tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34695727952379611472024-03-12T16:17:42.253-07:00Tammy World 2015Welcome to Tammy World! The Great Adventure continues...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.comBlogger168125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-9891239480210383072016-02-26T22:10:00.001-08:002016-02-26T22:43:37.707-08:00Back <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Where is she? When is she coming back? What's happening in Tammy World? </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These are all questions I've gotten over the last few months. Questions shouted over the sounds of chirping crickets as a labyrinth of cobwebs formed around this blog.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, the answer is I am here. I've always been here, you just couldn't see me for awhile. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What happened? Don't worry friends, all will explained in due time. Let's just say I've been on a sabbatical of sorts. Yes, that's the ticket. A sabbatical, definitely not a vacation. Not a vacation at all.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the spirit of a blog being about what is happening Right Now. I am back but in quite a bit of pain. Coincidentally, the pain is mostly in my back where I have a few bad discs, 2 almost completely shot. This is an issue I've been dealing with on and off (fortunately off most of the time) for over 2 decades. This chicken has finally come home to roost, I am afraid, and I am really going to have to deal with a long term solution this time.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Speaking of my neck, I've now found out I have a couple of bad discs there. They make their presence painfully known as we speak. At least my pinched nerve is better so there is little pain or numbness in my leg at the moment, keeping me awake at night.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So that's my long answer to your question "how are you doing?" OMG I must be getting old to give such a long, detailed and morbid answer to that age old greeting. Nooo way!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIbszOfB0q79XnuPMT6EmLNBfZtSZjBQnF_njn2YEc2QIK4aKArFR8m9U8HGHWF_ZPqu9XxImGfD9kfj-6Jw_1NyW-awav-T-0evuMOtMN8-z0p9WD9491upX3O-TQFqQD3hSj4VvRnO5/s1600/12742359_1104693729581222_651288857563986937_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIbszOfB0q79XnuPMT6EmLNBfZtSZjBQnF_njn2YEc2QIK4aKArFR8m9U8HGHWF_ZPqu9XxImGfD9kfj-6Jw_1NyW-awav-T-0evuMOtMN8-z0p9WD9491upX3O-TQFqQD3hSj4VvRnO5/s400/12742359_1104693729581222_651288857563986937_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Actually, the answer is I am doing great. I'm fabulous, everything is
fabulous. You answer the question with how you want to be, and the
answer itself is a self fulfilling prophesy. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In truth, I am
fabulous and for the most part everything is great. I didn't make it
this far to give in to any problem, even as it reaches crisis
proportions. It all started this fall when Mitchell noticed me leaning
to one side as I walked. It was the purse I thought. It had to be the
heavy purse so let's just switch it over it to the other side. That
didn't work.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It really started last summer when, in an effort to
shape up, I made myself do at least 100 crunches daily (in bad form I'm
sure) before shooting pains forced me to stop. The recurring problem had last
reared it's ugly head in 2010 when I declined recommended surgery on 2
herniated discs. Months later the doctor admitted that most people in
my situation were the same after two years whether they had surgery or
not. The people who had surgery, he said, just got better faster.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Doctors
are notorious for coming up with solutions that the body may not be
happy about. Doctors are also notorious for under treating pain and
ignoring more holistic solutions. For now I'm going to deal with the
pain, which fluctuates but is constant, and treat the situation holistically through
physical therapy, exercise, chiropractic adjustments and (hopefully)
diet. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This after my doctor, upon examining me and my xrays for
the first time, declared me "tore up from the floor up" and described me
as "The Leaning Tower of Tammy." You have to love country doctors.
I've dealt with pain, but when this thing started to affect my posture
it was time to fight!</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is a positive message here and you
are going to watch as it unfolds. We have a lot of catching up to do as
well. Make no Bones about it, I am Back. I'm cleaning the cobwebs off
Tammy World as we speak.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For you genderologists, note that beyond
transition for many of us the gender issues are resolved. There may be
residual damage, but the good news is for the most part gender is no
longer something that has any importance in life. The bad news is that
all the other problems in your life remain. Only now you may start
noticing them. When you have a gender identity issue it tends to be
overwhelming and push almost everything else to the side. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The demons will follow you.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-92096154624704906052016-02-22T20:56:00.002-08:002016-02-22T20:56:56.850-08:00Clue<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="4kc1-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="4kc1-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="4kc1-0-0"><span data-text="true">This was a test. This was the ultimate test.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="fgl0s-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="fgl0s-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="fgl0s-0-0"><span data-text="true">To have brought a humble being out of the woods, out of the swamp, out of the wild</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="ad8jd-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="ad8jd-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="ad8jd-0-0"><span data-text="true">And plop it into her life as a ball of pure joy and innocence.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="2bs69-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="2bs69-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="2bs69-0-0"><span data-text="true">The Sun was shining. Finally</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="er2os-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="er2os-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="er2os-0-0"><span data-text="true">A smile returned to her tired, pale face</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="72tis-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="72tis-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="72tis-0-0"><span data-text="true">For many days, and the grass grew green by the lake</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="65asi-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="65asi-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="65asi-0-0"><span data-text="true">The Flower bloomed</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="8ha71-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="8ha71-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="8ha71-0-0"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-offset-key="85l3n-0-0">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="85l3n-0-0">
<span data-offset-key="85l3n-0-0"><span data-text="true">But how would she handle the darkness when the sun one day did set</span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-12974172786478247592015-09-22T18:38:00.000-07:002015-09-22T20:12:34.474-07:00Fran<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The rising waters began to cover the last patches of dry ground
surrounding my old, rusty mobile home when the power went out sometime
after midnight. I was home alone that night in September 1996 when the
edge of Hurricane Fran passed by Elizabeth City, NC, causing the waters
of the Albemarle Sound to push up into the canals of the trailer park. I
didn't know if I would stay dry inside or not but I had a small
john-boat tied up to the deck just in case. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Buzzed and burnin<span class="text_exposed_show">g
candles for light, I listened to cassettes on my boom box, playing this
album all the way through at least a couple of times. Whenever I hear
Alice in Chains now I think of that night and that hurricane. I
experienced no fear, only a fascination with the unpredictability of the
weather. My own demons were providing me all the fear I could handle.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I maybe slept an hour that night, nodding off after the sounds of wind
and rain banging the trailer around finally subsided. There was minimal
wind damage as the eye of the storm had passed far west, near Raleigh.
Looking outside I noticed that All of the flood water had subsided.
Indeed the canal behind the trailer was completely dry as the shift in
wind direction had blown the mass of water to the other side of the vast
sound....</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQBmbaPORbo">Alice In Chains Unplugged<br /></a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-21436767282666191952015-09-21T18:59:00.004-07:002015-09-22T17:14:38.655-07:00Everything Changes <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Everything changes when you can be yourself.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This little expression popped into my head the other day and consequently I posted it on my Facebook page. That simple phrase does seem to sum up most of what I've learned about life in the last few years, and I believe I've learned more about life in these last few years than I had in all those years before.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm sure this has been said before and conceptualized by almost everyone who has gone through major changes in life. It certainly seemed to resonate with many of my friends who liked, commented or shared this brief post. There is no greater change, in my opinion and experience, than changing one's gender and/or sex, and these are people who for the most part have not been able to live their whole lives as themselves.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The key word here, I believe, is Everything because literally Everything changes. The part about being yourself is something that I am sure not everyone can relate to because unless you've had to live part or your life denying, hiding and/or repressing who you really are I don't think you can understand how foreign even the simplest aspects of life can be. It can seem crippling or at least make life a constant, uphill struggle.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When the mask is removed there is a freedom that is almost indescribable. It wasn't that long ago that I first began to experience this freedom and feel the rumblings of change, just a few years before I began my transition. I'd finally let myself out of my own box, then out the door into the real world. <br /><br />I'd figured out a long time ago that this wasn't something that I could control so if I couldn't be myself (truly), I had to repress myself. For many years this was best done with a bottle (or bottles) and something (or things) that comes in a plastic bag, along with a healthy dose of self loathing, despair and a sincere belief that it will all be over soon.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I just didn't think that I was the kind of person that could live a double life. I didn't believe I was strong enough or more likely the real me that lived within was too strong to be toyed with in that way.</span></span><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> I was right ultimately, even though I did attempt to live that way for a little while before finally giving in and admitting I had to become myself in order to survive. That was right after I realized I was <i>going</i> to survive and after I got over my disappointment that survival, at least for now, was my destiny.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><br />Everything was going to Have to change.</i></span></span><br />
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<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMP2AbM00XxIo1O0eiX5qM-d17sAhjdIXJkLUX9hzcxINMbkUE5dLAnhXLV6u_roxh603GxXS-eB_8QF9xLepNYjJJolp3QYUHfORvFTcTcH_CBKOYeHm7Pszv0Iz3rQ2gzJ8DbA6GMPKw/s1600/11990574_1022282971155632_1422015261763857706_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMP2AbM00XxIo1O0eiX5qM-d17sAhjdIXJkLUX9hzcxINMbkUE5dLAnhXLV6u_roxh603GxXS-eB_8QF9xLepNYjJJolp3QYUHfORvFTcTcH_CBKOYeHm7Pszv0Iz3rQ2gzJ8DbA6GMPKw/s400/11990574_1022282971155632_1422015261763857706_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></i></div>
<i><br /></i><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The feeling of being me out in the real world was amazing. When I began to experience that feeling I also woke up to the fact that Not being myself was something I couldn't stand anymore. All the alcohol, drugs, fantasy world or whatever coping mechanisms I'd used to get through the course of any given day were not going to be enough anymore. Change had to come and the more I experienced tastes of what life could be if I could be myself, the more I craved it. That's when I realized that survival itself might not be tragic.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">On the road to my fate I was mitigating the horrible feelings that had plagued me, essentially, forever. With freedom to be myself came a coping mechanism stronger that any I'd experienced before. That might be enough to get me by for a little longer. Having a real possibility of the sex change I'd wanted for so long and now knew I needed, gave me the light at the end of the tunnel to push forward.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Change can take you by surprise.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><br /></i>My journey inevitably took me into a therapists' office one day, asking for help in order to transition. The next stop was a doctors' office where I was given a prescription for hormones. I knew this was a necessary step in becoming myself on the outside so I hoped it would bring positive physical changes, even though I was far from puberty and teenage years. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What I did not expect was what I experienced over the first few weeks and months of my hormone therapy. Physical changes did occur as expected, but the mental, emotional and possibly even spiritual effects of estrogen on my system were phenomenal. I was overwhelmed by the way the dark dread I'd experienced so long I had no memory of anything else, floated away very quickly and was replaced by a peaceful contentment that allowed me to see that everything was indeed going to be okay.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The pleasant surprise of estrogen hit me like a bucket of cold water thrown in my face. It woke me up. I was alive. I had first experienced freedom, now I was experiencing the inner feeling of normalcy that most people take for granted. Maybe I wasn't insane after all, but had just been plagued by a hormone imbalance that ruled my world like a Dark Lord since I first went through puberty. Combine with that standard gender dsyphoria and it was a potentially deadly situation I was about to escape.</span></span><br />
<i><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></i>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Life wasn't just going to continue and be tolerable, it was going to be beautiful. </i> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Except for the anxiety of coming out and finally making the transition (my own Mt. Everest), those first few months on estrogen gave me the feelings of being a child again, and it was a joyful childhood at that. Even as a child I'd felt remarkably different but the pain of that difference didn't truly sink in until I began to feel the chemical effects of puberty. That pain hit me like a ton of bricks and stayed with me until I started my physical transition with estrogen.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That is when I knew that I was not only going to be myself, a woman, but that being myself was going to be fantastic. That feeling was not going away regardless of what happened when I came out to my parents and transitioned. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Everything changes when you can be yourself.<br /><br /></i>Bolstered by the positive changes they could see in my life and attitude, and me finally giving them an explanation of why my life had been so miserable and messed up, my parents instantly accepted me and actually rejoiced that I was not only going to be alright but finally was happy in life. My dreams were actually going to come true. My mind was at peace and now events were lining up for me to finally be at peace with my body. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At some point when I was a teen I'd heard about a sex change operation. I remember thinking to myself that I should have one of those although I had no idea how to go about it and didn't think it was a possibility in my life. It seemed like a great idea though and something that would be perfect change for me, but I thought I'd have a better chance of going to the moon. It was years later before I found the specifics about it and by then, of course, I assumed it was too late and could never happen anyway because of family, life situation etc.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, here in my 40's it was actually going to happen! Literally, everything was going to change!! I didn't think I needed other surgeries to be myself. I guess I was lucky, but I was accepted as female everywhere I went and people treated me the way I wanted and needed to be treated. Overall, living as myself came very natural to me. The thing I needed to do no one would see unless they knew me intimately.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I felt at peace within myself but there was still a part of me that very wrong and it was something I could not change myself. This is something that most people may not be able to relate to, even some people who are transgender and do not feel the need for this change, but this was something I'd physically felt the need for since the first horrific jolt hit me as a teenager in puberty.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">2012 had been my great year of change, beginning hormones to start my second puberty, fully coming out to the world and beginning to live as myself. 2015 was going to be the year to make the big physical change. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You've read some of the details about that fantastic journey here, as it unfolded, and much of what has happened since. As we come up on the one year anniversary of my physical transition with surgery (GRS), you are about to hear the rest of the story. Stay tuned, because this is a story of hope......</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-33557114037823696842015-08-03T08:15:00.002-07:002015-08-03T09:25:12.582-07:0010 Month Post Op Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1rg2i4RtuIdwCAgFYPllxFPccOmOMWWxHbyFSx_2XlIg-64VKeMK9Bkz7LIZtISZmBCw2heKOOcXA5zrnDjN-kwaw2VyO2WkS3vukMgsoYWt4wLbW4CoXK2hsJX2mDE5WcnyPipL6MZE/s1600/2956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1rg2i4RtuIdwCAgFYPllxFPccOmOMWWxHbyFSx_2XlIg-64VKeMK9Bkz7LIZtISZmBCw2heKOOcXA5zrnDjN-kwaw2VyO2WkS3vukMgsoYWt4wLbW4CoXK2hsJX2mDE5WcnyPipL6MZE/s400/2956.jpg" width="225" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />Wow, I'm now into my 11th month since GRS and things are going great. Even though any complications I had seem far behind me, they told us that full healing would take a whole year. I guess I still had a few questions, like what <i>was</i> that mysterious swelling that caused me to get an ultrasound, was everything healed alright inside and was the area that had the granulation and silver nitrate treatments going to be okay? All of those questions and more were answered last week when I finally went to a gynecologist for the first time and had a full physical exam from my regular doctor.<br /><br />Going to the gynecologist was an affirming experience overall. I drove a couple of hours to see this particular doctor as she came highly recommended and is someone who's worked with trans women before. The office had mailed me paperwork which I brought in with me, so the processing nurse knew of my condition before we sat down to talk. <br /><br />The only "trans" question she asked me was if I'd had the surgery and when it occurred, even though I had stated that on the paperwork. This discretion was a good thing because there were other people in the adjoining waiting room who might have been able to hear that conversation. Considering that a lot of the women in the waiting room were pregnant or had babies with them, some aspects of being in that office did highlight (in my mind) some of the differences I have with most other women.<br /><br />When I finally got to see the doctor, she interviewed me in her office for awhile before going to the exam room. She asked me about my surgery, hormones, mammograms etc. She asked if I'd had breast surgery as she looked at my top and asked me what was going on there. I guess just me and a slightly padded bra was enough to make her question that. She's very nice and about my age so talking to this doctor was very easy. I hoped that the exam part of the visit would be as easy.<br /><br />Luckily, the exam wasn't bad at all. I had to take off all my clothes, put on a gown and lay back on the table. First she felt around for glands in my neck and abdomen. She did ask me if I'd had throat surgery, apparently because of my lack of a discernible Adam's Apple. A lot of trans women get that done along with GRS (a couple of the girls in Montreal had this) but it was something I didn't think I needed. <br /><br />Next she did a breast exam in which she noted that I'd had good results so far from hormones and that I needed a mammogram. I think this is a standard thing for doctors to request but I really don't think I need one, having only been on hormones a little over 3 years. <br /><br />It's like I am a 15 year old girl in that respect but then again we take a lot of pharmaceutical estrogen and progesterone, so maybe there is an elevated cancer risk. Anyway, it looks like a mammogram is in my not so distant future. When checking out of this office I scheduled that test for October and the lady at the desk asked me to bring records of my old mammograms. I didn't want to ruin the moment by telling her this would be my first.<br /><br />The vaginal exam was thorough but surprisingly easy. The doctor felt around my outer labia, which is a routine part of the exam, and could not find the little lump that had been a big concern for me just a few months ago. I haven't been able to feel it lately either and the discomfort if caused me when crossing my legs etc. is gone. So I guess that is just one of those things they never can pinpoint but that did resolve itself on its own.<br /><br />I feel that my vagina is very tight and from talking to other post op women this is not unusual. In a lot of ways that's a good thing, but I was a little worried that it could make the exam more difficult. She did the exam with her fingers and speculum and it was easy, so there was no need for worry. She asked me what kind of tissue was used to make the inner lining of my vagina and the truth is I don't know. I never learned the specifics of the operation, as I would be sleeping anyway. That it was a penile inversion surgery is all I know. This doctor did tell me that the vaginal wall was mucous tissue which explains why I am able to get moist there, even enough for sex without artificial lubricant sometimes. Apparently she has seen other patients who have a different type of tissue there.<br /><br />It's nice to be able to tell my doctors that I am sexually active with my boyfriend and that everything is going great in that respect. I don't think my experience is completely typical, but I am able to have orgasms more easily than I did before the surgery. I'd always heard, and was expecting them to be more difficult to achieve but possibly more satisfying after surgery. In my case now, they are easier to achieve, often multiple and very often more intense than before my operation, as well as generally being much more satisfying because I now have the right part for me.<br /><br />In the end, she said that I had a normal looking, functional vagina and that everything was fine. I did get a prescription for Estrace cream, that is applied into the vagina with an applicator. She told me the amount of estrogen from the cream is like a drop in the bucket compared to the hormone therapy I'm already on. This cream is supposed to help with vaginal elasticity and was one of the things I'd wanted to get from this doctor as I've heard good things about it from my friends.<br /><br />There is some scar tissue where I had granulation and treatments for granulation, but they are fading as well as the general surgical scars. This doctor told me that they looked like normal scars from a regular woman who's had labiaplasty, so they do not necessarily give me away as trans. She also told me I would not need labiaplasty, or a stage 2 surgery, which was encouraging to hear. I am truly done with all the "trans" surgeries, having escaped with only having to do one.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />I also saw my general practitioner (GP) last week. We had scheduled a follow up to my Bell's Palsy episode and it was also time for another physical. There is a problem with my thumb that I needed to talk to him about as well and you will be hearing more about that in future installments.<br /><br />As far as my Bell's Palsy, I am rating it 97% gone. My voice therapist recently did another evaluation of my voice, partly to see if the Bell's had any lasting effect there. She found some slight anomaly that showed up on a graph and may or may not be a result of this palsy episode (as it didn't show up before). At any rate it really doesn't affect my voice to the naked ear or affect the way I am gendered. She said I'd achieved the mastery level of voice feminization which I guess is not too surprising because I never get called sir anywhere, even on the phone, and really don't have to think about my voice anymore. After my last couple of sessions with her I will be done with voice training too.<br /><br />The only thing my doctor's evaluation could only find was slight asymmetry in my smile, which I believe I had before but don't remember for sure. I realize that there are a few lingering effects from the palsy (for instance the affected side of my face gets "tired" sometimes) but they get better with each passing week.<br /><br />He also wanted to give me a full exam as well as take blood work (which I haven't gotten back yet). He decided not to do a speculum exam to look inside my vagina, because I'd had one a couple of days earlier. <br /><br />This is the same doctor that started me on hormones back in 2012 and last gave me a physical before I left for Montreal. He has a couple more post op patients but I am the only one who's been with him from first hormone through the complete sex change, so I know he was anxious to examine me and I was glad to show him how far I've come in this ~ 3 years.<br /><br />This doctor always has a nurse in the room when he examines me with clothing off, even though it was a different nurse now that he's changed offices. I guess that's just his procedure as the gynecologist didn't have anyone in the room when she examined me. Anyway, I am not nearly as embarrassed to take my clothes off these days, which has been a positive effect of my surgery.<br /><br />He also asked me if I'd had breast surgery and when I said no he said I had grown there since he saw me last spring. As he was examining me he told the nurse my breasts were from the (hormone) replacement therapy. He then took a look downstairs and asked me a couple of questions about being sexually active, which I was glad to answer. He made note of everything being in the right place, clitoris, urethra, vaginal opening, so everything is normal and looks good. Great reports!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">July 2012</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Since I'd posted it recently as a throwback picture, after the nurse left I showed my doctor this photo from 3 years ago. It was taken on my way to see him after I'd been on hormones 2 months and was going to get my dosage doubled. After that my transition took off and has not slowed down. I did not reduce my hormone dosage after GRS. In fact I changed to injections and have higher estrogen levels now than I did before surgery, so I am still changing a lot in just about every way.<br /><br />The one thing that hormones could not change I addressed with my surgery in Montreal and today I could not happier with the outcome or my "decision" to have it done where I did and when I did. For me, GRS was the missing piece of the puzzle for sure.<br /><br />When I showed him that old picture I told my doctor that wherever I go people treat me and accept me as any other woman. In fact, few know that I am really trans. He prefaced this statement by saying that I Am a woman, but he told me he wasn't surprised to hear that, and that I look like any other woman with my clothes on Or off. Hearing that from the man who started me on this (physical) transition truly made my day.<br /><br /></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-16946482712863026182015-07-25T08:19:00.000-07:002015-07-25T13:30:59.206-07:00Stigma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There is a stigma to being different. I guess a lot of people feel it for different reasons to various degrees at some point in their lives. Personally, I've felt it strongly since at least time time I entered school as a kid. People deal with having a stigma in various ways. Some embrace whatever it is about them that brings upon shame, others go into hiding and some are destroyed by it.<br /><br />Transgender people have a special kind of stigma. Most often this feeling of being disgracefully different is the cause of us repressing who we really are and/or secretly leading double lives. This can be extremely overwhelming and can lead to isolation, addiction, shattered lives and sometimes worse, although some are better at putting on a happy face and leading a "normal life" than others. In any instance, the dark shadow lives within.<br /><br />When we come out, Good God, the stigma is suddenly there staring <i>everyone</i> in the face. It is like having a tattoo on your forehead if people know that you are transgender. You may be successful at covering it with enough realness, by blending into the world so that everyone doesn't know. Still, someone always knows. And they are staring at that tattoo. Even if they embrace and accept you, you have to wonder what is going on their heads. What do they really think of you and this strange condition you are now so openly displaying?<br /><br />I've come to discover that transsexual transition is only about treating your own gender dsyphoria. It doesn't do a thing to do away with the stigma of being grossly different. That requires a different treatment altogether.<br /><br />By and large, you cannot effect how other people are going to react or think about you, so how you cope with this stigma of being trans is all in your head. It can destroy you or you can find a way to deal with it.<br /><br />Stealth, going completely underground so that no one (and I mean No one) knows this secret about you, is one way of dealing with it. This is the old way and used to be considered necessary for survival. Today, acceptance is more widespread so not as many people choose the option of going completely underground after coming out. It requires severing ties, telling lies and going back into a closet. <br /><br />Closets are usually dark, cramped, uncomfortable spaces. Prior to coming out we live a type of stealth, hiding from the world. As I have stated before, personally this is not a situation I want to return to. It's not healthy for me and for those of us who don't want to completely start over, it is not possible.<br /><br />You hear of people doing things as extreme as committing suicide even after they have fully transitioned. Did the dsyphoria not go away or was there some other dark element at work. Could the stigma of being transgender or the realization that some will never be able to deal with it (family, spouses etc.) be the culprit? <br /> <br />*****</span></span><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /><br />Every trans person defines their own transition. Just this year I've realized that my own transition is complete. I've gone from point A to point B. Although I gave up a career and lost a spouse, I know it's something I had to do and it has been extremely rewarding. I guess I am lucky in that my transition was successful in curing my gender dsyphoria. That was my one goal going in, but recently I've realized that nothing has made the stigma I feel from being extremely different go away. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, I have embarked on another journey, one of introspection. I realize
now that I have never been comfortable being transgender. I hated it,
hence I hated myself. I fought it for as long as possible, then I came
out and transitioned as quickly as I could. I wanted to get away from this thing as swiftly as possible.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">You know what, it worked. Bingo, I was cured! It couldn't have been so easy, could it? I don't hate
myself anymore. I learned to love myself and luckily also found someone
to love me. Life is Awesome!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But wait, I am still trans. I'm
still not comfortable with that, even though I am finally comfortable
with myself. How do I deal with this awful stigma? I've always felt like a woman, not a trans woman. That's one reason I didn't want to transition. I wanted to be a "real" woman, not a trans woman. Now I am having to realize that I am as real as I am going to get. Not only do I not feel pride in being this way, I have to admit to still feeling shame.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Maybe it's just the lingering pain of 4 decades of wrongness, maybe it's the fact that much of society still views people like me in a negative light (that often includes discrimination and violence committed against us), maybe it's the fact that I still worry about what people think of me (in every way), maybe it's the fact that my secret isn't such a secret anymore, but something still bothers me about about being trans. Inside, I feel the stigma.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The bottom line is that I don't want people to know, but it's a catch-22. In my situation, for a lot of reasons, some people are always going to know about me. All the realness I can muster cannot wipe that away. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I realize I am fortunate to have made it here alive and seemingly in one piece. I'm fortunate to have been able to complete my transition the way I wanted to and I am fortunate to have a future that could possibly fulfill all my dreams. The only nagging problem related to this condition is dealing with this tattoo on my head.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNftK8nzKrPyI7wG7K6OVkL-w6LcLObKU9U95iHxz2mXEWH3pOCMDuTfOvKlvdkuSfk72qzSSEmmnJmegafE95fKpQPnD6v6qDPmcaolnk8sgDC_ZbPymS0BUgPolK-kvm8-bAhoCNyJ6M/s1600/the_necromancer__s_apprentice_by_artsangel-d37w1eb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNftK8nzKrPyI7wG7K6OVkL-w6LcLObKU9U95iHxz2mXEWH3pOCMDuTfOvKlvdkuSfk72qzSSEmmnJmegafE95fKpQPnD6v6qDPmcaolnk8sgDC_ZbPymS0BUgPolK-kvm8-bAhoCNyJ6M/s400/the_necromancer__s_apprentice_by_artsangel-d37w1eb.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I have sort of withdrawn some lately. I've let fear creep back in to some degree. In real life I have been fine, just not interacting with friends as much for various reasons. My family life is looking up and couldn't be better. But online in social media, except for my private groups, I've tried to sort of distance myself from being trans. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's an awkward situation and I'm not satisfied with it. I haven't been posting blogs recently because right now I generally write about my transition and I didn't want to draw attention to that situation. Friend request have come in from people I've met who may not know I'm trans and I don't know what to do with that, so I've blocked some so they wouldn't find out. Otherwise, I've tried censoring the content I post publicly. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This isn't working in a way that I'm comfortable with. I don't want to go back to hiding, and partial hiding seems to be a tedious balancing act that's going nowhere. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So at the end of the day I have to find a happy medium in my life. I'm still going to be </span><a href="http://tammyworld2012.blogspot.com/2015/06/transshhh.html">trans.shhh</a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">, meaning I am not going to advertise or tell everyone I meet that I am different. Still, I am not going back to missing out on life or opportunities out of fear of someone finding out. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Feeling stigmatized is not only not justified, it's not going to hold me down. I won't let being trans define me but I'm going to have to suppress that creeping feeling that I need to go out of my way to mask who I am in every situation. Even if I don't embrace it, I have to deal with it. </span></span><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-35485132148175568732015-06-21T13:30:00.000-07:002015-06-21T13:30:14.755-07:00Reflections On The Solstice<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year. Somehow it means something although I have never truly investigated it or studied the ancient or pagan beliefs enough to understand it's true relevance on those terms.</span><br />
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Wikipedia says<i>. "</i><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">A </span><b style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">solstice</b><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> is an astronomical event that occurs twice each year as the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Sun">Sun</a><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> reaches its highest or lowest excursion relative to the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celestial_equator" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Celestial equator">celestial equator</a><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> on the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celestial_sphere" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Celestial sphere">celestial sphere</a><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">. The solstices, together with the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equinox" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-decoration: none;" title="Equinox">equinoxes</a><span style="background-color: white;"><i style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">, are connected with the seasons. In many cultures the solstices mark either the beginning or the midpoint of winter and summer."</i><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">I can, however,</span><i style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> feel </i><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">the impact of the solstice. There is something about the earth and celestial bodies that speaks to me. Though it speaks not in my native tongue so I know not exactly what it says. The voices are louder a couple of times a year so I realize something important is going on.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><b>2012</b>, this was a year that spoke to me. For at least 4 years before it came to pass I looked towards that particular year with hope in my heart. There was anticipation for a great celestial energy, a fantastic time of change. Did I plan the fantastic change in my life around this fabled year and it's astronomical events, or was it merely coincidence?</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">The summer solstice of 2012 was the day I planned to begin hormone replacement therapy, basically beginning my transition even though I had already taken many steps down that road. I actually got the prescriptions from my doctor on May 15, over a month prior to the solstice. I considered waiting but I was literally dying to accelerate the process of change, so I started HRT immediately. That would allow me to be on hormones for 7.5 months before my planned transition at the end of 2012, on New Year's Eve.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">The solstice did catch up with me in 2012 in an unexpected way, but it was the winter solstice not the summer. Events in my life just happened to line up for me to make my transition to living as myself (female) full time on December 21, 2012.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Of course this is ancient history by now, but 2012 was the last year of the Mayan calendar and the fabled "end of the world." The last day was to be the winter solstice and on that day I emerged out of the void, floundering as I flopped onto land and timidly tried taking my first steps.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">Embryonic and evolutionary, my transition in 2012 was like the waking of the dead. Yes, I had declared myself dead not long after graduating from high school. Several years before that I was overcome with a feeling of dread, a feeling that I was not going to live much longer. Those feelings finally went away not long after starting HRT. Life emerged from the void.<br /><br />Truly my</span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> life began on the winter solstice. Was it a cool coincidence? At any rate, the astronomical events of these solstices took on a very personal meaning that fateful year.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #351c75;"><br /><br /><b>2014</b>, this was the year I was to undergo my great physical change. Hormones had changed my outlook and feelings inside while also making changes outside, but it was time for me to make the full transition from male to female. Doctors would surgically (or magically) give me what I was supposed to have born with and take away (or change) what had been a source of discomfort for most of my life.<br /><br />Predictably, I tried to schedule my GRS (gender reassignment surgery) for the summer solstice. The closest date I could get was June 16th. That would at least have me in the recovery center in Montreal on the summer solstice, having just gone through the change. That didn't sound too bad, so I took the date and waited with grand anticipation.<br /><br />Unfortunately, my father passed away just days before I was scheduled to depart for Canada and I had to cancel my surgery date. The new date was set for September 24th, just three days after the autumnal equinox. Yes, I felt the seasons change while in Montreal awaiting my surgery. As summer turned to autumn I was simply enjoying the city and being with my loved ones, never once worrying or feeling nervous about my upcoming trip to the hospital.<br /><br />Today, in <b>2015</b>, the summer solstice falls on Father's Day. It's been a little over a year since I lost my dad so the pain is still sort of fresh. I don't even remember Father's Day last year, so it must have been really grief stricken. Today I visited him at the cemetery, thanking him again for being such a positive influence in my life and continuing to be with me in spirit, always.<br /><br />Once again, the solstice is a day that carries great meaning into my life.<br /><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"> </span></span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-61041770937075655392015-06-20T17:34:00.003-07:002015-06-20T17:43:19.078-07:00Ask Not For Whom The Bell's Toll<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It tolls for me!<br /><br />Exactly 2 months ago I was diagnosed with Bell's Palsy after noticing some strange things going on with my face the night before. By the time I made it to the doctor on April 20th, it seemed like the whole left side of my face was frozen.<br /><br />The appointment that day was with my new "hormone doctor," and just happened to fall within 24 hours of my first Bell's Palsy symptom. She gave the diagnosis, some steroids for the palsy and my first prescriptions for injectable estrogen and progesterone. Overall it was a good day, although I was scared the palsy would never go away.<br /><br />Two weeks later I saw my "regular doctor" and he told me I had been on the Prednisone long enough. After a couple of weeks on that steroid pill, both doctors agreed the best treatment was to let the disease run it's course. He also predicted that the palsy would be gone in 2 months. I feel like I am about 90% over it now so in two weeks there is a chance it will be totally gone, proving my doctor's prediction to be true. Sometimes, even those "practicing" medicine get it right.<br /><br />The last 2 months has been a real eye opener for me. This is especially true of my left eye, which even now appears to be a little more open than my right. The eyelid muscles on my left side were one the things affected by this condition, as well as the muscles on that side that control my mouth movements.<br /><br />The way this thing played out is that for two weeks the left side of my face was almost completely paralyzed and "drooping." Then it started slowly getting better with a little bit of improvement noticed each week.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdfMlVsyurbBaFvoBMXa72jSyUK7Y41zy85yRzn2aZHEpaYS-mkXhFvBHd10wRWw2k4qC09w5-a6ytF6ZAscrLZyV7wukfiN1JTCJLaHYqOpNjcivH3YMjhVOfSI7Wzf_XDbPVm0VMDQa/s1600/18399446866_2f639edeb3_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdfMlVsyurbBaFvoBMXa72jSyUK7Y41zy85yRzn2aZHEpaYS-mkXhFvBHd10wRWw2k4qC09w5-a6ytF6ZAscrLZyV7wukfiN1JTCJLaHYqOpNjcivH3YMjhVOfSI7Wzf_XDbPVm0VMDQa/s400/18399446866_2f639edeb3_o.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;">June 3, 2015</span></td></tr>
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People now tell me they can't tell from looking me that anything is wrong, except maybe when I am tired and my right eye isn't as open as the left. If I give a Big grin, the left side of my mouth won't stretch up as far as the right, but I do feel it is getting there. The most aggravating symptom that is still lingering around to some degree, is that my eyes get tired or "bleary" if I read or have them active too long.<br /><br />Most of the time I forget that I have Bell's Palsy, to whatever extent I still have it. Hopefully when I go to my regular doctor next month for a physical I will be completely over it. Some people have residual symptoms that can last a long time or forever but if it looks like that's happening with me I am going to ask the doctor to send me to physical therapy or something to finish rejuvenating the muscles.<br /> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuncGUlz5ixYdQYetvi7wAVe0V5knoq7aLXu2k6Qla4PYyY4K03aW3RL3PwhkN5ILDb9av8QfgWVwa45J41929s65jpntS0YrQaHjppyAmBSTUe5Fcz50J-wX9uCvZdMSN_RsZo0G7FKJN/s1600/18811888996_35b0141bc9_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuncGUlz5ixYdQYetvi7wAVe0V5knoq7aLXu2k6Qla4PYyY4K03aW3RL3PwhkN5ILDb9av8QfgWVwa45J41929s65jpntS0YrQaHjppyAmBSTUe5Fcz50J-wX9uCvZdMSN_RsZo0G7FKJN/s400/18811888996_35b0141bc9_o.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;">June 15, 2015</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While this episode has caused the last couple of months to be more stressful than normal and (for the first few weeks anyway) limited my travel and social interaction, I have come away with a few positives.<br /><br />One thing I learned, or relearned, is that beauty is fleeting. We never know what can happen in any given moment to take our looks (or some aspect of our health) away. This just adds to the list of reasons (which include a history of skin cancer) why I am thinking that facial surgery or other procedures might not be a good idea for me. <br /><br />Another thing I learned is true empathy for those with any form of paralysis. It is one thing to feel for someone having a problem, but quite another to have experienced that problem in one form or another. Not being able to move an area of your body is downright scary. During this episode I have heard from sooo many people who suffered with Bell's Palsy, or knew someone that had. Most had a complete recovery within weeks or months but a few have lingering symptoms and a very rare few never made any recovery at all. <br /><br />One of the girls in my TBN group has Cerebral Palsy and will have to deal with issues similar to mine (and more) for life. We related on this while discussing the difficulties of applying makeup to a numb area on the face, specifically the eyes. <br /><br />I just have to realize how blessed I am, how thankful I am for my blessings and how lucky I have been in making this recovery so quickly. I don't know what other curves life will throw at me but I just can't take any of my blessings for granted. None of us can. <br /><br /> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxroON_sFP9dQnJVVn6sTb1Zf8elGFX4Gt8kGk3-0CSQ7RNJJxe5YC8wRXuvD40-2ZINBApZbwT_isM9LmWp8gMSLb_rI71xo_V8LwbnjDsZAOiRRSAOcNLaITLShJqA3k1gXvq1ax6aB/s1600/283741d198ccba7421314c5b574a787b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxroON_sFP9dQnJVVn6sTb1Zf8elGFX4Gt8kGk3-0CSQ7RNJJxe5YC8wRXuvD40-2ZINBApZbwT_isM9LmWp8gMSLb_rI71xo_V8LwbnjDsZAOiRRSAOcNLaITLShJqA3k1gXvq1ax6aB/s640/283741d198ccba7421314c5b574a787b.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;">A social media app's analysis of my current profile picture. This picture was taken yesterday, June 19, 2015. <br /> Exactly 2 months after the first symptoms of Bell's palsy appeared.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><br />*A parting message for those of you who feel stuck, unable to move forward....</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #351c75;">
"You have to feel it deep inside and the desire to be free will burn as
brightly as the midday sun. You have to yearn to be yourself as
strongly as you'd desire a bottle of water after a dry day in the
desert. Drink of it and once you have the taste of freedom there is no
going back."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><br />Tammy Matthews<br /><br /></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-53710343059170392452015-06-08T05:43:00.000-07:002015-06-08T06:01:02.140-07:00Trans.shhh<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My answer to trans pride and trans* is trans.shhh. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Short of
stealth and easier to maintain for those of us that transition in place,
trans.shhh is simply a philosophy in which you live your life like
anyone else. There's no need to talk about being trans, brag about it
or be ashamed of it. Some people inherently know and others you are
close to you will tell at some point, but to the average person you meet
on the street you wouldn't consider mentioning it.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's simply a <span class="text_exposed_show">fact
of life, like having one kidney. If you have just one kidney you
probably aren't going to go around telling everyone you meet you have
one kidney or identify as a "one kidney woman." There is no "one kidney
pride." You may devote time and effort to assuring that those with one
kidney have all the rights and opportunities that anyone else has, but
yet you realize it's a condition not an identity. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There is a community where people having only one kidney can meet each
other (online or in person), discuss the inherent problems of the
condition and perhaps develop friendships that go beyond the bond of
having this condition. There is no "one kidney flag."</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The one
kidney thing is just an example but this has pretty much been my
philosophy since transitioning, and I coined the phrase trans.shhh to
describe it. It's not hiding, shunning people or creating another
closet. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Being trans isn't an identity to me. I am trans because I identify as a woman and was born in a different body. It's a part of me but the whole point of transition (at least for me) was to become on the outside what I identified as on the inside, not become the condition.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When someone posts something on my wall about trans
issues I have to say shhh as I delete it, although I do post my blog
(endless self promotion). I have to shhh my mom sometimes when she
wants to tell everybody my story. It's not really a secret but it is
something I prefer not to announce or talk openly about. People will
find out on a need to know basis.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Trans.shhh isn't based on
passing. If you don't think you pass, don't worry about it. Being
trans still isn't something you have to announce to the world. Women
look all kind of ways and come in all shapes and sizes. Do the best you
can and try to blend as much as possible. The in your face "trans
pride" or chip on your shoulder attitude won't get you ahead in the real
world. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Trans.shhh is simply my philosophy and I am probably
the only one who subscribes to it, but if you see me somewhere please
don't intentionally out me or I will have to shhh you.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-37179622468752777622015-05-27T09:06:00.001-07:002015-05-27T09:34:31.870-07:00The Finish Line<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Everything has its time. Unless its perpetual motion, with any process there is usually a beginning and an end. You have a goal and you set off on a journey. Fueled by a desire and a need that burns brighter than the midday sun, you do all the little things (and the big things) necessary to bring you closer to that goal. The road behind you becomes longer than the road ahead. Then one day you look up and notice that you are <i>there</i>. In my transition from male to female, I have reached the Finish Line.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A couple of weeks after arriving home from my surgical adventure to Montreal, I received a letter from Dr. Pierre Brassard certifying that the surgery he performed had changed my anatomical sex from male to female. The letter also stated that "Any designation on her birth record and all official documents as male are incorrect." </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehE2TQvQ7hjcyffJ1L0dJdC6Z46RMzUxxGC2XvUcV1PsVlhNGJsV4kkh_iHWibBbtKML7EUqveerDHJcnc-N4ncK01Pu_NodMXfdtj7tbNOoby7pNIuutGGyPZDEdiKUsDsFo7F8oUBj6/s1600/142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehE2TQvQ7hjcyffJ1L0dJdC6Z46RMzUxxGC2XvUcV1PsVlhNGJsV4kkh_iHWibBbtKML7EUqveerDHJcnc-N4ncK01Pu_NodMXfdtj7tbNOoby7pNIuutGGyPZDEdiKUsDsFo7F8oUBj6/s400/142.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The question was raised by one of the mother's at the recovery center, "After you have this surgery, are you still transgender?" Well yes, it's just a medical fact that we will always be this way. It will always be a part of you but, in my opinion, it doesn't have to <i>be</i> you. It doesn't have to be as all consuming as it is during transition or as worrisome as it was before transition. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is one of the things I am dealing with now, how to transition away from transition? Does this mean that the journey ends? Of course not. Does this mean that the transition has reached an endpoint? Of course it does. At least that's the way I look at it.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In my case, I've only been on hormones for three years. Hormonal changes can take place over 5-10 or more years, so I do have more change to look forward there. I don't plan on having any more surgeries as part of my transition. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For me there was only one male to female surgery. Sure, I may get breast implants at some point even though I don't <i>have</i> to. If I ever have anything done to my face or body (and I haven't had any work done yet) it will likely be more to stave off the process of aging than for feminization. Anything else I may have done will be typical of what other middle aged women might get, not as part of a transgender transition.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Some of this is just how you look at it, but perceptions do often change at this point in the journey. It's a tough mental transition as you ask yourself, "Where do I go from here?" </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The truth is I Never wanted to be transgender. I fought it as long as I could, then went through the transition. Now, I'd like to put that label and all that goes with it in a drawer and lock it away in my deepest memories. Like the haunting images of being in war. It's just not that easy to lock such a huge part of your heart, soul and experience away.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, now I have my birth certificate. In the eyes of the state I am me. All previous records have been sealed. Having climbed my own Mt. Everest I guess I've reached that peaceful meadow on the other side. I made it here quicker than I ever expected, but yet it took forever to get here. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The morbid pain of the majority of my life flashes across the back side of my brain. I stand on the wet ground watching the black clouds move away across the plain. Yet I still hear thunder. Is it growing closer? Are more storms on the way? As the journey continues, we will have to wait and see.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At the end of the rainbow, what I found in the pot of gold was sort of surprising. It was simply being myself. </span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-27269801876898060682015-05-07T06:56:00.001-07:002015-05-07T07:53:42.143-07:00Another Crash ?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">With all the health challenges I've had this year, I sometimes wonder if I am having a crash like the one I had a decade ago after another milestone birthday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I turned 40 I had a psychological and physical breakdown in which I started having panic attacks, terrible headaches and was convinced I had a brain tumor. As a result of that crash I decided I had to start facing my issues instead of burying them inside. I made a major leap of self acceptance, stopped my drug use, heavy alcohol abuse and started taking baby steps towards becoming myself (transition). Soon I was out of the woods and on my way home. Somewhere along the way I learned to love myself and actually care about the little things in life, like the promise of tomorrow.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This year is much different and not nearly so severe. Still, there is something frightening about having things go wrong with your physical health, especially strange, unexplained things. Psychologically, I'm better than I've ever been, so there is no crash there. I have to believe that psychological strength will pull me through the physical ailments that have befallen me. I know that I am going to be okay. I actually want to be okay, and that makes all the difference.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I break it down, this year's health "scares" are not so frightening after all. I've dealt with granulation, which is a common and not so severe complication from GRS. The granulation is finally gone but I still have a lingering feeling of slight pressure in my right labia when I do something like cross my legs tightly. This was the area tested when I had an <a href="http://tammyworld2012.blogspot.com/2015/03/ultrasound.html">ultrasound</a> a couple of months ago. The surgeon thought I had a swollen gland and that it wasn't serious. I guess my next step is to see a gynecologist and take the mystery out of it. It was determined to be benign whatever it is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've also experienced a cold this spring (heavens!) and now this mysterious (to me) Bell's Palsey. This one is the most terrifying of all because it is a paralysis and it affects my face, I have been pretty much laying low since I developed this palsy 18 days ago because it <i>looks</i> like something is wrong with me. I am so fortunate that it is probably not going to be permanent and the paralysis wasn't caused by something like a stroke. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The worst part about all these events this year is the cumulative effect they have had on my daily outlook. While I am still generally very positive, I've had moments when my mood has been lowered or I have been irritable. The absolute worst has been a couple of (fleeting) moments where the thought crept in (for one second) that I was going to die. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This dark feeling of impending doom was a near constant with me between my teenage years and not that long ago. In fact, as I have reported here it was only when I started taking hormones that the black feeling of dread left me. So, I know that the pull of death I felt, romantically at times, was either hormonal or psychological but some of it would revolve around physical elements. Or at least blowing physical problems out of proportion. That's the only thing I have to fight this year (just a little bit) putting everything into perspective. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I realize how lucky I am to have my (generally) good health and I am super blessed to finally have all the pieces falling together so that I can enjoy it. I now have a sense of what paralysis feels like and I can really sympathize with anyone that has to deal with it on any part of their body. Its a scary feeling and when it's on your face, something that can make you very self conscious around others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><br />Update 5-5-2015</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I went to see my "regular' doctor this week. He took me off the prendisone, which I was on for two weeks, and predicted the Bell's Palsy would resolve itself. In fact, his exact prediction was that it would be 75% gone in a month and completely gone in 2 months. I don't know if he said that mainly to make me feel better or based that prediction on the typical experience of someone with this disease. He also mentioned that the latest information on Bell's Palsy has it related to chicken pox, sort of like Shingles in that respect.<br /><br />I have been able to regain a small amount of control of the affected muscles on the left side of my face. Not enough to smile yet, but the face doesn't look as "droopy" and I can make small movements there. I won't go back to the doctor until the first of July, when I'm going back for a full physical. <br /><br />This is also the doctor that started me out on hormones back in 2012. I hadn't seen him a year so I told him about my surgery and getting my birth certificate changes, the last piece of the puzzle. He had helped me get all my other documents changed by writing the necessary letters and he smiled when I told him I had finished changing everything that could be changed. <br /><br />"You are 100% female now," he said. I'd have to qualify that by saying "as much as I can possibly be." But yes, it does feel great to finally be the person on the outside that I am on the outside, and be accepted for being myself. I'm just a little sick right now and will be relieved when I can be a completely healthy woman. I'm not going to crash this time. There's way too much to live for now!</span><br />
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<i>The more life challenges me<br /> The higher I will rise to overcome life's challenges. <br /></i><br />
<i> TM</i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-20306599397538472342015-05-01T11:38:00.001-07:002015-05-01T11:44:22.290-07:00Seven Months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEl5N3l9Y2jqMlkoSwtXccHu9-xOUIpEOHOMXW0IFPzr_j_TMkAxs5lcd1Vq6O8hq0VZqAHXIxWfn44eiyOlbt1FYGHZ965v-NdqmvBK_dInhaV60ukiobFSFpV-2QyDyG-9r4pazQlp-9/s1600/2424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEl5N3l9Y2jqMlkoSwtXccHu9-xOUIpEOHOMXW0IFPzr_j_TMkAxs5lcd1Vq6O8hq0VZqAHXIxWfn44eiyOlbt1FYGHZ965v-NdqmvBK_dInhaV60ukiobFSFpV-2QyDyG-9r4pazQlp-9/s1600/2424.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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Seven months ago and one week ago today,I was up early in my room in the Centre Metropolitain de Chirurgie, the hospital owned and run by Dr. Pierre Brassard in Montreal, Quebec, Canada . I didn't have breakfast that morning as I was patiently (not really nervously) awaiting my surgery later that morning. I was finally going to my gender reassignment surgery (GRS) that would (physically at least) complete my journey from male to female.<br />
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Out of three surgeries that day mine was to be the last. Another girl named Ava went first and she was to have her trachea shaved as well as GRS. About 9:30 AM they came for my roommate Samantha and as the nurses walked her upstairs to the operating room I found myself alone for a few minutes. Soon Mama and Mitchell would arrive to keep me company until my turn to ride up the elevator.<br />
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The feelings I was experiencing were similar to those I've had in the morning before going to work at a new job. Not exactly sure what to expect and just wanting to get it over with. I never experienced any moments of doubt from the minute I scheduled this surgery, nor any great apprehension. It was just something that had to be done, something I desperately wanted done, so I was just going to follow fate and let Drs. Brassard and Bellanger take care of business. My job was easy. I just had to lay there and take a nap.<br />
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The months since seem to have gone by slowly, maybe because I have generally not been as active as I was before surgery. The first 5.5 months involved some degree of pain and daily bleeding during dilation from the granulation complication I developed, which has now completely cleared up as I reported in my last update. In the last few weeks I have become more active physically as I try to lose the extra pounds put on during recovery. Almost everyone gains weight after this surgery and I was lucky mine wasn't too severe.<br />
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Now I am hit by this Bell's Paley which is again slowing me down and keeping me close to home. It's not related to my surgery or my transition and I believe that this too will pass, hopefully soon. I will tell you something though. My mindset now that I am post op is better than it has ever been. I'm experiencing a peace of mind and confidence in life that I really didn't think was possible. This mental rejuvenation will hopefully help me deal with <i>any</i> setbacks that life throws at me as well as allow me to maximize the experience of the rest of my life. <br />
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I think not enough is said today about the psychological benefits of GRS for many trans people. The dark cloud I felt hovering over me all these years was partially
hormonal, as I came to fully understand when I killed the testosterone
and added female hormones, but it was largely based on having the wrong
genitals. This phenomenon is not as widely discussed a it used to be
but it is the reason that SRS (GRS) was developed and has been such a
successful tool in gender transition. This surgery is rightly credited
with saving lives by clearing the mind and aligning the body with the
brain.<br />
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I believe that transition in general saved my life, but now that I have post op awhile I can see that the surgery is instrumental in creating an inner peace that allows me to feel complete. It is a sense of relief and joy. Now I feel totally comfortable with myself, a feeling I'd never experienced before. Now I can experience life the way it should be, unfortunately only for the last half of it or so. That's ok because I finally <i>feel</i> normal.<br />
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*****<br />
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Yes, mentally this surgery is having a huge positive effect on me. Physically, I am now coming into my own as a woman. Recovery does take a year or so and I am not all the way there yet, but I feel like my long <i>period</i> is over and this is a relief. <br />
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My schedule has just gone from two dilation a day to one. Something else I am doing when I am in the mood and have time, is doing much longer dilations. I may dilate for an hour or so even though the schedule only calls for a total of twenty minutes, 5 with the smaller and 15 with the largest dilator. Yes, I've found ways to make dilating enjoyable now now that the pain is gone. If I need to because of time restraints, I will stick to the schedule and be done in less than half an hour. Reaching the point where dilations no longer dominate life's schedule is nice, but it is a still a vital part of recovery.<br />
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Without getting too personal, I will say that I am finally getting to the point I can enjoy a normal sex life as a woman for the first time. I am very fortunate to have a loving partner I can experience this with and I believe having a strong emotional connection makes all the difference in experiencing love and not just sex.<br />
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One thing that most people facing this surgery are concerned about is the ability to have orgasms after the operation. I've alluded to it before, as I experienced my first orgasm 61 days post op, but at this point I have to say that this aspect of my life is much, much better than it has ever been. I am sort of amazed that I can achieve this sensation so easily, so many times and often so intensely. I am very satisfied with my ability to be satisfied.<br />
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My surgical scars have been problematic, as I do scar easily and redness shows on my fair skin, but they are now starting to fade away. Dr. Brassard said that it takes a year for scars to fade and the aesthetics to fully express themselves. I believe with me it will take every bit of that year but right now things are starting to look really good. I have been told by someone special that my vagina not only looks and feels like the real thing, it <i>is</i> the real thing.<br />
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It feels great to be as real as I can be. It feels great to be myself and I needed that. That's all anyone can ever ask for isn't it? Most people take being themselves for granted but for those few of us (trans people being a prime example) who do not feel comfortable within themselves, life is too much of a struggle and unnecessarily difficult. <br />
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Physical and (more importantly?) mental changes from hormones make a huge difference. Living as yourself and not hiding who you are makes it possible to feel some normalcy and comfort in everyday life, although in many cases it can open up its own can of worms in how others react to you. Surgery, especially GRS, is a very personal part of the journey and is the icing on the cake for many of us. I'm glad to be able to share my journey with you appreciate all the love and support I have received along the way.<br />
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I just want each and every one of you know that I am pulling for You! Whatever it is in life that you need to be, know that it is possible. Allow yourself to believe in yourself and never let go of that belief. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-52050651599492064342015-04-30T16:01:00.002-07:002015-04-30T16:44:41.759-07:00The Pharmacy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I suppose that the pharmacy is one area I haven't handled my transition as well as I could have. Or have I? All I know is my interactions there, in a pursuit to acquire pharmaceutical hormones, have developed rather organically.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2p9-SMck-XHOLdBzKjyIxfBKry2UNh6IQZY0Eu6ZEhLrv6OIUHEUcNM77rnylbUuJI4sZADBOR5RGw8LJoCbHrkgzUuOCPyoQIzBrk7FttbqvM0LSSj1tfv_zdukOctw8ZWhLJJC87tW/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2p9-SMck-XHOLdBzKjyIxfBKry2UNh6IQZY0Eu6ZEhLrv6OIUHEUcNM77rnylbUuJI4sZADBOR5RGw8LJoCbHrkgzUuOCPyoQIzBrk7FttbqvM0LSSj1tfv_zdukOctw8ZWhLJJC87tW/s1600/th.jpg" height="163" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I first got my prescriptions for hormones (on May 15, 2012) I decided to drop them off at the suburban Walmart pharmacy. That was the first pharmacy I passed on the way into town from my doctor's office in the Raleigh area. This is the newer, cleaner, less crowded Walmart and I enjoy shopping there more than the one in the city of Rocky Mount. I admit that part of the reason I went there was I felt there would be less chance of running into someone I knew.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbGnty0d7DEU2d_FoLqSfSo3icjTTVl5QNPijCIMa5CwNKyB6iiHSfDceHUPxJ18HUnCLPpBTkF9rDSjinQ2nnl_ZRApaI5ulXTQxWu1rb2aHv7tbXc4pEWocKyzH9WsAy2RFiIxl9Gv1/s1600/Pharmacy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbGnty0d7DEU2d_FoLqSfSo3icjTTVl5QNPijCIMa5CwNKyB6iiHSfDceHUPxJ18HUnCLPpBTkF9rDSjinQ2nnl_ZRApaI5ulXTQxWu1rb2aHv7tbXc4pEWocKyzH9WsAy2RFiIxl9Gv1/s1600/Pharmacy.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The best way I can describe myself that day, going to the doctor's office and dropping off my prescriptions, was androgynous. I didn't think I was ready for prime time yet without the aid of a wig and makeup but I wanted to be real at my new doctor's office. I did wear casual female clothes, jeans and t shirt, and maybe a little lip gloss and brow liner. I'd been growing my hair almost 6 months and had my ears pierced already, so this was a look that might make some wonder....</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yes, I was on a high when I got home that evening around dinner time. I asked my spouse Joan if she wanted to go out to dinner with me at a little Mexican place we enjoyed frequenting in Nashville. We weren't getting along well then but she said sure, so I thought I would try a little something different with my presentation.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'd never been out with her presenting fully female (she had wanted no part of it) but that night I thought I'd push the envelope a bit. I changed into a little nicer clothes, fluffed my hair up for as feminine look as possible, put on some bigger earrings, a bra, a little more makeup and off we went. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">She didn't balk at my look, which I viewed as progress of sorts. I was nervous being out like that for a couple of reasons. First, it wasn't my best look at that time by any means. I could be more "passable" if I spent more time with makeup and wore a wig. I could also be recognized more easily by people who could know me or my parents, and this is a look that people who didn't know I was transitioning just wouldn't understand. Though I was 80% out of it by then, I was still an active local real estate agent at that time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I wasn't transitioning to hide, not anymore, so off we went. The suburban Nashville Walmart is where I had dropped off my prescriptions and the Mexican restaurant is maybe a mile away. I stopped by the pharmacy to pick up my prescriptions before we went to dinner. I don't recall Joan going in with me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When we got to the restaurant I wondered if anyone who worked there would recognize me as we had been there a few times before. On the way in a man held the door for both Joan and I. She looked at me a little differently over that dinner, I guess for good reason, and I could <i>feel</i> our relationship slipping yet farther away from (quasi) marriage and more towards one of pure friendship. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I enjoyed that dinner and remember it well. We were both in good moods and we had good conversation. I seem to remember going to the ladies room and thinking that was a bold but liberating move.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When we got home I took my first hormones and the medical stage of my transition was off and running. Joan knew everything at that point but was nonchalant about the hormones. I think she feared what they would do and knew they were just another nail in the coffin of our marriage, but she didn't pay much attention to it. When I had very emotional bouts over the next few weeks she would sort of walk away from me, not offering comfort. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The first prescriptions I got were in my original legal name. I suppose this made it much easier at the pharmacy because this was what was on my driver's license and insurance card. So I picked up estrogen and spironolcatone prescriptions under the name Thomas Matthews. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The next time I saw my doctor and got refills he asked me what name to use. I must have said Tammy because that's what was on the prescriptions. I never really explained that to the pharmacist or the customer service reps. I looked <i>more</i> like Tammy by then (without the help of wig and makeup), a couple months after picking up my initial prescriptions, and the refills started coming back with the name Tammy Thomas Matthews on them. I would ask for prescriptions for Tammy Matthews and the clerks addressed me as Tammy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Over the seven months between the time I began hormones and went full time I probably went to the pharmacy in various stages of presentation, but never in a fully "male mode." I do remember a few times I was due for electrolysis and had to go in with a couple of days of hair growth, during the stage when that was a problem. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So there were some pretty awkward moments at the pharmacy along the way. Actually I never experienced awkwardness from anyone else, just in the way that I felt. When I went full time and began to present <i>fully</i> as myself every minute of every day, life became much less awkward.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There is an in between stage during transition, if we don't mask it. I guess I felt it first at the pharmacy first because of my name incongruity as well as the fact that I was listed as male and picking up female hormones. When I got my name legally changed and insurance cards changed I felt more at ease at the pharmacy, but no one there ever treated me in a way to make me feel uneasy. <br /><br />What got me thinking about this was being at the pharmacy this week and seeing one of the same clerks I've dealt with since I started. She's always extremely nice but I feel that she's privy to a little secret the people in line behind me do not know. She gives me a little smile. I guess it's our little secret.<br /><br />In the first paragraph here I alluded to the fact that perhaps I haven't handled my transition at the pharmacy as well as I should have. What I am thinking is that perhaps I should change to a new pharmacy where they don't know my history and sort of start over. I'm considering that but I believe I have gotten medication from all the drug stores here in the area at one time or another. Because my social security number hasn't changed I think that would cause me to have to a name change at those other pharmacies. So we are back to square one.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />We change a lot during transition. We evolve in our presentation, name changes at some point, the medications cause noticeable changes. Some have surgeries that cause an abrupt, sometimes dramatic change. I have wondered if pharmacists look for any of that and put two and two together knowing the effects of the meds they fill and the situation that causes us to have the prescriptions.<br /><br />I've heard some of my friends describe being asked by pharmacists why they are taking estrogen. Some will go in presenting female one month and male the next month. It can be an interesting dynamic. I'd love for you to share your own experiences with going to the pharmacy during transition in the comments section below. People starting out do benefit from hearing my experiences <i>and</i> your experiences. Some of them can be a little disconcerting and some can be comical.<br /><br />Once again, thanks for reading my blog and thanks for sharing. Please don't forget to take your medications.<br /><br /><br /></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-29340451032847440732015-04-26T10:30:00.000-07:002015-04-26T15:37:05.245-07:00Being Bruce Isn't Easy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>"Being Bruce isn't easy."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In Bruce Jenner's highly promoted interview with Dianne Sawyer, he revealed to the world what was hardly a secret anymore. Amid the buzz of years of rumors reaching a crescendo with the recent 2
hour prime time special, Bruce has revealed the secret that has
tormented him since childhood. Indeed it has tormented <i>her</i> for so long,
as Bruce revealed he is a woman.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Once known as "The World's Greatest Athlete" for his overpowering gold medal performance in the rigorous decathlon event of Montreal's 1976 Olympics, Bruce Jenner is in the spotlight once again and coming back with a message. If the World's Greatest Athlete can be transgender, anyone can be
transgender. If Bruce Jenner can be the nation's hero in 1976, he can
have the respect and acceptance of the world in 2015. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Being Bruce isn't easy," he says. I can relate to those words all too well. Bruce is saying it's been extremely difficult to be this person that he has had to be all these years. Now he can't take it anymore and he <i>has</i> to be himself. Bruce says that he has the soul of a woman. That she is part of him and he just can't hold her back anymore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am one of the people that remembers Bruce in the Olympics, winning the nation's heart along with the gold. But after that he became obscure to most of us until he reemerged in the reality television show "Keeping Up With the Kardashians," with his role as Kris Jenner's husband. This is a role that I have observed him in over the last few years, as a fan of the show.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As Bruce revealed in the interview, he had the real story inside him all this time. While the show launched the celebrity careers of Kim, her sisters and the rest of the Kardashians, Bruce slid into the mundane role of an everyday parent. Driving the kids around, giving fatherly advice and often being made to look a little foolish or taken for granted, Bruce usually comes across as the straight guy in a show that mixes "real life" comedy and drama.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Indeed, Bruce has been playing a role all of his life. <i>"Being Bruce isn't easy."</i> Now that he has come out as transgender woman, at age 65, Bruce will finally get to be himself. Yes, <i>herself</i> is the correct terminology, but in this interview Bruce preferred to use the name he was born with and the male pronouns that go with it. Soon, <i>she</i> will reemerge for all the world to see.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This was Bruce's last hoorah, his big goodbye. The first episode of this year's "Keeping Up With the Kardashians" also came across across as a goodbye to viewers. That episode featured Bruce leaving the family home in Old Town Calabasas (west of Bevelry Hills), moving to an oceanfront cottage in Malibu and setting up life on his own. Memories from 23 years with the Kardashians, scenes with the children (including his children from two previous marriages) and his evolving relationship with Kris were shown. Bruce was moving on and tears were shed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now we are poised for a new reality show that will presumably deal with Bruce's transition from male to female. He states that he doesn't feel he is trapped in a woman's body but does indeed have a woman's soul. Trans people are not all the same but we do share the same core feelings and experiences, although we may express them differently in words or how we live our lives. I believe all transgender people can relate to at least parts of his story. Hopefully Jenner's celebrity status and new role in the spotlight will allow others to relate to it as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Many are criticizing Bruce for using his status to be so vocal about coming out. He is privileged, he is wealthy and he is a celebrity so how can he possibly relate to the struggles so many trans people face? He doesn't have to worry about finding a job, housing, the acceptance of his family or paying for a transition that can often be very expensive, they complain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Such is life. Some people struggle with the basics while others do not. Having the full acceptance of a large number of family members is unusual as well, both for transgender children and parents. All of his 10 children accept his transition and embrace <i>her</i>, as Bruce describes "his female side." His celebrity status will hopefully bring more awareness and acceptance to this often obscure and troubled community. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This should bring more attention to all of our struggles as well. For all the glory, fame and fortune that the world knows him for, it is certain that Bruce has led a life of inner pain. I have to believe that by this major revelation, being able to live life as herself out in the open and this transition will allow Bruce to find happiness and peace. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Indeed, one can see the peace now in Bruce's eyes. Some of it I am sure is the hormones, as they bring a calm to the brain of a transgender person. The interview highlighted the recently confirmed fact that gender is indeed located in the brain. Having the wrong sex hormones coursing through the brain can cause conflict, confusion and utter torment. Almost all of us have felt this pain and its obvious Bruce has as well. <i>"Being Bruce isn't easy."</i><br /><br />During the Interview a child psychologist spoke to the fact that if treatment or intervention is not present in a trans person's life by the teen years to at latest the mid 20's there is usually a crisis developing that can become catastrophic. Many will commit suicide, turn to drugs, heavy alcohol or other self destructive behavior. At best, a life of miserable hiding (sometimes from oneself as well as others) enfolds whether one lives in isolation or buries themselves in the obligations of family, work etc.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The psychologist also spoke to the fact that some transgender people can turn that inner struggle to outer success by pushing themselves to greatness in some area. This is something that has always fascinated me about many of my trans brothers and sisters and Bruce is a shining example of this phenomenon. Not only did he embrace pursuits characteristic of the most macho male, (which is common as many trans women enter the military or male dominated careers) he excelled at the highest level in one of the most demanding sports known to man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Not as well known as professional sports, Olympic sports often provide the highest test of the skilled athlete. The decathlon consists of 10 track and field events and is a grueling competition of the most highly trained athletes. It also involves multitasking. Bruce crushed his competitors and took a victory lap after the last event while the other athletes writhed on the ground in pain. On the podium, accepting his prestigious award, Bruce celebrated with an empty anguish behind his eyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The struggle, the torment, focused inner pain into outer victory. <i>"Being Bruce isn't easy." </i>Now a smile meekly comes across his face as Bruce somewhat timidly explains his journey to the national television audience. In that smile comes a relief. Not only to be rid of this secret and experience this incredible journey but to be put in the position to share it with the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How will his journey unfold? What will his name for <i>her</i> be? There has already been hormone treatment and facial surgery, but what other steps will Bruce take in transition? He mentions Khloe Kardashian (not his biological daughter) as the only one of his children to express any real misgivings about this change, <i>but</i> she is also the one that told him if he is going to live the life of a woman, to be a woman, he needs to "have a vajayjay" as she puts it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He speaks of wanting to quietly have SRS, or gender reassignment surgery. Having this surgery will likely make his transition more socially acceptable and hopefully will bring him another level of inner peace that simply living as <i>herself </i>may not. Indeed, for many of us this surgical step brings a tremendous sense of relief and a feeling of completion not possible without it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Like so many other trans people, Bruce still struggles with sexuality and sexual preference even while finally admitting and embracing his gender identity. He says that for now he is asexual and is only attracted to females. No matter, he has to follow his heart on matters of the heart as well as all other aspects of this transition, as this is a very personal and individualized process. The only difference is in this case it is going to be a very public transition, one that will come with own reality show.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We all hope it will be tastefully done. I hope the world, especially those not informed or in touch with transgender issues, is watching. Stay tuned!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Once again, I am pulling for Bruce Jenner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****<br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>This is a link to The interview with Bruce Jenner<br /> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://abcnews.go.com/2020/fullpage/bruce-jenner-the-interview-30471558">http://abcnews.go.com/2020/fullpage/bruce-jenner-the-interview-30471558</a></i></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-48320991900396970682015-04-21T07:39:00.001-07:002015-04-21T07:39:58.530-07:00Losing My Smile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />There was once a time, just a few years ago, when I was facing the real possibility that I would transition, The fate of this life changing event was moving from possibility to probability, from dream to reality. Every time I would think about living full time as myself or having the surgery (GRS), a big smile would cross my face. If I could only follow through with what I knew I needed to do.<br /><br />One question kept popping into my head. Would I still transition if something bad happened to me? If I was in a wreck, ended up in a wheelchair, badly burned, contracted some life threatening disease or worse, would I still do it? </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I realized I had no choice, a sense of peace came over me. There was no decision to make after all. I had to be me no matter what. Whether I could pass, whether I would be pretty, whether everyone in my life shut me out and I was left on the street. Whatever life threw at me, I would face as a female and it would be imminently better for me than the alternative. <br /><br />When you realize you Have to be yourself and you cannot take it anymore, you move forward regardless. When the repression has been stripped away, the coping mechanisms are gone and you just can't take it anymore, you move forward. No matter what, I was finally going to be myself and face whatever life threw at me from an authentic perspective.<br /><br />So far my transition has gone extremely well, exceeding my expectations in terms of acceptance from my (small) family and society in general. I was even lucky enough to find love, true love the way I was meant to experience it, for the first time in my life. I know I've been very fortunate in all this as well as being blessed with a pleasant appearance and being able to pass fairly easily. Up until now, nothing bad has happened to mess that up.<br /><br /><i>Beauty is fleeting. In one second we can lose it. Inner beauty can last forever</i>.<br /><br />This week, I am getting my first taste of what life will be like if and when (it is inevitable isn't it?) something comes along to take my health or beauty away. After a strange headache set upon me last weekend, along with neck and earaches, I noticed some odd changes in my facial expression Sunday evening. By the time I woke up Monday it looked like half my face was paralyzed, as if I'd had a stroke.<br /><br />Fortunately, Mitchell had spent the weekend with me and he decided to take Monday off work and drive me to the doctor. I already had an appointment that afternoon with a new general practitioner, primarily for hormones, but now the appointment would take on a different focus.<br /><br />My diagnosis is Bell's Palsey. The doctor said there's a 95% chance I have Bell's Palsy and gave me
some medicine. It should clear up in a few weeks to a few months and there's a 94% none
of the effects will be permanent. It' still sucks though as it seems
like half my face is paralyzed.<br /></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Losing my smile.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, for now I have lost my smile. At least I have lost my ability to smile on the outside, but you better believe I have not lost my smile on the inside. I'm going to keep a positive attitude and I <i>know</i> I'm going to beat this thing. The fact that it is temporary in a vast majority of cases is encouraging. The fact that my boyfriend still thinks I'm beautiful is amazing. <br /><br />True love is much deeper than skin deep. I am so lucky to have found both the love of a good man and the love of myself. I never had either before, and they are making all the difference.<br /><br /></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am going to ride on, and I will Not give up. Not Ever!</span></span></span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-57346395951246154092015-04-08T20:21:00.000-07:002015-04-08T20:26:10.943-07:006 Months Post Op: Blossoming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wow, I am now over 6 months post op and I feel like I am blossoming all over. I guess I am mimicking spring in that respect but I finally feel more like myself than ever before. Sensing that I am "over the hump" as far as healing, I am now starting to enjoy myself and my new body more and more.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The magic elixirs (hormones) seem to be working their alchemy almost like never before. It is sort of like starting anew again. Even though I've gained a little weight, much of it at least seems to be going to the right places. Curves appear to be coming in faster than before the surgery. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Inside I feel bright and new. Having just gotten some good news, feeling better, and Spring's effect of longer days has me energized in a way I haven't been in awhile, not truly. I even rode my bicycle the other day for the first time since early September.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Modus of transportation</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4GDCTOAOGPNETTfKzWF1fZs7SHObWzIzX0u6vNmYL_4pe-9zV1uQzb7UaDghsc5ov6X_hZ75ReKux4j6h3jjP3h8VtbB9UCg0G8MmgWmjowGfTmibYMEcGmY0wVl4ahZTIJlDajnyKKm/s1600/030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4GDCTOAOGPNETTfKzWF1fZs7SHObWzIzX0u6vNmYL_4pe-9zV1uQzb7UaDghsc5ov6X_hZ75ReKux4j6h3jjP3h8VtbB9UCg0G8MmgWmjowGfTmibYMEcGmY0wVl4ahZTIJlDajnyKKm/s1600/030.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Ergonomic seat protects the kitty</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The good news I received week before last is that my granulation has finally cleared up! It's been a few weeks since I have seen any blood from dilating or anything else. Pain is almost nonexistent now, even when using the largest dilator. This can make a huge difference in your mental state as well as physical well being. Recently I stopped wearing the panty liners and that is another relief felt on a daily basis.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm still having some discomfort in the area where I (apparently) had a swollen gland. The ultrasound confirmed it was nothing serious but something is still there, even though it seems very small and not problematic now. I really only feel it when I cross my legs tightly. <br /><br />I suppose my next move will be going to see a gynecologist who will check me out good, inside and out. This is actually something that any post op woman should do anyway and I hope this thorough check up will quell my remaining fears.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I will also be seeing a new GP (doctor) in a couple of weeks. This doctor will be my "hormone doctor" as well as my regular doctor. My old doctor moved his practice and went into semi retirement, so rather than dance around his sporadic schedule I will give this female physician a try. I've heard good things about her and have high hopes. I do like having only one doctor for all my medical needs (outside of any needed specialists) and have never seen an endocrinologist for hormones.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Health wise, I am getting my energy back, getting my mojo back, coming out of my funk. I am just beginning to blossom inside and out. That's the best way I can describe the feeling I've had this last couple of weeks. Being a woman (physically as well as mentally) really suits me in a way that even I did not expect. I knew it would better but I had no idea it would feel <i>this</i> right, feel this good. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm told it will be about another 6 months until I am fully healed. I can buy that, as some things are still a little tender and some spots have not completely healed yet, like the small area that was granulated. I think just truly being able to see the light at the end of the tunnel is liberating. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The physical sensations I am feeling are beyond amazing and unlike anything I've experienced before. Not only can I now see and feel the other side of transition, occasionally for a fleeting moment, I forget I was ever on the wrong side of myself.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQ4Kms21-oKE-lK_XXRUswWx3KX-ep4lgRxRTu56gmqQbTWL-m5Oc__a6N4WdtJoFDzX9wl1IfkhkupZrG-mY_Y3T_66nX1At-c7guu-VKNnpag4JQlZ7cqf3SBUzLyPwDFlKtQv6fn4L/s1600/071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQ4Kms21-oKE-lK_XXRUswWx3KX-ep4lgRxRTu56gmqQbTWL-m5Oc__a6N4WdtJoFDzX9wl1IfkhkupZrG-mY_Y3T_66nX1At-c7guu-VKNnpag4JQlZ7cqf3SBUzLyPwDFlKtQv6fn4L/s1600/071.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Nothing beats time with Mitchell</span></span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-30121004534881723672015-03-24T19:34:00.000-07:002015-03-25T06:39:45.694-07:00What's Going On In Charlotte?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>"The fear was so thick you could cut it with a knife." </i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bree Catlin was attending the Charlotte City Council meeting (Monday March 2nd) for the big debate over the city's proposed LGBT Non-Discrimination Ordinance. Bree, like many of the attendees and several of the speakers at the meeting, is transgender. As a transgender woman, a key provision of the ordinance relates directly to her ability to live her life normally, at work and in other public places in the city.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bree could feel the hate that entire night. In the crowded chamber, she was hit several times by cardboard signs held by the people behind her. The signs read "Don't Do It Charlotte," and were held by some of the estimated 60% of attendees who opposed the ordinance. After striking her with the signs, some rudely proclaimed "Oops, sorry sir." Bree said that she didn't get hurt so she ignored it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Janice Covington Allison was running 45 minutes late when she arrived at the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Government Center for the controversial city council meeting. Once inside, it didn't take long for controversy to find Janice. It caught up with her in (of all places) the restroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Janice was scheduled to be one of the speakers that night and was in the women's restroom fixing her hair before the meeting, when a Charlotte policewoman walked in and asked her to leave. As she was being escorted out of the restroom Janice was told a woman had complained to the police about Janice being in the restroom with her and her two kids.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As a member of the coalition backing Charlotte's proposed non discrimination ordinance, Janice is a proud transgender woman and activist. She's on the front line of the struggle for transgender rights. The night of the meeting her involvement in that struggle put her in a situation that impeded her rights to a basic function of society, using the restroom. Thank goodness she didn't face legal charges.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The council meeting that night in Charlotte was for public comments, then a vote on an expansion of the city's nondiscrimination ordinance to include
sexual orientation, gender expression and gender identity to a list of
protected groups. It also would prohibit discrimination based on
someone’s marital and familial status. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In listening to the almost 5 hours hours of public testimony it became clear that the greatest complaint about the ordinance, in the minds of its detractors, was the "bathroom provision." This was the provision that would allow trans people to use the bathroom in which they feel more comfortable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Speaker after speaker came to the microphone to proclaim how this ordinance could endanger women and young girls when using public restrooms. Most of this fear mongering centered around the fact that a man could claim to be transgender just to use the women's room, presumably for sinister reasons. While no one on either side of the debate wants that scenario to occur (and in fact that is just as rare in places where trans people are allowed to use gender appropriate public facilities as it is when they are legally required to use the facility of their birth gender), this mass of testimony seemed an effective smokescreen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Janice told me she proposed to the committee that the bathroom ordinance be specific to transgender people who are medically transitioning from one gender to another. These people would likely have identification matching their gender presentation or a letter from their psychologist or physician stating they were in transition and should be allowed to use public facilities in which they felt more comfortable, or appropriate for them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The committee chose a broader approach, to allow any trans person to use the restroom of their choice regardless of their documentation or presentation. Considering that all transgender people may not look like typical males or females (and there is a broad range of identities under the transgender umbrella), the committee took the high road of maximum inclusiveness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Janice warned the planning committee that the ordinance would not pass with such a provision, and she was right. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Janice also wanted the inclusiveness but just didn't think it would pass. Perhaps she knows the political atmosphere in the bible belt all too well.<br /></span>The Charlotte City Council voted 6-5 that evening to reject the ordinance. Two Democrats switched sides and voted with the Republicans in opposition after the council approved a compromise that would have excluded restrooms, locker rooms,
showers, and changing rooms from the proposed non-discrimination
protections. Apparently they were going to wait until the whole enchilada was back on the table.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Watching the hours of testimony and seeing the newspaper pictures the next day told the rest of the story. Bree Caitlin was in one of those pictures in which someone behind her appears to be staring at her, in her words, "with daggers." Bree also mentioned that <span data-reactid=".1h2.1:3:1:$comment811666688932691_811667955599231:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1h2.1:3:1:$comment811666688932691_811667955599231:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1h2.1:3:1:$comment811666688932691_811667955599231:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1h2.1:3:1:$comment811666688932691_811667955599231:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">"The
Benhams and their tribe sent in the kids with instructions to run out
screaming about a man in the restroom. They staged it so that a speaker
could use in as anti trans stuff." <br /><br />The Benhams are a "Christian" activist family whose members were vocally protesting the ordinance that night. Apparently when Janice Covington Allison was confronted in the bathroom it was because of a complaint by the Benhams. Knowing who Janice was, when she entered the women's restroom they sent a lady in with two kids and a video camera while another alerted the police. They were looking for a confrontation. Luckily they didn't get one that night besides the organized speakers expressing their sentiments, and the vote itself.<br /><br />While there were more people speaking out against the ordinance than for it, signs saying "Don't Discriminate Charlotte" seemed almost as prevalent as those that read "Don't Do It Charlotte." Many spoke in favor of the ordinance, and non discrimination in general. One of the speakers referred to Bree Caitlin as "Auntie Bree" and proclaimed that her family member was not a predator. "She's a brave soul seeking justice in a world that tries to destroy her." <br /><br />Bree herself stated after the vote that she had been backing off her role in activism but now she is standing up and speaking up. Janice has </span></span></span></span>since been elected Chair of Precinct #29 of the North Carolina Democratic Party and promises to continue the fight in the political arena for LGBT (which includes Transgender) rights.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So, that's what's going on in Charlotte. What's going on in the rest of the country? In many places it's even worse. States including Texas and Florida are proposing ordinances specifically targeting transgender bathroom rights. They aren't just voting against expanding stated rights but actively seeking to take these rights away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Some people may ask why all this matters. Well, it matters because in order to function normally in society All people need access to public restrooms. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Some trans people ask how this applies to them, if they have "their papers" or are among the fortunate of us who can "pass" as their true gender. Well, that matters because some of these proposed laws, including the one in Texas which states that "people should use the restrooms matching their gender assigned at birth." I suppose if you are lucky enough to have your birth certificate changed you would probably be ok, but technically not ok according to how some of the laws are being written.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We should also stand up for the rights of everyone. One thing that is not often stated is that there are existing laws, strong laws, against people using Any restroom for the purpose of attack or sexual predation. This is simply not the case when it comes to transgender people using the restroom they identify with. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As some have stated, "Let them pee!!"</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-13157933042034393332015-03-04T12:17:00.003-08:002015-03-04T13:19:08.482-08:00Ultrasound<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsMb_xXUFzVTxHdCzYDXxOfBFUmitPWeZeA5a6cxKz2eHFckVfPWWa6S66_C4G9lFnTjfPAIL5oeUo_3Gp55O7xx370lKijCRgeEXOPOnFjnVfWVVCgsEJAuzxSY8tWvxmErX4BmMrBC9/s1600/056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsMb_xXUFzVTxHdCzYDXxOfBFUmitPWeZeA5a6cxKz2eHFckVfPWWa6S66_C4G9lFnTjfPAIL5oeUo_3Gp55O7xx370lKijCRgeEXOPOnFjnVfWVVCgsEJAuzxSY8tWvxmErX4BmMrBC9/s1600/056.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Monday was March 2nd and my day to head to Rex Hospital in Raleigh for an ultrasound test. Mitchell had been home with me since Wednesday evening, but he had to follow the Monday routine and drive back to Virginia for work. He'd arrived just an hour or so ahead of the big snow that caused a (4 hour) power outage Thursday morning. He also brought a cold with him so he spent the 4 days with me at home resting, while I walked the dogs in the snow and cooked for him in the evenings. All of this was a nice distraction from thinking about my problems, the coming test and finding out what's wrong with me.<br /><br />The dogs rode with me to the hospital, as it was cool enough for them to wait in the car while I went inside. We were to meet up with Joan later for a walk in the park and a quick dinner. <br /><br />Rex is a big hospital but after a good bit of walking I finally found the area to check in for the ultrasound test. When they called me back to admissions I felt as if I was being checked in for an overnight stay in the hospital. I had to fill out paperwork, show my driver's license and insurance card and then got a regular hospital wristband. It sure is nice to have all the ID and paperwork match who I am, and with all that and a good presentation I am confident I passed fine.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />Now it was time to take the long walk down the long hall, with seven turns, to the ultrasound area. The nice man who'd checked me in escorted me back after first asking me if I was up for a walk. I guess I could have opted for a wheelchair, but I certainly didn't need it. <br /><br />While we were walking back I did see one woman in a wheelchair and another in a hospital bed being pushed down the hall by a couple of orderlies. My mind flashed back to my own time in the hospital last September. I noted how big and scary this hospital was compared to the cozy little Metropolitan Center for Plastic Surgery where I stayed in Montreal.<br /><br />I saw several pregnant women standing in the hall and it sort of made me jealous that I missed this in my life. I missed the opportunity to have kids. At the same time it made me feel good to finally be in the place I am in life, to fully be a woman, not just mentally, but socially and now physically.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When I finally got to the ultrasound room I was greeted by a petite nurse who asked me a few questions and showed me what she would be doing in the procedure. One of the questions she asked was where was the swelling. She asked if it was along my bikini line or on my labia. I told her most of it was on my right, lower labia but some did extend out, so she was going to check the whole area. <br /><br />She told me to pull my pants down to my knees, but I didn't have to take them off. I thought to myself how great it was to be able to take my clothes off and still be seen as me. I can now pass with my clothes off...:) <br /><br />The lights in the room were dimmed for the tests and from my position on the bed I couldn't see the screen of the ultrasound machine. The nurse lubed up a probe and slowly ran it around my entire groin area, on both sides. I don't know what type of lubricant she used but it was warm, as she said it would be. The test only took a few minutes and when it was over she gave me a towel to wipe off, turned on the lights and asked me to wait while she went to ask the radiologist if they had what they needed.<br /><br />They got it, so I was off through the expansive maze of hallways, following signs back to the Main Entrance and across some parking lots to another part of the campus to see my doctor, Keelee MacPhee. She only had a few minutes with me before taking a conference call and she wanted to give me another granulation treatment.<br /><br />The results of the tests were not available yet, but one of the things she was concerned about was inguinal herniation. This can sometimes happen as a result of surgery and is a protrusion of part of the intestine. I didn't feel like this was what was wrong, but it is certainly a cause for concern especially because it requires a minor surgery to correct.<br /><br />When she examined me, Dr. Macphee seemed thrilled that the granulated area at the bottom of my vagina looked much better. I felt the slight burn of the silver nitrate stick as she gave me one more treatment while noting that the swelling on my right labia had subsided some, but was still present. I took some solace in the fact that everything seems better and today's tests went quickly and easily. I'll come back next Monday for a full report.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Rex Hospital's own "snow doctor" melts outside in the 60 degree heat.</span></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><br />Results of the Test:</b>I got a call today (Wednesday afternoon). I didn't recognize the number so, as usual, I didn't answer the phone but the message said it was Keelee and she was calling with the results of my test.<br /><br />Apparently the tests showed that I do not have an inguinal or any type of hernia. My worst fears (something like cancer) were also ruled out. The tests did show a lymph node on the right side that was swollen. She said that is not unusual, even at this stage of recovery from surgery, and could be present because of the granulation. I probably also aggravated it when massaging the scars. This place now has the same feel and consistency of swollen lymph nodes I've had on my neck, so this makes sense.<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I go back in Monday for a full examination and a full report. I have to say I feel quite a bit better after getting these results. I really didn't want another surgery right now, even a minor corrective one, although you have to be prepared for that when you have a major surgery like GRS. <br /><br />I know i have a lot more healing to do and it looks like it's going to take the whole year, just like the surgeon said. Sometimes hanging in there and being tough is what it takes to get through this. That's something that hasn't been my strong point, but I am learning....<br /><br /><br /><br /><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-66293148022359907652015-02-28T17:24:00.000-08:002015-02-28T17:35:41.403-08:005 Months Post Op Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This week I hit the 5 month post op (GRS) mark. Fascinating! In a way it really doesn't seem like it's been so long but in another way it's becoming harder to remember how life <i>felt</i> before this life changing event. I am still in the stage where my recovery dominates much of my life but am far enough along that most of my life has returned to normal. I also have to admit that I'm quite frustrated that in a couple of ways I have not recovered as much as I'd hoped to by now. The truth is, something is wrong.<br /><br />I have not posted a true post op update in quite some time. Honestly, it's been hard for me to write about a situation that is mostly very positive, but has some lingering negative undertones. It's quite the paradox really. <br /><br />I am happier, a little more confident, a lot more content with myself, quite a bit more comfortable with my body and just as positive as ever about my bright future. Things have never been more right in my world, especially with regard to the way I feel about myself, inside. Yet there is a little cloud of doubt hanging around and a tiny hint of fear creeping up on the horizon. I am afraid something is wrong.<br /> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've started wearing jeans again sometimes, with some level of discomfort.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><br />So what's the skinny on my recovery at this 5 month mark???</i>Right now, I'm dilating twice a day and only using two dilators each time, the medium (green) and large (orange). The green is supposed to stay in 5 minutes at full depth and the orange stays in 15 minutes. I usually go a little longer than the recommended times and this is really neither a painful nor pleasurable experience, for the most part. It's still more of a chore. People who think we are playing with sex toys are dead wrong and people who think its sheer misery are quite wrong as well.<br /><br />The dilation process takes over an hour twice a day when you consider preparing everything, taking awhile for the dilators to actually go all the way in, dilating and cleaning up. <i>No they don't yet just slide right in and I take that as a good thing.</i> The dilators have to be sterilized and I like to at least take a semi shower when I'm finished, as lube is involved. <br /><br />One of the things a lot of people worry about before having this surgery, and I was no exception, is how will things <i>feel </i>when we heal. Dr. Brassard told me that it can take up to 2 years for sensation to fully return and I know people who went to various surgeons and really have not had adequate sensation return, even after a year or two. Thank goodness that hasn't been a problem for me.<br /><br />I have to say that the physical feelings I have are amazing, quite a bit better than before. I'm told this might get even better over time but even if there's no more change I can say I am very satisfied in this area. Being satisfied with being satisfied is something that brings me quite a bit of satisfaction, often over and over again. Perhaps one day I will post more graphic details as I get a lot of questions about this, but I think you get my drift.<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Aesthetics wise, I am very happy except for the surgical scars which are finally starting to fade. The surgeon says that it takes a year for the scars to fade, but he says that about almost everything. I know I have a tendency to scar, or have scars hold redness, more than most people. For example, I scratched my hand back in November and it's still somewhat red. So I know these will go away, for the most part anyway, eventually.<br /><br />We're told to massage the scars, possibly using some type of oil or cream containing vitamin E. My doctor in Raleigh even told me to pinch them as well as rub them. Overall this is not unpleasant but I think this pinching and aggressive massage might have contributed to a new and mysterious problem that I am experiencing.<br /></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****<br /><br />I think at this point, all things considered, I am about 80% recovered from surgery as far as my general healing. As far as vaginal healing I will say I am maybe 50% recovered? It's really hard for me to say because I never had a vagina before (that was one of the big things I was missing) so I am not sure what 100% recovery will be. I am told the healing takes a year, and I am almost halfway there, so for now I will go with the 50% estimate. Still, something is wrong.<br /><br />The granulation I spoke of in previous updates, having first reared its ugly head in late October, persists but continues to gradually improve. I've been seeing <a href="http://keeleemacpheemd.com/">Dr. Keelee Macphee</a> in Raleigh every 2-4 weeks for silver nitrate treatments that seem to slowly chip away at this problem. I know others who've had much worse cases of granulation, often taking a lot of time and treatment to heal, but yet most of us do not experience it at all. I guess I am one of the unlucky ones in this regard but it could be much worse, or I could have even more serious complications, so maybe I am not so unlucky after all.<br /><br />So this brings us to the (possibly) new, mysterious problem I am having. I've mentioned here that something is wrong. I wish I knew what it was but at this point I do not. At the end of January my right labia majora (feel free to look that up) became swollen and quite sore. The swelling only lasted few days and was gone by the time of my next doctor's appointment. I did mention it to Dr. MacPhee, but it was like having a car that's acting up and when you take it to the shop it's doing fine. If it's not broke don't fix it.<br /><br />A couple of weeks ago this problem reappeared, though seemingly not as acute as the first time. This time I was able to show the doctor the swelling and it has caused a bit of concern for both of us. There's often quite a bit of discomfort associated with this but no real pain, at least as far as doctors define pain. <br /><br />Monday (March 2nd) I am going to get an ultrasound to try to determine what is causing the swelling (if it is indeed swelling) and try to figure out what can be done about it. Technically, I'm going in for a bilateral groin ultrasound. It sounds very scary and weird but I have to believe it's not going to be that serious. Alas, for now it is a great mystery. <br /><br />*****<br /><br />At the end of the day I have to say: surgery sucks, recovering from surgery sucks. Still, it was not as bad as I thought it would be and not nearly as bad as I feared it<i> could</i> be. The recovery is just taking longer than normal, with a few more difficulties than I'd like, and now that nasty element of mystery.<br /><br />While I wished I didn't have to have surgery (in order to be myself) there was never any doubt that it was necessary and it was never a choice. People who say it is a choice do not understand what it is like (to be in the wrong body) and people who struggle with the "decision" of whether or not to have this surgery may need to look closely at whether they really need it or not.<br /><br />Overall, I couldn't be happier with my results although I could be happier with my recovery at this point. I try not to let it bring me down, and most days it doesn't. It's only been 5 days since my doctor told me I needed this ultrasound, so I'm still digesting the situation. <br /><br />Just a couple of weeks ago, right before this last bout of swelling, I experienced a brief few days of pure bliss. My granulation issue was better and not worrying me so much and physically everything was feeling soo good. I really felt like I was over the hump and I was on the brink of being fully healed. Then this new problem arose and I started worrying again. <br /><br />Now I have to practice what I preach and <i>believe </i>that everything will be ok. Deep down inside I feel it will be. Lots of people have to have revisions (minor surgeries to correct some problem) and if that's what I have to do so be it. Maybe it will be almost nothing. Something is wrong, but maybe it will be almost nothing after all.<br /></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****<br /><br />I've got to tell you that even though I am a little concerned about a couple of things, I'm extremely happy these days. Content might be a better word, but if you take the mysterious worry out of the equation, there's no better description than happy, fabulously happy. It's an incredible feeling, after an incredibly wrong feeling for the vast majority of my life. Things are just taking a little longer (to heal) than expected.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The happy times get happier..<br />Out with Mitchell on Valentine's night.</span></span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-80759827291396634662015-02-19T15:41:00.002-08:002015-02-19T18:53:18.701-08:00Oh Well<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As prophesized, I've begun some limited travel this year after being on a self imposed (and quite necessary) travel moratorium since my return from Montreal early last October. In the last half of January I took two trips, spending 4 nights in Virginia with my boyfriend Mitchell and 2 nights at the coast with my BFF Lisa and her girlfriend Teri.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><br />Lynchburg</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My first trip since my surgery began with a rather long (3.5 hour) drive to the foothills of Virginia to spend a few days and nights with Mitchell. First stop was Total Hair Salon in Raleigh, where it was time to get a color recharge on my roots. From Raleigh to Lynchburg is usually about a 2.5 hour drive but I ran into traffic almost all the way and it seemed like I would never get there.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This was Friday night (January 16th), supposedly the start of the weekend but my baby had to work Sunday that week. I did get there in time for us to go out for a nice meal at Texas Roadhouse. When we got there it was very crowded with a long wait for tables, so we ended up sitting and eating at the bar. Before we got our seats at the bar one man said it was ok for me to sit on his lap (at the bar), if it was ok with Mitchell. We declined his offer and waited for 2 seats to come open.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mitch and I with a lovely, fruit filled margarita. Waiting for a seat somewhere, anywhere.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Overall the trip was pretty uneventful Except for getting to spend some time with my lover on a weekend he might not have come home due to the odd weekend scheduling. Saturday we sort of took it easy, but we did eat 2 meals out and visit the mall. Dilating still takes much of my time and energy and in addition I wasn't feeling my best.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The truth is at that time (and even now to a slightly lesser degree) I was having some healing issues and the long car ride seems to have exacerbated them. I was in some pain and had some bleeding when dilating, so we decided to take it easy for the most part. No drive up to the Blue Ridge Mountains this time. Oh well....</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhtiSqOjExGIQRxdZID0tNX5bJ0tPcun1L_6qxUDeOFAcMzIFKPa0NEEXeZslBtO4eLe6WF6-xyWzXR_74StXIGJOh7RVbBa3HixaK3YweUJI0UmVCfbKLyfg9LzLdz41PsJqLtVeBMWm/s1600/046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhtiSqOjExGIQRxdZID0tNX5bJ0tPcun1L_6qxUDeOFAcMzIFKPa0NEEXeZslBtO4eLe6WF6-xyWzXR_74StXIGJOh7RVbBa3HixaK3YweUJI0UmVCfbKLyfg9LzLdz41PsJqLtVeBMWm/s1600/046.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Distant views of the Blue Ridge were all I saw of the mountains on this trip to Virginia.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sunday night, when Mitch came home from work, we watched the NFL playoff game on television and I cooked dinner in the tiny kitchen of the extended stay apartment. The couch there isn't even big enough for us to lay down and cuddle, but with his chair right next to to the "couchette", we could still hold hands and be close to each other.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mitchell also had Monday off for Martin Luther King Day. We thought about going to see "Mockingjay", The new Hunger Games movie, but when we got to the theater it had been superseded by an extra showing of American Sniper. No interest there, so we went to Best Buy and bought a new movie, American Hustle. We stopped and picked up a fried chicken and went home to watch what turned out to be a very good movie.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I woke up with Mitchell Tuesday morning and after he left for work I did my dilation routine then hit the road for home. I picked the dogs up from the kennel then got ready to go with my mom to her historical society meeting. The speaker that night was involved with an old mill restoration project that I am writing about, so I took this chance to interview her. Once again, I was pleasantly surprised by how well I was able to fit in among mom's friends, many who knew me "way back when." <br /></span></span><br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>Never be surprised by how well people accept and embrace change.</i></span></span></h4>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Jarvisburg</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Towards the end of the month I headed east for another trip, this time to visit Lisa and Teri in beautiful Jarvisburg, North Carolina. I've been promising Lisa I'd visit for sometime but having been laid up after surgery, this was my first good opportunity in months.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My first stop was Currituck Sports where I happened to bump into Lisa. She was looking for a winter jacket and I was just looking, but this place is right up the road from her house so this gave us a chance to get an head start on some "world class shopping" in this rural area. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I took a (double) selfie of us outside the shop and posted it on Facebook. Many friends thought we were going fishing in the January cold (we weren't), and one even made a special effects shot out of our original picture. I like that we'd made a marquee in Times Square!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb84gKb573acybR1f8pBwvhEs8xbP169-N6C_mSxfZjaKcCA9PR8yYl8_ycb706f3i5bc2CSt-YRcz3d9BFmpWJLpvUCXR5dNlZl-IbCQFGWOT4wVHtEQrY_gVzPi3UcdiFAN0n1cp2ekz/s1600/10432470_892148254169105_5492953084303642364_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb84gKb573acybR1f8pBwvhEs8xbP169-N6C_mSxfZjaKcCA9PR8yYl8_ycb706f3i5bc2CSt-YRcz3d9BFmpWJLpvUCXR5dNlZl-IbCQFGWOT4wVHtEQrY_gVzPi3UcdiFAN0n1cp2ekz/s1600/10432470_892148254169105_5492953084303642364_n.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That night Lisa, Teri and I headed over to the beach (Kitty Hawk) to have dinner and drinks with Lisa's old boss and friend Darlene. Darlene's mom lives in Rocky Mount and I have spoken with her about going walking or biking here sometimes when she is in town. We had not had a chance to meet yet, so it was nice to meet her while having this awesome meal with friends. Lisa and Darlene hadn't seen each other lately and had so much to catch up on, as Lisa has recently come out and gone full time at work. I have to give her a hand for transitioning in this small community, but it is a beach community so it's sort of laid back. So far so good for Lisa (and Congratulations)!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUDuuSG-PGEhUWy-8aKdJi9S1WQ125klTIudpbtKNL7W4wE-GOYrDiPXD_6kD4b1inC_L8wiJWLn-PRx9cRvZVeHtEZaxj66rgPBguMHnG-b3XE61NSTHfRdnn0HOWTDAsuFDbeSjYNcZ/s1600/983849_705423769574797_6839767969063471021_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwUDuuSG-PGEhUWy-8aKdJi9S1WQ125klTIudpbtKNL7W4wE-GOYrDiPXD_6kD4b1inC_L8wiJWLn-PRx9cRvZVeHtEZaxj66rgPBguMHnG-b3XE61NSTHfRdnn0HOWTDAsuFDbeSjYNcZ/s1600/983849_705423769574797_6839767969063471021_n.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lisa and I Wednesday night before going to dinner at the beach.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We got quite a surprise when we came home from dinner that night. There was no water. As in there was no running water in the house. Here we are 10 miles from the ocean, a few hundred feet from a river so wide you cannot see the other side, in a region inundated and defined by water, and there was not a drop to drink. Nor was there a drop to wash off in, flush the toilets etc. Oh well.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We made do that night. I skipped that night's dilation, drank a couple of (homemade) margaritas and danced around while Lisa and Teri scurried about worrying about and looking at the well. Maybe my laid back attitude rubbed off on them because at some point the decision was made to live with the well pump being out and get the neighbor (a fix it guy) over in the morning to take a look at it.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The next day, Thursday, was our planned "Big Day." Lisa and I had hair appointments at noon, then we were to head up to the big city of Norfolk, Virginia to see what kind of trouble we could get into there. Teri was already going to be in Norfolk for her electrolysis and was going to meet us for a nice dinner.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our plans got kind of sidetracked by the well situation. The fix it guy showed up in the morning but had to go do another job and was to return later that afternoon. Lisa and I ran around to various hardware stores buying pipes, fittings and a pump for the well. I also missed my morning dilation and shower. We cleaned up best we could using bottled water, got dressed and headed out. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiNGZlEWCtuiplpa5rNZaQMLptmpgCpqeAI0_DO0v_0hklqacwiAK_P91geGlGO_Ifya0KyALn9oDjN3F6arIKYr5UMIQxcyhSe1cdT7rR8vT6Tf5yn9sSGOZLxtbsy2ptAHuUxyd9Fl9H/s1600/1284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiNGZlEWCtuiplpa5rNZaQMLptmpgCpqeAI0_DO0v_0hklqacwiAK_P91geGlGO_Ifya0KyALn9oDjN3F6arIKYr5UMIQxcyhSe1cdT7rR8vT6Tf5yn9sSGOZLxtbsy2ptAHuUxyd9Fl9H/s1600/1284.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Helping with the well repair, carrying some pipe around Home Depot.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lisa and I did make it to the hair salon on time. This was a very big day for Lisa! I'd made the appointments for us to come in to this little local salon and get our hair washed and styled. The stylist, Susan, was unaware that Lisa had been in her high school class and lives in the same small community. At least she didn't know she was now living there as Lisa..:)</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was an awesome scenario. I went first and made small talk with Susan while she washed my hair. She found out I was visiting and lived a couple hours away. After she rinsed my hair out I sat at her station while she washed Lisa's hair. I am glad Susan couldn't see me because I was grinning the entire time.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lisa strung her along for a little while and then asked the big question. She revealed that they'd been in school together and she asked Susan if she remembered her. Susan asked a few more questions and said that she did know a Crane in high school. She asked Lisa if that was her brother. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh well, this is when Lisa dropped the bomb on her. That person Was her, but Now she is Lisa. That bomb went over on Susan like a flower bomb. We'd passed with flying colors. She was surprised, very happy and quite supportive from that moment on. She asked Lisa many questions and me a few, as we spent another hour or more in the salon getting our hair styled. Of course, Susan said she didn't have a clue (then or now) but she did remember Lisa's old self seemed mired in sadness. This is something I could certainly relate to.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOf21x8UxRQAzxc33YsT5RPePFpWx58-rAJ-Ipy6ySpBD-CsJLPQq8nVdkCCC1m0J7UCCXs6YfE21vjhGiMJQB224yzeE20jevlmbVRW1aNW4aOg0EfRzSLphe-jzembW6wvYpvXa640-/s1600/20150129_122357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOf21x8UxRQAzxc33YsT5RPePFpWx58-rAJ-Ipy6ySpBD-CsJLPQq8nVdkCCC1m0J7UCCXs6YfE21vjhGiMJQB224yzeE20jevlmbVRW1aNW4aOg0EfRzSLphe-jzembW6wvYpvXa640-/s1600/20150129_122357.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lisa, Susan and I having fun at the salon.</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrI5KPMiiTuTCPRIayTBTVRo-9nOMRSf7YLXXFrv3qtjDB6HI-4csujgV2nz7b5O-vs5lwrTn6izwapLA5ESBj2dMx8H4y_7A1ItM5M2aBEpxJ7Ksq_CLigzShzeCSsVEn6hd_udA4nvy/s1600/1385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrI5KPMiiTuTCPRIayTBTVRo-9nOMRSf7YLXXFrv3qtjDB6HI-4csujgV2nz7b5O-vs5lwrTn6izwapLA5ESBj2dMx8H4y_7A1ItM5M2aBEpxJ7Ksq_CLigzShzeCSsVEn6hd_udA4nvy/s1600/1385.jpg" height="640" width="602" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lisa getting her hair "did" while I check out the back of my head. Fabulous!</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFAqAD0pvOPC1obUHduhX6ms68pPdExOqN030Ecd2zjsiyxADJGULTnw0dwjRp2kfMQU9fWanP9BQw32Jo2Q9xHvbibRk9RMbH2-4WVMMETENMSg3HHWeTAWja-dKcf7UHAakbbwpKuMn/s1600/1394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFAqAD0pvOPC1obUHduhX6ms68pPdExOqN030Ecd2zjsiyxADJGULTnw0dwjRp2kfMQU9fWanP9BQw32Jo2Q9xHvbibRk9RMbH2-4WVMMETENMSg3HHWeTAWja-dKcf7UHAakbbwpKuMn/s1600/1394.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The back of Lisa's head was also fabulous!</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We Had to go somewhere after getting our hair done, so we headed over to the beach to a local favorite, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Hurricane-Mos/126431787407769">Hurricane Moe's</a>. This is a little dive bar/restaurant with a trippy surfer theme but I actually got some of the best seafood of my trip there, a spicy, blackened tuna sandwich. I also had something else I'd not had since weeks before my surgery, a beer. In fact we ordered a pitcher of the scrumptious, amber lager. I believe Lisa let me have one mug before she whisked the rest of it away. I didn't even get to finish my one mug, as we got called away when we got word that the well fix it guy was on site and ready to start fixing.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynLz9c-wYdeF7aB5OZcEGW0oUPTwyi3_sfNgSbSpi5giyZXJMFTLEpilr9v2L46Wk8XDrYOtFcrdHl5W1Vz0GtChl-ZbojrlNzulEfkJ3FTucsdB3pt-yCeMMMtZMkWiQngzHd8tZkWuo/s1600/1920315_892968834087047_733069594706619671_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiynLz9c-wYdeF7aB5OZcEGW0oUPTwyi3_sfNgSbSpi5giyZXJMFTLEpilr9v2L46Wk8XDrYOtFcrdHl5W1Vz0GtChl-ZbojrlNzulEfkJ3FTucsdB3pt-yCeMMMtZMkWiQngzHd8tZkWuo/s1600/1920315_892968834087047_733069594706619671_n.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Reacquainting myself with this strange liquid..</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">With the repair to the water source well on the way, I decided I would go ahead and get a dilation in. Surely the water would be running by the time I finished so that I could shower and get ready for dinner. When I got through dilating I laid there for awhile, then went to talk to Lisa and realized that nothing happened. The man couldn't figure out how to fix the well. It had gotten dark, he was tired and it was time for him to go home.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh well, I cleaned up best I could and the three of us went back to the beach, to another highly rated local favorite restaurant, <a href="http://tortugaslie.com/">Tortuga's Lie</a>. Here I enjoyed more tuna, fancily done for such a homey little place, and enjoyed another amber colored beverage. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTTNN2RFsORRc_MMtNtM7Srk9XLf9qi-XJ3vmcqtApjxT_hBcrsWOvCFvz46Fq8eifWS6Nk3I5lB-yAgLM2Ca49gLcltxarCWJhHRBZu4XYC8-Ck9AAmxVQcnlTEnkpCEP9NzwYaz9Vv6/s1600/10955602_702890113161496_6181479009328363481_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTTNN2RFsORRc_MMtNtM7Srk9XLf9qi-XJ3vmcqtApjxT_hBcrsWOvCFvz46Fq8eifWS6Nk3I5lB-yAgLM2Ca49gLcltxarCWJhHRBZu4XYC8-Ck9AAmxVQcnlTEnkpCEP9NzwYaz9Vv6/s1600/10955602_702890113161496_6181479009328363481_n.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lisa, Teri and I at Tortuga's Lie.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When we got back from dinner I didn't bother to dilate since there was no water so we just hung out, had a couple of drinks and talked. We touched on some deep subjects but tried not to talk about the well. We had a promise that in the morning everything would be fixed. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As a matter of fact, it was raining the next morning, Friday, and the guy was late showing up. When he was over an hour late I went ahead and rinsed off with baby wipes and bottled water, got dressed and packed my bags. Lisa was going to follow me to the beach for a little shopping, a walk on the ocean pier and one last seafood meal before I headed home. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I forgot to mention that Lisa always cooks a great breakfast every morning I am there. I can't say I always return the favor when she visits here, as I usually have cereal and fruit, but I cannot turn down sausage and eggs when they appear, steaming, on the table.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">About 11 AM, just when I got all my things packed into my car, the well began to pump again! Water flowed but had to heat up before anyone could take a shower. I was already ready so we decided to head on out but at least Teri could get a shower before going to work and Lisa had a warm bath to look forward to when she got home.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lisa and I braving windy, freezing conditions to walk over the Atlantic Ocean at Jennette's Pier in Nags Head.</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSHPYzbVOgnJY1tL4pumm6MpRtgbHHKI08B8iBVueGX-RFYMttWwnIS2K5mkqYyoAhkxAqIkw9vtQzF0tNyWEweTIoF39Kta6CYriH0yWauc7G1X9vOVRwg7b1VfpQMh9kMaxAiBaMRVk/s1600/1587.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihSHPYzbVOgnJY1tL4pumm6MpRtgbHHKI08B8iBVueGX-RFYMttWwnIS2K5mkqYyoAhkxAqIkw9vtQzF0tNyWEweTIoF39Kta6CYriH0yWauc7G1X9vOVRwg7b1VfpQMh9kMaxAiBaMRVk/s1600/1587.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My last seafood meal of the trip, a classic fried seafood platter from Darryl's in Manteo. When at the beach, I usually only eat seafood when dining in restaurants.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">By the time I made it home I had not showered or shaved (not
tragic, thanks to electrolysis) for over 60 hours and had missed 2
dilations. I learned that this wasn't tragic either and I quickly got
back on schedule. As a bonus, I made it (barely) back in time to pick up
the dogs from the kennel. They weren't scheduled to be picked up until
the following day. As a second bonus, Mitchell was on his way home from
Virginia and got here in time for a late dinner.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It had been an awesome trip and a lesson that things don't have to be perfect in order to work out well. All we can ever do is make the most of the situation wherever we are and whatever we are doing. We can take a greater lesson from this experience as well. We want things to be perfect, just right, but that is seldom if ever the case. Oh well, things can (and usually do) work out really great in the end!</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-16536261180657604432015-02-07T15:12:00.000-08:002015-02-07T15:53:07.802-08:00Confidence <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was talking to a friend the other day and she mentioned that my voice seemed much better than it did the last time I spoke with her, which was before I left for Montreal. Another friend told me recently that she was impressed by the voice message I'd left her and that she could tell I'd been working on my voice. While I am getting ready to participate on some more voice therapy, I really haven't been working on anything specifically of late outside of normal day to day conversation. The only thing that may have made a difference in confidence.<br /><br />Confidence is something I've had since beginning this transition. I would never had gotten through it without a high degree of confidence, but yet I have not always been as confident as I could be and maybe not as confident as I've seemed. There is always room for improvement and lately I have noticed there's been change. I am more confident than ever.<br /><br />There are two messages here. One is the surprising element that after GRS I am more confident in little ways that I never expected would be affected by achieving that goal and continuing to move along this road. The other is a more basic, core message that cannot be emphasized enough. Confidence, however we acquire it and wherever we manifest it, is one of the most important elements in life. It is important in everything we do but it's simply vital to such a monumental undertaking as gender transition.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />Apparently my confidence is soaring higher these days, most of the time anyway. There are still certain times when I allow the inner fear to creep in. Are people looking me, I wonder? Can they tell I'm different? Do they know?<br />Sometimes I look in the mirror and see the timid face of a child staring back at me.<br /><br />Those feelings are becoming fewer and far between. I don't know if it's so much that I've had GRS or just that I am continuing along the road of increasing confidence, through transition, and am making the break to the other side. That other side being the fabled nirvana of a normal life where one doesn't think about gender and fits into the world as any other "normal" person. <br /><br />I've had those feelings of normality, increasing over time, for the last few years. When I began going out as myself and experienced feeling normal for the first time in my life it gave me the confidence I needed to begin my transition. <br /><br />So now that my transition is over, physically anyway, how does life change? I don't think that transition will ever truly be over. In fact, someone told me once that transition beings with GRS. There's more than one way to look at it for sure, but having made no other major changes in my life since the surgery I can see some little differences already. Differences that I didn't expect.<br /><br />Maybe it's because when I look at myself (naked) in the mirror I see myself the way I should have always been. Maybe because I don't feel there is something fraudulent about me when I deal with other people. My it's because I finally, truly feel like myself. Somehow I am more confident after my surgery. <br /><br />These are just some of the ways (that most people may not realize) that gender dysphoria can affect you. Don't underestimate the power of doing what it takes to become who you really are.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />Sometimes I see people wallowing in lack of confidence and the "woe is me" mentality. Sometimes this is due to unfortunate circumstances in life that are beyond our control, but many times we are just simply not confident in ourselves and own abilities.<br /><br />I've been there too so I know those feelings all too well. When I finally decided to break out of my shell it was confidence that paved the way. It took an act of confidence <i>(and almost an act of God) </i>to make that first crack in the shell. When I stuck my head out to look around, I didn't see any monsters so I pulled together the confidence to break the shell away and walk out into the world. As I took those first timid steps I began to believe that maybe I could walk this road. As I walked further I lifted my head up and really started to believe I could make this work for me. I was walking on the road of confidence. It has taken me far and it can do the same for you.<br /><br />*****</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>It's not just confidence that makes all the difference. We also have to project a positive image and think positive thoughts. This is so fundamental, but success in life is constructed on the building blocks of basic elements like confidence, positivity, kindness, gratitude, hope, etc..... <br /><br />If it's going in the wrong direction, you can turn your life around. If things are going well, they can go even better if you harness the power to believe that they can. If you are achieving your goals, you can lend a hand and help others achieve theirs.<br /><br />People, you control your own mood, your own destiny. If you say life
sucks, it most definitely will. Say that life is amazing and watch
things turn around for you. Project happy and feel happy. It's not
always easy but if you have to, make yourself do it. Feel it!</i></span></span></div>
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<i><br /><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Confidence is
the key to success. Confidence is the most important element in
transition. Confidence is the pathway to happiness. </span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />Do you want to know how to achieve your goals? Have confidence.<br />Do you want to know how to get confidence? Believe that you can do it.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span> </i><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><i>You have to believe in your dreams in order for them to have any chance of coming true...<br /><br /><br /><br /></i></b></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-13669454771394016402015-01-15T18:03:00.001-08:002015-01-18T11:59:38.498-08:00A Comfortable Christmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivio1yzzmbr0b_SyfGxXDHykmgiEgY6_Iuuc5cE0UkDDRGmn4uSu3RcAmIAoGunm_P32rAqM892q02_T1vWFTRv8yhT950jN-k6-jw_yscKQHGjgIq8dkzqnSn1sNe_QtaPgaTjbbh33sP/s1600/163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivio1yzzmbr0b_SyfGxXDHykmgiEgY6_Iuuc5cE0UkDDRGmn4uSu3RcAmIAoGunm_P32rAqM892q02_T1vWFTRv8yhT950jN-k6-jw_yscKQHGjgIq8dkzqnSn1sNe_QtaPgaTjbbh33sP/s1600/163.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My Christmas this year can best be described as comfortable. Christmas here is very much a season. For us, it starts after Thanksgiving and lasts through <a href="http://donnacsmith.hubpages.com/hub/North-Carolina-and-Old-Christmas">Old Christmas</a> (January 6th). It was a little hard for me to get into the Christmas spirit this year, but once it finally settled into my psyche I really did enjoy it. In this busy season of family, I've gotten away from blogging in recent weeks but after this break I am refreshed and ready to bring a new energy into Tammy World 2015.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTasSf6V3RTIwv2vSsbukPDokXuKbUfHblXgt95ylbK5ThT8NK13Z8LuBcR4JgBCGpIg5pbP3LLNmkJ9Y18wfN5nuQDmxGcfetbQj2_5DjD9sxaZSYa2IbOhX0HvRtCIt2H0690cuj7Wv/s1600/047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTasSf6V3RTIwv2vSsbukPDokXuKbUfHblXgt95ylbK5ThT8NK13Z8LuBcR4JgBCGpIg5pbP3LLNmkJ9Y18wfN5nuQDmxGcfetbQj2_5DjD9sxaZSYa2IbOhX0HvRtCIt2H0690cuj7Wv/s1600/047.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">By the Christmas tree at Mama's house.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This was the third Christmas that I've spent as myself (Tammy). Christmas has always been a time of year that brings me joy, but these last three holiday seasons have brought that joy and family time together with my comfort in being myself. I was especially comfortable this Christmas, although it did have a ring of sadness around its heart of joy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mama started bringing out the Christmas decorations early. We were decorating the tree before Thanksgiving, but just the simple act of putting decorations on her tree brought me to tears. My mind was caught up in memories of my Daddy being with us in the house, and my thoughts went back to how Joan loved decorating Christmas trees. I was able to pull through and put a few decorations on her tree but it would be a little while before I even wanted to think of decorating my own home.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The sadness associated with Christmas went away and my own Christmas spirit was ushered in a couple of weeks before the Holiday, when Mitchell and I decorated my house together. If you recall, two years ago in 2012</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Joan and I had a tree up that had not been fully decorated when she left me to go live with her sister. Last year I put up a little tree but really didn't put my heart into it. So this year, Mitchell and I put my little artificial tree together, decorated a second small tree here in my house and put up other decorations. Doing this together with the one I love made it special and brought my heart back into this fantastic holiday season!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*****</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My first two Christmases as myself were tainted in some ways. Back in 2012 I was on Top of the world, having just come out to my parents, going full time and spending a few nights at their house over the Christmas holidays. One of my best memories of all time was sharing a father daughter dance with Daddy there in the living room. The awesome memories of that amazing Christmas will be with me forever, but at that time the happiness was broken by my occasional bouts of crying over the fact that Joan had left us (the dogs and I) just days before. I had someone I truly loved (Mitchell) but he wasn't with our family that Christmas and Joan had been my friend and partner almost from the time I reached adulthood. <i>How was I going to stand living in the house and raising the dogs without her?</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Last Christmas, 2013, started out perfect. Mitchell was spending the holiday with my parents and I and we all got along so great. With him there is not only true love, but there is none of the false pretense and underlying tension that existed between Joan and I. It was a very happy and comfortable time, but when Daddy fell and had to go to the emergency room on Christmas morning the joy of the holiday fell apart. We were blessed to have him back home that night, and in our lives a few more months, but worries about his health took some of that comfort away.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So this Christmas season begins with me in tears, thinking about the losses that we've had in the family and the people that would no longer be there, namely Daddy. Having the love and light in my light in my life (Mitchell) with me revived the Christmas spirit in my heart. That sparkle came into my eyes again, replacing tears with childlike wonder.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oddly and happily, Mama and I did get to spend some time on Christmas Day with Joan and her daughter. Elizabeth had grown up and left the house before Joan and I got married so I was never much of a parent for her, but she is very much family and very much loved by us all. After I came out I explained to her that I never felt comfortable in the role of a father (or any male role for that matter) and have been blessed by her total acceptance and continuing love, even though she lives far away and we don't get to see her often.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFt6Vh9iIw3ZZLDqOs2sfZ71pvKiXWhqnF9aj4hB_cO4Oh3pvEPHVdqWbqxLLEB7I6zQt85umhuXvpFuZIe1hz-EktXS89pUonMTyzbuc9-idRH9HJVP-3I9ThHfNv4INWmZYVCG8gBTD/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFt6Vh9iIw3ZZLDqOs2sfZ71pvKiXWhqnF9aj4hB_cO4Oh3pvEPHVdqWbqxLLEB7I6zQt85umhuXvpFuZIe1hz-EktXS89pUonMTyzbuc9-idRH9HJVP-3I9ThHfNv4INWmZYVCG8gBTD/s1600/020.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mama, Joan, Elizabeth and me on Christmas day.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I thought of the title for this blog post, A Comfortable Christmas, after spending Christmas day with just us girls. There was no tension at all between any of us for those few hours and more than ever I felt like I fit in with these family members as just another woman. Elizabeth and I talked more freely than ever and we all shared a great lunch, then time in the living room talking and opening presents. In the past some of the day was broken down into the guys talking together and the girls talking together. I hated being stuck with the guys, even though I loved them. This year it was just us girls..:)</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mitchell, Mama and I enjoying our Christmas night, on December 27th.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">On December 27th, my real miracle of Christmas occurred. Mitchell came to visit and spent the next 9 nights here at home with me! I'd spent the previous three nights at Mama's, so this whole season felt like a vacation for me. On Christmas Day I'd cooked a turkey breast, but for our Christmas dinner with Mitch I cooked his favorite, steak.<br /><br />We had a cozy little celebration at Mama's then came home for our own Christmas here at my house. I often tend to call it <i>our</i> house because at this point Mitchell does live with me when he doesn't stay at hotels, but he is usually away at some hotel so for now it's usually just mine. One day our day will come and I hope it is coming soon. Perhaps <i>that</i> will be my miracle for next Christmas. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mitchell and I's presents to each under (one of) my Christmas trees.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We had an amazing 10 days together. We didn't get to do quite everything on our to do list, but we did relax, watch a lot of football and some movies, and did a <i>lot</i> of cuddling. I miss everything about my baby, but the cuddling and the romance never gets old and is perhaps missed the most. I have to turn the heat up higher in the house when he isn't here.<br /><br />We got to ring in New Year's for the fourth year in a row! We'd planned a romantic dinner together at a local steakhouse but I decided to invite Mama at the last minute because I didn't want her to be home alone all of New Year's Eve. We did go out for a great meal, then Mitchell and I came back to the house for some cuddle time and romance that ended with a major first for us. This time the beginning of the new year was also the beginning of a new phase of our relationship and I am very excited about that! </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Waiting for a table on New Year's Eve night.</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Before going to dinner on New Year's Eve. My first time in 4" stilettos since surgery.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">When Mitchell left early in the morning of January 5th, I got up and got ready to make the trek to Raleigh for a doctor's and therapist's appointment. The doctor gave me a good overall report but I am still being treated for my minor complication from GRS. To me it does not always seem minor but in the big picture I am healing and will be 100% soon. <br /><br />My therapist had not seen me since my surgery, so we had a good meeting talking about my time in Montreal, family and my plans for the future. I really don't need gender therapy anymore and we never spent a lot of time talking about it anyway after the first few meetings. Diving head first into transition the way I did was the best therapy I could have ever received. I was done fighting with myself before I ever entered the therapists' office, so I guess with me her job was easy. <br /><br />It had been 3 years since I began this journey with my first nervous steps into her office and I was happy that she could now see me happy <i>and</i> complete. I won't be going to therapy as regularly now, just when I need it for some situation or possibly occasionally to just check in.<br /><br />Yes, there are Big things planned in Tammy World in 2015. Now that I have completed transition, getting on with life is going to be the fun part. Or, as a friend once told me, transition only begins <i>after</i> GRS. I guess it's all a matter of how you look at it but one thing is for sure, I have never, ever been as comfortable with myself, in my own skin or with those around me as I am at this point in my life. I can only imagine it will get better still and I have <i>soo</i> much more to share with you. I do hope you will stay tuned to Tammy World 2015!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From our family to yours, I hope you keep the spirit of Christmas in your heart the whole year through.</span></span></span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-38365430104112757502014-12-21T21:14:00.002-08:002014-12-21T21:24:50.143-08:00Wrong<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Don't get me wrong, but sometimes the wrong word used in the wrong context can give the wrong connotation and be interpreted in a completely wrong manor. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Not necessarily anyway, but often when there is miscommunication someone can feel wronged. Please don't take that the wrong way.<br /><br />Last night I made a rare appearance at a transgender support group meeting. In fact, it was only the fourth time I've attended such a meeting in person and the second time I've attended this particular group. I'm really at a point in my life and transition where I don't particularly need to go to such meetings but I will continue to go when I can to offer support and see my friends. In the past, when I was more in need of support for issues such as coming out, it was logistically tough for me to attend these meetings. That's still the case today as I am usually busy with my boyfriend or other things when the group meets that one Saturday a month, but I will make the effort to attend whenever possible.<br /><br />During the meeting, one of the members made a reference to having been made to feel wrong for exhibiting signs of being transgender. In their case these feelings were bestowed on my friend by certain religious people who feel they are righteous and everyone who doesn't follow their strict doctrine is wrong. Oh, don't we all know that type. They are particularly prominent in the south where religion is as strong as a shot of brandy on a Sunday morning.<br /><br />Another person in the group noted that there is a movement to get away from referring to ourselves and our activities as wrong. The new, politically correct way to express our experience is to say that we are different or variant. The idea being that if we say we were made to feel wrong it can perpetuate the idea that somehow being trans is wrong. Just like the term and diagnosis of Gender Identity Disorder has fallen by the wayside as yesterday's thinking, the idea that we are wrong or have engaged in wrong behavior should be left by the wayside.<br /><br />While this is actually a noble effort, all of this is sort of tit for tat to me and the whole conversation seems much ado about nothing. The fact that disagreement over terminology, or the interpretation of terminology, ruffled some feathers in the groups seems to me, well, wrong. One group member was made to feel wrong for using the word wrong to describe how she was made to feel by others earlier in her life. As another friend said, it is unfortunate that someone can leave a support group meeting feeling worse than when they came in. Something is inherently wrong with that.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />My take on the matter is that the use of the word wrong to describe the transgender condition is not wrong at all. At least not in my experience or interpretation. While I do not feel it is wrong to be the way I am and have been, I know that for most of my life being trans has made me <i>feel</i> very, very wrong.<br /><br />Personally, I didn't have many instances of being <i>made</i> to feel wrong. Like almost all of us, I dabbled in expressing myself by trying on clothes and makeup of female family members as a young child. I don't recall being caught while doing that clandestinely but I do remember one instance of dressing in my grandmother's clothes and wig then walking out of the room to show her and my aunt's. <br /><br />I didn't feel wrong for dressing in her clothes like that, and for a few minutes the women seemed to get a kick out of it when I walked out of the bedroom to show them, but then my grandfather came home and definitely let me know it was wrong. That's how they looked at it then anyway. I realize many others had much worse experiences with family members than I did, but after that I totally went in the closet with it. It would be later in my adult life before I made a serious attempt to put an entire look together and go out, and I know that repression was due to the fact that I felt like my coming out and expressing my true self was wrong, or at least it would be interpreted as being wrong.<br /><br />Much deeper than any feelings that any of my actions would be seen as wrong, were the strong feelings inside of <i>being</i> wrong. These feelings didn't start until I was about 12 years old, as I recall, but they played a huge role in shaping my life from that time forward.<br /><br />I've described that feeling as a dark cloud that came over me and it did begin about the time of puberty. The feeling of being wrong was organic, internal and extremely powerful at times. Oh My God, something is Wrong! I feel I had a chemical imbalance in my brain and I believe it was caused by the sudden surge of the dreaded hormone testosterone. <br /><br />From that point on my inner being was ruled by this tragic feeling, this dark stranger. From the age of 16 I tried to quell these feelings with alcohol, drugs, or any form of escape. It was only when I knocked down the testosterone and began taking female hormones that this feeling went away and I finally began to feel normal, to feel right.<br /><br />I'd had feelings of being female inside, never fit in or felt right being male and had symptoms of gender dsyphoria (including genital dsysphoria) most or all my life. I'd found out the term and figured out I was transgender several years before beginning transition but I'd never put two and two together to figure out the chemical nature of my dark psychological cloud. I was producing the wrong hormones and it created a clash of the titans in my brain. The light that came on within me very soon after I began taking testosterone blockers, then the female hormone estrogen, made this crystal clear.<br /><br />So for me, the word wrong is the right term to describe my inner feelings before beginning my medical transition. None of my behaviors have been wrong and no one can make me feel wrong about the changes I've made to make myself right. <br /><br />Those that believe that what we do or how we feel is wrong, are wrong themselves in an extreme way. We as transgender people are different, as all people are unique and different, and not all trans people have the same feelings I experienced. We are a varied group and have varied experiences. I just know that I survived a very dark period that lasted a very long time. Now I <i>feel</i> right inside <i>and </i>outside, There is nothing wrong with that.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-5270966637954796302014-12-16T13:14:00.005-08:002014-12-16T13:52:16.780-08:00December Sixteenth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My, what a difference two years makes. On this day (December 16th) in 2012 I came home from an overnight stay with my boyfriend Mitchell. He'd worked the previous day, a Saturday, in Danville, Virginia and I made the 2.5 hour drive to spend the evening with him in a hotel. That Sunday, before it was time to check out, I'd been hit by an emotional outburst and crying fit. I had the strangest feeling.<br /><br />So much was going in my mind. My life was getting ready to change in some very major ways, some I didn't even realize at the time. I had a goal of coming out to my parents by the end of the year and as the Holidays approached it began to look like I would be talking with them on New Year's Eve, if I could muster the courage.<br /><br />My plan was to come out by the end of the year (at the latest) and transition to life as myself (Tammy) as soon as possible after that. My actual goal was to transition at the beginning of 2013 but in order to accomplish that I had to come out to my parents first. Being somewhat of a procrastinator and deathly terrified of coming out to the only family I had, I'd managed to go through almost all of 2012 without coming out. This had been my stated goal since the beginning of 2012, so yes I was procrastinating.<br /><br />The<a href="http://tammyworld2012.blogspot.com/p/there-is-something-i-have-to-tell-you.html"> coming out letter</a> was written and I was as prepared as I could be to talk to my loving but conservative parents. I was nervous, as this was my Mt. Everest that I had viewed from the distance for so long. Occasionally, through the clouds, I would catch a glimpse of it's peak and stand mortified, contemplating a hundred disastrous scenarios that might follow my ascension of the dreaded mountain. <br /><br />So yeah, I had a lot on my mind. At home things were not well. My marriage had gone from bad to much worse as the cancer of my pending transition, and her knowledge of my relationship with Mitch, poisoned the semi content friendship based partnership my spouse and I once had. <br /><br />After my coming out and going full time we were going to try to secure another living arrangement for Joan, perhaps an apartment nearby. Maybe it would be me that moved out, we had not decided yet, but I surmised that when left with the house alone she would no longer want to live there. <br /><br />Details, details... Details that would be decided later as my mind was a million miles away, on the frozen, windswept slopes of the looming mountaintop. I was so distracted by the task at hand (coming out and transition) that I didn't see what was happening at home, right before my eyes.<br /><br /><br />Joan had reluctantly agreed to help me put up a Christmas tree. I was thinking this would be our last Christmas together and I wanted something spectacular, a huge live Frazier Fir. Normally, the thought of such a tree would have excited the little child in Joan but this year she wasn't into it at all. I bought the tree a couple of days before leaving for my overnight trip to Virgina and put lights on it, but she had yet to decorate it by the time I left.<br /><br /><br />I'd come out to her a little over two years prior, in October 2010, and our marriage had been in a downward spiral ever since. I still kept secrets from her but earlier in 2012, right before I began my transition with hormones, I decided my life needed to be transparent with regards to my spouse. Before the end of the year it would be transparent to the whole world, but I still had that mountain ahead of me.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />It's December 16, 2012 and as I'm getting out of the shower something hits me in the gut. My mind is thinking back to beach trips with Joan and the dogs, one of the few things we really enjoyed together in our later years. I'd been trying to get her to take one last trip with us that Fall, as I knew it would be our last and likely the final trip for our oldest dog Jumper, who'd just turned 16.<br /><br />I realized that we would never have such a trip again and I began to cry. Usually I am very happy when I'm with Mitchell but he understands that sometimes I can get emotionally nostalgic. In transition most of us lose something and I was about to lose my friend and housemate, as well as one of my dogs as she would surely take Jumper with her.<br /><br />This loss would occur sometime in the future, perhaps a couple months or more down the road, but there was also the grave uncertainty of what would happen with regards to my parents once I came out. Of course that was weighing heavily on my mind that morning.<br /><br /><br />But there really was something very different about this emotional outburst. I could literally feel, at the very core of my soul, that Joan was gone. It was a hollow, panicked feeling. I knew something was wrong and I couldn't stop crying. As I lay face down on the bed, Mitchell held me and attempted to comfort me. I could feel his loving warmth (something I'd never experienced in marriage) but it wasn't enough to stop the sobbing. I liken that feeling to when someone dies and a loved one can feel it from far away. I'd been thinking back to what good times we'd had and suddenly, everything went black.<br /><br />The time of day I was experiencing this feeling was consistent with the actual time she left the house. When I got home late that evening the dogs were in the house and it appeared they'd been left there all day. There was no Joan. <br /><br />On the kitchen table was a letter. Oddly, it wasn't from Joan. On the envelope was my old (legal at the time) name so I picked the letter up and opened it. The letter was from an attorney Joan had hired to file for legal separation. <br /><br /><br />This would not do! She wasn't going to leave me like this. Not now. I needed her to stand by my side when I came out to my Mom, or at least be in the picture. She couldn't do something like this without talking to me first. She just wouldn't. But the letter said she was filing for separation and instructed me to call this lawyer as soon as possible.<br /><br /><br />With tear filled eyes I looked up and saw the beautiful, green Christmas tree. She'd put a few decorations on it before heading out the door. Bless her heart....<br /><br /><br /> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class=" meta-field photo-title "></span>Driving into Destiny<br /><span class=" meta-field photo-desc " id="yui_3_16_0_1_1418771243198_1747">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class=" meta-field photo-desc " id="yui_3_16_0_1_1418771243198_1747"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class=" meta-field photo-desc " id="yui_3_16_0_1_1418771243198_1747">This was taken on my way to
Danville, Virginia on Saturday. On Sunday December 16th I would return home only to
discover that my spouse had left me and also left me a letter from an
attorney she had hired to file for divorce. Talk about a blast from the
past, this was the day before my world crashed in on me and I saw an
opening to begin my new world. 3 days after this picture was taken I
came out to my parents and 6 days later, on the winter solstice and last
day of the Mayan calendar, I began my new life; full time as Tammy Ann
Matthews.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class=" meta-field photo-desc " id="yui_3_16_0_1_1418771243198_1747">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3469572795237961147.post-71877872626338076682014-12-11T13:01:00.002-08:002014-12-11T17:28:40.209-08:00Finality<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's Over. In my dirty little hands I'm holding a sheet of paper stating that the court has ordered that "The bonds of matrimony which have been established between the parties are dissolved and the plaintiff is granted an Absolute Divorce from the defendant." <br />
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Absolute divorce, absolutely. In this case I was the plaintiff. It really didn't matter in our case, it was just a matter of who filed first. Joan and I both wanted this and now it's over. We are now Officially divorced.<br />
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Sometimes I tear up when thinking about where this failed marriage might have led if only for this or for that, even though most (but not all) of my tears over this have already been shed. If we had been different people leading lives, in a different world, with a different set of circumstances, in another life, we would have lived happily ever after and been the most content couple in the world. In this life we were always a mistake.<br />
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There are, of course, two ways to look at life. The proverbial glass can either be half empty or half full. As y'all know, the glass of my outlook on life has overflowed in recent years, or at least tipped past the half full point. In the case of my marriage though, the truth is the glass wasn't full at all. It was completely empty.<br />
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*****<br />
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I met Joan when I was but 23 years old. Being an "older woman", naturally it was she that made the first move on me. Being sort of directionless, I played along and soon found myself in a relationship. We actually got along really well. We shared the same taste in music and enjoyed doing the little things in life together. Joan and I both looked at life from what I will call a childlike perspective and everything we did seemed like sort of an adventure. We couldn't wait to see what was around that next curve.<br />
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For several years we shared the intimacy that loving couples are supposed to experience. My favorite thing was kissing. I remember sitting with her in the back seat of a car riding somewhere with friends, Joan and I making out like teenagers. We do have some good, loving memories from our early years. In those days we were as close to being a normal couple as we would ever get. <br />
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There's one memory, from our first months together, that haunts me. Even though Joan lived in an apartment where her mother stayed downstairs, I would stay over sometimes and sleep upstairs with her in her bed. When the lights went out, Joan wanted to cuddle with me and go to sleep. Somehow I wasn't comfortable with that. I remember her asking me if I liked to spoon. Having never technically slept in bed with anyone, let alone a lover, it was just something I wasn't comfortable with so we barely did it if at all.<br />
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Seeing things now from a woman's side of the bed and realizing how amazing and important cuddling at night with your lover is (now that I finally have that in a relationship), I feel horrible that I deprived her of that special feeling of being held at night. Sometimes I feel that was the beginning of the end of us ever having a great, lasting relationship. <br />
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In later years, when we finally got married, I remember trying to cuddle up to her at night. I think by then I'd realized the importance of holding someone and I felt it was something I needed myself. By then she didn't want to anything to do with it. I could almost feel her cringe when I would touch her and after a few seconds she would kind of wiggle away. Had I planted that seed of coldness by turning my back on her all those moons ago?<br />
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*****<br />
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Of all the things that made ours an empty marriage I believe it was the lack of kissing that stands out the most. Our last kiss, our last really good kiss that was more than just a peck, occurred the night <i>before </i>we got married. We'd been dating over 11 years and by then any true physical romance had already left the relationship. We weren't fully having sex and what's worse, we never really kissed.<br />
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That night in the hotel room Joan and I made out for what seemed like the whole night. One kiss lasted at least an hour and in her arms I felt the passion I'd felt in our first year together. That was the year that she told me she loved me more than anyone she'd ever met. I yearned to feel that same thing and I was moved by her revelation. Somehow to me it didn't feel exactly right but I knew I loved her.<br />
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That kiss, I might call it our <i>Last Kiss</i>, is something I will never forget. It gave me hope that marrying someone I cared deeply about was the right thing to do, even though our relationship had grown cold and was more of a friendship. Maybe there would love in this marriage after all. Maybe I would finally find inside myself the real love that would make me a normal person.<br />
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The next day we drove to a wedding chapel in Winchester, Virginia and said our vows. Joan was so pretty in her wedding dress and I wore a suit. Everything felt empty to me then, it always had, but in going through the motions of life some days were better than others. At the time I considered that a good day.<br />
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We never consummated the marriage in the normal fashion of husband and wife and we never again shared a passionate kiss. We were truly great friends and pretty good partners in life. We slept in the same bed most of the first half of our marriage but only some of the last half. Occasionally we would satisfy each other but still never truly consummated the marriage. We enjoyed our trips to the beach, occasional trips to the mountains and raising our dogs together. Yet, over the years we grew more and more apart.<br />
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When I finally realized that I had to transition at some point in order to survive, I came out to her. It took me almost 2 years to get the courage to talk to her and by that time it was 2010, just a little over 4 years ago. From that point on she never touched me, not even a hug. Even the little pecking kisses went away. She moved into a separate bedroom and our lives became more separate than ever.<br />
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She did support me in my idea to come out to my parents and go "full time." She even made me begin to believe that it would be a possibility while they were still alive, and she supported me in other little ways like encouraging me to get my ears pierced and grow my hair. Overall though, she was more tolerant than she was supportive. It seems like she was happy with being only friends and she spoke of leaving me when I transitioned.<br />
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*****<br />
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One of the things that hurts the most about my divorce with Joan was the fact that she tells me today that it <i>wasn't </i>my transition that caused her to leave, but rather my finding another lover and finally coming clean about it to her. No, that is The Thing that hurts me the most. If she had simply left because of my transition I could look at it as abandonment during a tough time in my life. That's how many others want me to see it but in my heart I feel that she left because I had someone else and was bringing them to the house. <br />
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I don't regret starting to date Mitchell. Looking back I would have done some little things differently, like not bringing him to the house when Joan was away, but I needed a chance to experience real love for once in my life. In a sense I met him a little too early but in a way I met him at exactly the right time. Joan and I were never truly happy in our marriage and if somehow we were still married today I think we would be taking that unhappiness to a whole 'nother level.<br />
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In fact, Joan and I <i>are</i> taking our relationship to another level today. It is a level of truth, honesty and reality. We are friends. We seem to be starting over on that friendship again recently after having a hiccup for a couple months after my surgery. I think she needed a little time to digest that and to get used to not only being separated but being divorced.<br />
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I saw Joan twice this week and I will see her again at Christmas, maybe even once again before the Holiday. I'd be lying if I said that a part of me didn't want her to come home, even though all I (we) want her to do now is live in the guest house. No one else in either of our families seems to want that so I doubt it will ever happen and that's for the best really. We do get on each others nerves and bring out the worst in each other I believe.<br />
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We need to have separate lives but we need to be friends. We still have the common bond of the dogs, which are like our children. She needs visitation time with them probably more than she does with me, but that's okay. <br />
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Unlike in our marriage, in our friendship the glass seems to be half full. At least it's not completely empty and it is an honest relationship. It's not a mistake. And occasionally I get a chance to glimpse that childlike sparkle in her eyes.....<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08767601269354468304noreply@blogger.com0