RachelB

Hi Emma Thank you so much for your message and suggestions. I had no idea the word format would cause any issues. Perhaps I'll copy and paste the blog below on this reply so others can read it. I'm happy it struck a chord with you. I was hoping it might inspire others or at the very least have other folks who go through similar things. Since my wife passed 2 months ago, things have been a challenge, but they are getting better and I am trying to connect with the local LGBT community. Anyway, without further ado, below is my blog "My new queer life". I hope others read it: My New Queer Life So here I am 62 years old. Came out as trans after 60 years of deep denial. Transition began two years ago. Starting over. Yes, like so many others my wife of 30 years left me. Oh, maybe not exactly why you think. You see she was diagnosed with cancer the year before my egg cracked. I can go on about how hard it all was transitioning during her struggles especially the last few months when she suffered greatly, but that it is not what I’d like to relay in this piece. Rather I’d like to share my thoughts and emotions looking forward. I feel completely alone and I am frightened. I am queer. It took me long enough to figure that one out. I always thought of myself as fairly astute but I suppose I was completely blind when it came to myself. I was socialized and (yes let’s call it like it is) brainwashed to be the male everyone expected. I was damn good at that cis-normative life. I could have won an Oscar. But yet, I don’t know how to be queer. I know in my heart that my cis family and friends can never understand what it’s like to be trans. Only other trans folks can really understand, right? I long for community. Oh, sure I have cis allies but while they try their best to be supportive I still feel that disconnection. I’ve lost too. Some family members seem to disagree with my transition. Ask me if I care. Go ahead, please. Yes, it bothers me I have lost them, but I am sure you have heard the mantra, I have gained so much. And that is true. But it doesn’t change the fact. I do not know how to be queer. Shouldn’t there be a handbook that gets sent to you when you change your gender marker at the DMV? Furthermore, I am quite disappointed there was no fanfare after I came out. No parade, not even a free blender or toaster. This was such a momentous occasion, but the only people I had to share this with were people who could never understand. I feel unloved. Think about it. Everyone who has loved me up to this point loved my façade persona. That cis-normative male entity I used to hide behind. Oh, he had some good qualities but he was a sham. Loved yes, but a sham all the same. I used to tell so many people after I first came out that I was still the same person I always was. But I was wrong. I have changed, in many ways. Physically, emotionally and mentally. I see it clearly now. Before it was obscured by fog. That fog has lifted and I am who I was meant to be. No one who loved the protector entity knows the real me. Therefore, they cannot love me. So now I am unloved. A loveless empty vessel waiting to be filled. I hope to meet people who didn’t know me who may learn to love me. I deserve it. I did not expect this void. This is where the loneliness comes from. Shall I ever be loved again? I’m scared. I’m alone. I’m unloved. Yet I feel so full of life. I want to experience all my new queer life can offer. I want to help others like me. I want to give to the community. I want the community to give to me. But I find that while my individual and group therapy has gotten me to this point, I must take that next step alone. But I really don’t know how to go about it. It’s intimidating. I have a few months to plan, as I am retiring from my 35-year insurance career in a few short months. That scares me too. Socially, I know my future is not with my long-time couples’ friends. It can’t be. I am no longer like them, and I’m no longer a couple, just that third wheel no one ever wants to be, and a queer third wheel at that. Don’t get me wrong here. I want you to know I very much love being queer. I no longer have to subscribe to society’s expectations of me, and I am free. But my freedom at this point is infantile in as much as I am a toddler at best, trying to learn to walk, speak and act any way I choose, and I have not chosen yet. So now my focus turns to our community for love and support. I need you. I can’t do this alone. I am a trans-lesbian stuck between the hetero-normative hell of my past and an uncertain queer future I know nothing about. I wonder will I ever be loved for the person I was meant to be all along? I hope so because I have so much to give. Love, respect, fierce loyalty, laughter and fun, and an intimacy I have never allowed myself to feel before. Am I the only one who feels like this? Did I miss the queer crusade that I should have been on when I was younger, fighting alongside those other trans-pioneers? I feel like I have missed so much in my life that I can never make up for. The sixty-year silence in my closet was deafening. The walls were screaming at me, but I never heard them. I know that I am the only person responsible for my own happiness, and I will find a way to make the most of my future, but for now I remain full of trepidation and uncertainty. The path is ahead me, I will follow it wherever it leads like a unicorn adrift in a rainbow continuum.

My new Queer life.docx

She is not more important than you BA. That's utter nonsense. You do realize that if you de-transitioned, it would not stop any gender issues, it would only make them worse. I know its hard to hear but sometimes relationships are not meant to be forever. And that's OK. You deserve to be happy and so does she. But that may mean you cannot be happy together. I have a fantastic gender therapist who lives across the country from me and we meet via zoom meetings. If you are interested., I'll make an introduction. If it weren't for her, I don't know where I'd be now. Hugs Rachel

Thank you Emma, fantastic.

I'd like to start by saying that I am deadnaming myself here. I hope that does not offend anyone here. You see, I don't think of myself as Rick any longer, that is past. But I believe, no matter who we are, we owe thanks to who we were yesterday; last week; last month; last year and so forth. So please read on an remember I am referencing someone who I am very fond and proud of, even if he no longer exists. Thank you. Soliloquy to Rick Sitting comfortably one evening, I reflect on the debt I owe Rick for preparing me for what was to come. Without his courage and tenacity, I would not be here, and he would have inevitably fallen into deep despair. You see, a great tragedy had befallen Rick even before he was born. No one knew that of course, but an unfortunate twist of fate had cursed this child to a lifetime of torment in ignorance. Rick grew up a good soul, in a good family with honorable values. That family had its share of tragedies though. By the time Rick was 5, he had lost his mother. Little did he know how that would affect him, and how much he would need her, only to be left with no one to fill that role. Perhaps if she had lived, Rick may have been able to avoid what was to come, but we will never know. Each of his siblings and his father had to deal with their own pain as well. The grief caused some to rebel, some turned to substances to quell the pain, and others to work to forget. But Rick did not understand why his mother had been taken away. After his Mother’s death, Rick became emotionally empty, never being able to fill the void left behind. He learned he must be strong, so he built walls to hide any thoughts and emotions that might be too painful or shameful, especially with his family and twin brother. External normalcy became his façade. He himself could not face the pain so he tucked it away in a hidden part of his subconscious. It was then, early in life Rick had learned to develop defense mechanisms. It was a way to move on without ever having to confront the pain and emptiness that festered inside, to feel safe. But soon thereafter, he felt something wasn’t right. He had no cohesive thoughts or words to explain what was wrong. Even if he had found the words, he could never have shared them out of fear of rejection. No, these feelings and thoughts were wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why was he drawn to things like female clothing? Why was he so jealous of the girls he knew? He tried his best to make it go away, hide it inside his emotional walls with the emptiness he still could not face, tormented by feelings he could not control, nor eradicate. The more he tried to dismiss them, the stronger they became. A force burned deep within him. Embers smoldering, like a dormant volcano. Rick was a good person, a strong person, and he tried his best, but he was flawed. All his strength and intelligence couldn’t stop him from succumbing to that force. It was soft at first, like a distant echo on the wind. He tried everything he could to make it go away, but no matter what he did, it never left him. He tried to be the person that everyone expected, a man, a husband and a father. He felt like this would finally cure him. But he failed miserably. As an adult, that prenatal joke from so long ago had moved from his subconscious to his conscious thoughts. He finally found love in a wonderful selfless woman and her family, but he could no longer hide his torment from himself. As he grew emotionally, his prison walls were beginning to weaken. But he had to hide his secret from everyone he loved, even at the expense of a growing guilt on top of everything else. It must be hidden, it’s shameful, horrid too. No one would ever understand, and why should they, he hadn’t been able to grasp it himself. He lived a very lonely adult life, even with a house full of people who loved him and great friends. He fought back the emptiness from his youth by spending as much time alone as he could to help ease his growing anxiety. That deep down true essence of his spirit was stirring, and he felt that growing presence in his soul. He was frightened, but he couldn’t stop it from coming. Like trying to stop the concentric rings from flowing when a pebble is dropped in a pond, the fight was futile. Over the years those echoes of whispers became stronger like a dog whistle, murmurings that only he could hear. “I’m coming. You have suffered long enough. I am ready to take over and weather the storms in your future, and to be strong for your loved ones, because I love them too. It’s time to give you the liberation from the chains that bound you, free to live honestly and openly”. Finally, after six decades, Rick found the courage to face his torment and pain. He stood tall and brave, no matter how painful, knowing he could lose everything. Even against those odds, he took a deep heroic breath and stepped aside as Rick’s authentic identity, a strong and confident female presence emerged. Slowly at first, like an actor peeking through a curtain to see what the audience was like. Eventually she was ready to take over. Not even sure of a name, she fought valiantly to right the tragic mistake perpetrated on her before birth. She stood tall and declared herself Rachel. Rachel had been fighting her own battles, and the challenges were many, but with the support of her loved ones, her courage and bravery kept her moving forward. She knew that to face adversity she would need dignity and grace. So here I sit, my tremendous and never ending gratitude goes out to Rick. He fought insurmountable odds, never giving up his survival until he had fulfilled his prophecy, and brought forth the true spirit from within. That cruel tragedy was finally made right. I will never forget him. He can rest now.

Thank you Emma, your words are very kind, sort of the thing I need right now. Yes, this was written when I was feeling defensive, without a doubt, but we must be inspired to write from something. lol I feel so underappreciated at times, but I will continue to keep my head held high, and hope to have no regrets when this is all said and done. In my short time here, I have found so much love and support so thank you Emma, and thank you all!

I’m Selfish In July 2016, I heard the worst news of my life. My wife of 26 years (the love of my life) was diagnosed with cancer and it was terminal. My family was crushed. We knew life would never be the same again. What I did not know at the time was that my life long struggle with gender identity was coming to a head. I had an internal struggle that even I could not recognize for what it was, even after struggling for so many decades, the denial was too strong. I had never associated my past behavior of cross dressing; hiding my box of female clothing where no one could find it; listening to feminization hypno videos and audios; and everything else that was quieting my dysphoria for even just a few moments at a time as a hint that perhaps I was transgender. But the guilt and shame of it all made me think I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. With my wife healing from her surgery and chemo pending, I was forced to face what had been haunting me all my life. After all, facing the death of a spouse is one of the most stressful things that can happen to a person. So, in addition to worrying what was going to happen to her; I worried about what was going to happen to me. What would I do without the love of my life. All our future plans were taken away. No retirement together as we had planned. No buying a house in Florida as we had planned. No travelling the world together as we had planned. No sailing off into the sunset as we had planned. But when I tried to share my deepest concerns with my loved ones they thought he’s selfish - but it was not necessarily wrong. In my heart and mind I knew I would do everything I could to support her. I would be completed dedicated, not only to her but to the adult kids, to do my best to allow them to continue to live their lives to lessen the impact of this terrible situation. I did not want to have any regrets after she left this world because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. Over the next year, 2017, my life was filled with doctors; nurses; cancer treatments; cat scans; negative results and anxiety. During this year my research into my own decades of suffering was leading me to one place. After starting therapy with a fantastic gender therapist, I finally admitted to myself that I was Transgender. Oh, it took some time to fully accept this and the denial was strong, but yet it explained so much. Maybe I wasn’t a freak after all, and that this was not my fault, or just some devious fetish. I knew the only answer for me was to transition, if I ever wanted to be rid of my dark passenger, that dysphoria that shaped my world and the way I had viewed it up to that point. The dysphoria was at times debilitating; at sometimes manageable and other times left me alone for short periods. But it always influenced the way I viewed the world and my decision making, not that I knew it at the time. And I was selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. In 2018, I began the process of coming out to my loved ones. I was filed with so much anxiety that I was put on medication for it. I told one of my step daughters first. It went well I thought. But soon after that, she told me how upset I had made her. She was more upset that now she too had a secret to hide from her Mom and she resented me for it. So, I shared the news with my wife’s sister. Again, it seemed to go well. But I knew I would have to share this news with my wife. I was dreading that. I sat on the couch next to her for days with one thought in my mind. Should I tell her, or shouldn’t I tell her. Over and over again. My anxiety level again had increased and felt debilitating. My family did not want me to tell my wife about my realization that I was Trans, and that I was facing transition. It could only affect her negatively and why put her through that? Why don’t you just wait for her to pass to start transition, they said. But I knew I could not do that. I knew that the only way to remain strong enough to support her and my family was to heal myself first. And I was selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. The rest of 2018 was filled with my wife going through the stages of grief for her husband that she thought she knew. It was really hard for her, and I felt terrible. I started HRT on April 12th, 2018. My journey had begun. Over the rest of 2018 I came out to just about everyone including the rest of my family. My son, who was 40 years old at the time completely wrote me off with one of the most horrible and offensive letters I ever received. That also meant I would never see my three natural grandkids again. That was in June of 2018 and we have had no contact since. I came out to my 3 siblings, one of which is a twin brother. They struggled with it as expected but all seemed supportive. They all live across the country from me so we don’t see each other much. I came out to our best friends, and of course my wife shared the news with many of her good friends. Several of them immediately gave me a hard time, with some even interrogating me about how I could be so selfish to do this to her while she struggled with the disease. Well that was easy to explain because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. But I knew I had to tell her. I could not let her go to the beyond, if there is one, without knowing who she had married 28 years prior. I also could feel the tremendous guilt that was building up inside me. That guilt came from the feeling like I was hoping for bad news on her condition so I could eventually start to live the life I was always meant to, and I could not go on with that guilt. So, on February 11th, 2018, our 28th anniversary, I shared the news with her in a letter that I had written. She sat on the couch and read as I stood by. She told me later that she thought I was leaving her. Of course, I would never do such a thing. But she read the letter, and I cried. I apologized. I cried more. I tried to explain how much I had suffered in silence and alone, and how I hid it all my life, my 60 prior years. I thought that might make it easier to understand. But after it sunk in, all I got was, “why didn’t you just wait until I died?” Well that’s because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. I came out at work and to my colleagues in October of 2018. I started to transition socially and announced on Facebook to all the world to see that I was Transgender, and went full time on October 15th 2018. Now presenting female, but not looking at all feminine caused much anxiety for me. I got glances every time I left the house. I even got derogatory comments from some out in public with my wife. But my female persona, my true self was getting stronger as I had now been months on HRT. My family struggled with my pronouns, she/her/hers. I corrected them often. Some were better than others and I know they were trying, but they were failing a lot too, as were pretty much everyone else. I hated it when I was speaking to someone over the phone and they still called me sir, even after telling them my name is Rachel. One person even commented to me that he never heard of a man named Rachel before. I let it go without a reply. In November 2018, I began my legal transition. I had my name changed by the NY Supreme Court, but yet my family would not call me Rachel. Again, I had to correct them, even got into an argument once or twice with them about it. They couldn’t understand how deadnaming me and mis-gendering me was affecting me because after all they were trying. And I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. 2019 ushered in and my body and mind were feeling the effects of the hormone changes. I was only beginning to realize that being my wife’s caretaker for close to 3 years was causing me much anxiety and depression. If you have never been someone’s caretaker you cannot understand what it does to you. Very similar in fact to how cis-gender people can never understand how transgender people feel and what we go through. My social life came to a complete halt. I no longer could spend time refreshing my own batteries. I gave up playing in my rock and blues band a year prior. I gave up going to concerts with friends. In fact, I gave it all up and was now totally dedicated and committed to nothing other than my wife’s struggles. Her disease was progressing and she was still going through chemo, radiation and immunotherapy. I was there to support her through it all, and still am. She said to me during the summer of 2019 that she now understands why I had to come out when I did, and that the family has now adjusted to it, and that they would have had a much harder time had I come out after she passed. My own twin brother wrote me off in a letter in August of 2019, saying he doesn’t know who I am any longer, and I am so selfish with all my talk of transitioning my gender. I really thought that my loved ones cared what I was going through, but it’s easy to explain because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. More recently the cancer has spread again, and my wife is now on powerful pain meds, no longer drives and no longer goes to work, and only has limited time left. I do everything for her. I am her spouse; protector; medical advocate; nurse; and health care aid. Her sister who has visited from out of state to help many times over the last three years said she really appreciated all I did for her sister. She told me this over and over while I paid for her airfare to come in and help while I was at work. In October 2019, I offered and gave her $5,000 of my hard-earned cash so that she and her husband could get dental work they had been putting off for so long because they didn’t have the money. Yet she has the unmitigated audacity to spend $1,000 on marijuana to feed her addiction while she was supposed to be here helping me take care of her sister for 4 weeks. When she asked how I was holding up going through all of this, I told her. But she didn’t care at all when I said how much I would miss my wife when she passes, because my step-daughters had that base covered, and surely losing their mother was worse for them than me losing my wife of now close to 30 years. I tried to explain how exhausted I had become after the 3 years of caretaking, but yet I was scoffed at and called selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. I finally had to go on FMLA family leave from my job to stay home full time and take care of my wife. I would not get paid, but at least I had some savings in the bank to rely on, because after all, what good was that money doing me if I couldn’t use it to stay home with her for her last days. The boredom of sitting at home while my wife sleeps most of the day is hard to handle. The anxiety caused by trying to get my wife to take the meds at the right time; and to eat some food was tremendously tough to handle, and still is, because as of this writing, the battle continues, and I don’t know for how much longer. While my transition is now 20 months in the making, and going along well, it leaves me extremely sad and maudlin that I cannot start to live my new life and am missing so much. But I am dedicated to my wife’s struggles as I ever was. I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. When recently discussing what Christmas gifts we all wanted, I responded with, I’d like nothing at all except for people to use my preferred pronouns. I didn’t think that was too much to ask, but yet my wife’s sister argued with me that they were trying their best and why couldn’t I just accept that. I told her that was not good enough for me and people like me. She said, Hey, why are you making us learn a new language with anger in her heart and words, to which I replied that she/her/hers is part of the English language. Clearly with all that was going on, I had some nerve asking for the correct pronouns. But that’s because I’m selfish – but it was not necessarily wrong. After all this, I became depressed, moping around and feeling sorry for myself, feeling greatly underappreciated alone. But I also know that with time being short, I would have to break out of it. I know that no one, absolutely no one will help me get my life back together, and where it will lead when this situation is over. I know I am the only person responsible for my own happiness. No one else can do that for me so I picked myself up, dusted the depression away and am now trying to make it through everyday minute by minute. I know in my heart that somewhere down the line I will be fine because I’m selfish – but it is not necessarily wrong. So, only you are responsible for your own happiness. Grab it by the horns and don’t let go. Find a way to be true to who you really are, live the life you were meant to live and remember it’s OK to be selfish because being selfish sometimes is not necessarily wrong.