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Emma

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  1. Emma

    "Eat, Pray, Love"

    By Emma,

    It seems that many (all?) Seattle neighborhoods—including mine—have these small kiosks where we can drop off books for others and choose from what's there, all for free. That's just so cool for someone like me who loves to read and I often wonder if others appreciate the ones I drop off. The other day I found "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. I started reading it and loved it so much. I found myself literally laughing out loud while reading it in coffee shops!
    On Sunday morning I curled up on my couch with a cup of coffee to finish it before getting ready to join some friends for lunch. In the last pages I came across some paragraphs that spoke to me directly:
    Excerpts from “Eat, Pray, Love”
    Page 327
    On my ninth day of silence, I went into meditation one evening on the beach as the sun was going down and I didn’t stand up again until after midnight. I remember thinking, “This is it, Liz.” I said to my mind, “This is your chance. Show me everything that is causing you sorrow. Let me see all of it. Don’t hold anything back.” One by one, the thoughts and memories of sadness raised their hands, stood up to identify themselves. I looked at each thought, at each unit of sorrow, and I acknowledged its existence and felt (without trying to protect myself from it) its horrible pain. And then I would tell that sorrow, “It’s OK. I love you. I accept you. Come into my heart now. It’s over.” I would actually feel the sorrow (as if it were a living thing) enter my heart (as if it were an actual room). Then I would say, “Next?” and the next bit of grief would surface. I would regard it, experience it, bless it, and invite it into my heart, too. I did this with every sorrowful thought I’d ever had—reaching back into years of memory—until nothing was left.
    Then I said to my mind, “Show me your anger now.” One by one, my life’s every incident of anger rose and made itself known. Every injustice, every betrayal, every loss, every rage. I saw them all, one by one, and I acknowledged their existence. I felt each piece of anger completely, as if it were happening for the first time, and then I would say, “Come into my heart now. You can rest there. It’s safe now. It’s over. I love you.” This went on for hours, and I swung between these mighty poles of opposite feelings—experiencing the anger thoroughly for one bone-rattling moment, and then experiencing a total coolness, as the anger entered my heart, as if through a door, laid itself down, curled up against its brothers and gave up fighting.
    Then came the most difficult part. “Show me your shame,” I asked my mind. Dear God, the horrors I saw then. A pitiful parade of all my failings, my lies, my selfishness, jealousy, arrogance. I didn’t blink from any of it, though. “Show me your worst,” I said. When I tried to invite these events of shame into my heart, they each hesitated at the door, saying, “No—you don’t want me in there … don’t you know what I did?” and I would say, “I do want you. Even you. I do. Even you are welcome here. It’s OK. You are forgiven. You are part of me. You can rest now. It’s over.”
    When all this was finished, I was empty. Nothing was fighting in my mind anymore. I looked into my heart, at my own goodness, and I saw its capacity. I saw that my heart was not even nearly full, not even after having taken in and tended to all those calamitous urchins of sorrow and anger and shame; my heart could easily have received and forgiven even more. Its love was infinite.
    I knew then that this is how God loves us all and receives us all, and that there is no such thing in this universe as hell, except maybe in our own terrified minds. Because if even one broken and limited human being could experience even one such episode of absolute forgiveness and acceptance of her own self, then imagine—just imagine!—what God, in all His eternal compassion, can forgive and accept.
    I also knew somehow that this respite of peace would be temporary. I knew that I was not yet finished for good, that my anger, my sadness and my shame would all creep back eventually, escaping my heart, and occupying my head once more. I knew that I would have to keep dealing with those thoughts again and again until I slowly and determinedly changed my whole life. And that this would be difficult and exhausting to do. But my heart said to my mind in thre dark silence of that beach, “I love you, I will never leave you, I will always take care of you.” That promise floated up out of my heart and I caught it in my mouth and held it there, tasting it as I left the beach and walked back to the little shack where I was staying. I found an empty notebook, opened it up to the first page—and only then did I open my mouth and speak those words into the air, letting them free. I let those words break my silence and then I allowed my pencil to document their colossal statement onto the page:
     “I love you, I will never leave you, I will always take care of you.”
    Those were the first words I ever wrote in that private notebook of mine, which I would carry with me from that moment forth, turning back to it many times over the next two years, always asking for help—and always finding it, even when I was mostly deadly sad or afraid. And that notebook, steeped through with that promise of love, was quite simply the only reason I survived the next years of my life.
    Page 329
    My thoughts turn to something I read once, something the Zen Buddhists believe. They say an oak tree is brought into creation by two forces at the same time. Obviously, there is the acorn from which it all begins, the seed which holds all the promise and potential, which grows into the tree. Everybody can see that. But only a few can recognize that there is another force operating here as well—the future tree itself, which wants so badly to exist that it pulls the acorn into being, drawing the seedling forth with longing out of the void, guiding the evolution from nothingness to maturity. In this respect, say the Zens, it is the oak tree that creates the very acorn from which it is born.
    I think about the woman I have become lately, about the life I am now living, and about how much I always wanted to be this person and live this life, liberated from the farce of pretending to be anyone other than myself. I think of everything I endured before getting here and wonder if it was me—I mean, this happy and balanced me, who is now dozing on the deck of this small Indonesian fishing boat—who pulled the other, younger, more confused and struggling me forward during all those hard years. The younger me was the acorn full of potential, but it was the older me, the already-existent oak, who was saying the whole time: “Yes—grow! Change! Evolve! Come and meet me here, where I already exist in wholesomeness and maturity! I need you to grow into me!” And maybe it was this present and fully actualized me who was hovering four years ago…
    Liz started her life-changing journey four years earlier. My journey also started exactly four years ago in 2014 when I started seeing a new therapist. At our first meeting I told him that I carried a tremendous secret shame that I'd never fully divulged to anyone and that, this time, I promised to go "open kimono" if he'd be patient and encouraging. He was kind and patient as it took me several months to even broach the possibility that I might be transgender. 
    Throughout our 3+ years together he talked about how to listen to our inner turmoils, accept and love them, and gently put them on a treasured shelf of trophies in my mind. Like many things like this it's much easier said than done. I think I know now how correct he, Zen, and Liz are. 
    To paraphrase the last paragraph I absconded from Liz's book: I think about the woman I have become and am becoming, the life and joys I am living, and how much I always wanted to be this person and live this life. Truly, I've never felt so at peace, such love, and happy. It's like I'm channeling Sally Field as she accepted her Oscar, "You like me, right now! You like me!" I'm a happy girl.
    Emma
    P.S. I suspect that Liz and her publisher would be okay with my copying about 1,000 words from her book. I heartily endorse it (and not just to appease the Plagiarism Gods). She's an amazing woman, a delightful writer, and tells an important story. 
     
     
  2. Emma
    Last week I sent the following email to about 30 ex-colleagues and friends at a start-up company I worked at for 6 years and loved. Roughly 75% have responded very positively, and one even reported that his 9 year old son has expressed transgender feelings and asked for my thoughts and suggestions. I've not received any negative feedback. Maybe the other 25% are uncomfortable? Who knows, but that's okay...
    Since sending this email out I've forwarded it to another 15 or so people. I think it's a pretty good update for my friends and provides them with information that I hope they will use in conversations with their friends.
    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Dear friends,
    20 years ago this month I joined Start-Up thanks to A, B, and C, and it remains as one of the best experiences I’ve had. I miss working with all of you very much. That said, I’ve been carrying a profound secret since I was a child that I have only lately come to terms with and wish to share with you. My goal is simply to facilitate conversation. 
    What’s the secret? In a word, I am transgender, and I’ll tell you more about it all below. I’ll try to be brief and avoid the dreaded “tl;dr” but as you can imagine it’s a long story. The story is important to me of course but I hope you will read and be interested more in the broader context of all transgender people.
    I often start off by telling whomever I'm coming out to that ever since I can remember (age 4 or 5) I wanted to play on the girls' teams. I wanted to learn to curtsy with the girls in nursery school, dance like a ballerina, play with the girls in their kindergarten kitchenettes, and join the Blue Birds in 1st grade. In junior high, like Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, I was inextricably drawn toward sewing girls’ clothes for myself including a camisole and a teddy, in secret and out of rags, while my parents attended AA meetings.
    I was acutely aware that my desires, envies and actions were utterly shameful and needed to be kept strictly hidden and under control. All of these feelings stayed with me (maturing, of course) over the next half-century as I struggled to keep the ship afloat while battling depression and emotions that just wouldn't be suppressed. 
    Close your eyes for a moment and consider how it would feel to be so utterly convinced that you are so shameful, with a longing that just doesn't go away, and it's so bad that you can't tell anyone what is really in your heart. You just have to journey on as best you can. That journey has been tough: always monitoring my relationships for whatever I might do or say that would expose myself, second-guessing: “Am I saying the right thing?” “How am I supposed to be right now?”
    Telling you this is an amazing milestone for me. Quite literally for years I would have rather died than have it come out. I went to therapists for depression and didn't tell them about my feminine feelings, as those feelings were just too shameful and, I figured, I could keep the depression and its treatment isolated from talking about my gender dysphoria. In hindsight that was kind of silly but when feeling that kind of pressure we humans do odd things. 
    In early 2014 my wife told me that I needed to return to therapy. I was unhappy, we were unhappy, and I needed to deal with things. I told my new therapist from the onset that for the very first time I was going to totally open my kimono come hell or high water. Still, it was unbelievably hard. It took some months to gradually get it all out. And then I had to tell my wife, which was also very hard. I spent the following couple of years studying, exploring, and learning what it is to be transgender, where it originates, overcoming my own transphobia, and accepting that I am trans. My wife and I cried about it but we decided that I would never really find and become myself while we were married. We thus went to a mediator a few months ago, worked out our divorce agreement, and filed the papers. The mediator was astonished that we came to the meetings holding hands, smiling/laughing, and yes, crying.
    I bought a 23' RV (Winnebago Minnie Winnie; my wife hates the name!) in March and headed north in mid-April, in search of a new place to settle (I can't afford to live in the SF Bay Area!), to find who I am and become that person. 
    Now, I'm in Seattle and have pretty much decided that I want to buy a small house somewhere in the San Juan Islands this Fall. I have old friends here and have always loved the San Juans. 
    But on the transgender topic I assume that you and/or others may not know much about it and I figure that, like we saw with the civil rights movement, the emergence of gays and lesbians, and others, we need to encourage "dinner table conversations" among cisgender people (where 'cis' = 'same', meaning that one's inner gender matches their birth sex characteristics). Knowledge is power, and with that in mind I came up with what I hope is a helpful FAQ:
    Does this mean I'm gay? No. Sexuality and gender are completely orthogonal and unrelated, although this is often the first question people ask. For what it's worth I'm only attracted to women.
    What does "transgender" mean? Does it mean you're a transsexual? Transgender is an umbrella term/label that includes anyone whose gender doesn't align with their birth sex. Some trans present in public as their true selves, some caring that they “pass” and some not. Some only do what they need to do under their clothes or in private. And some trans people transition their bodies via hormones, surgery(s), and so forth, and some do not. Those that do are called transsexuals but the language is evolving and the transgender label is often used for people like Caitlyn Jenner, Jazz Jennings, Laverne Cox, and Janet Mock. 
    How can I be sure I'm trans? Good question, especially since there is no scientific/objective test... none. Everyone sure wishes there was a test. Trust me when I say that I've done my homework: lots of books, therapists, meetings with trans people, introspection. In the end it's undeniable. So much history. 
    Will I transition? Another good question. Until fairly recently I thought not but lately I'm thinking it may be inevitable. I'm afraid of waking up some day on my death bed wishing for what could have been or what I didn’t do out of fear. I am considering starting a low dose of hormones that can be taken for some months before physical changes occur to see how I feel mentally. I would put $20 down that I will feel terrific but we'll see; I have an open mind to losing that bet.
    Do I present as a woman all the time? No. When I'm with some friends, or attending a trans meeting/conference, I do. I’m growing my hair out because I hate wigs and at some point will need to have it styled. Maybe then I’ll start presenting as a woman more often.
    What do I wear? Us in the trans community call them "clothes." Sorry, I had to. :-) Actually, I try to wear a style like women would wear in a similar situation and about my age. I'm learning as I go. I attached a couple of recent photos. 
    How do I look? You tell me! I'm told I look pretty good but one never knows if people are just being nice. When I do go out publicly my goal is to blend in as best I can.
    How many trans people are there? Very hard to have an accurate answer. A UCLA study recently reported that 0.6% of US adults (1.4M people) are transgender. This compares with 3% who are gay/lesbian. These numbers feel right to me but what do I know. Notably there are the same number of FTM (female to male) as there are MTF (male to female, like me). FTMs have it easier in some ways at least because of society's acceptance of the variety of ways that girls/women dress. Also, note that 41% of trans people attempt suicide at least once. I'm part of that statistic.
    Is it curable? Our VP Mike Pence would say so. Consider this: is it "curable" (or needed?) to change your handedness from left to right? Your eye color? 
    A. it's not a disease that needs to be cured. 
    B. it's not changeable; we are what we are. Trying to "cure it" has proven to result in many suicides.
    I'm careful to wish that Trump be impeached - the devil you know and all that. I wish they'd both be impeached. Sessions too, but I'm getting off topic…
    Isn't it just a sexual proclivity or fetish? No, not at all - at least for transgender people. Note that for many (me included) these feelings came about long before puberty. The child knows what is in her/his heart. 
    Are you implying that God makes mistakes?  Not at all, I'm acknowledging diversity. Being transgender doesn’t imply that God made a mistake although this is said by some, implying that since God doesn't make mistakes then being transgender (or gay) is simply an aberrant lifestyle. I don't feel that being transgender is any more of a mistake than being born blind, deaf, conjoined twins, with a cleft palate, or right-handed. 
    Do you feel like you are a woman “inside”? I don’t know, honestly. How could I? Do I feel like I was born in the wrong body? Not really although I have often wished I was born female. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but that’s kind of it: I have always envied and wished I was one of the girls. Simple and complicated and shameful (for a boy) as that. 
    How do I feel these days? I'm feeling rather good, thank you. It's truly amazing what a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I've thus far come out to over 30 family, friends, professionals, and acquaintances, and if you include spouses and so forth it might be 50. Now with you I guess that number may double. 
    I am daunted at times at the prospects of transition. I'm lucky to have found a terrific gender therapist in Seattle as well as other resources. I'm also so lucky to have such a strong relationship with my (ex) wife. We talk at least once a week for an hour or two. 
    What's next? On June 20 I will be crossing the border into Canada, driving the ALCAN highway in my Minnie Winnie to Anchorage where, on July 14th I'm meeting a friend with whom I'll be spending the following two weeks camping and motorcycling. (I also have a Kawasaki KLR 650 strapped onto the back of my Winnebago.) And then it will be back to Seattle to attend a gender conference (August 24-27) and get back into my trans journey.
    That's all I have for now. Please ask me anything you’d like. Probably private emails are best since I don’t want to clog up mailboxes. Also, please feel free to forward this email to anyone whether I know them or not. 
    Oh, and let me know if you're going to be in the Seattle area and would like to meet up.
    The soul of brevity,
    Emma
    For more information
    As you might imagine I could point you to way more than you may wish for. I think the four videos listed below are excellent. If you'd like to learn more please let me know.
    Charlie Rose Brain Series: Gender Identity
    In this episode of the Brain Series, a panel of experts in psychology, pediatrics, and gender studies, including co-host Eric Kandel and neurobiologist and transgender man Ben Barres, examines the complex issue of gender identity and the biology of the brain.
    Dr. Mark Yarhouse: Transgender
    As legislatures debate “bathroom bills” and National Geographic Magazine heralds a “Gender Revolution,” many are asking, what is gender dysphoria? Seven hundred thousand people identify as transgender in the U.S. yet many Christians are uncertain of how to engage. Dr. Mark Yarhouse, clinical psychologist and founder of the Institute for the Study of Sexual Identity, brings his latest research to educate us on gender dysphoria and provides a helpful framework for how to think well about the conversation of identity.
    Brynn Tannehill - “I Am Real”
    An amazing speech given at the 2014 TransPride Pittsburgh National Conference.
    Sean Patrick Maloney & Sarah McBride - Democratic National Convention
    Co-Chair of the Congressional LGBT Equality Caucus Congressman Sean Patrick Maloney (New York) and LGBT rights activist Sarah McBride.
  3. Emma

    "Passing"

    By Emma,

    I never cared for the word “passing.” It sounds to me that it means one isn’t being identified as masquerading, as if the presentation (clothes, makeup, hair, shoes, accessories, mannerisms) are all so good that one is passing for female even though they’re “not really.”
    I don't wish to brag—transition is quite a long journey—but of late I’ve been so pleased that I’m consistently gendered female everywhere I go. I love hearing everyone referring me to as "ma'am." While driving yesterday it came to me that my happiness comes from seamlessly and authentically being seen for what I am, a woman. Sure, I remain critical of my voice and the face I see in the mirror. Perhaps that's just another example of any woman's dissatisfactions of her self?
    I suppose that the word “passing” is meant to describe my experience? Even so, the word doesn't feel right to me.  I think a better way to express it would be to say “gendered correctly” although 5 syllables and 2 words is more of a mouthful than 2 syllables and 1 word. I wonder if we should/could come up with an alternative to "passing" with another single word. Thoughts?
  4. Emma

    "Serenity Now!"

    By Emma,

    Remember the Seinfeld episode when Jerry's father kept yelling "Serenity now!" when he was upset and about to lose it? Very funny show.

    I'm not very religious and don't attend church.. I was raised Episcopalian, attended a church school for 6th and 7th grades, and my parents often had us recite the Serenity Prayer or the Lords Prayer before dinner. I think the prayer was for my benefit... I remember how earnestly I repeated the words in the Serenity Prayer, hoping that my emphasis would gain me that serenity that I wanted so much. It never seemed to work although I suppose we might speculate on how I would have been had I not said those words at all.

    These days the Serenity Prayer has come to mind a few times. I think it's a wonderful prayer and says so much in only a few words:

    Lord, grant me the serenity
    To accept the things I cannot change
    The courage to change the things I can
    And the wisdom to know the difference.

    Each of these four lines says so much and they are hard to achieve. I would like more serenity. I think I'm getting better at accepting the things I cannot change, such as:

    - I was born male.
    - I am transgender.
    - I cannot control my wife's acceptance or behavior toward me.

    In the third line I'm starting to understand why my therapist (and even my wife) have said that I'm being courageous. I didn't really believe it, but I suppose I am demonstrating that:

    - I'm coming out to myself and acknowledging my being transgender.
    - I'm coming out to my therapist (which was damned hard).
    - I'm coming out to my wife.
    - Heck, I'm even coming out here. That was hard at first. I worried a lot about saying the wrong thing, or creating misunderstandings.

    I suppose that by listing the things in the acceptance and change buckets one develops the wisdom to know the difference. Maybe the thing to do is to consider things that I'm now not able to distinguish. I'll have to think about that a bit.

    Be well,

    Emma
  5. Emma
    In case you’re not familiar with it, “Transfigurations” is a wonderful book of photography and associated narratives of trans men and women by Jana Marcus. I recently posted about it here:

    I have stepped through the on-line slideshow and video a couple of times. Profound seems like an overused word but it was definitely that for me. What I found in these pages are wonderful examples of real people simply needing to be what they are. Like me.

    You see, this has all been very hard for me to accept and acknowledge, that I am transgender. I’ve blogged about this before and received your encouragement, thank you. But still, I wondered: what’s it mean? When I’m dressed I feel right in the world and I have a reluctance to remove the feminine clothing. But when I do, hey, it’s okay. I get along fine in my masculine clothes, too.

    I love the book and will soon be ordering my own copy. I also was transfixed by the video of the book’s release. Here again, the transmen who are interviewed are so grounded, so themselves; no one can deny their validity and humanity. These are guys I’d like to know. I’ll bet we would become good friends.

    A few days ago I emailed the link to the book and video to my therapist. His response:

    Thanks, Emma.
    Beautiful and inspiring. And did you know that Quan Yin has been sitting next to you the entire time you have been in my office?

    I think he’s right. Quan Yin is right next to me, always. I’m not in her shadow nor is she in mine. I don’t know what she is to me at the moment. Guardian angel? Alter ego? It doesn’t matter; it’s just very comforting to know that she’s here with me. Like Cecilia, I want to live up to the ideals of Quan Yin.

    Emma

    Photo credit: This is from Jana Marcus with her full permission. Thank you, Jana! In case you can't read the tag line at the bottom of the photo, the book may be ordered at a special on-line price here: http://www.7angelspress.com
  6. Emma

    >100 Miles!

    By Emma,

    I've been wrestling with myself about posting this today. I don't think I'm one to blow my own horn (much) but yesterday I accomplished something I've been working toward for the last few weeks.  I rode my bicycle over 100 miles, from Redwood City to Cupertino, back and forth, and finally returning home almost 8 hours later.  Total riding time was just over 7 hours and the difference is due to stop lights and a couple of times when I stopped to open up my little pouch to munch on a piece of Clif Bar.  
    The last two Saturdays I've tried to reach 100, but each time just could not go farther than about 75 miles.  It was like I hit a wall and if I went further I was afraid I might just pass out.  I do carry four bottles of water (mixed with electrolytes) and a couple of Shot Blok packages, but I got nauseous and had to head home.  Yesterday as I passed 75 miles I was definitely moving slower. I started arguing with myself: go ahead and head home, at least I'd be more than 90 miles this time! But it finally came to me, to achieve more than 90% and then give up for the last 10%?  No way. And, truth be told, I don't want to do this every weekend.  Too many hours.  I have other things to do too, and now, next weekend, I can take a "short 50 mile" ride and feel okay about it!
    Why do I write about it here?  I don't often consider myself as having much grit and determination. I am intimidated all the time by stuff that others just don't understand. Stupid things like trying to diagnose why my wife's computer is no longer receiving emails into her business account.  Now, I know how to do this sort of thing.  But I feel an anxiousness when I don't know how it will end up and can't control the outcome.  
    So maybe that's where I'm coming from. I certainly didn't know how it would all play out when I told my wife I am transgender two years ago.  At first she was devastated, assuming that our marriage was over, that the one she loved so much had betrayed her trust, and that I was destined to transition. God, that was scary and emotionally wrenching.  It took a lot of work in and out of therapy, more confessions from me, and finally starting to take an SSRI that seems to be really working, for once.  
    All my life I've had emotional issues, and have spent countless hours with a variety of therapists for the last 35 years. I kept expecting that he/she/me would discover the "one thing" that was going on for me, we'd address it, and... problem solved! It sure didn't turn out that way. Part of my problem was that I was unable to disclose my transgender feelings to them or myself. But even when I started to do so with my present therapist, three years ago, the improvement in my well-being has been so subtle and gradual, at times unnoticeable.  But as I contemplate how things are going these days it's undeniable that I have made progress.  
    I don't know what "done" is, nor do I expect it.  I still have my anxieties.  I did yesterday morning as I considered getting up and, once again, trying to make it to 100 miles.  But I did it! You can too.
    Love and hugs,
    Emma

  7. Emma
    For the very first time I went out to dinner dressed last week and spent a couple of days in skinny jeans, leggings, and my tunic tops. Also wore a couple of my skirt/top outfits. I also received a lot of lessons in makeup and wig care. I learned so much! And I just felt wonderful. 
    True, I also learned that, frankly, makeup is hard to learn, and I prefer to wear as little of it as possible. And the wig is hot and not very comfortable. Thankfully my natural hair may be okay so I'm growing it out to see. I guess that will take 6-12 months to know. 
    But I also learned that I really would love to transition. Not soon, as I want to explore some more, talk to others, and settle on a plan. I'm currently heading north through Washington and soon through British Columbia to Alaska. Not a good time to mix it up with electrolysis, hormones, and all. But I will have lots of hours behind the wheel and I've ordered some voice lesson DVDs and a CD. Who knows, in a couple of months I may be able to have a much more feminine voice. I sure hope so!
    Emma
    P.S. Eyebrow waxing hurts but it's over quickly. I'm told that I now need to find someone every 2-3 weeks to repeat it or risk losing the line that she gave me. I'm sure I can do that in Seattle but in the upper part of BC or Alaska? We'll see. :-)



  8. Emma

    Am I a Woman?

    By Emma,

    Yesterday I exchanged emails with a good friend of mine, who's a cis woman, about how before/during/after transition I fretted about my gender. Although I feel very binary, a woman, I tell people that I'm a "woman of transgender experience" which, I hope conveys an understanding that I'm a woman first, but am also transgender, always and forever. Well, I tell myself that, but I still struggle.
    My friend wrote: "The ways we try as women to fit a standard, and inevitably fail, because it's an unattainable standard."
    That triggered me. I was delighted that she sees me as another woman, at least mentally. But it's habitual that I wonder how does she know? Is she saying that just to be kind? And more importantly, what am I, really?
    I think we all wish that we can be "fixed" of our anxieties, to be rid of them. I'm learning that this just doesn't happen. We need to learn to live with them. Maybe this quote from Brene Brown's recent "Braving the Wilderness" will help:
    "Stop walking through the world looking for confirmation that you don’t belong. You will always find it because you’ve made that your mission. Stop scouring people’s faces for evidence that you’re not enough. You will always find it because you’ve made that your goal. True belonging and self-worth are not goods; we don’t negotiate their value with the world. The truth about who we are lives in our hearts. Our call to courage is to protect our wild heart against constant evaluation, especially our own. No one belongs here more than you.
    True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are."
  9. Emma
    "JUST GENDER tackles the all too often misunderstood world of transgender. The film explores the common myths and misunderstandings about transgendered people, as well as the confusion between sexual orientation and gender identity as reflected in the rigid binary view of the world generally held by society. JUST GENDER also touches on the discrimination, hardships and brutality resulting from those misconceptions and prejudices, including the numerous deaths caused by hate each year. Through the stories of transgender individuals and their spouses, friends, and allies, the film explores the confusion, the isolation, and the fear felt by many transgender persons. It also reveals their growing awareness and acceptance, and ultimately their joy in blossoming comfort as transgendered persons."

    I learned about this movie/documentary recently in the Transgender section of the Huffington Post. (Which, by the way, is excellent.) And I watched it last night. About 90 minutes long, they address many issues and questions, with transmen and transwomen and other professionals as spokespeople, that I have, my wife has, and have been raised here and elsewhere. It was very well done and in my opinion valuable for anyone, TG or not, to watch. It does cost $9.95 but it's great that you can download it to your computer so you'll have it forever.

    http://alivemindcinema.com/justgender/
  10. Emma

    As the Pink Fog Clears

    By Emma,

    The "Pink Fog" (aka, Gender Euphoria) is something many of us experience as we come into our transgender selves. It feels great, similar to the infatuation of a new love interest. For me I've wondered at times if I'm chasing it which brings up worries that I'm following something akin to the path of an addict instead of my true nature.
    This came up for me yesterday morning when I read a story in a friend's blog of a 20-something AMAB person who got so caught up in his being a somewhat effeminate gay man that, with encouragement and advice, he transitioned socially. After some period of living as a woman (a year?) he decided to detransition. Thankfully he'd not embarked on only permanent changes. He now lives comfortably as a somewhat effeminate gay man. 
    Later in the morning I was working on my house, finishing doors, installing shelving, that sort of thing, wearing of course my old Levi's 501's (no point in staining my skinny jeans!) and a sweatshirt, my hair in a ponytail. My gender was nowhere on my mind but I contemplated that story. I was comfortable doing my work. Dara Hoffman-Fox has made the point (which I agree with) that just because we like "masculine" activities such as motorcyling, woodworking, etc., that's perfectly okay for women. I reassured myself while doing the work. 
    In the early afternoon I changed my clothes to go out for some errands, including a run to the lumber store. I dressed in my skinny jeans, a form-fitting REI top, earrings, and a little lipstick. I felt good about myself as I drove to the stores. In Trader Joe's I ran into a woman checker that I've gotten to know a little in one of the aisles. She'd just gotten off work. We talked for ten minutes, she's lesbian and about to be married, I'm trans, we share worries about Trump/Pence/Pompeo/Sessions, that sort of thing. She accepts me, we connected and reminded each of other of our names. At the lumber store a man who often helps me assisted me in selecting moldings and as he was ringing me up a woman checker (who happens to be lesbian) I've also worked with there came over to join our chat. I showed them a photo of closet doors I've built out of spruce. 
    Still later I made a spur of the moment decision to walk to a local restaurant for one of my favorite things: reading my book while enjoying a hot chocolate with brandy. The manager's a woman I've gotten to know a little who's very friendly and appreciates the small amount of business I bring to them. 
    Every day is my "transgender day of visibility." I don't think I look bad, and sure I'd like to pass much better. I stopped wearing foundation several weeks ago. I wore it before almost like a badge to add clarity that I was presenting as a woman. I guess it worked but of late I don't think it's necessary and is a hassle to remove.  Like a pretty dress I save it for special occasions. (I'm such a sucker for pretty dresses. I can't resist!)
    At the end of the day it remained clear to me that transitioning to female was absolutely the right thing for me to do. I feel good in my own skin and I think I have a joy that encourages people to connect with me. I feel a thrill when I get gussied up and that's perfectly normal. I also feel good when just going out and about. 
    And that's the whole point, right?

  11. Emma

    Behind Blue Eyes

    By Emma,

    Behind Blue Eyes

    Pete Townshend, The Who, 1971, from the album “Who’s Next”


     
    No one knows what it's like

    To be the bad man

    To be the sad man

    Behind blue eyes


     
    No one knows what it's like

    To be hated

    To be fated

    To telling only lies


     
    But my dreams

    They aren't as empty

    As my conscience seems to be


     
    I have hours, only lonely

    My love is vengeance

    That's never free


     
    No one knows what it's like

    To feel these feelings

    Like I do

    And I blame you


     
    No one bites back as hard

    On their anger

    None of my pain and woe

    Can show through


     
    But my dreams

    They aren't as empty

    As my conscience seems to be


     
    I have hours, only lonely

    My love is vengeance

    That's never free


     
    When my fist clenches, crack it open

    Before I use it and lose my cool

    When I smile, tell me some bad news

    Before I laugh and act like a fool


     
    And if I swallow anything evil

    Put your finger down my throat

    And if I shiver, please give me a blanket

    Keep me warm, let me wear your coat


     
    No one knows what it's like

    To be the bad man

    To be the sad man

    Behind blue eyes


     
    No, I don’t have blue eyes although I wish I did.  “Blue eyes” came up recently when my wife and I met with our therapist.  I said to her that I’m normal, like anyone who is left-handed or has blue eyes.  Sure, part of a smaller segment of the population but normal nonetheless.  Our therapist then said that although she loves me deeply that she might not be physically attracted to someone with blue eyes.  
    Later, privately, she told me that she’s fearful that indeed, blue eyes may be a turn-off for her.  Worse, she worries that she might find herself drawn to someone who doesn't have blue eyes.  
    I understand what she’s saying. But it does hurt.  And worry. I just have to trust that we will work it out.  

    P.S. I don’t mean to brag here but I just have to share… I saw The Who in the summer of 1972 at the San Francisco Civic Auditorium during their Who’s Next tour.  My friends and I had fantastic seats about 20 rows back from center stage. The music was so loud that it felt like blood was trickling from my ears but of course it was not.  Such fantastic memories of Roger Daltry whipping his mic high into the air only to catch it perfectly in time with the beat from Pete Townshend’s guitar and Keith Moon’s drums.  
    I was 16 and had driven the family station wagon about 50 miles from the South Bay.  The previous evening my father asked if I knew how to get there, and of course, I hadn’t thought of that.  Together we looked at a map to plot a course.  We made it to and from okay but also remember feeling so disoriented and scared trying to find my way back to the 101 freeway after the show.
     

  12. Emma

    Busted?

    By Emma,

    As usual, this morning I was reading the New York Times online edition on the computer in my home office – a very interesting article titled “The Ride of Their Lives” with the following opening paragraph:

    “NO FAMILY DOMINATES a rodeo event the way the Wrights do saddle bronc. But rodeo is a young man's game, which is why the family patriarch works to grow his cattle herd. Rodeo and ranching may be vestiges of the Old West, yet the combination is one family's hope for future generations.”

    So there I was, reading the article, browsing the fantastic photos, and reading the caption to the photo shown here (a young cowboy crashed out from a hard day’s rodeo) when my wife walked in to say goodbye for the day.

    “What’s that?” she asked.

    “Oh, nothing, just an interesting article in the New York Times.” I scrolled around a bit to show her some of the other photos. We proceeded to say our farewells and I went about my recent efforts on her business’s tax preparations.

    About an hour later, I receive this text message: “I was upset this morning in your office seeing your email. I would like to talk to you about it tonight.”

    I couldn’t imagine what email she was referring to, and replied, “Which email was that?”

    No response. Uh oh.

    I wracked my brain, looked over the few emails that I had written and responded to, nothing looked particularly unusual. Then it dawned on me: the New York Times photo of the cowboy! Oh crap, once again, she’s terrified I’m GAY!

    Although I assure you, my Maker, my therapists, and my wife, that I am 100% heterosexual (and I really don’t care if one is or isn’t, I just am), she has been worried about this ever since I came out to her about my being transgender. Once again I have to enter Damage Control and undo what her worried mind is conjuring up.

    I printed out the front page of the NYT showing the article in question prominently displayed in the top center and rode my bike the 10+ miles to her shop, to show her the real source of the article as well as my sincere disclaimer about being gay.

    I think it all went fine except I should not have mentioned that I also enjoyed "Brokeback Mountain" for its cinema-photography, soundtrack, and heart-wrenching story. (Which I did, not for the gay-ness just because it was a terrific film.)

    I’ll know more in about three hours. Suffice it to provide this Important Safety Tip: Be darned careful what you are looking at on your computer when your SO is around! Yeah, something else to tattoo on my forearm.
  13. Emma
    From what I've read the Nature vs. Nurture question remains open, except perhaps for those who always knew. Throughout my investigation into the roots of my transgender nature I wanted the result to be that I was just born that way. Then I could easily say to my wife, the world and myself, "I am what I am, those were the cards I was dealt." And then they could take me or leave me, and if they left I'd at least know that because it was in my genes it just is what it is and move on.  In case you're wondering, I still haven't figured it out.
    Recently my therapist suggested I read Living Like You Mean It: Use the Wisdom and Power of Your Emotions to Get the Life You Really Want. It essentially goes like this:
    Babies are born with emotions that are like little flames that need to be nurtured. If they are not, the babies learn to suppress those feelings so as to get along in life.  For example, the baby feels anger, expresses it, is then rejected or isolated, and the baby then turns it on herself, as if to say (to herself) "I must be bad if I have emotions, therefore I have to suppress my emotions."  But this results in sadness. This behavior may result in behavioral patterns (e.g., depression, flat-line emotional control, dissatisfaction) of adults who don't really know how to feel. Because when they do they defensive feelings emerge to counteract the genuine feelings which perpetuates the cycle.   Upon finishing this book last weekend I got terribly depressed. It was as if the rug of "I was born this way" was ripped out from under my feet. You see, the book thoroughly describes my home environment. Without getting into too much history my mother was terribly depressed herself, hospitalized a couple of times, electroshock therapy, and when I was 24, committed suicide.
    Throughout my childhood I was alone when at home even if my mother or father was there. My mother might have been at home, often in bed or otherwise disconnected, and my father was at work, nights and weekends, on various space flight programs. Without getting into details, I was well and truly taught to be seen and not heard. 
    When I met with my therapist last Thursday I recalled for him that I'd always admired girls, their unfettered expression of emotion: joy, love, sadness. And after reading this book I wondered: perhaps my transgender nature results more from my envy of girls' "allowed" to express emotion where, as a boy in my family, I was not?
    This morning I happened across this: I Am A Girl! - Ik ben een meisje! on YouTube. I'd seen it before but it really touched a nerve. She is so pretty, happy and, at 13, so grounded! I think you'll love seeing her. Clearly, she is transgender by nature.
    So now I wonder: 
    Nature: was I born like Joppe in the video, but my natural needs and desires were suppressed into smithereens by my family environment? Nurture: If the former isn't correct then maybe I have an envy that arose from my upbringing, a desperate need to express and be myself which I saw as only available to females? Or maybe it's a combination of the two? 
    Why does it matter? I guess I just really want to figure myself out. As if, like my wife, I was adopted and just want to know the truth of my background. 
    I have fragmentary memories of early childhood that support either or both theories.  No one to ask, since my father also died about ten years ago and I don't have siblings.  
    Hmm, maybe I should return to my therapist's advice and just Stop Thinking! Just accept myself, follow my feelings. I am trying. But on Saturday mornings when I'm not consumed by career it's hard to ignore these thoughts.  Oh I remember now what he'd say: "Get mindful, take a step back and consider your thinking from afar.  What would you say to yourself as a child, if you could, today?" 
    I think I'd say this: "IT'S OKAY TO BE YOU!"
  14. Emma

    Climb Every Mountain

    By Emma,

    Okay, this entry isn't really about "The Sound of Music" but the title seemed appropriate as I got started. And since it's my blog, well, you get the picture.

    The reason I'm writing here is that I have another article that I'd like to share but couldn't decide on a good place to post in the Forums. It's about climbing mountains - personal mountains, full of loose shale and dangerous outcroppings:

    Every life has a Great Struggle. A struggle that defines how—and whether—that life will reach fulfillment. Struggling well—facing, embracing, and overcoming one’s struggle—and struggling poorly—escaping, replacing, and ignoring one’s struggle—is one of the greatest and most necessary disciplines that we must master if we are to live, prosper, and blossom. For the truth is that if we don’t overcome our struggles, you know and I know: we will probably end up trapped in lives that feel like bitter and desperate failures, futile, meaningless, diminished.

    https://medium.com/bad-words/the-art-of-competition-5b7b3704d8c2

    Breathe. Look up. See the mountain. Accept the gift.

    Emma
  15. Emma
    Yesterday I read this article on Transgender Universe by Mila Madison (I love her writings):
    Is It Safe to Come Out?
    You see, yesterday was National Coming Out Day. On reading the article it occurred to me that for most people the definition of "coming out" is a single event, coming out of the closet, letting others know ones true/authentic nature (sexuality, gender, etc.), and then it's done. That stirred up some thoughts for me as I considered that I came out all of the past year and see myself continuing to come out for at least the next year and maybe beyond. i added a comment to MIla's article that I've edited below:
    I think a point can be made that coming out isn’t binary, all or nothing. For example, I started coming out to selected friends, family and professionals one year ago. I kept a list on my phone, marveling as the number slowly grew from single digits into the teens. I told them, mostly in person, that I am transgender and had been since my earliest memories. All were more or less supportive.
    About six months ago I couldn’t wait any longer and wrote a long-ish email to about 50 colleagues and friends. I then forwarded it to others as I thought about them. Most answered very positively, a few didn’t answer, and no on disparaged me. My number had grown to about 100.
    About six months ago, very tentatively, I started dressing and going out in public. What fear and anxiety! Buying clothes on Amazon, afraid even to return those that didn’t fit for fear that the UPS guy would discover my secret. I started by attending all professional meetings (therapist, doctor, stylist, etc.) presenting fully as Emma.
    Thankfully I have a supportive network of friends. One girlfriend took me to Nordstrom Rack and Sephora for shopping a few weeks ago. We left loaded down with bags like the women in Sex and the City. Another suggested I go to a local woman’s consignment shop; they were wonderful. Last week I ran errands, first to a lumber store to buy a bunch of wood for basement shelves, to Nordstrom Rack to return a jacket (and yes, buy another), Trader Joe's, and Bed, Bath, and Beyond... all as Emma.
    Yesterday I went to pick up some sheet metal to fix a door, presenting as a woman. Talk about a bastion of testosterone. No one batted an eye. I also went out for coffee with a male friend whom I had told I’m trans but had never seen me dressed.
    As of yesterday I’m starting to dress all or most of the time, authentically as myself, a woman, Emma. I take the public transportation downtown, go grocery shopping, the bank, you name it. I agree completely that we need to be visible so that our sisters and brothers behind us will witness our progress while the cisgender population learns that we’re just out and about, living our lives in peace and harmony with everyone. So what's left?
    There are more bridges left to cross, such as:
    Using my feminine speaking voice that I'm taking weekly lessons on. I'm nervous about that. Thank goodness my next door neighbor liked the way my "Good morning!" sounded to her this morning and volunteered to make herself available for me to practice as needed. Go for a bra fitting. I'm waiting for my breasts to bud more before doing that. I imagine that one of these days my breast forms will feel even more uncomfortable riding on top of my natural breasts. Oh, and then I'll be wearing a bra all the time, too. Select and wear a women's swim suit out and about. Likely next summer. Go to Macy's and places like that for a makeover. I could really use professional help with my makeup. Get my fingernails and toenails painted. Gosh, once that's done there's really no way to present as anything but a woman, is there?  Get my hair styled and maybe add some highlights. My hair will be long enough in 4-6 months, I think, so I have some time.  Change my legal name, drivers license, passport, etc. That's probably for 2019! That's all I can think of for now but I'm sure I'll come up with more! Hey, that's part of the fun isn't it?
    XXXOOOXXX
    Emma
     
  16. Emma

    Constitutional Crisis

    By Emma,

    According to a Harvard law professor a constitutional crisis exists when:
    1. The Constitution does not provide a clear, definitive answer to a problem;
    2. The actors in the conflict appear ready to press their competing courses of action to the limit.
    Reading this in the NYT this morning brought forth a realization of how my ex-wife often managed her part in our marriage, which brought to mind "Marriage by Crisis."
    As she did from the first time I told her that I occasionally crossdressed she gave me a take it or leave it. There was no middle ground. I consistently backed down, out of fear of losing her love and to restore the peace that we both enjoyed. In peace we were both so happy with each other and our life together. 
    She was the one who called for divorce as I discovered and embraced my authenticity, often saying through tears how I had betrayed her. It's been now 2 1/2 years since our divorce and I feel that she betrayed me: I was okay only if I fit into the mold she insisted upon.
    None of us can predict the future. It seems to me that a fundamental part of marriage is to support each other's growth. Yes, this can lead to conflict, but overall, growth trumps much. 
    Keep growing. 
  17. Emma

    Dear Sugar

    By Emma,

    Have you heard of Cheryl Strayed, who has a column called "Dear Sugar?" If not, I suggest you find out about her. Check out her book "Tiny Beautiful Things." In hindsight I wish I'd included it in my Suggested Reading post. Below is a letter to her and her response. (I didn't really send it, but it's in tune with others in her book.) I'll also add that I wrote this about a year ago. I'm posting it now to reinforce my positive feelings in myself and, I hope it might help others.

    Dear Sugar,

    My wife (I'll call her Mary) and I have been meeting with a therapist for over a year. It started out with only me seeing him, because although Mary and I have a great relationship and love each other very much, I'd lost interest in sex, was depressed, and Mary encouraged me to try - yet again - to get to the bottom of it.

    The main issue it seems is that I've been fascinated and ashamed of my fascination with girls and girly things since I was very small, which led to sexual fantasies and fixations that I've not been able to shake off. I told Mary about it a couple of times in the past and it pretty much shocked and disheartened her, so I rapidly withdrew into my shell.

    Now, though, we're talking about it more openly in our therapy meetings. I'm still quite sensitive about it (notice I'm calling it "it"), and pulling details out of me is tough. Despite Mary's recent assurances of her love and acceptance I get worried.

    I suppose I don't really trust her acceptance. I wouldn't blame her at all if, even hidden deep down, she wonders about how strange this all is. Might lead to all kinds of awkward and embarrassing moments for her. And, even if her acceptance is sincere, my shame makes it hard for me to accept her acceptance.

    You see, Sugar, I know I would appear pretty silly in female clothing without a lot of help and preparation. And even if I looked acceptable, where is all this going to lead? What do I really want?

    At the extreme let's say that I dress up and through practice and experience, learn to blend into society as a woman. I can go out and about, shop, doing whatever I want in public. Is that the goal? I don't think so since at the end I'm still me, unhappy in my own skin - or at least not loved by me.

    Do I want to be female? No, but there are times I wish I'd been born one. Perhaps then I could be me, happy? But I know that the grass isn't so much greener over there. Most would say my grass is already lush, green and well trimmed now.

    I really hate and am impatient with myself at times like this, and try to push feelings away. I don't know what to do to get better, and on top of my shame of myself in general I'm also ashamed that I even need to go see a therapist. I'm so sensitive, scared, and tired of living like this. I know you're going to say that I need to love the one I'm with (me). Maybe so but I've not figured out how.

    Screwed Up in the Bay Area

    Dear Screwed Up,

    Let's say you're playing poker and you were dealt two pairs, and a pretty good hand at that: kings and tens. Your other card is a queen. And not just any queen, it's the queen of hearts, the girliest card in the deck. What do you do? Throw in the queen hoping for a full house? Probably, since I'll bet you know how to play poker. But what if you then pulled the queen of diamonds? How might your hand have played out differently if you'd held that queen of hearts and played your hand another way? Answer: nothing, zilch, nada. Like it or not, you'd still be you.

    Look, honeypie, I can tell you've been around the block on this quite a few times. But mostly it's all been running around in your head, keeping you small and in hiding. Keep talking and opening up to Mary and your therapist.

    And I can also tell that you put your marriage with yourself on hold many moons ago, too. As if you're sleeping in separate bedrooms, sniping at each other, or not talking at all. Self-divorce isn't an option. You need to patch up your relationship with yourself. Get to know each other. Take yourself out on date nights. Become as fascinated with yourself as you are with things girly.

    Sugar loves you, and I'm sure Mary and your therapist and many others do too. You do need to learn to love the one you're with. It starts there.

    Sugar


    Photo: Another pair of pretty birds in that park in South Africa.
  18. Emma
    According to Google, the definition of transition is: "the process or period of changing from one state or condition to another." In the context of transgender, my sense is that it means moving toward a more final condition of living full time, HRT, and quite possibly, surgery. If you don't mind, I'd like to put a finer point on it and hear some feedback.

    In my career in high-tech marketing/sales we often used the phrase "we don't know what we don't know" to underscore our lack of understanding that would develop as we explored further. I think I'm there now. I have my doubts that I'll want/need HRT or SRS but I don't know what I don't know because I'm so early in my exploration. I trust that with experience I'll gain insights that will make this more clear for me. I admit I'm frightened.

    But long before profound changes like HRT/SRS there are other important transitions. Probably lots of them, but here's a couple:

    * Coming out to my therapist. Gee, that one took me >3 decades. Wow!

    * Accepting myself. Because of my therapist's wonderful support, friends and information here and elsewhere, I'm "getting it." But I still have times when I wonder...

    * Openly talking with my lovely wife. This is hard to do. She didn't sign up to this when we married. I know she loves me dearly but one has to wonder what her breaking point will be. We're in the middle of this now.

    And there are others, like going out and having a good time, in private, and making friends. Going out in public and achieving confidence and presence. Letting my family, neighbors, and friends know.

    So, I don't think there is such a thing as a singular "transition." I believe it's a continuum. But I am a newbie in many ways and am open to discussion and correction. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

    Sincerely,

    Emma

    Photo: Some years ago we visited Rodin's Museum in Paris. It was a cold day in January, and wow, The Thinker was right outside! Seems like an appropriate photo for today's post.
  19. Emma

    Depression and Suicide

    By 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.
  20. Emma

    Dressing in Layers

    By Emma,

    My wife’s been out house-sitting for a couple of weeks, and will do so for another two weeks, so that’s provided me some space to explore myself. Most mornings I walk a couple of blocks to our local coffee shop before breakfast, buy a large cup, and return home to catch up on emails while enjoying the coffee. Now, though, I can add something feminine to my clothing which I like to do.

    But I must not present anything girly on the outside. I know many of the people I run into and as we know, males simply do not even show a hint of lace, feminine color, or fabric not typically found in masculine clothing. I can consider, therefore, only wearing feminine clothing underneath my shirt and jeans. But it doesn’t end there.

    I must not wear a bra. Even the slightest padding under a shirt and sweatshirt may very well show something unusual and remarkable that I’d have to answer for. And we know how bra straps show through outer clothing by tugging in around the back and sides.

    I could just wear a pair of panties, sure. But darn it, it’s not enough! Even though no one will know I will know and I want to express myself even in a hidden yet sort of public way.

    It’s getting chillier here these days, about 40-45 degrees in the morning, so it’s natural and comfortable to wear a sweatshirt or jacket over my T-shirt. And it’s cold enough for me to wear something under my jeans. I thus don a long-sleeved leotard and tights, and then everything goes on top. And yes, I wear socks as well since I can’t risk my pants leg riding up and showing (horrors!) what is obviously feminine fabric.

    It feels good to do this. When I run into people I can’t help but imagine that they see something odd about me but they really do not. I’m warm and safe and I know that deep inside I’m expressing a part of myself that I always want to. It’s not erotic in the least. Just feels like I’m being hugged all over. And as I walk and encounter people I know that deep down I am me.

    This posting was hard for me to write because I worry that some here will think it’s silly to wear dance clothing underneath. I guess so but I can tell you that back in the 60s and 70s I envied girls who wore leotards as tops. I guess that fell out of style but not for me.

    Isn’t it kind of interesting that even wearing something as simple as this under so many layers can make one feel so good?

    Sincerely,

    Emma

    Photo: I took this some months back on my iPhone. A pretty sunset in Cayucos, California.
  21. Emma

    EMAGINE

    By Emma,

    A couple of months ago while driving north in Oregon I thought of a custom license plate for me: "EMMAGINE." Unfortunately the DMV only accepts 7 characters or fewer so I dropped an M. I love it!

  22. Emma

    Emma to Self: "Be Patient"

    By Emma,

    Last Thursday I saw my therapist. I was pretty distraught, with a shaming weight crushing my chest because I so often feel so anxious for approval, affirmation, and when it's delayed or I don't receive it, I go to my dark place where I'd just as soon fold up my tent. It's a cycle that's been with me forever and I'm very ashamed by it. Sure, maybe that seems silly to you dear reader, but I get so defensive and I feel so needy.  It feels like feelings I simply should not have and since I do so intensely I'm ashamed.  After all in my professional life people don't act like that, do they?  No way, Jose.  It's like I'm often on edge, hyper-aware of how people feel about me and I worry that that comes across too.  Goodness, what a mess.
    Toward the end of the meeting he said something like, "Well, be sure to listen to Emma. She's a huge part of you and she has a perspective that may help you."  I took that to heart and spent the last couple of days wondering what Emma would say. And I felt like such a fraud! I'm always ready with some sort of encouragement or thoughts but when it comes to me they all sound so inane and useless. Sure, I hope it does help those I send messages to, I really do. But when I'm sending them to myself? I can't even think of what Emma might say that would be useful. I kept thinking that I'd put up a blog post with something like, "What should Emma say to herself?" But that sounded so wimpy.  
    So I took a bike ride today. It was almost 80 degrees here (can you believe it?) and I went out for a couple of hours, but beforehand decided I would think about this further.  I must say that riding the bike is a great place to just think.  Yeah sure, while peddling like a madwoman.  I don't remember what prompted this but it occurred to me that I'm always wanting the fast answer.  I want the problem to be diagnosed, implement the solution, and have it done and behind me. I recalled that last couple of years since coming out to myself and then my wife.  Jeez, a couple of years? Yeah, but that's not so bad. Better to have taken a couple of years and be where I am than not, right? So it dawned on me: "Come on, honey, give yourself some time."  <big sigh> And she's right, I think. 
    We've all heard that life's a journey and all that but I think it really is. There is some truth to that. Go have a cup of tea, put your feet up, enjoy your new top.  (It did finally arrive today and it is pretty cute with the leggings I found yesterday at Costco.) So that's my game plan for this week. I'm trying to slow down. Way down. Be patient. Good things come to those who wait. 
    We'll see, my friends.  (You do still like me, right?  I am still loving your affirmations.  ) 
    Have a nice week,
    Emma
  23. Emma

    Emma's Got Her Groove Back

    By Emma,

    The last couple of months have been very difficult as I've further embarked on my transgender journey and suffered along with my wife who has been very upset by my revelations. I'm happy to say that for the last week or so things have been so much better. What do I attribute this to?
    They say "A happy wife is a happy life," and although I'll bet she'd deny it (hopefully not too emphatically) I can tell that she's feeling a bit better. Not 100% but in the right direction. I believe it's due to: a) Time: as time progresses she sees that I am still the same person that she fell in love with. Yes, with a new wrinkle but it's me nonetheless. I don't know exactly what the gender therapist and she discussed, but I know the therapist pretty well now and I think she provided some much needed expert assurance.
    It was so helpful to have a couple's therapy session where we were able to talk without the baggage of negative emotions. She asked questions and I did my best to answer, and we were okay with that, and even went out for a glass of wine afterward. There are more questions no doubt but we'll cross those bridges later.
    I am very fortunate to have the therapist whom I see 1:1 and for couple's meetings. He provides such wisdom and support, objectively and kindly. Thank goodness for him.
    I'm also very fortunate to have found the gender therapist, having met with her privately and in her group. I think I'm starting to "get it" and it's okay.
    And last but not least, it's TG Guide and the community I'm proud to be a part of.

    I know that we will still hit rough spots and that there will be challenges, some that may seem unbearable when reached. I hope that by writing this I'll have something to look back on to remind me of the good times.

    Hugs,

    Emma
  24. Emma

    Emma's New Dress

    By Emma,

    This is a real first for me, taking my photo and posting it here or anywhere!  I'm really enjoying this new dress that I just received last week. Sitting here typing up this blog entry just feels right, you know? The whole thing feels so right, I just want to get up, go out to my car, and walk around downtown. Maybe have a coffee and a croissant.  Or a lady finger.  Hahaha! 
    The slope is a little slippery right now.  I keep finding myself shopping (on line) for more, admiring styles, looks, and almost ordering. I hold myself back since, after all, I must soon remove all this and prepare for my lovely wife's return from her day. 
    Which is bittersweet, isn't it? That I have to remove my dress at all, that I cannot just be myself - whatever that is. Seems like there oughta be a law, don't it? I am very grateful that I can even do this. So many cannot, because of their inhibitions, personal situations, and yes, finances.  Deep down I am a very grateful girl.  
    I hope you like my photo and I hope, like me, you're getting ready for a wonderful 2016.  
    Hugs,
    Emma

  25. Emma
    What a month it’s been. It started off pretty low for me when my wife and I met with our therapist. I gave them a very open update and my wife was terribly upset. Assuming the worst (which I’m quite good at doing) I was sure that she was going to want a divorce. Thankfully she didn’t. She apologized for her reaction and assured me that she supports my explorations. Remembering those days even now still causes me pain. It’s also diminished my enthusiasm and I’ve felt drawn back into the closet.

    That said, though, my wife encouraged (in some ways demanded) that I find a transgender support group to attend. I learned that a “support group” is one that is led by a therapist or mental health professional. Surprisingly, I found it hard to find one, but I received some help and was successful. The first meeting I’ll attend is on January 8th.

    My older son gave me the book “Fully Present” as a Christmas present. It’s about the science, art, and practice of Mindfulness Meditation. I’d known about this practice for years and it was recommended to me but I was kind of reluctant to study it. I guess I was (and am) afraid that I won’t be able to “do it” which, yeah, sounds kind of silly. Anyway, I am slowly and patiently reading the book and it does seem like an ideal combination of science, art, and practice – just like they said. This morning I read, “The basic tenet of mindfulness and science is to observe things as they are.” And, “In the spirit of self-discovery, we invite you to attempt meditation with a very scientific attitude – one of scientific exploration.” Wow, does that speak to me!

    I’ve been thinking over the past few days about what I might write here. I like the idea of having a monthly report like this but what should I do? Perhaps keep a running list of questions that I want to explore on my journey with therapists, groups, meditation, and my friends here at TG Guide:
    Am I “merely” addicted to the endorphin jolt I receive at times when I wear female clothing? I do like it, that’s for sure. And if it’s an “addiction,” should I attend some sort of 12-step program for it? I don’t think this is the case for me but one has to wonder at times.
    If I receive the truly unconditional love and acceptance I need from my wife will my transgender desires/needs evaporate or extinguish? I do really want the former but doubt the latter – as much as I would like it to be true.
    What will it take for me to ever achieve peace and acceptance with myself?
    My hypothesis these days is that when I was a toddler that my mother rejected me, I looked around and from what I could see, girls were the ones that are loved, accepted, and celebrated. They wore dresses and skirts so that’s what I wanted to. But, maybe my mother was “just” reacting to my desires for girlish things? (Which came first, the chicken or the egg?)

    Anyway, I wish everyone here at TG Guide a wonderful and prosperous New Year. I love you all.

    Emma

    Photo: The "The Imitation Game" movie, about Alan Turing. What a remarkable man, and such a tragedy that he ended up taking his life because of punishments he endured when he was "convicted" of being homosexual. I found it a poignant reminder of how many transgender people feel today. But, a remarkable movie nonetheless!
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