turned my world upside down. No actually they have turned my world upside right, but have turner everyone else’s upside down.
So here’s what has happen since I heard those words
On May 31st came out to my wife
Sometime in July, finally said I might be transgender.
August 29th went to my first Trans Support Group
August 30th came out to my health coach
October said that I am transgender
November 2nd came out to my colorist
November 10th met a trans friend
November 17th came out to my doctor
November 17th started wearing nothing but women’s clothes every day
About November 20th stopped having migraines
November 19th came out to my nail girl
December 3rd came out to my massage therapist
December 3rd through January 31st came out to about 25 sales women
About January 1st stopped taking all medications, sleeping pills, muscle relaxers, or antidepressants
January 10th saw new therapist
January 11th got fitted for my first bra
January 31st told 2 women at blood bank
About February 1st totally accepted and even embraced the fact I am transgender.
February 2nd came out to friend in Texas (1st guy)
February 18th told my new doctor
January 28th told 2 more women at blood bank
March 16th came out to my cousin
March 28th came out to my daughters
March 28th through April 30 came out to 10 other sales women
April 22nd met a new friend and she totally accepts me for me
April 25th came out to my best friend (2nd guy)
So now today I don’t hate myself. I don’t hate the fact I am transgender. In fact I love me for who and what am, and that’s a transgender woman.
On the day you I firs heard “you may be transgender” and there was a magic pill I could take to make me not be trans, I would have taken it in a heartbeat.
3 months ago I am not sure I what would have done. Today I am not taking it and there’s no way you can force it down my throat.
I used to look at it as a curse, but now see it as a blessing. I would not want to be not trans because I would not just lose part of me, I would lose me.
I am so much a peace with who and what I am I have not taken any numbing medications(sleeping pills, muscle relaxers, or antidepressants ) in over 4 months and have only had 1 migraine in 5 last months. I think that’s really awesome. It’s not that I feel better than I ever have it that I feel alive for the first time.
So today I say I am transgender,
YES I AM PROUD TO BE TRANSGENDER!!
“oh it sounds like you may be transgender.”
PS by the way the translation “oh it sounds like you may be transgender.”
for me is "of course you not a sick disgusting pervert" which is what I thought for most of the first 55 year of my life" So in essence those words have freed me from my self made prison I spent my whole life in.
It’s an odd feeling, hoping that there is something wrong with you. Really hoping that you’re sick, and that you can use that to explain what’s happening. I’m loathe to book the blood tests though, not only because they’re a nuisance that involves me taking time off of work but because I fully expect them to reveal nothing.
The phlebotomist will take the samples, I like her; she’s a friend of a friend and always asks after him and what he’s been up to. Then the samples will disappear for a couple of weeks. Finally the surgery will send me a letter.
It’ll look something like this:
“We’ve had the results of your blood test. We can confirm that your cholesterol levels are very high, putting you at risk of serious health conditions, including stroke and heart attack. You’ll be pleased to know, however, that we found no other abnormal readings. Please make an appointment as soon as possible so we can discuss the results and your options.”
My symptoms are weight gain, which I don’t mind as I like being heavier, depression, high cholesterol and very high fatigue. It’s the fatigue that’s ruining my life, it feels like every other day I have to ask to work from home because I can barely keep my eyes open.
The cholesterol is also worrying, mostly because I know I’m fat but I’m happy as I am. I’m already a vegetarian, I don’t eat dairy (apart from chocolate and cheese) so that actually cuts out most sources of dietary cholesterol.
In essence, I don’t want a formal confirmation of something that I can already hear in my head (naturally, in my father’s patronising, sanctimonious, calculating voice):
“You’re depressed and have cholesterol problems because you don’t go to the gym and don’t eat like a nutritionist. If you got off your fat backside you would probably feel less tired, too.”
My symptoms have all the hallmarks of an underachieve thyroid, which my maternal grandmother also has. The fact it’s such a perfect fit seems to make it all the more likely that it won’t be the culprit.
I’d love an easy answer, for once. Something that explains why it’s damned hard to even get out of bed. Why my eyes are stingy and dry. Why just housework tires me out. Why I have such acute bouts of depression. Why my cholesterol is high enough to actually make the doctor raise their eyebrows (which is not a fun feeling).
So, I’m on the sofa. I’m remoted in to work. The telephone is nearby. My coffee is slowly going cold. It’s nearly noon. I can’t bring myself to book the blood test. The coffee feels like it’s in another room. I’m too bleary-eyed to start work; I almost expect to be fired for working from home too much. The telephone feels like it’s in another country.
Just like Gwen. I wish she were here. I wish Cloud was here too, my best friend in all the world. My girlfriend is in the Netherlands, and has gone radio-silent again. Cloud is in France visiting his family. It’s okay: Cloud will be back tomorrow, and I’ve learnt that Gwen being quiet doesn’t ‘mean’ anything (much as my neuroses try to twist it into one). She’ll be back soon enough.
Work isn’t going anywhere. Not really. They need me, and my working from home is only just an inconvenience. In my defence, I also remoted in over the weekend and did a load of extra work for them just because I felt like it.
I’ll start small. Coffee first. Everything else in time.
When an adventure requires its central character to play the role of hero and damsel the plot becomes very confusing and at odds with itself very quickly, this was an experience to be savoured and suffered. I finally took the final step on escaping the cross-dresser skin that had wrapped me up so tight. I stepped out of this all-encompassing cocoon and tip-toed delicately and naked in the free air as woman for the first time. Gone was the awkward, exaggerated mannerisms and grace and beauty was found. For the first time I blushed at a mans affections rather than acting like a man in a dress, I felt like one of the girls and discovered just how different and real my situation is now.
For the first time I belong. The outsider is in from the cold.
It may not have been as realistic as the picture dictates but for the first time I had a place to call my own and my confidence blossomed into a powerhouse that was a runaway steam train on fire. I strutted my stuff, wiggled my arse and other revellers called me miss and sweetie! Arriving at this monumental part of my life has excited as well as humbled me, freedom has never been so close, the jailor had forgotten to lock the cell door and my escape has begun.
With all my strength my cell door has been broken and I breathe free air for the first time.
While all this excitement was happening inside me some very real experiences also cropped up that I had not considered before. Using the little ladies room for the first time was very surreal and I actually felt fear as I fumbled with makeup and tried to smile with the other girls.
Now, any man will know that using the gents is normally a quiet experience, a place of reflection, you think about how to get home, what you are going to say to the pretty girl next, and so on. It is a generally peaceful place, where men clear their throats and spit in the trough, they may joke with one another very briefly about how liberating that first mighty piss is. But what hit me like a tidal wave upon entering the ladies was absolute chaos, girls huddled in groups nattering like a mothers meetings, tissue and makeup gunk everywhere, and I am surprised there is not a sand shortage with all the mirrors lined up one after the other. I think a few of my fellow toilet dwellers could sense my anguish with this strange world, one actually asked if I was okay, I brushed it off as being a little tipsy but on reflection I wish I had explained my inexperience.
Another aspect that I have to improve on very quickly is applying makeup while standing up. I have practiced and practiced at my make shift dresser at home, but nothing prepared me to have to stand, with others watching, and make myself beautiful.
I had visions of the chaos but no imagination could have prepared me for this!
Later on in the evening, after I had become rather drunk, I was now stumbling about as opposed to gliding like a flower on the breeze, my next experience is one that has taught me the biggest practical lesson to being a woman. Whatever is going on, where ever you are, no matter who you are with, never, ever under any circumstances lose your handbag.
I was trying to make my way through an overcrowded corridor of the club and as I passed through a doorway another clubber hooked onto my handbag some how and it was ripped from my shoulder and back into where I had come from. At first I could not actually believe it. I started searching furiously around me and started to panic. Phone, money, cards, not to mention the cost of replacing all that makeup! I was like a damsel in distress and while at the time all I could think about was to not start crying, the actual emotion has added to my overall experience and made me feel more like a woman. Luckily my handbag had ended up with some lovely doorstaff who not only gave me back my little bag of tricks but comforted me to some degree, again adding to my feeling of real womanhood.
I am liberated and cannot wait for more days like this.
One of the members here recently was feeling down (I hope that you feel better today:) and discouraged. One of the things was that men are sending her unwanted friend requests and messages on social sites.
This is such an annoyance for transgender women and makes us all to aware how we can be objectified as fetish objects by a certain type of guy who don't really see us as real people, let alone women. Sometimes you just get so fed up with it, and at the wrong time, it can really get to you. They all seem to say and ask the same or similar things which can run the spectrum from ignorant, to insulting, to just so creepy that you feel like you need to take a shower after reading them. I'm thinking why not have some fun at these creep's expense. I'm going to list some of the typical things, usually the opening line from a message that I've gotten. Tell me if it sounds familiar and add some of the ones that you've gotten, ok? Of course, I can't include the more X rated comments that I've gotten.
1. You a tranny?
2. I'm curious and want to "try" a tranny, you want to be my first?
3. Do you Skype?
4. Text me. 555 555 5555.
5. Send me pictures.
6. Send me naked pictures.
7. Do you still have "it?"
8. Is 67 too old? (I'm 19)
9. Give me your number. (like I'm going to give a complete stranger my phone#!)
10. Give me your phone number and I'll send you a picture of my.....
11. What are you wearing?
12. Do you have boobs?
13. How big is your....
14. Hi, do you like me?
15. I'm on he down low, do you want to be my secret thing? (yeah, I want to be somebody's "thing")
There are so many more that are probably worse, and many too creepy to say here on tgguide. These are a few that I've heard over and over. On a dating site that I tried recently, some of the user names tell you right up front what these guys are all about. I also can't write most of those here, but for example, how many girls are looking to meet a guy that calls himself "freakdude69?"
It can be so frustrating, I so understand why this gets to other girls. At first i was actually a little flattered that guys were (I thought) interested in me, but I got onto what they were about and really got so sick of it.
So girls, are there any particularly weird, clumsy, funny or bizarre things that guys have said to you? At least things that you can say here, but nothing to "graphic."
Again, I'm leaving out those that are too creepy, sexually graphic or disgusting....which are most of the comments that girls like us get.
La la la:)))
well today has been another day.... I mean what are we here for? to think the way we live is a choice---really the stupidest thing I have ever heard. I pluck my facial hair because I don't want stubble....let a man do that---lmbo----he would cry like--ironically a girl---- I live for me and refuse to live for whatever society thinks I should. I say once and forall deal with me world because I am real and I am here.
"Leelah Alcorn, born Joshua Ryan Alcorn, walked in front of a tractor trailer in Warren County, Ohio and scheduled a suicide note to be posted on Tumblr after her death." - http://www.christian....suicide/45253.
I don't usually start out this way, on a sad note, but no matter how many times I play these words through my head, there is nothing but the same sad song coming out.
As a person who has lost multiple people to suicide, I am going to say what needs to be said; the living be angered and the dead be damned. It needs to be said.
I am angry with you, kid. Maybe other people won't say that to you, because you are dead, but I will, and I can, because you aren't here to defend yourself, so I can say what ever I want. I have read your note time and time again. I mourn you loss with the rest of the world of people who know what you have gone through, and felt your pain at one time or another, and some who maybe even today, this very moment know exactly what you went through.
I am sad that you are gone, and angry with you. You are not a martyr. I won't follow suit behind the people who say you died for a cause. No You died because you had some Romeo and Juliette romantic fantasy about changing the world by walking in front of a truck. Great. Now you're dead and some innocent semi-driver has to live with knowing he was the one who ran your body over. Didn't see that one coming in your attempt to change the world for the better, did you.
When you were a child, you realized you were different. You told and no one believed you. You said the words and others refuted you. You KNEW WHO YOU WERE.. a gift that so many don't ever get to receive, and instead of staying the course, and hanging on just a little longer, you left. Took your life and ruined the lives of the driver and the people who depended on him. You were suffering, and you made others suffer because you were too selfish to hang on just a couple more years until you could get out of your parents home and live a life of your own.
No, I will not be more kind to you because you are dead. It's the harsh reality that the kids I work with and talk to on a daily basis who feel like their lives are twisted tragedies of maladaptive behaviors and undesirable, unlovable masses of waste now feel like they have an 'out'.
"Leelah did it" [speaking of your suicide] "And people are noticing her!"
My response started out as one of compassion for you when I first heard your story, Leelah. But now it is compassion wrapped with truth. None of this candy coated "Poor Leelah". Rather "Yep Leelah did it and now she will never have a chance to tell her story to other kids going through what she went through, or how she made it out, and really learned to change the world"
A martyr dies for a cause he believes in, and goes to his or her grave with the full knowledge that nothing more could be done on their part, that they fought the good fight until the very end.
You, Leelah gave up.
And now you are a misguided symbol to the transgender kids I work with and talk to; that if things get too tough, their fifteen minutes of fame and admiration will come through their death... NOTHING CHANGES IF YOU GIVE UP!
How many years will people know who you are? How many months will your name roll off the tongues of the youth? People know who Martin Luther King, Joan of Arc, Jesus Christ, Buddha, and Nelson Mandela (Who suffered greatly for his cause though not put to death) because they stayed through the hard times, fought for their freedoms, fought for their rights, and the rights of others.
The problem is not that you were a transgender woman that no one understood. The problem is that you decided you would walk away, take the easy way out. "Mom and dad fuck you" are not words that can be held in high regards. Nope, they didn't listen to you. Nope they didn't treat you with the respect you believed you deserved. Yep that does make them sorta shitty parents. Nope, I don't agree with their actions, nor do I completely condemn them. As parents they did what they felt they could do to make their family whole on a level that they understood. Nothing more nothing less.
Socrates was a man who could have avoided death. There were people on the ready to give up their wealth, their families and their homes to help him escape prison. Other People hated him because he told the truth, and made people see their own hypocrisies. He was the snarkiest man of his day.. He chose to fight the good fight and follow through with the right thing to do. People listened to him, thousands of years ago, and even today. Newsflash.. he was a shitty parent, too and is rumored to have been a terrible son. You were not a terrible son, or a terrible daughter. You were a kid who needed to take more time to grow up.
You had a voice, you gave it away. The last words you wrote were words of deep emotional sentiment, and anger, and hurt, and mistrust. Your words wont last, because there will be another, and another and another who will follow in your footsteps of giving up. You will be in a long sad line of quitters. No one ever remembers the runner up. If you wanted to change the world, you should have stuck around, used your beautiful emotional talent to encourage others to be strong, and go on. Change comes through proactive measures. Not by giving up.
I am sorry you are gone, you had a lot to offer the world. You were obviously someone who had powerful things to say, but now, you can say nothing, and I have to contend with your actions through the kids I work with who say "But Leelah did it".
To everyone else who would read this, I say this to you. Hang in there. Today may be bleak, and full of sorrow, but you are not alone. As trans people, we have all experienced the feelings of isolation, loneliness, and maybe the shame put on us by others.
If you know a youth going through a hard time physically show them this website:
http://www.thetrevorproject.org/ The Trevor project is for LGBT youth who see no other way out. If you are the one having a hard time there are a number of ways to get help.
On Facebook, there is a group 'Tri-States Transgender Group' it is a private group- Contact: Emilie Jackson Edney.
There is always another way. Suicide is not the answer, no matter how bad things get. Ask me someday and I'll share my story. Today though, it's about you.
You matter on every level of humanity. And somewhere, you are the single most important person in the world, to someone else. Don't give up. Don't give in.
So as I mentioned in the Introductions area, I wrote a letter for my teachers to have and/or hang in their classrooms. Here it is:"Hi there! If you're reading this, then you're my teacher. Good for you! I will warn you though, I can be a bit of a handful.Allow me to tell you a bit about myself.The school "knows" (has me listed as) -------------------, and my gender listed as Female.I will tell you now, this is wrong.I identify as Male and prefer the name Andrew ------------HOWEVER.My family has yet to call me Andrew, so if you'd be so kind, use the name -------- and Female pronouns around them.What the term for this is Transgender, or gender dysphoria.Also, I'd like you to know that I am open for any questions you may have, any concerns, and anything else you'd like to know. I'd also like you to know that I am not Google, so up your knowledge a bit before you dump questions on me.Lastly, if you would like to, you can hang this letter in your classroom for other students to read. If you do, please black out my names.These are some points of reference you may use to better understand your Transgender student.Transgender 101: A Simple Guide To A Complex Issue ---- $9.99 on the App Store, may or may not be available in the Public LibraryThe Transgender Child: A Handbook For Families & Professionals ---- $9.99 on the App Store, may or may not be available in the Public LibraryBe Yourself: Questions & Answers for LGBTQ Teens ---- Free on the App Storewww.tgguide.com ---- A forum where trans* people share their stories and offer advice to trans* and cis people alikewww.transstudent.org/teachertips ---- an advice page for teachers of transgendered studentswww.gendertalk.com ---- A page about the Gender Spectrum"
I recently received an e-mail notice from here that someone had wanted to start a personal message. The e-mail stated that the individual wanted me to use their hotmail account to do so. Under some circumstances I would not mind. Under some I would.
The person used a screen name and the hotmail address gave no indication who they were. The names did not appear familiar.
I do not blame people for using screen names. Safety, workplace discretion and families all may play a part when one is transgender. I can understand that.
I typically do what may not appear to be the brightest thing in the world. I use my real name and tell the truth about myself. I personally do not care what anyone thinks. I have my reasons for what I do and if that offends some so be it. When I am offended I tend to forgive as I would hope others would forgive me.
I do not try to hide the fact that I am a heterosexual cisgender male minister. That alone causes some to have preconceived notions about me. Some may even hate before knowing anything about me. Sort of how people treat some of you as transgenders.
Neither do I hide the fact that in accordance with the word of God I do not agree with transgender views.
You will note that I never openly use the word of God to slam any transgender posts. Neither would I do so in private.
Some may wonder why I am here then. Not only the transgenders here but people who may know me in real life both in workplace and ministry.
The truth is that even though I am in disagreement with transgender views I still know that I would want people to treat me right. That means that if I was not sure about anything and questioning I would hope someone just might be around that could help and have the guts to go where some may not.
That is part of the basics of Christianity. While I may not agree with the views here there may be that babe in Christ that is wondering about some things about what the word of God says. In such a case I would hope that I could give the right answer.
Not to agree with everyone. Not to disagree with everyone. Just to be honest and tell the truth.
There are those however on any site that would just love to ask a question so they can set someone up. Run back and tell all that guy is a trans basher or whatever when it isn't the truth.
I have gay friends and co-workers. I also have some co-workers that I suspect to be transgender but not out.
I would never out any of them nor embarrass any of them. I merely try to treat them like anyone else. What they are or how they feel about straight, gay, cisgender and transgender issues means nothing at work. If they wish to reveal they are such and such to me at work they will. If not they won't. I'm there for a job and not to please people or gossip.
The reason I say all of this is because naturally I won't answer e-mails if I do not recognize the person in one way or another.
If people realize that I am here and open about who I am they should be open about who they are to me in private.
Anyone in ministry has their life a rather open book to the world. Many watch just to see if they can find fault. Sadly some try to find fault so they think they have an excuse at the judgment seat of Christ. "Well he did this or that" or "Well he said this or that" or "Well he was on such and such a site."
The truth is that we all give account of what we do and say in this world on that day. All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. If someone sees me here let it be known that it is in the hope that should there be a babe in Christ and that individual wants to ask someone that is willing to be here about scripture that I am willing to help.
I am not seminary educated but then neither were Peter and John. They took note they were ignorant and unlearned men but they were with Jesus.
I guess in conclusion what I am saying is that if a person ever wants to send an e-mail be honest about who you are.
I probably have enough enemies and people wanting to either set me up or gossip about me just like you all.
I don't have any ill will towards whoever sent the e-mail. They evidently joined and sent it and then left. A search of members revealed nobody by either names. The link on the e-mail showed it could not be found here even though it brought me to this site.
As I said, even though I do not agree with transgender views I hope that the vast majority of my blog posts show I do not judge you all. How you live and what you believe is between you and God. I only drop in from time to time as on other sites I have had people send pm's asking questions about scripture and such.
To me the most important thing in this world isn't whether or not I am liked. It isn't what I possess or what the Lord gives me.
The most important thing to me is that even though the Lord shared all glory with his Father before this world was created he chose to come into it and die for the sins of people like me and you who could never repay him.
He lived a life of poverty and being hated by all men for what he spake and what he did. When he told the truth and rebuked those that were wrong they wanted to kill him. He knew that when he returned and drove the moneychangers out of the temple they would want to kill him. Yet today nobody wants to believe that he will get angry when people insist on doing that which he hates.
He was so poor that it took a miracle for him to pay his and Peter's taxes. Two hundred pennyworth is not a great wealth. I'd like to see some of the rich ones try to live on $2.00 today. It's a far cry from a mansion or jet.
He was blindfolded and beaten and his beard was pulled out and yet he stood there silent for those he would soon be butchered alive for.
They debate if he was white or black when scripture shows him to be the olive tree in the garden of the Lord God. A scourge removed much of that skin and I wonder as they pulled his beard out how much flesh came off with it.
All fled and nobody was there to even give a word of encouragement as the all this happened and he went to the cross.
Still he spake forgiveness and forgave the one thief that repented.
He finished the building of the house of God and gave up the ghost. He never once railed out against those who mocked, beat, scourged and crucified him.
He was the perfect witness of what Christians should be.
He was honest and it caused him to live in poverty and being hated of all men.
I would hope that more would try to be honest.
Even in a worst case scenario it would never be as bad as what he went through.
Having said such should anyone lurk and know me or be a member and want to send an e-mail all I ask is that they be honest about who they are.
It should be clear that would not out nor hurt anyone.