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Many years ago prior to my real life test I would go out dressed with no fear except when leaving and returning home. If I was wearing any type of heels that made noise as most do I would avoid landing on the heel and tippy toe inside my house. Have not done that for many years. So today I wear a nice pair of business style pumps and while walking along a hallway found myself tippy toe for a few steps. I thought to myself, WTF then had one of those moments "yes this was from back in the day when I would tippy toe back into my house. Luckily nobody saw me do that because that would be awkward. So later I walk into the section I work in and one of the ladies there said "Karen", I turn to see what she wants. She says you are wearing FM heels! I said what? she repeated herself and she smiles. Okay, tell me what FM means. She said they are F*** ME signals in regards to my heels to men. I countered and said, there is nothing sexy about these heels. She said it doesn't matter they are still FM heels. We both had a laugh then I said, what if I change into my flats. Without skipping a beat she said, then after a smoke too (you know, many have a cigarette after sex) and we both laughed again. So after lunch I walked into her cube with flats on as I always have a pair in my car trunk (or boot) and did not say a word. She finally looks down and cracks up. Me thinking "I nailed it".

Christie, it's loads of fun and you know, there has to be drivers and passengers

Fingers crossed you will be approved for top surgery.

I’ve felt like crying many times in the last few decades but have never been able to really let it go. Yesterday was different. Fair warning: I don’t mean for this to be a “pity party” at all and I hope it doesn't come off that way. <big sigh> As my wife and I walked to our neighborhood coffee shop yesterday morning I mentioned something that had been bothering me since the previous evening. Our therapist has encouraged me to communicate this stuff so I was following orders. Now, my wife has also been going through some of her own emotionally trying times. She stopped walking, we faced each other and she said, “I’m going to say something that may sound very hurtful right now. I really wish you’d stop thinking of yourself all the time.” Indeed, she was right, I was hurt pretty deeply. Telling someone that they’re overly sensitive, only care about themselves, and all that, is about the meanest thing you can say to someone. Sure, it “puts them in their place” but more than anything it’s like slamming a door in their face. Afterward, the recipient can only wonder “Am I now again being so self-centered?” And since they face the risk of hearing those words again, they shut down, which only builds resentments and yes, sensitivity to minor slights. I thought about all that as we had our coffees. I wasn’t sure what to do. I wasn’t going to bring it up more at the café. And I didn’t want to talk about it on the way home, either. When we entered our house I said that I had something to say and we sat on the couch facing each other. I told her that I have heard that line so many times in my life and I don’t think it’s accurate to say I am so self-centered. It’s such a hurtful thing to say especially to someone like me who is so careful to “learn all the rules” that people around me want to live by. I try to be “good” by internalizing and following them. And now the message I’ve received from her is that I should just shut down. At that point I was so sad. I told her that I wished I was dead. I meant it. I don’t mean to be dramatic here but it’s true. Shouldering my trans feelings and shame since I was so young, trying to fit in, and always so careful to not be discovered for not really belonging with the boys, girls, men, or women. It sucks. She gave me a big hug, told me how much she loves me, and told me how upset and angry she’d be if I did myself in. I think I told her that it was unlikely I'd follow through but I do often think that life is like a life term in prison, just waiting for the end. She then suggested we go lie down on the bed. When we got in there I told her how sorry I am that I’m “this way.” That I am definitely not trying to manipulate her into something she doesn’t want. About then I mumbled that I just don’t want to be rejected. And I started to cry. Sobbing, with those jerking shoulders, tears, and all. I think I carried on for four or five minutes. She kept assuring me that it was okay, that I should let it out. When I was done I didn’t really feel like it was all let out. In fact, she asked me how I felt and I said it felt uncontrollable, like throwing up. You know, running to the bathroom and then convulsing uncontrollably. She agreed that that's what it's like for her, too. So, that’s it. After waiting more than a half century, I finally got some real tears shed. I think it was helpful but I can tell there are more in there. It’s good to know that I have the capacity to do it. I suppose it’s also good for my wife to know how deeply I feel. I’m very lucky and grateful to be married to her. Emma