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When I wrote my first post yesterday I couldn't imagine what else I might write about. Since then my mind's been churning out ideas left and right that I hope people here will enjoy and/or find informative. We'll see. Today I'm writing about how I came up with my female name. The first name I chose for myself turned out to be my wife's middle name. I'll keep that one private for now in case I ever introduce her to this blog. Understandably, she's very apprehensive about posting things in public forums that might get back to us. Anyway, I never told her my original name because I didn't want to load her feelings up about her own middle name. I didn't think that would be fair. But my last name has always been "Sweet." Whenever I've thought of myself as female, that's what I've wanted to be: sweet. For me that encapsulates so much feeling, images, and how I'd like to be treated. So it was a good fit. How about "Emma?" Where'd I come up with that, you ask? In many ways I'd be perfectly happy with any female name but when I was considering what to call myself I had some thoughts: - I wanted it to end with an "a"; - I wanted it to be short and, well, sweet; - I wanted it to be unambiguously feminine. Emma came to mind and I knew it was right for me. And it was icing on the cake that it's the first name of Mrs. Emma Peale, whom I envied so much in The Avengers way back when. (Wasn't she fantastic?) So, Emma Sweet it is. Best, Emma Photo: I also think it'll be fun to include photos that I've taken. This one was in a Norway fjord where we were on a small boat out looking for eagles. The guides were throwing out chum to attract eagles and these seagulls came alongside and this is one of the photos I took.

Dear Warren, I sure know what you mean about some days are good and some days aren't. And also, living with secrecy. Quite literally, it sucks big time. I think you took the right step to put down the knife and walk away. I hope you don't get fired, of course, but on the scale of bad vs. worse, harming yourself is much worse. I'm a little reluctant to offer suggestions since we don't know each other and I don't want to come off like some sort of know-it-all. But what the heck, here's a couple: - Go take a walk, get outside, and look around. Get some air into your lungs and head. Try to think of things you're grateful for. - Get a blank book and write a couple (no more than two) pages. Just sit there and write it out. (I use those black Moleskin books.) I often find that I'll start writing and surprise, surprise, after a few sentences or paragraphs, I'll start coming up with some positive ideas to help myself. And consider calling your boss to explain and beg forgiveness. He/she would appreciate your having the consideration of letting them know what's up. Sure, you may need to stretch the truth a bit, but just tell them that you were suddenly feeling pretty crappy and felt that it was better to split without notice than possibly make a mess in the kitchen. I think they'll put two and two together and give you another chance. Best of luck to you and thanks for writing. Emma

Two months after I graduated from college my mother committed suicide. In the middle of the night she'd driven off of a cliff south of Santa Cruz into the rocks and surf below. In many ways I was relieved but felt guilty for that. I felt I was supposed to cry and look bereaved so I did my best at her funeral and it seemed that everyone accepted my act. As I was growing up she was often depressed, sometimes unable to get out of bed. She was hospitalized several times, took antidepressants, and had electroshock therapy. And she had many conversations with me over the years as if I was her therapist. I am an only child so I was kind of locked up with her, too. Clearly, she had her own issues. Competition with her brother for her father's love. Measuring up to her mother's standards and expectations. When I was six or seven I found a paddle in our laundry room cabinet, neatly placed on a shelf. It was from one of those child's paddle and ball sets that has a rubber band to bounce back and forth. No ball, no rubber band, just the paddle with the little staple still stuck in the middle surface. I asked her why it was there. "It's for spanking you, if I need it," she said. "Why?" She looked at the palm of her hand and said, "I broke a blood vessel once spanking you. It hurt a lot and I don't want that again." I stared at the staple, wondering what I could have possibly done to deserve such a spanking. And, wondering if she'd be flip the paddle away from the staple if she spanked me with it since otherwise it might cut my bottom. I put it back on the shelf and am happy to say that I don't recall her ever using it on me. I really did try to be good. But inside I knew I was wrong and bad. I wanted to be a girl and every night went to sleep fantasizing about being taken away to become one, or having my mother buy me a dress or dance clothing, or... And I kept all of this carefully locked away. My ugly secret that I absolutely could not confide in anyone. Which, no doubt, leads to resentment, lots of hurt and shame, and depression. Thoughts of suicide, certainly. But I'm not writing this looking for pity or something. In some ways I don't even know why I'm writing it! In my twenties, thirties, forties, and fifties, I've seen a lot of therapists myself. Taken antidepressants too. For the last couple of years I've been seeing a therapist who's been terrific. I love his affirmations and understanding. He's not like so many others who simply echo what you say or say something stupid like, "how does that make you feel?" And my wife started attending the meetings too. It's so hard for me to express what's going on for me to her without having a coach in the room. Wisely, he stays unbiased - he's helping us both. So I've come out pretty darned fully to both of them. My wife's always been steadfastly against any of this stuff. But hey, she has her own physical issues that she didn't choose. So when she understood that my feelings and desires emerged before elementary school she realized that, like her, I am what I am. But I do still get depressed especially when I detect (rightly or more likely, wrongly) that my wife's unhappy with me. About a month ago I pulled my Prius up to a railroad crossing just as the arms descended. We'd had dinner out and I was alone in my car, driving home. I came very close to simply driving through the barrier and waiting on the tracks. It seemed like I had a long time to think about it, how easy yet terrifying it would be. I wondered if the train could possibly be moving so fast that it would actually do me in. Or more likely, how it would leave my Prius torn up with glass all over, me inside. Big deal, who really cares. I'm tired of all this crap. It weighs heavily at times. The train came past in an incredible rush, and I knew that yes, it would have destroyed me. I was pretty shaken up for a couple of days. Like I might have suffered from some sort of stress disorder. But I came out of it and told my therapist. Here again, he's pretty cool. I worried that he might have me committed or something. Instead, he told me that he saw how serious this all is for me. I wonder if that's more manipulation on my part. But then again it was pure happenstance that I was at that railroad crossing at that time, and I felt what I felt. So I think I was being true to myself and to him. These days I'm doing pretty well. I continue to see the therapist both by myself and with my wife. I really wish my wife and I could make progress faster (which means that we'd be able to talk more openly with each other) and I get impatient. I get frustrated and short with her at times, which I regret. I'm trying very hard to figure out who and what I am and then to be that person. Best, Emma Photo: I took this about fifteen years ago. We'd left a B & B and were driving north toward Paris. I noticed this scene outside my window and very nearly drove on. Like so many times before, drive on and then wish I'd taken the five minutes to stop and take the photo. This time I pulled over and walked back, and I'm glad I did.

After my last post/blog, I figured it would be a good idea to give an update. No, I were not fired. But I almost was. I went in and talked to my boss about it, and explained that I'd had an anxiety attack, which I'm prone to have. We talked it through and I assured him it wouldnt happen again unless nessesary, and I would tell them next time if I needed to leave. He accepted, and I was allowed to work. I were on my best behaviour all day, or as best as I could. Sometimes theres days when things are so hectic and chaotic, you dont have time to think! But yesterday was so slow, I thought I'd fall asleep. There was no food to prep, no chores to be done, and nothing to do aside from 'look busy or go home'. Which is really hard to do when there's nothing to be done. So I literally crawled under the counters wiping up dust off the shelves, just so they 1)couldnt see me 2)looked busy. I kept busy mentally with thinking things through and trying to keep myself calm, listening to music and thinking about the books I'm writing. It all seemed fairly good at the time. Then....it happened. I were standing on the other side of my counter refilling the serving stations (its set up buffet style) when one of the dish girls comes up to my counter. I was friendly and smiled with a "Hey, hows it going?" Her response? "Hey! So, I hear you've been spreading lies about me like a b****" Um.....what? Okay, backtrack to the highschool drama. "Jo" is the french student currently calling me a lying b****. "Britt" is a newer girl. Britt needed a locker. Management gave her one, no problem. Apparently said empty, filthy locker was previously Jo's locker. Jo got pissed, started ranting, left angry letters on the locker...ending in Britt moving her stuff to another locker to share with another coworker. I figured it was done and over with. Apparently not. "What lies? If I'm spreading lies, I'd at least like to know what I'm supposably saying" I told her. But she shrugged and walked off. I'm sorry, but I dont like Drive By Accusations. So, I went to find her. Me being a stubborn pain in the ***, I dont let things like that go easily. I found her, and confronted her with a "Do you want to talk about this here, or go outside? Because we ARE going to talk about whatever the hell that was." She tries pushing me around and giving me a sobstory, which I deflected quiet easily with facts about what she were saying herself were the only things I had repeated, so in turn did that mean she as lying to begin with? I confronted her calmly and told her "If you had taken me aside and said 'hey can we talk about something?' then I would have been fine with that. Let's talk. But when you come up to me, on the front line, in front of all those people the way that you did, saying what you did....It's inappropriate and it was NOT appreciated. You want to talk about this like an adult, then be an adult. Talk. But dont do it in front of students, dont do it in front of other coworkers. This is not a competition for drama and this is not a popularity contest. You want to accuse me of something, then get your facts straight and dont walk off like a coward. If you're going to throw things in someones face, at least stick around to see their reaction." I didnt hit, I didnt touch her, I didnt swear. I thought I handled it rather well, for me anyway. Just saying. IN OTHER NEWS: I have officially been signed up for a councilor/ phsyciatrist for my gender related issues and anxiety disorder. I'm awaiting a phonecall once they pair me up with one, and will do the paperwork when I get there. I'm glad it's set up, but nervous as hell. Got to admit, I almost dont want to go. I've had nothing but people trying to convince me for so long that this is a phase, and even I have to question it sometimes. But deep down, I know theyre wrong. But that little fear in me cant help but worry that maybe it's just in my head. I know people say "if you know in your heart that it is what it is, then it is". But what if I dont know what my heart is saying, because its too overclouded by what everyone else says? I'm just worried that they'll look at me and say "Nope, you're fine. It's stress/depression related, and we cant help you. You'll have to stay the way you are" Besides, me talking face to face with someone about my feelings? Not gonna go well. Think I'm going to go bury my head in some cement. Warren

Dear Warren, Glad to hear you still have your job but of course sorry to hear about the conflict with others. Good for you for sticking up for yourself in a calm and factual way. It's hard to do, believe me I know, but it's the right way. A friend of mine once suggested that it's best that we "hold the high ground" when in these situations. This means that we do as you did, not descend into childish behaviors as she did. That way, even if she refuses to listen or continues to attack, you'll know in your heart that you did the right thing. And hey, if it gets escalated to your boss no one can fault you for how you handled it, right? :-) Regarding the counselor: yeah, it's hard to think about opening up, especially after so many others haven't really listened. He or she may very well be one more of the same, for sure. More likely, that person is a trained professional who really wants to help. So if you detect that they aren't really listening or hearing you (or maybe also wondering it's "just a phase") call them on it. Just like you did at work: calmly say something like, "I don't understand what's going on here at the moment, and hope you can help me. I'm telling you what's really going on for me but I'm not sure I'm being heard, which worries me because I really want some help. Am I misunderstanding something?" Best, Emma

Yup. That's right ladies and gents and dogs and cats, its a second post in one day. The reasons: Because I can. Well, that and the post I did previously was actually for yesterday that I was too tired and lazy to do last night. THIS ONE is for TODAY. Now, as some of you might or might not know, Halloween is coming. Like...in two days. And if anyone knows me personally, they know that Halloween is practically my birthday. Not really, I was born in May. But it's THAT important to me I LOVE HALLOWEEN!! It's been my favorite holiday since the beginning of my miserably misguided life. Every year since I were twelve, I've been a vampire. Vampires are everything to me I love the lore, the stories, the guidelines...So much in fact, I had joined a vampiric coven when I were sixteen. Shortlived, sadly, as I had to move AGAIN. But it was still epic. The only year I deviated from being one of the undead was when I was Wednesday Adamms for my boyfriends grandmother, who hated vampire lore. But this year.....IM DEVIATING AGAIN! Vampire? Too mainstream this year. What else is equally as fabulous that has been left in the shadows since Twilight, True Blood, Vampire Diaries and The Originals? Lycans. Werewolves! So, I'm a werewolf this year. So excited!! I have to go grab some shinanigans to throw on my face and make myself look epic for friday, because its WOOT WOOT!! DRESS DOWN DAY AT WORK! Halloween night, all the chefs can wear WHATEVER THEY WANT (as long as it wont get in the food. Hairnets or hats still manditory, just ANY hat) I'm so excited ROFL I got my fangs as you can see in the pic ILL SHOW YOU HOW IT LOOKS ON FRIDAY! -Warren the Werewolf (has sort of a ring to it )

Love the name emma Took me a long while to decide on mine. I dont remember exactly how I settled on Warren, to be honest. I know that it means 'defender of friends' which was fitting, since I'm always defending and taking care of other people, even ones I hardly know. The full name I had settled on was Warren Renexius (was my online name for several years, AND a book character I created) Ornan (my dads middle name). It's sort of long, but I've learned to love it :3 Emma Sweet is adorable! -Warren

Everyone has a bad day now and then. Maybe they spilled their coffee, or the car wouldnt start, you stepped in a puddle up to your knee...could be anything. Mine never start out with physicaly disturbances. Sure, I have trouble with my car. But it's forgivable. My Jeep is my baby. And when I cant afford to fix my baby, she has a tantrum. I forgive her for it. Yeah there's days when my hair just does NOT want to agree and be tamed. Or when I seem to smash my fingers in everything I touch. But those dont get to me. My mind does. And today was one of those days. I couldnt explain why, and I didnt know when it started, but it did. It were nearly unbarable, close to driving me to furious fits of rage. Everything annoyed me. My binder felt too lose, and I were convinced it did jacks*** for my endeavors. I came to the saddening realization that unless I find a new job, I'm never going to be seen for the man I am. And on top of that, it's the secrecy that kills me. Literally eats me up inside, makes me ache and want to curl up. I cant tell anyone that I have "gender dysphoria" or whatever anyone wants to call it. Where I'm from, they just called it "Gender Mixed". I dont trust a lot of the people at work. My family know. My boyfriend knows. One or two off-line friends know a little, but that's it. So when I have to stand there all day, working with the sweetest woman I know who's fighting two types of cancer and is absolutely attached to her friends at work (and refuses to take bedrest and would rather work with us instead), it's hard to get in her face about her petnames for me. "Baby girl. Sweetie pie." or "Such a good girl" and countless other remarks are what I endure all day. All in the best intentions, I assure you. Praises and such, and she does it out of love. But to me, it's like shes casting stones at my head. Every time she says it, I cringe. I want to tell her, and ask her to stop calling me those things because to me....its insulting. But I'm afraid to tell her. I dont want EVERYONE at work knowing about it...if they dont already. My boss calls me "Baby girl" all the time out of habit, but I dont think he realizes how awkward it is for me. For him, it's normal. He calls all the girls "Baby girl" or "Baby Doll". But for me.....no thanks. But again...I cant tell him not to. Because then I would have to explain why. And that wouldnt go well. Days like this, I can say ****my life. I'm glad I dont have my "tools". My outlets werent helping, my frustrations were getting to be an alltime high, my confusion was overwhelming....I just wanted out. To go and hide from everyone and not come back. Felt like the whole building was caving in on me, and my mind just kept repeating those names. Baby girl. Baby doll. Sweetie pie. Good girl, good little baby girl. It was driving me crazy. I couldnt leave and take pictures. I had no inspiration to draw. My music player wasnt helping, and my roleplay buddy wasnt reachable because my messenger wouldnt send. I was at a loss. So I got busy cutting peppers and fruits (chef work. yay.) but then had that gutrentching realization...I was holding a knife. I put it down. I walked away. I left work early. Without permission. I might get fired. Warren

It's always good to have someone who loves you...and continues to love you, and support you even after they find out... -Michael

I tried to post earlier, but lost internet connection. I'm glad it worked out that way, though, because I had nothing to suggest to deal with the constant barrage of female terms of endearment, and female pronouns/references - Emma has offered some good ideas. I too hope all goes well with the boss, and that you don't get fired. -Mike

Emma, Hun, yes it is such a very hard place to be. As much as I don't like the way things are. If it were possible to take away my inner girl, I would not want that for then I really would be lost. She' is and aways has been a bigger part of me and who I really am, than my male self has ever been. I too have want to be a girl forever