For the last week and a half, I was imprisoned; not only imprisoned in my own body, but my body itself imprisoned in a mental health facility (or for the rather upbeat group of would-be suiciders I was rooming with, the loony bin). Despite transgender protection laws being on the books in Illinois and my being in a state-run facility and their being aware that I identify as female, I was placed in the male rooms with access to the male restroom and shower. Sure, that's lame and uncomfortable for me, but really beside the point of what I want to consider. I want to focus on the things really affecting my life rather than petty discrimination in a under-funded state facility. I was hospitalized because I could not fathom getting through the public mental health care system for the necessary amount of time before seeing a psychiatrist (between 2 weeks and 6 months; never mind how long for medication) with these nagging thoughts of suicide, taking the electric rail to and from work every day.

Now, let's take a quick step back from there. My therapy had been going rather well and I had some positive discussions with my wife. We came to an agreement that seemed fair. I would hold off on transitioning until our son was in school, so that we could both work to support him and live independently, with the likelihood being that we would be getting divorced. As I said, it seemed fair, but actually dealing with that, knowing that I had to spend the next two years or so in the closet, to be remedied at the same time as I lose my family, was paralyzing. So, I sought help; and then...

Since hospitalization causes a bit of a commotion, I ended up being outed to my parents, who would not relent in their interrogation of my wife, and came out to my boss during our discussion of my future with the company and potential raise to salary. Though I was certain my parents would disown me (their former prejudice is what kept me silent so long), they are completely supportive, saying they do not understand, but want to make sure that I and my son are safe and happy. Meanwhile, my boss is understanding and we will be discussing how this information should be handled among the staff. In particular, though my plans for transition may be distant, my wife has conceded that it is only fair for me to release my new album as Maya, that it is a positive outlet for me to express my femininity for now. So, I will be bringing it to someone at my work for radio play as soon as it's released (I'll be spamming the forums about it too, I'm sure).

So, am I free? It's hard to say that I'm not since I've been freed in so many ways, but that feeling of being trapped still lingers and probably will for some time to come.