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Yesterday while standing outside on break at work I hear someone say “hey you”, turned, looked around and here is a trans person whom I’ve known but have not seen in ages standing there. I said hi, she comes over and we hug. She is around 30 years old and when she (from what I remember) doing well (on her meds) very passable other than her voice. Well I could tell she was not well shaven facial wise and was very loud when chatting with her.
There was a couple about 50 feet away that could not take their eyes off her and know full well that it was from her appearance, partly female, partly male. It was not one or two glances over in our direction but many over say (I was not keeping time) ten minutes. I felt like saying something but decided not too as it could very well have gone in a direction that I did not care for and was on break at work while if not at work would had said something.
The take-a-way from this is if you are looking to present as one gender than make an effort while if your are fluid it doesn’t matter yet this person is looking to be totally female and have surgery. Also, people say in general they are accepting of trans but we all know there are some who are not and need to be cognitive to this as some do mean us harm.
From the day I first presented myself (after surgery) as female clothing, mannerism and voice needed to be there and made sure it was. This is not to say it’s wrong to go against the grain but if so be prepared for blowback be it people staring, saying nasty things or physical, be aware is the bottom line
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.
The "Pink Fog" (aka, Gender Euphoria) is something many of us experience as we come into our transgender selves. It feels great, similar to the infatuation of a new love interest. For me I've wondered at times if I'm chasing it which brings up worries that I'm following something akin to the path of an addict instead of my true nature.
This came up for me yesterday morning when I read a story in a friend's blog of a 20-something AMAB person who got so caught up in his being a somewhat effeminate gay man that, with encouragement and advice, he transitioned socially. After some period of living as a woman (a year?) he decided to detransition. Thankfully he'd not embarked on only permanent changes. He now lives comfortably as a somewhat effeminate gay man.
Later in the morning I was working on my house, finishing doors, installing shelving, that sort of thing, wearing of course my old Levi's 501's (no point in staining my skinny jeans!) and a sweatshirt, my hair in a ponytail. My gender was nowhere on my mind but I contemplated that story. I was comfortable doing my work. Dara Hoffman-Fox has made the point (which I agree with) that just because we like "masculine" activities such as motorcyling, woodworking, etc., that's perfectly okay for women. I reassured myself while doing the work.
In the early afternoon I changed my clothes to go out for some errands, including a run to the lumber store. I dressed in my skinny jeans, a form-fitting REI top, earrings, and a little lipstick. I felt good about myself as I drove to the stores. In Trader Joe's I ran into a woman checker that I've gotten to know a little in one of the aisles. She'd just gotten off work. We talked for ten minutes, she's lesbian and about to be married, I'm trans, we share worries about Trump/Pence/Pompeo/Sessions, that sort of thing. She accepts me, we connected and reminded each of other of our names. At the lumber store a man who often helps me assisted me in selecting moldings and as he was ringing me up a woman checker (who happens to be lesbian) I've also worked with there came over to join our chat. I showed them a photo of closet doors I've built out of spruce.
Still later I made a spur of the moment decision to walk to a local restaurant for one of my favorite things: reading my book while enjoying a hot chocolate with brandy. The manager's a woman I've gotten to know a little who's very friendly and appreciates the small amount of business I bring to them.
Every day is my "transgender day of visibility." I don't think I look bad, and sure I'd like to pass much better. I stopped wearing foundation several weeks ago. I wore it before almost like a badge to add clarity that I was presenting as a woman. I guess it worked but of late I don't think it's necessary and is a hassle to remove. Like a pretty dress I save it for special occasions. (I'm such a sucker for pretty dresses. I can't resist!)
At the end of the day it remained clear to me that transitioning to female was absolutely the right thing for me to do. I feel good in my own skin and I think I have a joy that encourages people to connect with me. I feel a thrill when I get gussied up and that's perfectly normal. I also feel good when just going out and about.
And that's the whole point, right?
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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.
Unfortunately due to some issues I won't be able to host my content here anymore. I have many reasons. But thank you gentle folk for your love and support. I wish you all the best. If you want to be in contact:
Hear me screaming at the clouds on twitter: @charllandsberg or my Twitter Profile
Come have a look at my weird and wonderful art on Tumblr
Have a look at my cooking and everyday photography on Instagram
I'm all over the place. Be good. Take care of yourselves.
All my love
So I wanted to throw this out for discussion - I've been thinking recently about the term "transition" as it relates to the trans community. For starters, I hope nothing that I say here will suggest that I think everyone needs to use the same terminology, particularly for their own experience and journey - it's our story, it's our terminology!
But in a broader perspective, I have some concerns about the term "transition." Transition is defined as "the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another." Put simply, my fear of it's general use, with respect to trans-identified people, is that it perpetuates the narrative of being born X and "transitioning" to Y. In my view, I was NOT a man who transitioned to a woman, I was born a woman with some wrong parts. My "transition" therefore was essentially a medical correction along with a change in my personal presentation.
And of course that does reflect a transition, so the word works. The problem is that there is an entrenched history of believing that we were born one gender and changed to the other - and I think that the term transition is linked to that narrative. Perhaps it's time to look for a new word, or stop using the word entirely? I think back over my process and wonder if I could have gone without it - in what circumstances did I need the word? For people who knew, I could say that yes, I'm getting some medical support to correct some things, and I'm working towards living my authentic self.
The "trigger" in this case was discovering that my field placement location uses the initials "CGHT" (cross-gender hormone therapy) for HRT that is being prescribed to trans-identified clients. I'm working on that issue, but I realized the big problem I had with it is that it reaffirms that same narrative with staff who see and use that terminology - I DO NOT take "cross-gender" hormones.
I am by no means sold on all of this, it's a thought I've been having and wanted to share and see what others in the community think
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.
Let me start off with saying, I know that I haven't been active in a long time, and I might not get to say this...
Merry Christmas to all of you celebrating the festive season. May this bring you everything you thought it would and more.
I had an eventful few months and that is so going to get me disowned if I'm not already disowned... But that is another story for another day, when I probably need to vent.
I got engaged in the last few months and only my niece, also the one I call my child, and she agrees that I'm being disowned and flung out like last years fashion that will never become a craze again. So yes, engaged and I do love him, flaws and all.
Then, I started working on shifts again, and my time is so occupied with work and love life that I barely have time to think about what to tell you.
Ooooh, did I mention that my one doctor finally gave me the letter that is required to change my gender marker on my ID, and that only took something like 4 years to get. And now the other doctors that said they would assist me are the problems in doing what I need to do. How can this be so difficult to get the letter required for the change. I also said that I will only marry once these changes have been executed on my ID. But I also might subconsciously want to wait a while for making certain that I made the right choice in giving my heart to someone.
So yes, my medical check ups for script renewal has changed to once a year, but I need my script rewritten every 6 months.
I tore some ligaments in my right hand and could use it properly for 9 weeks, okay it's 12 weeks already, and it is still painful to do some moves, and to fight properly with my hand. Okay, it happened because I was in a fight with a guy who's face was harder then the back of a pickup or brick wall. Okay, it was also justifiable that I knocked the guys teeth out, after all he was beating a teenage girl with a golf club and he was a grown ass man.
What else did I not mention that I think you should know about???
Really can't think now, but my operation was a success, seeing that I got through the complications that I faced for a time frame afterwards. Developed blood clots that just didn't want to go away, and bled like a leaking bottle for a bit more then 6 weeks, and it freaked me out the few times I woke up covered in blood, and that my precautions didn't even help me.
Did I mention that my hair is now slightly over shoulder length. I settled down to around 135-140Lbs no longer 145Lbs. Doesn't help my breast development, but I also thought of having a discussion with the endocrinologist on the possibility to change me to another estrogen form, cause I can't figure out what is making me nauseous. Might be the medication, or something else, like stressing. Yes, you would also be stressing if you knew the man that you love is kinda, sort of, disliked by your family, because I can't figure out how to convince them that he is right for me.
Having my legs licked and probably telling me to stop having a discussion with myself, I will be doing the following.
Merry Christmas my sweets, stay as kind as you are. I've not forgotten you, so have constantly thought of what to tell you, but when I had the words, I definitely didn't have the time to write anything.
Keep safe please, as I don't want to hear of another death of someone I knew. Okay, two so called family members, wait was three if recall properly. Father's brother (no he wrote each other off one Xmas, after he decided to attack me for being trans, so not family), cousins husband (didn't know him, and I think I stopped at the accident without knowing about it, and was working), aunt's brother (she married in so does that make him family), and the same aunt's boyfriend (yes she turn 70 this week, in the last 2 months we had to deal with him that got a stroke, and I was the last person around him as his last 2nd and last stroke took his life. He was so looking forward to her birthday and Christmas, but just made it to December).
So be safe and enjoy the festive season. I will be watching over those of you close to me.
Kind loving hearts blossom
Friends, family and loves
We gather in a time of giving
Not the giving of presents
But the giving of hearts
We are all here
Not just waiting, but
Fighting for what we were taught
The teachings of what is right and wrong
And I guess, that we have finally started believing
Believing in our dreams and what our hearts are telling us
So go forth and be who you were meant to be.
So, I've been here at my Mum's house long enough now that the time came to get my vehicle's license plate replaced. I've got a new plate and now I blend in with the locals. I've also been here long enough that my old driver's license was about to expire and I had to prepare for a new one. Being that I was going to end up getting a license in a new state, I figured I'd go online and see what all would be required... what paperwork/documentation, or whatever, to prove I'm a legal citizen of the good ol' U.S of A. While doing my homework, I discovered that I could actually start the process for getting a license - online. Okay...that was cool.
For getting a license for the first time in this state, you have to fill out an application and then go thru the list of required documentation and pick out the ones you are able to provide, or must find a way to obtain. While filling out the application, the Devil crawled up on one shoulder, and David Michael crawled up on the other shoulder. Being that most humans have only two shoulders, naturally, there was no place for that little Angel that likes to be across from the Devil to counteract any of his shenanigans... LOL. The Devil and I were gonna get along juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust fine.
Anywho... I came upon two boxes - one for male and one for female. There have been many a story about people who's driver's license had the wrong sex marker on them. And of course, anyone can make a mistake... so, I accidentally on purpose hit the box for male, 'cause, well, the idea of having to check female yet again, was distressful. It's becoming more so, more and more. I figured the hell with it - if anyone asks, I'll simply tell them I was in a hurry at the time, only half paying attention, an' obviously hit the wrong box. <shrugs>
The days were dwindling. I had only about seven days left on the current license. Reluctantly, I hauled my sorry butt to the DMV to get a new driver's license. Armed with BC, marriage license, application number and current DL, I stood in line waiting for the next available agent. Finally, a free agent. I walked over and sat down, layed all my stuff on the counter, said "hello," and gave the lady my application number. She pulled up my application and went to work.
Now... this woman had three documents in front of her that clearly stated my birth sex. I assumed she either didn't see the "M" on my application since she didn't question me, or she just took it upon herself to make the "correction." I sat quietly while she got everything filled out and entered into the system. She pulled a sheet of paper from her printer and advised me it was a temporary license and that I should keep it on me until I get the permanent one. I forked over my money, she collected everything I had given her, the temporary license, and handed it all to me saying that my permanent license would arrive in the mail within 15 days. I thanked her, we wished each other a good day, and I left.
A couple days later, I pulled my wallet out to get that temporary license - I had folded it up before I had even left the DMV parking lot, not wanting to see the information on it. But then, I had to see what sex was on it - if it was on there at all since it was, after all, only a temporary license. I slowly unfolded the paper, and then tried to hone in on where I thought the sex marker might be.
MY GOD, SHE DIDN'T SEE IT! And yeah - - it looked THAT glorious! I thought my heart was gonna pound it's way straight thru my sternum. I allowed myself a minute or two of sheer, unadulterated, child-like giddy excitement, then stifled it, and came back down to reality, believing there could be the possibility that between then and whenever the permanent license was created, someone might spot and "correct" that "M." I re-folded the temporary license and put it back in my wallet.
Just a few days later, the permanent license arrived in the mail. I slowly opened it, bracing for the worst. I fully expected to find a "corrected" license and a letter to announce/explain such. Instead, an "M" nearly jumped off the card at me. I was very happy. Right or wrong, correct or incorrect, I was happy. I didn't even care that the name and the sex marker contradicted each other. I sat at the desk for a moment just looking at the license. And then I spotted it. That twit had entered my entire name... not just full first name, but full first name AND middle name - SPELLED OUT. If there's anything I hate worse than my first [given] name, it's my middle [given] name. And the bad part is... the application indicated that entry of a middle name or initial was optional, and all that was on the old license was an initial. I surely wasn't expecting that!
Karma. Freakin'. SUCKS!
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.
All my life I sought a life-long relationship, and, yes, I found true love for ten years, (in my forties), only to lose it for my refusal to marry her (back then, a Holy Union), for fear of losing my Disability benefits and bankrupting her as a result.
As I approach my 60's, I realize I have become more complex, because of all the life experience I have been through, making it more difficult for me to find someone with whom I am compatible. What brought this home to me was my experience with four Lesbian dating websites, (from my mid-fifties to the present), where the women my age (59) were more complicated and had more complex demands on a potential partner.
Slowly, it gradually occurred to me, that if I didn't find an alternative way of looking at love and companionship, that very likely I would remain single and have no romantic love and companionship for the rest of my life.
Gradually, I realized serial brief relationships (with the possibility of a relationship growing into a friendship or even a long-term relationship) would be a lot more realistic.
Here are my reasons:
WHY IT'S BEST I LIVE ALONE
- Am set in my ways.
- Needs to use the bathroom on short notice.
- Terrible odor when I use the bathroom.
- Never shared my living space (not even with my lover of 10 years).
- Can not share my apartment and finances due to being on Disability.
- Needs to live in HUD Public Housing (if anyone wanted to live with me, they, too, would have to be "very low income," too).
- Allergic to horses, dogs, cats and birds (most Lesbians not only have cats and dogs, but sleep with their pets).
- Am actually happy with my apartment (and I am unlikely to find as good an apartment - especially HUD Housing - anywhere).
- Only negative where I live is some residents in Beacon and many residents of my apartment complex, I don't like. Avoid them and save money to take trips every three or four months.
- Love my building.
- Management treats me humanely.
- Maintenance treats me humanely, and does an efficient and thorough job maintaining and cleaning the building as well as making repairs in my apartment. (Most HUD Public Housing properties are poorly maintained.)
- Very low crime rate where I live. (The lowest crime rate I have every seen at a HUD Public Housing property I have ever seen.)
Here are what I think are the advantages of short-term relationships:
The Advantages of Short-Term Relationships
- Due to very low income (some would call this a "budget income," I can not relocate quickly to continue dating a woman (in order to avoid a "U-Haul" situation where I would move in with her, and hope for the best!)
- Most women do not qualify (very low income) and are uncomfortable dating a woman who lives in HUD Public Housing, especially if it is poorly maintained and is in a dangerous neighborhood.
- Able to enjoy the relationship before the drama and games begin.
- Can't find a woman locally to me because of homophobia where I live. (Most women are already coupled before they move here.)
- Both parties should be single out of respect for other relationships and for themselves.
- Sex is not the primary reason for such a relationship, but companionship.
Of course, there are many other reasons people may choose short-term relationships rather than long-term or lifelong relationships.
Would like to hear from others if they resonate with this in their own lives (especially if they are 60 +) and how realistic they think this is.
Am I selling myself short? Or am I having realistic expectations for a 59 year old, average-looking woman, who is kind, compassionate, supportive and has many interests?
Thank you in advance for your comments!
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.