An Update

Hi, everyone.  I know, I know, I promised to start blogging again.  And that was a hell of a long time ago.  I just found myself far too busy, and far too tired at the end of the day, to do anything else but work, sleep, and tend to my family.  Sounds monotonous.  Sounds tedious.  Sounds boring.  Sounds drama free.

I had better quality photos of me, but this captures my silly spirit so this will do.

Compared to the years involving my transition from male to female, drama-free was exactly what I needed.  Looking back at those days, there are moments I can barely recall just because of the level of stress that I remember enduring.  I've heard the term "pink cloud" many times before, but I don't think or remember a life so g
lamorous.   From the early days of covering up my five o'clock shadow with thick MAC foundation and concealer, to the other side of the tunnel where I finally settled into family life and was finally able to be my true self at work, almost any given day was no walk in the park.

So where am I today?  Well, I am nearing the end of the second decade of my career in law enforcement.  That was something I never talked about when I blogged daily years ago.  The fear of being outed, or even worse, fired, was always looming.  I had friends who were terminated or were forced out because of the incessant emotional beat downs in similar agencies as mine.  At the time I changed my name, the federal discrimination case taken on by Diane Schroer had just ended with the resulting decision that discrimination based on gender identity is sex-based discrimination in accordance with the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Going from being a part of a 96 percent male workforce to being in the four percent minority of females was a great challenge.  Something I've been told will be a great read if I ever write a book about my crazy life.  The stories I could tell.  Ha.

But overall, I found myself quite comfortable in my own skin at work because of the incredible amount of support I had from colleagues and friends.  I worked hard to be someone who cared about those I worked with, and I often felt like I was the unofficial psychologist or pastor-on-duty.   When the time came for me to unravel Lori to my employer, a lot of great things fell in to place.  Not that I didn't have the gossipers talking behind my back at the watercooler, far from it.  I was the talk of the town, well, for at least a few weeks.  But if you've ever worked in a large agency or corporation, you know how new news quickly becomes old news as new gossip about someone else makes it ways to the headlines at the watercooler.

So what am I up to today?  I considered blogging again, like I considered it by the looks at my last post.  I almost forgot just how good it feels to get things off my chest, to write first and foremost for an audience of one... me.  But I also miss the connections that I had with the blogging community, and the many trans friends I gained during that time.  There are but a handful of people from that time that I still communicate with on a regular basis, and I'm sure it's just because we're all busy.  We get so distracted by our daily business that it's easy to forget to stop and increase your value between each other.

One thing people couldn't say about me was that I never committed to anything.   Transition was hell, and I was never sure I'd make it out alive.  My latest greatest commitment continues to be spending time with my children as they get closer to graduating.  I can't believe how wonderful my children have become.  I think about them more than I think about anything else.  And knowing my children know my authentic self without any more lies to cover that up is a major relief.   I never knew I had the capacity to love them as much as I do today.  Transition cleared out the haze and gave me this ability, despite the pain that we all went through in navigating such a challenge together as a family.


There's another passion that's been reignited in me, and that's my love for taking photos.   In the last year,  I've started a legitimate photography business focusing on capturing portraits of families, high school seniors, weddings, and other events.   And I've also discovered the beauty of the night sky as astrophotography is incredibly rewarding when I see the resulting images from my efforts.

One of my favorite captures.  Taken with a Canon 5DMarkIII and Sigma 50mm f/1.4ART lens.

This little desert tree reaching for the Milky Way Galaxy

I think I have a lot more to share before my blogging is over.  I keep hearing how the platform is dead, and that's okay.  I'll probably start doing a few YouTube videos like I have in the past.  I know I've often shared more than I should have, but now I believe I have a need to share what's on my heart, and that someone out there might benefit from it.  

If you're an old friend or are just finding me here for the first time, do say hi, would you?  I'd appreciate reconnecting with old friends, and I'm always open to connecting with new people.

And if you're silently suffering inside and you can't find a way to get through this, reach out to someone.  To friends you trust, to family who you know cares for you, or send me a message.  I'll do my best to point the way in the right direction if I can.  And for the many Christians who simply wrote me off and dismissed me as a "backslider" or that I was "never really a Christian," my faith in
God has changed, you're right.  But I find myself closer to his loving arms than I ever have before.  It would take many more blogs to explain how I arrived safely in His arms, but I assure you my hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

Blessings,
Lori B.

The Hurt We Feel When We Cause Others Pain

Stitch:  "This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good."

Lilo:  "'Ohana means family, family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten." 

 (Disney's Lilo and Stitch, 2002)



I'm writing this as a follow up to the post I wrote last night called "He Cried for His Dad" because of there was one thing particularly missing that I intentionally left out: my own feelings about causing my child emotional pain.  I'm going to write freely here.  You were forewarned.

Transitioning with kids has its own challenges.  Not a day went by where I agonized over the prospect of moving toward authenticity and away from the masks I put on for everyone around me.  After all, we don't want to rock the family boat and potentially destroy our relationships and our sanity, right?  But I, like so many I know, was being destroyed from the inside out, becoming increasingly unable to wear the heavy mask of dishonesty.  Living a lie over a piece of me that was so central to my being was probably more intense than the gender dysphoria itself, and I knew something had to give.

Yet I was a father to my young children and a husband to my wife, and I never forgot that we were a family.  My wife, having already known about this for several years, continued to hope that allowing partial "crossdressing" would be enough, that my appetite for femininity would be appeased in clothing and limited self-expression.   But it was never only about the clothes -  all along I desired...no... I needed... to match my outer self with my inner being.

When my wife saw my health and emotional well-being decay more rapidly, she knew it was time for me to get help.   She encouraged me to seek counseling for depression and I soon was taking anti-depressants for general dysthymia.   The meds worked to suppress the saddest of emotions but it did nothing to resolve the incongruity that grew deeper even after Zoloft sought to become my best friend.  Instead I became a zombie to the anti-depressants, and I lost a desire to cry deeply... and laugh uncontrollably.   My inhibited ability to express myself emotionally was soon worse than living in sadness.   The recommendation by my primary care physician to see a therapist finally pressed me to admit to myself and to my family that I had to figure this out once and for all.  Thirty years of trying to solve the mystery on my own or with those who didn't understand proved fruitless.  It took me years to realize that God wouldn't forgive me because there was nothing to forgive concerning this.  It wasn't an issue of sin.

And so began the path that led me to where I am today, and where I was yesterday with my son in my arms crying over losing his dad.

In pain.

Because his dad transitioned.

And he'd watched his mom suffer.

And the family suffered.

And he suffered.

God knows I never wanted to hurt my children or my wife.   The endless guilt I endured pressed me to halt transitioning and do an about face.    But at the end of every day, awake until the wee hours of every morning trying to find the answers to it all, I concluded that "faking it" every day for my family's sake was more destructive than facing the truth.  I knew that any chance I had was inside the circle of authenticity, not outside its boundaries where lies and deceit spun me into an intoxicating dance of confusion and chaos.

And my faith in God pressed me to find that truth too.  I called myself a Christian to so many and carried this secret because of a credible fear that I would be judged and treated as an outcast.  It turned out many Christian friends stood by my side, but some proved I had reason to fear and used weaponized words like "mutilation" and "God doesn't make mistakes" in hopes that I would turn "from my wicked ways."

Through the pain, I never felt like God loved me any less.

And that's one big reason I allowed the pain to happen.  I hoped that my children would forgive me.  I prayed that my wife could one day finally understand.  And when we faced divorce as the last option, we chose to just hold on for one more day, and then another.  Eventually, the pain subsided a bit, then returned in full force, and then waned yet again.  The waves of hurt slowly receded into a distant horizon as a new day produced resolution to answer after answer.  The turning tide demonstrated that  my children were surviving this and even finding a new peace as I found my own peace in who I was.  Our relationship, the Maddie/Child relationship, was revealing itself like a seedling breaking through the soil reaching for its first glimpses of sunlight.

Lilo: "'Ohana" means "family." "Family" means "no one gets left behind." But if you want to leave, you can. I'll remember you though.
[looking at her picture of her dead parents]
Lilo: I remember everyone that leaves. 

I could have walked out on my family.  My kids could have remembered me only by pictures of who I used to be.   I could have abandoned my children.  I could have even continued to do my best to fake it as their masculine father, but I honestly don't know how healthy an environment my kids would have lived in.  According to some, I should never have had children, or have married my wife for that matter.  In their eyes, I should have spared her the pain and given her the opportunity to love someone who could be that Knight in Shining Armor and meet her every physical, emotional, and sexual need.  There's no doubt I made a shitload of mistakes along the way.   I fight back guilt every day because of my "choices."  But my perception of the world has changed.  My "life at the next level" is beyond anything I've ever experienced before.  My desire to nurture and give my kids the best life possible is one of my top priorities.

There will be pain to come.  I have to give every member of my family that place to vent, to weep, to mourn, and to evolve.  Yes, it's my fault, if you want to put it like that.  I accept that responsibility and wish to God I could have minimized the pain.   I'm going to have to face the barrage of heteronormative ideals shoved into my kids faces as they attempt to figure out that the relationship with and between their Maddie and Mommie is just as special, if not more special, than any other.    I have a responsibility to impress upon my children that they are valuable, precious, and special to me, despite the pain my transition caused them.

The last thing I want is for them to "remember everyone that leaves."  I'm different and that's painful, but Maddie, Dad, or whatever they need to call me to cope, is still here...for them.

It's Easier Being Out Than In

If you're like me you're someone who really appreciates getting R and R on the weekend. After the mostly positive events that happened to me this week, I'm definitely hoping I can recuperate. I thought I'd post just a few notes of interest:

1. Since overcoming my largest two hurdles of late by coming out to two V.I.P.'s in my life, it seems like every corner I turn an opportunity springs forth allowing me to share my story with more people. In all, this week I've spoken with eight people I work with or am acquainted with about me. And after speaking to each one, the ease with which I opened up to them seemed to increase.

They say it's so much easier being out than in. I'm finally beginning to experience and believe that. After fearing the potentially negative consequences that so many others have experienced, I'm counting blessings each and every day.

2. I began communicating with an old friend from a church I used to attend. She is a remarkable woman who has managed to raise her children and stay married through the most difficult odds. I have watched her toil through many obstacles in her life while always remaining compassionate and caring, and desiring to follow God as best as she knows.

In addition to explaining that "for me, this is much more than just wanting to 'dress like a lady,'" this recent discussion has opened the door for us to discuss how our lack of understanding causes us to react in a not-so-Christlike fashion. I have a lot more to share here later, but long ago I found out she had a brother-in-law who came out to her as trans. He reached out to her because he believed she could help others understand who she was and possibly even help her transition. This brother-in-law's life came to a tragically short end when she died from an illness, sadly going to the grave without ever realizing the fruition of her self awareness and authenticity. I'll share more on this because there is much to learn about our fear and intolerance of that which we don't really understand, influencing even generally the most loving people to withdraw their compassion on someone in need.

Despite my hope for rest and relaxation this weekend, I'm not so sure I'll be getting it. I had hoped to visit a friend who will be in Phoenix this weekend, but other obligations will keep me from that. At the very minimum I'm looking forward to spending a Sunday afternoon with several new friends I've gained recently. I've mentioned them here before, and they are even more incredible than when I first met them.

It has always been my hope that my blogging about the ups and downs of this rollercoaster life has helped someone in some way. For me, I have the opinion that if I can somehow help even one person in something I write, that's all the reward I need. Since stepping foot on Transition Road, the number of friends I've gained and the support I've received is truly a treasure chest of precious jewels and pearls to me.

Remember that. You are precious.