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I've been debating whether or not to share my story about something that's been very long-term in terms of how much of my life it has encompassed: nearly 30 years. I want to start slowly, and I don't know how long it will take me to finish the story. It will be a long, emotional read when it is completed. The ending, and it's implications, may be terrifying to some readers. I think my story confirms some degree of life after death, but I won't debate its specific details with regards to a specific faith, belief system or philosophy. I'm not even going to speculate. That's for another time maybe years down the road. I want to parse out the story as I am comfortable sharing it, so I can't guarantee it will be completed in regular, reliable intervals. There may be long gaps or I may do several posts in a short period of time. Whew! Here goes: My story begins on February 14, 2014. My phone had died, and I was locked out of my downtown apartment. Before my phone died, I had called the police, for one very important reason: they had the master key for me to get into my building, and I was confident the officer would make an emergency call to the locksmith for me. Both of those things happened, and the officer called the locksmith and waited with me to make sure they could get into the building to let me into my apartment. We had a long chat while we were waiting, about this and that, and interestingly he knew a lot about the 107-year-old building I lived in, a converted hotel for miners built early in the 20th century. I brought up that I did not feel safe in the building. We talked about the reasons why, and I said it was because of my non-binary sexual identity. I said that yes, I presented male to the world, but privately I identified as female and always have. Though it may seem weird to be talking about this to a police officer, on the phone the dispatcher asked me what pronouns I preferred, and I said it was OK to use he/him. The officer who waited with me clearly identified as male, but he did not come across as a bro. Myself, I was lightly bearded, wearing my leather jacket, jeans, and rough skater sneakers; though I looked kind of rough, he treated me with sensitivity and kindness. Pre-transition I sometimes came across as quite fearsome and intimidating, but he could see I was unguarded and frightened. I can take care of myself most nights, but on this night I was terrified of the thought of not having my apartment to come back to, and I didn't hesitate to tell him that. Everything worked out as planned, and I entered my apartment safe and sound. My nerves calmed, my keys found and back where they should be, I wanted nothing more than to eat supper, take my evening meds and fall asleep. My conversation with the police officer still in my head, I unexpectedly relived the narrative of my life before my sleeping pill took effect. There was one terrible, frightening memory I almost always relive before I fall asleep. I will begin reliving it again when I go further into my story. My transition began that night. Being 41, unable to work and finally able to talk about gender identity with a kind human being, I devoted my energy to sorting out what I really felt. One conclusion kept arriving to greet me: I am a girl. Childish was how I felt. The language and culture to express trans identity was so new to me I felt like a child again, and my life could begin with no painful denial and repression; no harmful double life. The joy I felt was undeniable, and I couldn’t stop smiling for days as I existed without shackles for the first time. There are stories about my transition, both good and bad, but they are not what this blog entry is about. I want to go back to what I said earlier, about there being one memory I cannot help but relive most nights. I want to go back to my childhood to place this memory in context. That's going to be the subject of my next entry.

I never thought I would be here...at this impass of live. That moment when the fairy tales seem to take life and not in their usual good manner. The moment when a step-parent becomes the wicked witch or that menacing warlock. I never thought I'd be a part of it... Joey is his name. On first impression, I knew I didnt like him. His eyes told of selfishness and laziness. His posture spoke of sexism and over-tried alpha tendancies. His breath rank of an unrecognizable stench that turned my stomach, and his lack of manners towards the opposite sex was appaulling. He's a pig...but even pigs are better suited. The first moment I laid eyes on him, I had driven into the driveway to visit my family. I'd missed the wedding, so this was the first in which we'd laid eyes on eachother. I was not greeted, and I was not acknowledged. He simply looked up at my vehicle, seemed to sigh with annoyance, and wandered off to whatever he was doing. A simple 'hows it goin?' and 'not too bad' was exchanged as I approached the house, and that was it. He followed me in like an executioner to his post. It were not until my mother introduced us that he actually seemed to look at me. None too pleasantly, might I add. I was introduced as her daughter, her Kristy....I corrected that I were her son, Warren, and attempted to shake his hand. I got a hug instead, and it were not willing. I were not permitted a handshake it seemed. When I voiced that hugging strangers made me uncomfortable, he said 'you'll have to get used to it. I married your mother'. His eyes is what told his story. The eyes are often called the windows to the soul and he does not have a glamorous or spectacular soul by any means. In fact, I would hardly even shutter if the dear Hannibal Lector happened upon him and asked to dine on his overbloated, beer infested cadaver. I would, I do believe, incline to his request and simply wave in acceptance while I watch him carry him away. He's not a bad man, perhaps. Just a bad egg... He brings out a side of me that I have kept submerged for years. The Dominance side of me that sometimes concerns me and terrifies my soul, but I were often informed that it were another personality of myself. A more formal, gruesome side of my personality. I often thought of him as perhaps an imaginary friend, taunting me when I were too weak to stand up for myself. His name changed now and again...First it was Ben. Then Alex. Then one instance, he even called himself Dorian. I'm not sure what he calls himself now, but I can feel him reaching the surface once more. This....Joey....brings him back from the darkness in which he once slumbered. Even now, as I'm typing, I can feel his influence. Even in the way I write things, I feel that there is a shift in personality. A sinister switch...It began long ago, as most stories do, with my childhood. The childhood in which blood and gore were of no stranger to me. Slaughtering animals and lifestock for food, a odd fascination with their pieces being seperated so that we may dine on their once-lively muscle tissue. My...'brother', I guess you could call him, evolved through the years. Becoming more aware, more violent, but more able to mask himself in my own personality. "Influence, my dear.....the whole world runs upon influence. It is the only way that the good may triumph whilest the bad secretly are the marionettes to the puppets. You, dear boy, will thrive off my influence. I'll guide and protect you. And when the time comes, you will take the bench, and I shall orchestrate." I remember the words perfectly. At the time I thought it were simply my imagination running wild. But in the years to follow, I've learned that it were actually he himself. My brother..my other soul..the drum in my ears when things got too chaotic. The force behind my fists and the growl within my screams. Joey....that aweful lump of a man...he has brought my brother the life that he had once had in my teenage years, while catering to my vampiric Dom side by night. In secret, fleeing to the only family who accepted me. A clan of outcasts, vampire enthusiastics. I had quickly become one of them. I became a Dom as easily as one would crack an egg. Maybe a few pieces fell when the shell broke free, but the yolk took over these pieces as if they were nothing. Moving them out of the way as it pleased. I felt free...HE felt free. But I left the coven and decided to 'grow up' when mother moved us away. He has been silent since, perhaps worn out over his profound freedom. But this horrible....stepfather of mine...has brought him back. I almost worry about his intentions. He dislikes me. That much is clear. Joey, that is. Alex, as I will call him until he reveals his true name, adores me. We're one, afterall. But Joey....dear pathetic Joey...he makes my stomach cramp with disgust. He annoys me with his very presence. He treats my siblings like butlers or cattle, pushing them around and bending them to do his will but with no more of a reward than the common dog. Perhaps a scrap of affection, maybe he will throw old bones to them, but in the end--to him, theyre still just dogs. His real prize is my mother, who I fear is growing more and more sour with every passing day of their newfound marriage. It sickens me...I never had a good childhood, that much is clear as day. But watching my siblings relive some of the horrors that I learned to push through makes me furious. He treats them like dust, glaring at them until the day he can wipe them away. Joey did not marry my family, he married my mother. And only my mother. He's just waiting for the day when he can push his influence into my poor, naive little autistic brother's head to gain him over to his side. To mold him into himself, as no man has ever held the bond of fatherhood over him as he now can. The rest will move out, he is sure. Or, by all means, he will push them out. And so far is succeeding. What drives me mad the most is my mother's blindness. Her own bitterness and sour disposition seems to surface with his presence as well, though she hardly notices. She's more cruel and unforgiving to my siblings as she had been before. She will boast on her facebook about her perfect family, and how wonderful everything is and how much her sweet children adore her new loving husband. But as I once heard someone say---The beautiful portrait that you display on your wall....it hides the most hideous stain in the wallpaper. I wish to be rid of him....My little brother, as he now wishes me to call him, is coming into his own. Not the autistic one, Jordan. But my---dare I say it----favorite sibling. Kai, my dear Kai...What I would give just to see his happiness...He's been so tormented in this world, and by family the most. He is like me, and perhaps that is why I adore him so much and wish for his happiness. It's a happiness I was rarely granted. At first I were jealous of the attention he recieved for being transgender. The affections he were granted that I were denied. The opportunities my mother has given him that I still am shunned for. But now I see it....my inner brother has reminded me of it several times when I become jealous. "Kai is living the life that you had always dreamt of. Though it may be cruel.....help them achieve it. Help them become the young man that you missed out on being. You get to flourish as a man, but they get to blossom as a boy. Help him, and perhaps you'll even discover yourself." There's a bittersweet truth in it. And as much as I fear any advice from Alex, I think he may be onto something. Parents mold their children to live the lives they always wanted. Perhaps, in a way, if the child is willing and as wanting as yourself---is it really so bad? Perhaps not, if the situation calls for it. But one thing is certain. Joey needs to go. -Warren.......and Alex. Note: Perhaps my therapist was right. Perhaps DID isnt so impossible of a diagnosis....but he's not a disease. I'm starting to enjoy his company.

Hello Debi, This site is a great place to openly discuss things that have and had happen to you as we are all at some level in our journeys and can better understand what someone is going through along with offering support and information.

So wanting to dress, walk, talk and live the way you want to around your peers and younger students may be very daunting. i know it has it downs, but the reward is so worth it cheesy quote 'this journey is a climb, but the views great' yes half quote taken from my girl Hannah Montannah (miley cyrus) One day i woke up and decided, i want to glam before going to school, that i want to wear a school summer dress and hang out with all the girls and be 'one of the girls'. i wanted to take how i felt on the inside and how i live secretly and put that on display. the next day i went to my school councilor and told her. before i did that tho i made a new facebook account, uploaded a photo with how i look with my clothes and wig on and made a status basically "cooming out". i had no idea what the reaction would be like. I have never felt till that day the overwhelming love and support. by the end of the night i had tones of people inboxing me telling me how proud they were, people i hadn't even spoken to before. it made me feel beautiful and really loved by my community and accepted. I defiantly couldn't of done it withoight there support. the most nicest inbox is that i got a inbox of a video of 2 girls just telling me how much they love me, these 2 girls i have never seen before (shoutout if you girls are reading this) that inbox really stands out even to this day. So like i said the next day i went to my councillor and just told her and told her what i wanted to do and how i wanted to go about it. I had fear of big rejection and quite frankly i thought that the school would just say no to me. She said to let her address the principle team and see what they think and how she should go about it. To my surprise they were more then supportive, they were even excited for me to do it. They were proud for to have a transgender student in there school, they were so excited for this to happen they gave me the female uniform for free!!!! After telling the principle team (meanwhile word of mouth spread throughout the school to the students so students already knew) it was time to tell the ENTIRE faculty. I did not have to say yes to this, i could just have my own teachers told but i decided then and there that i wanted to make it as public as possible as if i couldn't be confident in who i was and show how happy i was then how could others. Teachers support really is one key thing to take into consideration. I still remember the day we told them. They held a compulsory staff briefing, and after the principle told them i was given the opportunity to go in and say hello and talk to them. Again i did not have to do this, i tho said i wanted to be involved as much as possible. My english teacher came out to me and just gave me the biggest hug and said how proud she was, then she said 'you don't have to do this, there are a lot of people in there and you don't have to do this if you don't want to', with her i went in and was introduced as blair. I was overwhelmed with a applause from every single one and hugs from all my teachers. I FELT LIKE A STAR!!! i remember walking out thinking that i had won a golden globe or something. we then set a date for me to come in full female uniform. before then i allowed even the councillor and school nurse to go around to the school to tell everyone about my personal life and the whole transgender thing, i was even going to go in as well but unfortunately i was sick. Not to say i haven't had a few slight bad comments from my peers. However i can not stress how much support i have and how beautiful and accepted because of this. I can honestly say i have never had so many friends in my life because of this. each day im surrounded by loads of people that love and support me and just want to get to know the true me. now if this blog update doesn't make you feel confident to come out to your school and give you the security that things will go okay then what will? please feel free to message me!!!! I am incredibly blessed with my transition and am a prime example of it going very well, so i think people going through the same thing could learn a lot and be helped by me. Anyways, should wrap this up now. Thanks so much for whoever has read this xxxxxxxxxxx. p.s sorry for the spelling

Hi there Michele, You're 100% right, i am am so lucky to have had the reaction I've had and to be treated the way i have been as i know even to this day most people in the same circumstance as me would not have the support of there school, family, friends and society. Most people will not receive overwhelming amount of messages from complete strangers showing them the support i have received. THAT is why i want to speak out about my journey and talk about things that we all in the trans community go through to try and make it easier on those trans people who haven't had it easier, and to make them feel at little bit more at ease that things will get better and by providing my story it could help them too. thank you for your kind words, i appreciate your comments xxxxx hugs Blair

Hi there Blair It can be overwhelming at times, but hey it's all about puberty and you are luckier then most to go through it only once. Congratulations on your coming out at school, because I was always told I'm crazy when I tried to do that at school. Stay motivated and grow stronger with the knowledge that you are perfectly you. Hugs Michele H