What, Me, Optimist?

Tonight I had the chance to talk over the phone with a friend I've not connected with in quite some time.  We were discussing some a few questions she had over a little project I've started.  During the course of our conversation, the issue of self-worth came up, and I again admitted something that few people know about me:

I struggle with feeling defeated in many things in life.  And my sense of self-worth isn't nearly where it should be.

Talking through it with her brought up some possible reasons for it, one being the way I was taught by the churches I attended that people like me are hell-bound, and I could never be a woman because...well, "God doesn't make mistakes." (Never mind the fact that I didn't believe I "could be," but always knew I was a woman.)

Over time I know I've been able to plow through those unintelligible justifications for condemning me and people like me.  Many of you know my struggles with my faith and how I overcame the condemnation with my own soul (and Scripture) searching, and eventually arriving at the conclusion that God loves me, just as I am.

But now I find myself beginning a new thing, and my fears and lack of self-confidence are once again knocking at my door, and all it takes is a shred of the toxic bullshit out there in this blogosphere battlezone to close me up.

During the phone conversation, I was surprised to hear my friend tell me how she always loved to read my blog; that through all the mess that was my life, I somehow always managed to shine a light of resilient optimism into each story and confession.   So for the rest of the evening I thought back to some of my own writings from those troubling times, and I discovered that I always managed to hold on to some thing, one thing, or anything that would give me hope.  I held on, as the song goes, for one more day.  And surprisingly, it worked.

I guess I'm surprised to be seen as an optimist.  My own continued struggles with self-confidence and fear of failure often attempts to repress my timid spirit.  But in looking back at where I've come from, I don't think I would have been able to make it had it not been for finding some reason during the day to be optimistic, and I'm grateful optimism came in many shapes and colors.

Optimism = Hope.

And hope is what I'm trying to impart from my life to those I care about.  Perhaps I'll never stop struggling with those little voices mocking me and calling me a failure.  But I'll prove them wrong in the end.  Just you wait.



Thanks for lifting my spirit today, Tegan.  

When Is the Right Time to Transition?

Self portrait late 2007

I sometimes have difficulty understanding the way trans people identify with the period of time they transitioned.  I've heard words like "late transitioners" most often used to describe those in their 50's and up along with the term "early transitioners" used to describe children and teenagers who were allowed to transition at a young age with the help of their parents or once they moved out on their own.  But I don't identify with either of those.  I guess I'm a "middle transitioner," and quite frankly for me, I couldn't wait any longer.

When I was in college in the early 1990's, I finally discovered that transsexualism was becoming better understood, and I sought after every book at the massive university library I could to learn more.  Seeing graphic illustrations of SRS (or GCS, or whatever we're calling it nowadays) looked excruciatingly painful, but that didn't stop me from smiling, knowing that change was possible, and wishing I could somehow make that happen in my own life.  I'd spend years afterward wrestling with my faith over this, all the while working towards building a career and family.  But years of sweeping under the carpet the longing to be whole eventually took its toll on me, and depression along with the dysphoria became more unbearable than ever.  I just wanted to be treated for this, I just wanted to get better.

Necklace given to me by a dear friend who shared its meaning in THIS post:  

While in my early to mid 30's, I felt the ability to reach the goal of authenticity slipping through my fingers.  Looking at myself in the mirror, testosterone continued to alter my body in ways I loathed.  My mind and body were heading in opposite directions.  Eventually, with the help of the one I love, I sought help because I couldn't bear the idea of living the rest of my life in this incongruent body and mind.  For me, being a "late transitioner" was out of the question.  For me, it was then or never.  So I transitioned in my 30's, and though I have few regrets in some of the wrong choices I made, I don't regret getting the help I needed and moving forward...falling forward.  Most of my close friends believe that it was the right choice for me.  I'd have to agree with that.  It got better.  I got better.

So back to the question I posed in the title of this post: when is the right time to transition?  The bottom line is that no one can ever tell you to transition.  For many, financial issues are almost always at the forefront of any decision to transition.  Most health insurance companies do not cover any procedures related to "sex transformations," at least that's what my provider calls it.  Yet the American Medical Association along with other organizations believe that transsexuality is a medical condition that should be covered.  Trans people in England and Canada have access to medical treatment, but we've got a long way to go before we see that available in the states.

Self portrait - late 2007

And as for those who can afford transition, it's certainly not inexpensive.  And if you are able to finance your way through transition, when is the right time to do so?  Should you not transition because you're married?  Should you stay in the relationship that you got into before you transitioned (and does he or she even know)?  What about the kids?  And what about the fear of being discriminated against and terminated at work?  These are some really tough questions that only you can answer.  One of the best things that was helpful to me was finding a really understanding therapist who specialized in gender and sex issues.  Some of my friends who transitioned felt very little value in counseling and were able to transition successfully without any outside help.

There's clearly no right way to transition just because everyone has unique hurdles to overcome.  I transitioned in my 30's because, at that point in my life, I had to.  Regretting that I didn't transition sooner only erases the value in the experiences I received through those years, in the people I met, and in the family I have have and love today.  I used to wish that I'd just been born in the right body of a girl.  But in doing so I was denying the beauty of the process of becoming me, the woman I am today.  As in the words of a song from the Broadway musical RENT, "There's only now, there's only this, forget regret, or life is yours to miss."

Have you transitioned?  If so, when was the right time for you?

Are you thinking of transitioning?  When is the right time for you?

Do you wish and feel like you HAVE to transition but are paralyzed in fear that you won't make it?  What are those fears keeping you from getting help?

If you're none of the above but you have insight on this, what are you thoughts on the matter?

Building Bridges and Finding Common Ground Through Adversity and Hope

Blogging can sometimes be a really hard thing to do.  Especially when the Days of Our Lives-like drama has for the most part greatly subsided.   And I know that I'm getting older because the bits and pieces of blog ideas I get throughout the day can often disappear as quickly as the idea came on.  Musicians would know the precise feeling... you start playing a catchy tune, even sing an entire verse off the top of your head, but unless you write it down immediately, it's lost to the wind when you later try to recreate the magic.  (I'll talk about nifty tool called Evernote in a bit...)

And sometimes you have a moment that is so unforgettable that you write it down for fear of some day losing that memory... like a conversation I had with a friend over breakfast this morning.

Because Susan was a direct witness of my transition, she had a few questions about the process and how I was coping.  After I updated her on life since that gloriously legal day, the conversation quickly transitioned into the adversity of, well...transition.   Susan openly shared of her personal strife in gaining a level of understanding for me and my situation primarily by putting herself in my shoes and imagining how difficult it must have been to do what I did.  She was able to put aside her initial perceptions by finding within herself a place for sympathy or empathy for me. 

It's not an easy thing to do.  Not by anyone.  I know I still have trouble pausing to reflect on what might be someone just having a bad day.  Haven't we all jumped head first to cast a stone or two in our lives?  So, so wrong, and we realize it too late after we've already struck out with ferocious judgmental words that hurt.

What Susan saw in me made my eyes water as we sat at the table.   She defined the process of my transition by the amount of courage she knew was needed to stand up to be my true self.   I was immediately thankful that she shared so bluntly with me, a trait she admits is sometimes not always a positive.   I acknowledged that there were some emotionally intense days and nights of bitter weeping involved, particularly concerning the relationship between my wife and I.    But there was a reason and a hope that brought me through those cloudy days.  Friends, family, and my faith all worked sometimes incohesively to hold me up when I could no longer stand.

In the course of the conversation, I was able to describe how one of the best tools I used to create bridges of understanding was that of learning to be understanding and to take an interest in the lives of others too.   I never wanted to be the woman who made this all about myself and to-hell-with-what-everyone-else thinks-or-feels.   I tried to seek opportunities to find out what hellishly traumatic experiences they endured, and what I found was that we all share a commonality in experiencing, enduring, and overcoming the pain and sadness of life's many storms.  I've shared this before but I feel the need to write about it again because it's becoming a foundation of truth to me.

At that point in the conversation, I had the opportunity to learn more about the trials she's faced.  I felt honored to hear Susan open up about a period of painful years that had the potential to unravel her family's bond.   I asked if she felt completely lost and helpless during those moments of fear.  Susan answered honestly that when everything swirling around her pressed her to give in, she felt a peace within her heart speaking that everything was going to be alright.  She knew she couldn't give in or let go.  She could make it through the vortex if she held on, and when all was said and done she came through it intact with an even greater blessing for her family.   Overcoming the adversity brought her closer to her children and to her faith.  And she grew as a person.

I hope to have more conversations with Susan.  I can already tell that she has a treasure trove of wisdom just waiting to be shared.  I hope she will share more of those precious memories with me someday.  I am more than willing to learn vicariously through others.

By the way, if you are like me and have trouble retaining important thoughts without the use of a notebook or planner, consider Evernote.   It is a FREE cloud-based program developed to help you take notes via text, photos, videos, or any other digital clipping, and you can access it where ever you go.   I downloaded the application for Blackberry, my Macbook Pro, and installed the Firefox add-on.  It's helped me piece together several of my thoughts for my last several posts, and I have to admit I was skeptical at first but have come to love Evernote (Get it HERE).

Thank God for little gizmos that help me remember.  And thank God for friends.