Freedom and Acceptance, a Rant

"We are a family that should stand together as one,
Helping each other instead of just wasting time;
Now is the moment to reach out to someone, it's all up to you,
When everyone's sharing their hope, then love will win through;
Everybody's free to feel good,
Everybody's free to feel good." 

-- Rozalla, Everybody's Free

Forgive my need to rant. I just found out that a trans acquaintance committed suicide over the weekend. =(

Sadly, this kind of thing is not uncommon. I hear about murders and suicides of trans people all the time, and it horrifies me. Though I didn't know them well, the fact that I knew them at all makes it hit home that much harder. I hope they're at peace.

I won't pretend to speak for this person, and there may have been any number of difficult things going on in their life which caused this. But I do know that all-too-often the fear and pain of rejection is what drives many of our community members to take their own lives. Nobody deserves to feel so out of place in this world that they're forced to leave it.

As a very open trans person, I often come out to new people during the first few times I meet them (so long as I feel relatively safe). I do this mainly because I'm a control freak. If I tell everyone, I'm not left to wonder "who knows?", and it's that much more difficult to use the information against me.

In these situations, I nearly always hear "Oh wow, I would have never guessed!" or "When I met you, I couldn't tell at all." These sayings are a well-known cliche among the trans community, and they're sometimes even considered rude or insulting. After all, what makes anyone feel that they should be able to tell? And is being able to tell somehow bad?

Personally, I usually take it as a compliment and try to smile, mainly because the people saying these things probably have good intentions, and probably aren't thinking about the deeper implications. But I also smile because these phrases are a guilty pleasure for me. Passing does provide privilege, and I am constantly aware of it. When I walk down the street, or in to a public establishment, or meet new people without strange looks or harassment. Much as I hate it, the words "I never knew" say to me, "Nobody knows. You are safe."

But passing as one gender or the other should not be an indicator of acceptance. Further, passing should not be a measure of personal safety and freedom.

Many people put off expressing their true selves for years, decades, or even their entire life, because they are afraid. Afraid of the reaction, of how they'll be treated. Before I even came out to Erin, I weighed the very heavy possibilities. Is it worth the risk of rejection to be myself? Is it worth losing any number of my friends and family, my job, or even Erin? Is it worth becoming one of the worst treated minorities in the country? We hope for the best, but we must plan for the worst. With being true to myself on one side of the scale, and possible social rejection in every form on the other, it was the most difficult decision I've ever made.

Acceptance changes lives, and I feel so extremely fortunate, grateful (and sometimes guilty), that I am as loved and accepted as I am by so many people. Scary as it has been, being appreciated as myself has kept me from thinking about suicide for a very long time. Whenever I feel strong enough, I try to use this acceptance as a platform to show others that we exist, and that we only want what everyone else wants.

Still, I am usually more open about being a lesbian than I am about being trans. Though both identities leave Erin and me prone to all sorts of discrimination, the public's treatment and understanding of trans people is still leagues behind. =/

I'm ever so thankful to live in a country that lets me choose what to do with my own body, and in a time when the world is slowly coming around. But freedom isn't just about the law, who gets to serve in the military, who gets to marry, and who is theoretically protected from discrimination (though these are very important steps along the path). It's also about the personal freedom to be ourselves; to express our thoughts, feelings, and personalities the way we'd like without fear of retribution; to love and be loved; to not be shunned or hated for simply living the only way we know how.

We've come a long way, and it's an exciting time to be alive, but we still have a long way to go. And none of us will ever be truly free until we all are.

On Electrolysis and Saving Money

"Money, get away;
Get a good job with more pay and you're okay;
Money, it's a gas;
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash."
-- Pink Floyd, Money

I had my third hour-long electrolysis session yesterday, and started genital electrolysis in prep for surgery.

The bits of remaining facial hair are being cleared faster and faster. The first session took about an hour, the second took 40 minutes, and this latest only took half an hour. Each time, everything that's visible is cleared, but since hair grows in stages, the dormant hairs have to be cleared in successive sessions. Still, it should take less and less time from here. After zapping my face, we used the remaining half-hour to do a test patch down below.

I was terrified. The pain worried me a little, but mostly I was nervous about the idea of it. I don't hate my body, but I'm not exactly comfortable with it, either. Fortunately, my electrologist has experience with doing genital electrolysis for trans women, which does help ease my mind a bit.

She gave me a fluffy skirt wrap with snaps on it, asked me to wrap it around my waist, then left the room. I followed her instructions, and she came back a few minutes later. She worked like a masseuse, using a towel and the skirt to cover everything except the spot she was working on. For some reason it seems easier to handle a little square patch being exposed. My anxiety went away pretty quickly, but starting the surgery-prep electrolysis also caused the reality of surgery to settle in a bit. After all, this is the first concrete step I've taken in getting ready for SRS.

For the pain, I've been taking ibuprofen before each session. It only dampens the stinging of each zap a little, but I think it keeps the pain from building up as my skin gets more and more tender, and that helps a lot. I'll probably look in to getting some EMLA, which is a topical numbing cream, though I'd need a prescription from my physician to get it.

The pain from the genital electrolysis was... different, and difficult to explain, but the patch she did was not nearly as painful or annoying as when she does my upper lip. Being able to talk and distract myself while she works makes it much easier on me as well; I have a hard time sitting still and quiet for very long. Unfortunately, pain-wise, the worst is probably yet to come.

Hopefully, it will only take around 10-20 hours to clear what I need for surgery. Most surgeons (including mine) do a follicle scraping of the skin graft between removing it and replacing it, but they can't get everything, so most also recommend clearing certain areas of hair before surgery. Personally, I'd rather be safe than sorry, since it can't really be cleared after surgery.

I've also been thinking more and more about cost recently. My electrologist charges $50 per hour, which is pretty average. I looked up how long it takes most trans women to completely clear their face of hair with electrolysis alone, and most sources say it takes about 200-300 hours (though some people manage it in 100, and some have taken 700+ hours). If we go with the low average and say 200 hours, that's around $10,000 on electrolysis.

I spent about $1,300 on laser. Even if clearing the remaining facial hairs with electrolysis takes 10 hours, I will have saved $8,000. Not to mention the 180 hours I got to spend doing anything other than enduring the pain of electrolysis. Even if it had only cleared 1/6th of my facial hair, I would've come out ahead.

There is a lot of heated (no pun intended) debate over the effectiveness of laser, and I know that it's not for everyone, and that it doesn't work well on every skin/hair-type. But for those who are good candidates, and who can find a good price, I think it's worth trying. Of course, take my advice with a grain of salt, as I think you should with any advice about hair removal. =)

Speaking of saving money, my surgery fund is coming along!

I crashed my car a couple of months ago, and the insurance company called it totaled and gave me a check. Since then, I've been carpooling with Erin, and I've been considering saving that money for surgery, but I don't think that's really feasible. I've made Erin late for work a few times, and her work is not very lenient with tardiness, not to mention the fact that her schedule may change at any time. The tension over sharing a ride is only mild right now, but another year of this would probably be a different story.

We've been expecting a tax return of a couple-thousand dollars for a few months now. I filed (our first joint return! =D ) back in February, but after a few weeks of not hearing anything, I got worried and called the IRS. The rep I spoke to said that due to my name change, there was a delay, and that we'd get a notice by mail if we needed to provide more information. Since then, I've been nervous about being audited, or that they'd reject it because we're both legally female, but I just checked my bank account and there was a deposit from the US Treasury. W00t!

Including the tax return, but not the insurance money, we have about $18,000 saved, with between six and nine months (six is if there's a cancellation in November) to bring that up to $22,000. Thinking of other things that money could go to is a little depressing, but it will be worth it, and I'm excited to think that we may actually be able to save up the money in time. =D

New Doc, New Meds, New Prescription Madness

"You kn-kn-know what I want!
Gimme more. Gimme more.
Pretty please, a prescription!"
-- Mindless Self Indulgence, Prescription

I usually avoid talking very specifically about my body, but this is pretty limiting in a transition blog. Physical changes are a huge part of my transition, and if any place should be safe to talk about them, it should be here... I just worry that I'll make other people uncomfortable. Since I've really got to stop worrying so much about other people, I'm just gonna give you a heads up: I will talk about my boobs. There, I've said it. Whether you know me or not, if you think you might be uncomfortable with me talking about anatomy, nobody will blame you for ducking out. =P

As usual, I've waited far too long to talk about what's going on in my life, and I've got quite a backlog, so let's catch up on hormones. =)

My first endocrinologist sucked, so about four months ago, a month before my hormone prescription ran out, I decided to look for a new doc. I had three goals in mind: find someone who cares, is in my insurance, and prescribes *progesterone. I got a big list of endos and ratings of said endos from various trans friends, then narrowed it down by insurance, and started making calls. The only one within my plan that was taking new patients however, was only accepting referrals from a primary care physician. The good news was that there was a PCP in the same office that works closely with the endo. The bad news? The physician was booked about a month out, and the endo three months. =/

*(Progesterone is a primarily female hormone often prescribed as part of both post-menopausal and transsexual hormone replacement, but many docs are afraid of it, because some synthetics have been known for nasty side-effects, and its full effects on development aren't well known. Progesterone is key in breast development, among other things, but there is still a lot of disagreement as to how much is gained, and which meds, if any, benefit trans-women the most. Part of the problem is that most of the data comes from post-menopausal women, and broad testing with trans-women is virtually non-existent.)

Since I wouldn't see the new endo for a while, I called my old doc to ask for an extension on my prescription, and she told me that she would grant it, but never followed up. Fortunately, my appointment with the new PCP was just a few days after my prescription expired.

The new physician was awesome! She listened, she answered, she genuinely cared. I know, weird, right? She even chatted with me excitedly about my (then) upcoming wedding, and gave me a three month extension to last until I could see the endo. About a month later, when I went through my legal name/gender change, she was also nice enough to write up a letter of recommendation for me to present to the judge.

When I finally saw my new endocrinologist, she was just as cool. She was extremely enthusiastic in getting to know me and explaining things to me in detail. Before I could even bring up the progesterone, she asked, "How's your breast growth?" I explained that I'd had some growth spurts in the beginning, but nothing much since then, and she immediately followed up with "We should get you on progesterone!" =D

Of course, there's always a hitch. To save myself from having to go in at different times for different prescriptions, I waited for my other two to run out before filling the progesterone. When I did, the pharmacy informed me that I could now get three months of the spironolactone and estradiol, but that my insurance would only let me get one month to start on the progesterone. That seemed reasonable, but when I got home, I realized that they only gave me half my normal dose of spiro. It turned out that the new endo had accidentally prescribed it wrong. =/

Unlike with my old endo though, I was actually able to get a hold of one of the new doctor's staff, and they immediately sent a correction. The pharmacy then told me that I should just take the spiro at the correct dosage, and that they'd get it corrected at the 45-day marker when my supply is gone.

Last night, I called in a refill on the progesterone, but when I picked it up, they said they only had enough for 5 days, and that they'll call me in the next few days when the rest is available. I also asked them about the spiro, and they told me that they'll probably just refill for three more months when I run out.

So now, even though I'm getting meds for three months at a time, I had to go in yesterday for the progesterone, I'll have to go back in a few days for more progesterone, then back in two weeks for the spiro, again 45 days later for the estradiol, and repeat. Despite my efforts, my three prescriptions will never be on the same schedule again. *sigh*

Anywho, I've now been on progesterone for one month, and I've definitely noticed a few effects. Like with my first hormone post, I'll just present the evidence, and let you decide what's unrelated/psychosomatic and what's not. =P

• My breasts have been tender and itchy almost constantly for the last month, which indicates growth to me. This is basically what it felt like off-and-on when I first started hormones. Their shape has also rounded out a bit, and they look more natural.
• I've noticed some skin changes, and the weirdest thing, the tattoo on my back sometimes "raises", and I can feel bumps where the lines are; when this happens, it's also itchy.
• My skin is a little more oily, and I've gotten a few more zits than usual.
• My anxiety is back, which is odd, because progesterone is supposed to be calming. Of course, this could easily be due to a lot of other things going on, too. =P

I really haven't experienced any extreme side effects so far; the acne is a little annoying, but hopefully that will fade after a few months, as it did when I first started on hormones. Otherwise, med-related things are going pretty hunky-dory, and still far better than when I had to deal with my old endo. =)

Voice Classes

"Cause sometimes,
I said sometimes, I hear my voice

And it's been here,

Silent all these years."

 -- Tori Amos, Silent All These Years

Egads! Has it really been a month since I've posted? And did I really just type "Egads!"? Bleh. I guess I should talk about the voice classes I recently finished while it's still semi-fresh in my mind, as much as it annoys me.

When I was still early in transition, voice classes were one of the things "on the list" that I definitely wanted to do, since hormones don't change the voice for male-to-female transpeople. Back then, I researched it the way I research everything: with the interwebs, but I couldn't find any. I know there are at least a few local speech/voice therapist/coaches, but I don't know if any of them work specifically with trans people. At the time, I was still afraid to tell even complete strangers that I was trans, which stopped me from ever calling and asking.

After a while, I put off the idea in favor of other things, and just practiced here and there on my own. I also did a lot of research; I read and watched how-tos, I learned about speech-patterns, pitch, resonance, vocal chords, and so on. I have a lot of the technical knowledge, but even with all that, it can be difficult to put it to use without someone to tell me if I'm doing it correctly.

A few months ago, I got an email on the Pride Center mailing list which said that a licensed speech therapist would be doing voice classes specifically for MtF trans people in March/April/May. I excitedly emailed the teacher to find out more about it, and she quickly replied to tell me that the class was $70 per person, and that we would work on expanding vocal range, flexibility, expression, pitch, resonance, intonation, "feminine" language choices, non-verbal communication, etc., via modified Fitzmaurice voicework, which is apparently something originally designed for actors. It sounded perfect, so I mailed a check.

A few days later, she emailed me to let me know that she received the check, when and where the first class was, and to bring workout clothes, a yoga mat, and water. Wait, what? Eh, apparently she incorporates yoga techniques... I wish I'd been informed of that earlier, but oh well, I decided to go anyway.

The class was only eight people, and I already knew a couple of them from elsewhere, which was nice. The first class ended up being mostly strange yoga-type positions, trying to find a "tremor", which was supposed to "shake up the voice". It was odd, but I figured that it was groundwork, and that I couldn't really judge its effectiveness until after the rest of the technique was revealed.

A few weeks/classes later, and we were still doing the same thing. What's worse, she never definitively tied these exercises in with the voice. Sometimes she would go back to vaguely explaining something about loosening up the voice, or show us a picture of the various tendons in the human body that run between the feet and the throat, still without giving us a definitive tie-in.

Eventually we moved in to learning about the muscles that control breathing, and how to be aware of them, which at least felt a little more relevant. It wasn't until around class 5 that we started learning some exercises for expanding vocal range, and experimenting with tone and such, yet we were still spending around 2/3 of each class doing stretches. By the end of class 6, I wasn't sure if I wanted to come back, though I kept reasoning that perhaps I'd learn something big in the last couple of classes that would make it all worthwhile. From class 7 on, we finally stopped doing any of the yoga stuff, and it suddenly felt like she was struggling to catch up.

To make things worse, there were supposed to be 10 classes, but she wasn't sure if we would have the venue for the final class or not. We were supposed to find out at class 9, but I forgot to go that day, and realized afterward that I didn't feel badly about it, so I didn't bother finding out about the last week.

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh... I'm only semi-pissed about the money, as it's a lesson learned, but I feel like it was the time I spent there that was the big loss. Oh well, some would say I have too much time on my hands already. ;) I hope the other people in the class felt better than I did about it. A few people had to rearrange their schedules and even bus to get there each week.

I think I've gotten my voice to a fairly androgynous place through my own practice. My current voice is usually enough to be passable in person, but my main concern is on the phone and online video games, where my voice has to represent me without the visual reinforcing. In games is the only place that I don't tell everyone about my past, mostly because I don't feel like constantly explaining, and because people online can be extremely cruel.

A friend recently asked if I'm afraid that I'll sound fake. I do worry about that (to be fair I worry about everything), but I know that practice will help make it sound less fake, and people can just deal with it in the mean time. I do get a lot of compliments on my voice, so I must be doing something right. Erin also says that it "freaks her out" when I accidentally switch to my old boy voice. I guess it's just going to take time. At least now that I'm fully socially transitioned, I practice every day, whether I like it or not. ;)

Work Transition: My Birthday Present to Me

"So if you think it's scary, if it's more than you can take,
Just blow out the candles, and have a piece of cake!
Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday to you!"
 -- Weird Al Yankovic, Happy Birthday

Disclaimer: 
All opinions posted here are my own, and not necessarily representative of the company I work for

On Monday I transitioned at work. A few people have asked me what that means, and each time, I suddenly remember that this isn't all self-explanatory. Outside of work, I've been dressing how I like and going by my new name and female pronouns for a few months now. At work, however, none of these changes had happened yet.

I came out to all my coworkers in November, but so far, I had decided that I wasn't quite comfortable enough with the new me to make the transition leap at work. I continued wearing a sports bra, baggy t-shirts, androgynous earrings, no makeup, and talking in my old voice. About a month ago I decided I was finally ready, and that pretending to be male was getting a little bit too awkward.

I informed my supervisor and started meeting with HR and management to plan it all. We created different communication plans for my local teammates (one meeting a few days beforehand to prepare them), the local center (a top-down communication to all leadership, so they can be prepared if any rumors or concerns surface), and the various other teams and people I work with globally (basic communication from their leadership). We planned for a new name tag, badge, preferred name in the system, etc. When it came to the bathroom issue, I told them that I was worried about it because I know it can be a very sensitive issue for a lot of people, but they reassured me that it was no problem and that I would probably just use the women's.

A couple of weeks before transition, the HR rep met with me and told me she would be meeting with legal the next day to review the plan. She wanted to get a clear idea of my thoughts on the bathroom issue so she could represent them properly while discussing it with the powers that be, so she asked, "What if, for some legal reason, they say you have to use the men's room?"

Anxiety set in. After a pause I choked out, "I guess... I wouldn't transition at work."

"Then how would you continue your whole process?"
The tears started, "I guess... I would have to leave the company."
"Wouldn't you have to face this kind of thing at any company you work for?"
"...Yep."

We talked some more and she reassured me that she just wanted to clarify my feelings-- that nothing had actually been decided yet. I tried desperately to calm myself down. I felt pretty stupid, but she was really sweet about it, and asked me to come talk to her first thing the next day since she was meeting with them earlier in the morning.

Thankfully, the next day, she told me that the meeting had gone well and that I would be using the women's restroom. They decided that there would be more questions/complaints/awkwardness if I were using the men's room, than if I were using the women's. Yeah, I could've told you that. =P

Day 1 (Monday)
On Monday, April 5th, I went in to the office as myself for the first time. I met up with the HR rep, who sat me in a meeting room to give me time to breathe and make sure I was ok. I think I was shaking. When I was ready, we went to the security office and got a new badge printed out, complete with new name and picture.

When I got to my desk everyone was very natural and easygoing about it, which helped a lot. One of my awesome female coworkers gave me a necklace, because "Every woman needs a black necklace that can go with anything."  So. Sweet. =3

There were a few slip-ups with the name, but I never got a chance to correct anyone before they did it themselves. I was still terrified of the bathrooms and avoided going for most of the day. At around 5 hours into my shift, I finally decided that it wasn't worth a bladder infection and convinced myself that I'd have to get over my fear eventually. I decided to use the upstairs bathrooms, to hopefully avoid seeing anyone I know. I actually didn't end up seeing anyone at all. On the way out I decided that I looked pretty good, and that I should've gone a long time ago just to see myself and boost my confidence.

Day 2 (Tuesday)
On Tuesday, the internal systems finally updated with my "preferred name" and new picture, so that people can look me up or email me using Vivi. Partway into the day my boss's boss called a random meeting and brought in Birthday cake for me and my supe, whose birthday was on the 4th.

"Happy Birthday Michelle and D  Vivi"

LOL

I was worried about my voice for most of the day, so I kept talking really quietly, and trying not to cough. The bathrooms got easier to use, especially since there was never anyone else in the ones upstairs.

Day 3 (Wednesday)
We had a team meeting early Wednesday morning, which I decided to call in to from the comfort of my pajamas. The whole meeting, I kept thinking about how much I hate my voice, and how the more afraid I am, the worse it sounds. On the drive in to work, I used my phone to repeatedly record and playback my voice, to reassure myself that I don't sound that stupid. Shortly after getting in, a co-worker randomly told me that my voice sounded good, and that he didn't recognize me on the call at first, which made me feel a lot better.

A few of the women on my team sometimes take breaks together to go on walks or over to the gym, and they invited me. A social activity and forcing myself to work out? Sweet!

I used the bathroom a couple of times without too much anxiety, but I know I'll tense up the moment I finally see someone. Everything else is already starting to settle back into normalcy. My boss's boss commented on how it was as if everything had changed, and yet nothing was different. I couldn't agree more.

In other news, today is my birthday! After 28 years, I'm finally free to be myself. Oh well, better late than never I suppose. =)

Telling Erin's Family

"Breathe, keep breathing,
Don't lose, your nerve.

Breathe, keep breathing,

I can't do this, alone."

 -- Radiohead, Exit Music (For a Film)

*sigh*

I've been meaning to write for quite a while, as usual. For the same reasons that I really want to write, it's also been hard to find the time.

Between coming out to Erin's dad two weeks ago, planning our wedding, voice classes, planning work transition, and hanging out with old and new friends and family more in the past three months than in the whole previous year, sometimes I'm surprised I find time to breathe. It's good, but it's scary; I'm not used to my life being like this, and I always feel like I'm forgetting something really obvious.

I like to be aware of things. As long as I'm aware of everything, especially my own faults, then I can correct them or decide not to feel stupid about them ahead of time. The current pressure makes me worry that I'm losing awareness of details, like I could have something horrible on my face all day, and not notice. *sigh* C'est la vie.

Where was I? Oh yeah-- Erin's dad and stepmom took the news really well! Erin really loves her dad, so I think keeping this secret has been hard on her. That she loves him is also exactly why we were afraid to tell him. I was so scared that he was going to take it badly, and that I would blame myself.

We went to visit them with the intent to get it over with. When we got there, we skirted around it for a while, trying to find the right situation, which never comes. Suddenly, they started searching around the internets, and saying they wanted to see our FaceySpace profiles.

Me: *sinking feeling, tugging on Erin's arm* "Say something!"
Erin: "So... we came here to tell you something... [my old name] is transgender."
Dad-in-Law: "Ok, so? Why does that matter?"
Me: "It doesn't really matter, but it was still important that we tell you."
Dad-in-Law: "That makes sense... Listen, I may not agree with it, but as long as Erin's ok with it, it's fine."

The "I may not agree with it" caveat is always weird, but that's for another time. With the way they were going after our FB profiles, I'm pretty sure they knew ahead of time. I find that parents are often more clever than their children give them credit for.

They asked a few questions about it, which is always a good sign of acceptance. With the air cleared, we decided to stay and play a few rounds of Rummikub. Erin slipped back into calling me "she," and by mid-game, her dad picked up on it and started using female pronouns as well. At one point, Erin left the table to use the restroom, and he told me "You know, you can call me Dad." =3

I'm surprised I didn't write about it before, but the rest of Erin's family has been similarly accepting. Her brother was one of the first people we told, and he was actually excited for me. We told her sister last summer, and her mom, stepdad, and other brother in December. The last three even took us out to dinner to celebrate our engagement.

I thought people were supposed to hate their in-laws? If this is a dream, please, don't pinch me.

Engaged!

"But there never seems to be enough time,
To do the things you want to do,
Once you find them.
I've looked around enough to know,
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with."
-- Jim Croce, Time in a Bottle

Today, Erin and I are officially engaged.

I haven't talked much about Erin here in the past, mostly because I didn't feel comfortable putting her on the spot. That sort of thinking is honestly silly, since she agreed without hesitation to stay with me through transition, and has never been ashamed of me. I just tend to feel like she doesn't know what she's gotten herself into, like I have to protect her from the prejudices of the real world, and sometimes I forget that all too often she's the one protecting me.

Four years ago, I saw Erin's profile on MySpace, and was attracted by three things: her gorgeous picture, her nerdiness, and the word "androgyny." I told our mutual friend that I thought Erin was cute, we began talking, and the rest is history.

I won't lie and say that we haven't fought from time to time, or that our relationship has never been rocky, but I believe one major thing has held it together: trust. I have never in my life felt as though I could trust another human as much as I trust her. She has integrity, of a type that I never thought I would find.

Erin was the first person I came out to, about 14 months ago, and though it was hard for her to accept at first, she has always supported me. We've talked about marriage many times over the last few years, but I have a major fear of permanence, and knew that we didn't communicate as well as we should. Over the last year, we've been forced to work together and support eachother in entirely new ways; out of necessity, our communication skills have grown, and we have become closer than ever.

With our relationship becoming stronger every day, I realized that the only excuse I had left was my fear. If there is one thing that my transition has taught me, it's that the things I'm most afraid of can also be the most worthwhile, as long as I'm willing to give them all the effort and energy they deserve.

This realization, along with the fact that we won't be able to legally marry after I change my legal gender, placed an urgency on the subject. A few weeks ago, we again started talking about marriage, about who would propose to who, about how we should go about it. Last week, we made plans to go to the jewelry store together. Later, I found out that Erin had been preparing a romantic proposal with a Ring Pop, to be replaced at a later date, and I almost wish she would have gone through with it; I would've bawled. ;)

Last Saturday, we picked out matching solitaire diamond rings, then held our breath for the next five days, as we waited for them to be assembled. Today, the rings were finally finished, and we "made it official."

As an aside, the person that helped us at Shane Co. was great. Being a transgender woman, in a "lesbian" relationship, with a low budget, and living in Salt Lake City can be a scary combination sometimes, but he was completely professional. He listened to what we wanted, he gave us options without trying to upsell us, and he never once acted like anything was abnormal or out of place.

The rings are beautiful, simple, and effective. The glint catches my eye from time to time, and makes me smile uncontrollably. We haven't set a date for the wedding yet, but we're discussing it, and it probably won't be that far off. Thanks to everyone who has congratulated us so far, it means a lot to have the support of so many friends and family!

Most of all, thanks Erin, for loving me unconditionally, and wanting to grow old with me as badly as I want to grow old with you.

Telling Dad

"'I am not alone, I am not afraid, I am not unhappy,'
These are the words I say to myself, every day,
I am not alone, I am not afraid, I am not unhappy.
Tell me what ritual I should have today.
But I'm not alone,
I've resolved so many things, and set myself free."
-- VNV Nation, Fearless

As most know, I recently came out to my dad, and my two little sisters. I told Dad in person, instead of rewriting the letter. I could pretend this was some brave gesture, facing my fear head on, but my motives were mostly selfish; I told him directly because the reaction I was most afraid of was silence. In the end, I froze, and wasn't the one to actually say the word anyway.

I hardly see my dad, in fact this was probably the first time I'd seen him in two years, despite living just a five mile drive apart. Similar to most of my family, it's not that we don't like eachother, it's just that we aren't that close.

I'd expected to see him on Christmas day, and planned to tell him then, in the face of a few warnings not to. I wasn't about to wait any longer. Dad sometimes makes it difficult to arrange a get-together. When he didn't return my calls, I began paranoid imaginings that he was intentionally avoiding me this time, because he'd already found out; I even conceived a plan of telling him over the phone, to get it over with. When he called apologizing and explaining that his phone wasn't working, we arranged to have dinner together a couple of days later instead, when both Erin and my little sisters would be able to join us.

I knew Caitlyn and Carli (my sisters) would take it well. They're both laid back young teenagers, who make me excited to see who they'll grow up to be. When Dad left the table, I told my sisters, and the three of us began texting back-and-forth about it when he came back. After dinner, I said I had something I needed to tell him, which I followed up with stuttering noises, and quick glances between the wall and table. If I ever go skydiving, I'll definitely need someone to push me out of the plane. Eventually Caitlyn blurted it out for me, and I followed it up with some more specific explaining.

Dad seemed to take it well. He made sure to tell me that he still loves me, and even cracked a few jokes about how he was sorry that the Christmas presents he'd gotten me weren't more feminine. There was probably more going on under the surface, but for now I'm just grateful for the support. We'll worry about the rest later.

Self Deprecation: A Daily Routine

"I can't handle this but I can't handle anything else,
It's my own mistake, it's based on me and not on my groin.
It's the little things in my pants that we're all living for,
I never really knew what that thing down there was used for."
 -- Mindless Self Indulgence, Kill the Rock

I've been meaning to write again for a while. I have so many subjects swirling around in my head, but it's so much easier to procrastinate. =P Just a warning: this is a pretty long entry.

A few days ago, I came home after an average day, when suddenly a wave of pressure hit me like a ton of bricks. I remember bawling to Erin for half an hour, all the while repeatedly asking "What am I doing? I feel so crazy. I can't do this! What am I doing?"

Despite the fact that I'd woken her up, she was as sweet as ever, and stayed up to comfort me until I fell asleep sobbing. The last anxiety attack I can remember before this was at least five years ago, back when I was with Bitchface. I sort of thought I'd grown out of them. Turns out I've just had it easy for the last few years. My life honestly isn't that hard right now. I have a lot of great friends, a great job, a wonderful girlfriend, so what hit me so hard that night?

I did.

I try so hard to be strong outwardly, because I want people to be happy for me. I want people to see that this is right for me. I don't want them to see how much self-doubt I always have, or how afraid I am, but I am, and I need to stop bottling so much of that up. I'm not sure how to convey the kind of punishment I put myself through, other than to simply expose my daily thought process, so here goes.

Seeing Through the Fear

"And now I think I am alive,
And that I see reality,
But the truth behind my mind,
Is your insecurities"
   -- Dub FX, Rude

Fun fact about being trans: I wake up every morning feeling like I must be completely insane.

Maybe I should back up a bit. Stick with me if I wander, please.

I've said before that the reason I like the word "transgender," is that it allows me to continue finding a definition for myself, but this is really only part of the story. While it's true that I don't like to be confined to boxes, the main reason I like the word is that I am absolutely terrified of failure. If labeling myself as transgender has the least specific meaning, then it has the least expectations to live up to.

"Transgender" covers a lot of gender variant groups, most of which I don't identify with, and some of which I don't even understand. It includes crossdressers and transvestites, who often retain some form of identity matching their biological gender, but temporarily take on aspects of another. It includes drag kings and queens, who exaggerate gender cues for fun or entertainment value. It even includes those who like to genderf'ck, mixing cues from both genders in order to break down the social binary.

Though none of the above fit me in any major way, there are other terms that I do identify with, including "transsexual." A transsexual identifies with a different sex / gender than the one they were assigned at birth, and seeks to remedy this by taking steps to change their body to match their mind. Like most things in the trans community, the word transsexual changes its scope and definition depending on who you talk to and when.

Many people want to pin down the meaning of transsexual, and remove it from the transgender grouping, out of fear that the medical community will stop supporting us if they suddenly realize how little GID (Gender Identity Disoder) really follows any rules. Some people want to abandon the term completely, since it seems to imply that this has to do with sex, when in fact there are transmen and transwomen of every sexual orientation. More on these subjects later, I'm sure.

My therapist once asked me as a session was ending, "Would you say you're a woman?"
To which I replied "If I felt free to say anything I wanted, yes."
She told me that I could say anything to her, and I just smiled and left, knowing that's not what I meant, but not knowing how to explain it. What I'd meant was that I was afraid of how the world would look at me if I went around saying how I feel.

This journey has a lot of uncertainty, and though I knew the risks when I began it, this is, without a doubt, the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. I, who don't do anything without being sure of success, am going through this without knowing how it will turn out. I, who value personal connection and identifying with other people above almost anything else, am risking alienation. I, who have never moved to a better state, out of fear of losing contact with people, am risking burning bridges.

Yet, after waking up every morning with so much self doubt, I still know that this is what's best for me. Why? Because of the excitement I feel with every step forward, that I am finally becoming myself. Because I can see with my analytical mind, that I am not changing myself, I am correcting a wrong. Because I know, though it took me a long time to understand it, that I am female inside.

So please, though I know my body still doesn't fit the part, and it never truly will, forgive me if I call myself a girl. It may sound crazy to you, but it keeps me sane.

Control Issues

"All the people slip away,
Despite connections I have formed.
In my struggle to be human,
I feel more and more deformed."
-- System Syn, Beneath the Sand

I've escaped my shackles only to find myself in a larger cage.

I'm supposed to feel less anxious, damnit!

It's been almost a year since I put the pieces together and realized what they meant. Eight months since I told anyone else. Seven months since I started doing something about it, and since then I have done a lot.

I tell myself that these are relatively short time periods, and I am honestly very proud of myself for continuing to do what I know is right for me. I feel elated with the progress I've made, and that's exactly the problem.

Overcoming Scriptophobia

"Paranoia strikes deep,
Into your life it will creep."
-- Buffalo Springfield, For What It's Worth

I often have a difficult time writing, because I write for an audience. In the same way that I have a hard time jogging just to jog, rather than to get somewhere, I have a hard time writing without a purpose. An audience fills that purpose, even an audience of one, but being the analytical and overthinking person that I am, I constantly wonder what a person who reads this will think.

I will erase, re-write, erase, re-write, and pore over the words for hours on end. More often than not, this ends in me permanently erasing the whole work.

Another issue is that as a cynical person, I am always certain that the reader is judging me. While I have no problem being judged by someone who knows "the whole story," I am terrified of being judged based on small pieces of information, so I often tell stories backwards. As I write a paragraph, I remember a facet of another story that would put this one in a better light, or make it more easily understood, and I begin writing its prequel.

I need to write this down, so please excuse me, while I attempt to deviate and leave the words in place long enough for you to read them, or at least for me to believe you have. It's difficult, it probably won't work, but I have to try.