Popping in really quick. It’s now been two years since I started going out as myself. Two years…wow. I’ve made many friends and lost a couple too. My wife and I are still together. My daughter accepts me more every day. I have even come out to my oldest son. He said that I have to do what I have to to be happy and it is ok with him. We still have a lot more to talk about. As for my youngest, soon I think.
Wow, January was my last post. It’s been a while. Lets see since then a few things have happened. My transition has stalled, my marriage has stalled, my daughter got a job, I’ve been on hormones almost 6 months, and I left the trans community.
Oh, that last part. Well it had to do a lot with the proceeding parts. I realized I was spending a good portion of my time in trans space. Much of it in personal interactions and behind the scenes stuff. My own transition was going nowhere. I wasn’t growing into my self as a woman. Plus spending all this time on the computer or on my smartphone I was ignoring my spousal duties and my fatherly obligations. So I left. A little fanfare on my Facebook page and it was done. I was going to just repost it here but that seemed cheap. Especially to those who have followed me off and on since I started this journal.
In the time since then my daughter got a job at a lingerie/ adult costume shop. Many of her best customers are strippers, transvestities, and drag queens. It’s the trans customers that have helped my daughter understand my situation a little better. I found out later that she had met a girl at her high school that started her transition. This girl explained a number of things to my daughter that she had a hard time asking me. She is still a bit uncomfortable with me fully dressed but being a bit more femme than normal seems ok. She has even had conversation with her mother about the whole situation. All around my daughter has been very supportive. Something I honestly never thought would happen.
Recently I made time to go see my dad in Arizona. Many of my friends warned me not to go as Rachel. They thought it would be cruel to dump this on him since he is in bad health and slowly succumbing to dementia. It was these very reasons that drove me to go. I wanted him to know ME before he wasn’t able too. I almost couldn’t go into his apartment in the assisted living place he lives at. I did go in. I did explain in simple terms why I look the way I do. He got it and he accepts me as myself, his daughter.
After that amazing trip I decided to really work on my marriage and family life. We are going through some harsh financial times right now. I’m needed more at home than ever before. I still don’t know if my wife and I will be together at the end of all this but I can hope. I remember people telling me two years ago it would never work out. My wife would leave or tell me to get out. Right now she is sitting across the room checking our youngest son’s homework folder. Things may not be perfect but we live in the same house and sleep in the same bed. That must count for something.
I wish to thank those readers old and new that have found this little place I carved out for my thoughts. I don’t plan on leaving completely however I won’t be back anytime soon. I will respond to comments when I have time. I owe you all that much. Maybe if things get better I might drop in from time to time. We’ll see.
Life is calling and I must go. Huge hugs to you all and goodbye for now.
I mentioned why I had taken the picture in a previous post. A couple things had been going on at the time. For one it was casual Friday. Two the purple top actually makes it look like I have a bit more cleavage than the tiny bit I have. Three it was my wife’s birthday. Four, at the very last minute I got a call from an old friend to meet for lunch.
I was planning on taking my wife and kids to a restaurant she likes to celebrate. So, I had brought a simple lunch and didn’t bother with makeup since I wasn’t going anywhere. Then I get the call. I had told my friend about my gender issues before I started dressing at work. He had said if it made me happy it was ok with him. I was still his friend. How many times had I heard that in the past year and had those same friends disappear or worse.
I took a short break and did a quick makeup job. Something I have gotten quite good at. My friend had no idea how far I have gotten in my transition and I didn’t want to go feeling half dressed. I try very hard to avoid the man in a dress image when meeting people for the first time as the real me. I did however forewarn him that I wasn’t going to look the same as he remembered. I know how shocking it can be sometimes and I wanted to give him an out. I took the picture I posted earlier and sent it off to another friend for her opinion. She said I looked great and wished me luck. By the time I got back to my desk I was trembling. The last time I was that nervous I was meeting my aunt and uncle for the first time as Rachel.
Well I met him at our favorite fish taco place and we sat down. I knew he was a bit surprised that I looked like a woman and not like a person pretending. We got the pleasantries over with and he asked the inevitable “Are you happy?” question. I said yes. He nodded, gave me a smile and we continued on like old times. The lunch was a success. At the same time I was ma’amed and miss’ed the whole type by the staff. It felt good.
That was my gain. I gained my old friend’s acceptance. He has always been very conservative and I was pleasantly surprised at how much he cares for me and my family as I go through my transition. He is truly a special friend.
Now my loss. I have/had a friend that I met through this blog. We became very and corresponded frequently. Something quite difficult considering we have a 10 hour time difference to contend with. I’m not sure if I said or did something but we have not conversed for weeks now. I have analyzed everything and I am not sure what happened. I do blame myself, I always do. Hard habit to break. I do miss her deeply. I know she is doing fairly well do to her Facebook status.
I can never repay her for the advice and wisdom she has imparted on me. We have shared much. This woman has made me laugh and cry. She opened my eyes to a culture I found I knew very little about. I have held nothing back and she pulled no punches. I cannot count the times she pulled me back to reality from despair or foolishness.
I hope she’ll read this, maybe she won’t. I do dread a day when I get on Facebook to find I have been unfriended. This might seem kind of immature or banal. But I know how hard to take that can be. I have been trying to help another friend through this very thing. When the easiest way to keep in touch with a friend is social media to have that conduit cut can be devastating. It seems so final.
We as trans people expect loss. It’s part of the process. Sometimes that loss can be unexpected. And that makes it all the more difficult to accept. My friend has jumped so many hurdles this past year. Many with me not far behind. We both have many more to go. I send my love and gratitude out to her. Godspeed Sarah.
Trans people seem to take more pictures of themselves that any other group I know of. Most of us are not narcissists. Its because our journey is so unique and our transformation so incredible that photos are the perfect tool to document it.
I would like to point out that I have taken pictures in bathrooms. Ok, I know what that sounds like but it isn’t. Bathrooms usually have one consistent feature, mirrors. If you are not lucky enough to have a phone with a forward pointing camera, mirrors are a close substitute. And it’s not just me. I have quite a few pictures friends have taken of themselves in bathrooms. In fact it became a running joke for a while.
Pictures for us are also a source of pain or discomfort. I have talked to a number of transmen and transwomen who destroy their old photos. They want nothing that will remind them of a past they hated. I am not one of them. I have a past that I don’t want to erase. To me transition is just another part of my life. Those old pictures hold many memories. Good memories.
That guy with the short dark hair and mustache got me to this place. Without him Rachel wouldn’t exist. Through his eyes I saw the woman I fell in love with and married. He was there for the birth of my children. He was there for their first steps. Their first words. I can’t rewrite my history. Without those pictures I would lose a part of my life.
Well back to where I started this post. I have many pictures of my transition taken over the past year and a half. I refuse to post a picture from before I started this journey. I have my reasons and I won’t explain them here. Some of you have seen the picture I posted here that I took a few months into being out at work. I have decided to go back a little further to when I first attempted to present as a woman (Superbowl Sunday 2010 to be exact). Let’s just say I have come a long way baby. I am also adding a picture that I took today, in the bathroom at work of all places. The reason I took this photo will be the subject of another post. I am doing all this for a reason. There are some women who start out and they can’t stand how they look. The person in the mirror doesn’t match their image of themselves as a female. Sometimes their image is distorted or even unrealistic. Mine were. I like how I look now and even I am surprised that the woman I see is beginning to match what I feel inside.
Before:
Today:
I hate most commercials. Oh there are the few interesting or humorous ones. (Think Super Bowl ). Overall they just suck. Or they just have stuff you don’t understand til sometime later. Like feminine protection ads. Or stuff you don’t want to think about. Like sceptic tank cleaner. (ok, the ‘for her’ KY lubricant with the lesbian couple ad has some appeal nowadays).
My kids are at an age where they break down into fits of laughter at Viagra and condom commercials. Sometimes I wonder if they think adults just obsess about sex all the time. I’ll have to admit that watching commercials with oldsters giving each other that ‘let’s get it on before I end up in the ER with a 4 hour erection’ look kinda creepy.
I hate to break it to them. It most of the time I am thinking about bills and how to pay them. Or kids and how to feed and clothe them. Or, throw in a which one of them will I have to scream at to clean up after the puppy thought. Oh, I still think about sex, usually five minutes before I fall asleep and about 4 of those minutes before finding out my wife is already asleep.
But recently the worst commercials on the tv nowadays are the ones for Men’s supplements. You know the ones that claim to increase your testosterone. The magic formulas that will make you a real man again. Stronger, faster, more virile than when you were 18. I despise them. For the past year I have been actively suppressing my testosterone. I cannot stand the stuff and what it does to me. Or did to me. My wife sees those ads differently. She sees a chemical brew that can bring her husband back. She even commented once (with a sad longing tone in her voice) that she should get me some so things could go back to being the way they used to be. I look at her when she watches those commercials and can see the film of tears forming in her eyes. She won’t cry, she never does. I can tell she wants to turn and see the man she married sitting next to her. She can’t though and that almost breaks my heart. I hate commercials.
If you hadn’t figured it out, that was sarcasm. Waiting, it’s what I do a lot of lately. Waiting for appointments, waiting for my car to be serviced, waiting for the workday to be over, waiting to tell my kids that Dad is trans, waiting for the day my wife might say she’s done with it all.
I have learned much about patience since having three kids. I have tried hard to teach them about patience too. But waiting patiently is hard. Waiting for a really long time breeds all kinda if negative emotions. Anger, fear, jealousy. I get angry seeing some people cut ahead while I wait. Or maybe they have access to resources I don’t and I get jealous. Then there is the fear that all that waiting is for naught.
Life is like this for many people. Being transsexual magnifies it, sometimes by a hundred fold.
Well I was sitting in a huge waiting room with about 7 or so other people and about 60 empty chairs. Managed care at its finest. After what I thought was a relatively long wait of 35 minutes the nurse called me in. However, I am used to my shortened birth name having to be used (they won’t change it until I get an official name change). “Rachel?, Rachel?!” Hmm why is everyone staring at me? I finally get it and meet her at the door, now with an audience. I wasn’t wearing much makeup and I was feeling a bit self conscious.
It seems my endocrinologist with infinite respect and sweetness put my chosen name in his records. He ‘gets it’ and that makes a huge difference for me. Even after the long wait, I was smiling and a bit close to tears hearing everyone call me Rachel. Dr O is a gentle scholarly looking man with just that nice touch of grey in his hair. We would be about the same height if I wasn’t wearing heels. We discussed how I have been doing on my current prescriptions. He asked about my physical and emotional states. He wanted to know how things were going with my family particularly between my wife and I. Dr O is one of those people who you just can’t lie to of hide things from. He lets me know that I control what happens with my transition and how I proceed with it. So I had to come clean and tell him that I have not told my wife explicitly that I am on estrogen now. I did tell her I am on a transition path and hormones are part of that. I also told my doctor I had doubled my spiro dosage for a bit and had a few mood based side effects. He gave me this little smile that said he’s heard it all before and I’m not the only one to mess with my HRT treatment. He was very happy that I was being honest.
Then it came down to the brass tacks. I had a choice to make. Go full out and quadruple my E dosage or take it slower. I can hear the voices of a few people I know, “take the 4mg dosage!”. I chose slow. 2mg for a month, then a more complete hormone level test. I found that my hand was shaking. (a nod to Becky) I had taken the roller coaster up the first big hill, now was that little curve at the top. That pause before the plunge. I was scared, hopeful, nervous and very sad.
Sad?? Shouldn’t I have been ecstatic? Shouting and jumping for joy? This is where I differ from many of the trans people I know. I have my own path and my own story. I started this blog because of that. If mine was like the traditional transsexual story why bother doing this at all. You see, I was a man, a husband and father. I never felt like I was faking things. ‘HE’ was never a facade that helped me navigate the male world I never belonged to. ‘He’ is real as real as Rachel is now. I try very hard to point this out to my wife. Especially when she tells me that I am killing ‘him’ off or that ‘he’ is fading away. I feel that loss just as much as she does. I let her know that she is not alone in that respect. I sit holding my tiny purple pill. This is where the next part of my journey starts. The coaster car is hovering above the drop and it scares the shit out if me. The main reason I hate roller coasters is the complete lack of control. Once the drop starts you can stop it. It only gets faster and faster until you hit the bottom (My friend Rinn would admonish me with facts about gravity and acceleration about now). This is truly the beginning of the end for my former self. I was never a winner but I hate to lose what I have. That downward plunge could be the cause of a lot of losses. You just don’t know. All I know is what I have said to my wife, my doctors, and my friends. I could always stay where I am right now and wonder what my life would be like. Or, I can move forward and accept what has to be. But, I will not go backwards.
I took my pill, and cried.
I have written before about the loss of male privilege and the loss of friends. Now I have to deal with the possible loss of my wife. Maybe not in the physical sense. Neither of us want to divorce because we know the effect that would have on our kids.
This is emotional loss. The loss of intimacy. We still live each other, but that love is changing. We still sleep in the same bed every night. Sometimes we give each other space. We have a king size bed so that is easy to do. Some nights we still spoon each other. Other times we hold hands. Few are far between are those times we can summon up the passion we used to have. Maybe it’s the fact that we are just an old married couple. More likely it has to do with her sleeping next to a husband that increasingly looks more like her wife.
I was out the other night with a friend. When I dropped her off at her apartment we talked a bit. I wasn’t prepared for her coming to tears when she told me how hard it has been for her to sleep alone. She was married 7 years and she recently got her final divorce papers. She misses her wife dearly. I wanted to give her a hug and tell her with time it won’t be so bad. But I froze. I couldn’t say that because I haven’t experienced it myself. What I said through tears of my own was “Dear, I know things are bad right now. It’s too fresh a hurt and I understand. I have to go home to the woman I married 21 years ago and who sleeps most of the time on the other side of our bed. The pain of being just an arm length away is almost unbearable. It might as well be miles.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. Then I had to leave. When I got home my wife was still up watching tv with our daughter. She came to bed and kissed her on the cheek. We cuddled for a bit. But it still wasn’t the same.
I noticed something this morning while driving to work. I had to take the wife’s car for various reasons so moved some of my stuff out of my car. I had a pair of ballet flats in my bag. I was changing from my guy shoes to my tennis shoes while at a stop light. The light had turned green and I went before I got my flats on.
Let me just say that in all my years of driving I hated driving barefoot or in sandals. I never understood how anyone could drive that way. I also had stick shift cars with racing clutches. They are way easier to drive with shoes.
This morning however, was different. For some reason I like the feeling of the pedals beneath my bare feet. It was sensuous in a way. It’s hard to describe. So today I will drive home barefoot and loving it. For me it’s the only way to go for a casual drive. For speed though nothing beats 4in stiletto heels.
Hugs,
-Rachel
The day I dreaded has come. My kids dragged me to the recently renovated pool in our complex. I though I was just going to sit this one out and catch up with Facebook. No chance.
First I found out the board short trunks I bought over a year ago do not fit at all. Second I HAD bright blue toenails. Those had to go. Grumble. Third I got boobs, not moobs. Mine are firm and round. Not huge by any stretch but they are there. And I now have areolas bigger than a quarter to boot. Fourth I have hair approaching 80’s hair band length. Fifth I look like an ad for Nair, smooth arms, legs, and pits. I did leave a bit of stubble on my face so I could try and pull of my best Johnny Depp impersonation.
We got to the pool and being skin care conscious I slathered on the SPF 30. Because I have a few sleeveless tops I had to avoid the farmer’s tan. So off came the shirt. Good start, the kids couldn’t have cared less. So I took a bit of time to lay out and get a little sun. By this time several other middle aged guys show up with their kids. Maybe fifteen minutes passed and I already wanted to poke their eyes out. My daughter just happens to have a body most women would kill for. She got out of the water for a drink and every guy was staring at her. It was comparable to watching a commercial for Brazilian tanning products. Where’s a burka when you need one.
I looked at these guys and I am so glad I’m not one of them any more. Balding, blubbery looking guys that are at least 5-10 years younger than me. Gross. I didn’t have to worry much about standing out after all. Someone tell me when man boobs came into style?!?! At least my boobs are kinda cute. Theirs were huge misshapen slabs of fat hanging over their expansive guts.
My turn to get in the water. I got up from the lounge chair while holding up my trunks in a death grip. I sauntered up to the edge of the pool trying not to roll my hips. And I jumped in. Let’s just say it was just cold enough. This dad was not about to stand up and expose a chest that became wholly inappropriate for public consumption. Secretly I was actually enjoying the sensation. A couple breast strokes later (no pun intended) and things settled down. Not much happened after that. Just a pleasant day in the pool with my kids. Now if I can only make it through the summer without needing a bikini top. Right now it’s not looking too good.
I decided I needed to write something a bit fluffy tonight.
They say hindsight is 20-20. Sometimes I think of all the ‘Hey, you’re trans’ signs I didn’t pay attention to. Here are a few.
My fascination with leotards and one piece bathing suits when I was little. After a while it’s something that faded away. It came back a bit when I started dating my wife. She had some really pretty aerobic outfits. No connection made. Although there was that solid purple one with the thong bottom….
An interest in movies where men transformed into women. “Dr Jekyll and Ms Hyde”, “Some Like it Hot”, “White Girls”, “To Wong Fu…”, “Zerophilia”, “Ranma 1/2”, I could go on and on. I had to be really dense not to connect this one.
I worked at a game company that had several transsexuals work there. At last count there are 4 1/2 of us. Me included. The 1/2 is a contract worker who actually became the fiancé of one of the other three. I worked in a cubicle diagonal to the first of us to transition. It intrigued me and scared the shit out of me at the same time. I ended up hiding my feelings behind feigned disgust and crude jokes at her expense. Knowing what I know now, I regret my actions and I eventually apologized to her years later. Nope, even after that I didn’t catch on.
And I worked on a game based on “The Matrix” trilogy. One of the famous Warchowski brothers, creators of the series recently completed her transition.
After that it seemed the only thing missing was a recruitment poster with Christine Jorgensen pointing at me saying “We want you!”
thefrugalcd 