Well work has improved in terms of being called Warren or Ren (I gave everyone the option to use whichever they prefer, and I have noticed that certain people prefer to use Warren whilest others prefer Ren, and one even likes to call me Renren). There are two in particular who refuse to call me anything aside from Kristy, but theyve gotten the cold shoulder from many who support me because they know it's only out of spite.
So, in terms of work, it has been great.
Still slightly challenging here and there, but much better. I dont mind coming into work anymore because I know that I can finally be myself.
Mike H, the man who took the first steps with the company to make sure I didnt have to hide who I am and got me my name tag, has also made a point to make sure anything with my name on it says Warren. He also makes a point to correct someone if they call me Kristy, and he's been great.
To show him how much of a big deal it is to me, even if others dont think it is, I got him a 10$ gift card to our local pub/grill so he can share an appitizer or drink with his wife on me
We've become good friends.
It's nice to have that boost of support.
Support...
You know, normally people overlook such a strong word. It's just a simple word, right? Support?
Well...if you're in the process of something life changing, emotionally tasking and physically exhausting...a little 'support' means the world and beyond.
To have someone who's got your back. To pick you up when you're down, and brush you off so they can tell you 'it's cool, buddy. We're in this together"
My boyfriend, Justin by the way, has been extra awesome. He's improved drastically in terms of understanding and patience, and he's always there to help me or give me advice. Even if he's not sure about the situation, he's always there to help me out.
I met a friend on my game IMVU online, and her name is Destinee. We've been friends for almost a year now, though neither of us expected to still be chitchatting after a week. Thats how most online friendships go. You're the best of friends for about a week or a month and then all of a sudden, you're looking at the username and thinking "who the hell is this person?"
But she's been incredible. She's helped me with the cutting and the depression and everything and anything I had on my mind.
We've adopted eachother as siblings. She is my sister, and I am her brother. She loves me for me, and I return the favor.
Plus her family thinks I'm adorable and promise snuggles when I eventually visit her in California.
It's nice to have that. Support.
Love, encouragement....and support.
Families are supposed to support eachother.
I've...never really had that. Even as a child. Growing up, I always felt like I had to fight for attention. I'm one of five siblings, though at the time there were only four of us. My baby brother came much later in life. But as it went, it was my older sister Manda, then me, then my brother Eric, and my baby sister Becky.
My relationship with my mom was always so/so. We didnt always get along, but we didnt hate eachother. My dad....was my hero. Everything about him, I loved.
But I was always second best. Manda was his first, his horse back riding girly girl. They enjoyed horseback riding, which I never really got to be a part of unless it was behind my sister...basking in her shadow. Then my brother, my dad's only son. They enjoyed hunting and playing rough. I never got to because it 'was boy time'. Something I desperatly wanted.
Then of course, my baby sister. His baby, his little girl. They played, they laughed, and they enjoyed running around and being adorable.
Then...there's me.
In between genders, not sure of myself...the boundaries I had been given seemed wrong and unfitting to myself. 'Girls dont do that' seemed incredibly wrong to me. I didnt feel like a girl. Did having girl parts make me a girl? Was that the only astounding feature that could condemn me to a life of dresses and bows in my hair? I didnt want that. How could I not be given the choice?
Any attempts to explain this to my mother was passed off as 'being a tomboy'.
When my father passed away suddenly, I gave up trying to leave my dresses behind.
I just wanted to make my mother happy.
Years passed, and the attention spans never changed. Manda came first a lot of times, despite what she may claim. First to leave the house, first to have her boyfriend, first to get a car and wreck it in the same year....four times in a row. All paid for by my mother.
Any vehicles I wanted I had to help pay half for, and she drove them more than I got to. Thanks...
I was too busy playing 'mr. mom' to have friends. We moved 12 times in 10 years, so I didnt get to make friends anyway. It was just me and my laptop, which they claimed I was on too much anyway.
What other life did I have? Behind a screen was the only time I could be...me.
The attention soon left us all and went to my baby brother Jordan, or one of my mom's 'awesome' boyfriends that she frequently changed about twice a month, if not more.
I gave up keeping count.
The point I'm trying to make here, is support.
I had none.
If I wanted to do something, it was up to me. If I wanted to try something new, it was my own problem. If I tried to explain to my family why my 'weird phase' was me trying to figure out who I was...I was just being an attention whore.
Keeping my "lesbian" activity secret was me just being an attention whore, despite that it was kept secret in fear of my family's opinions.
Me coming out that I were Bisexual was just me just "doing it for attention".
My cutting problem was me "begging for attention."
Finally telling them that I dont want to be a girl and would like to identify as a male......I'm "an attention whore".
Support is a strange and unused word with my family. I didnt always think so. At one point I were sure that they supported me and understood my struggles. That they were alright with it.
Until I found out they were snickering behind my back. Laughing about my troubles.
Refusing to cooperate or call me warren, or male, or even CONSIDER the possibility of allowing the small children of the family to call me Uncle Warren instead of Aunt Kristy.
I snapped.
I wrote them a note over facebook privately. I'd like to share their 'support'.
Me:Hey nevermind the 17th,(i was planning to visit them) I already know how it's gonna go and I don't need another repeat of the last time I was there. I miss my nieces and Becky and Jordan but my problems seem to be inconvenient to you guys and I don't need to get in another fight about it. I've got enough problems and it's pretty clear by now that you two aren't really willing to work with me on it, as if it isn't hard enough already. I figured you'd understand by now that this isn't a f***ing choice and at least try to understand, but it seems like my family are the only people who aren't willing to be supportive and understanding. If you need me you know where to find me. If you can't deal with having another brother then I'm sure you can deal with losing him too. Your choice, I'm not gonna keep ramming my head into a brick wall if you're not gonna listen or at least put your pride away and try and help me.
The responses I got, bits and pieces of a back and forth rant.
My older sister for both herself and my mother:
"Do what ever you want, this has nothing to do with my feeling on ur chose however It does everything to do with the facts and challenges of small kids, if you aren't willing to understand that your changes are confusing to them then I'm sorry but you can't be part of their life's until Ur changes are made and final. They are simply to young to understand and I won't allow them to be more confused about this"
"U are so self wrapped right now u don't even see the problem. Grow up, this isn't about u, my kids are my number 1 important and I'll protect them from being confusion this is starting. Has nothing to do with supporting you, drama queen"
My family....
So. No nieces. No family visits.
I'm no longer welcome home...
The only supporting family I have are those at work, Destinee, my boyfriend and everyone on here. My own blood has decided I’m too embarrassing and confusing for them to handle. I’m not allowed to come home.
And the cherry topper for this all? Remember the fight I had with my sister to begin with, and my mother decided not to support or defend me? She just sat there and watched it unfold. No offer of support or even to join the conversation.
She’s done it again. She never said a word. She let my sister run her mouth, shut me out of their lives…and she never said a word. That’s what kills me.
I never mattered in their lives before today, and now I matter even less to them.
The kicker is I cant even go and complain to my therapist about this. I ditched her.
She weren’t helping me. She weren’t helping me move forward. She knows nothing about transgendered problems, and for lack of better words, she were ‘useless’ to my situation. I were spending 45$ a visit, plus 10$ in gas to get there, to vent about my problems. I can do that for free at my house. I’m beginning to wonder what the point of all this is.
A story hit home yesterday, and I cant stop thinking about it.
#hisnamewaszander
Sincerely Yours,
Your Friend,
Warren…I think.
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