tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48191910178116398302024-03-13T13:39:43.215-07:00Captive SpiritRebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-64030209652479408562017-07-16T21:23:00.001-07:002017-07-17T14:48:48.334-07:00Trying to reconnect with my childrenA lot has been written in the media about cis parents who grow to accept a transgender child. Sadly, very little is available about the opposite scenario - a trans parent who is trying to have a relationship with cis children. In my case, I essentially lost any opportunity to visit with my children due to stipulations that my wife attempted to enforce. She is a devoutly religious woman who believed that being trans is a sinful choice that I made. After coming out to her, she always referred to my gender expression as "this challenge that you have to overcome" and was fearful that seeing me as a woman would harm our children. Nothing happening in my life at the time - including protracted episodes of depression and suicidality - could convince her otherwise. <br />
<br />
The following is a summary of my efforts to connect with my children after beginning my transition. It has been a long fight to establish visitation, but I worry that the real work is just beginning.<br /><br />
Part I:<br />
Raised in a very religious home, I spent the first 40
years of my life trying to hide and bury my feelings of being female.
The family religion taught that there was only 1 way to have happiness
in life, and I was a faithful believer. I did everything expected of
young males in the church, while struggling with dysphoria. I thought I
could simply live out my life in hiding. I hoped that I would be
blessed if I kept the faith, and life would somehow work out. I
married, had a family, and struggled. Life meandered through worsening
depression for 15 years, before I became suicidal in late 2015. The
family suffered the consequences of dysphoria, without ever suspecting
the underlying cause.<br />
<br />
Fatherhood for me was a mixed
blessing. The religion taught that marriage and family are the source
of our greatest happiness in this life. In some ways, I can see this.
While the marriage was always troubled, the children grew to be my
closest friends. I love them dearly. However, as the dysphoria grew
worse, I had increasing difficulty with the fact that I was a husband
and father. Life became chronically traumatic, and the gender roles I
was expected to play became part of the crisis. When the depression was
at its worst, I could still function at work, but symptoms would
increase every night when I had to return home. <br />
<br />
This
will be hard for some to understand. Everyone says how rewarding
fatherhood is. Even within the trans community, I frequently talk with
trans women who have no regrets about their past lives, and are at peace
with their fatherhood. This has not been my experience. I have only
had the most tender love for my children, but dysphoria made fatherhood a
traumatic experience for me.<br />
<br />
Secondly, the family
religion also played into the depression in dangerous ways. The church
essentially taught that being transgender is a sin, and I would only be
unhappy if I decided to transition. When my depression grew suicidal,
the ideas taught by the religion did not make life as a woman seem like a
hopeful option. Honestly, it made death seem preferable. When things
were at their worst, my wife gave me the ultimatum of living as a man,
or being put out of the family. She reasoned that it was the right
thing to do - a "tough love" measure, sanctioned by the church doctrine.<br />
<br />
A psychiatrist recently asked me why I did not commit suicide. I do
not have a good answer to that question. I do not know what got me
through my wife's ultimatum. My faith in the church must have faltered.
Perhaps the thought of being buried as a man. I honestly do not know.<br />
<br />
Part II:<br />
After
being hospitalized for 2 months, I moved out of the family home and
into a small apartment where I would be able to make a serious effort at
transition. It was an extremely difficult day. My wife brought the
children to the new apartment so everything happened in front of them.<br />
<br />
The
first few days were extremely lonely and difficult. While waiting to
start work with a new therapist, I made due with frequent chat sessions
to the LGBT National Helpline (http://www.glbthotline.org/). After a
few days, I had a phone call with my wife. Unaware of the pain the
religion had caused, she wanted me to call every night and pray with her
over the phone. In order to visit the children, she insisted that I
present as a man.<br />
<br />
Since leaving, I have been to visit my
oldest son on his birthday last September (2016). I dressed as a man.
My son was happy, but it was incredibly stressful for me. I know trans
women who have a a "guy mode," but I have never been able to do it. The
dysphoria and depression come back in terrible ways. I simply could
not present as a guy after that. I did the best I could to keep in
touch with the children. I called weekly. I delivered Christmas and
birthday presents. These had to be left on the front doorstep of the
family home, where I had to leave after ringing the doorbell. I was not
to be seen.<br />
<br />
The children grew hurt, and felt that I had abandoned them. As the months went on, they gradually stopped taking my calls.<br />
<br />
Part III:<br />
Moving
out gave me the chance to explore the trans community in Chicago. I
eventually made friends with a woman named Christine. One evening, I
told her about the situation with my children. She told me that I
needed to fight for my visitation rights. She explained that it would
someday be important when the kids asked why I had left. It would give
important credibility when I said that I had never abandoned them.<br />
<br />
Part IV:<br />
My wife and I moved forward with a divorce in the fall. We made two attempts at mediation.<br />
<br />
We
had only 2 sessions with the first mediator. I thought things were
going well, but my wife abruptly halted the sessions. The mediator had
tried to broker a deal on child visitation - I would be allowed to see
the children if I dressed androgynously. While she kept a calm outward
appearance, my wife was inwardly angered by the thought of compromise.<br />
<br />
A
few weeks later, the wife called, telling me she wanted to try a new
mediator. She told me that she thought this new mediator would be more
"professional," and we would get more value for our money. I
reluctantly agreed to go along. We worked with the 2nd mediator for ~6
weeks, but I soon realized that the "mediator" was not going to side
with me on anything. No compromise. It became evident that the wife
was trying to use mediation to force a settlement that no court would
ever agree to. I stopped mediation altogether at that point, knowing I
would be protected in the courts.<br />
<br />
We do not have
any real assets, so my wife borrowed $4,000 from her mother, and hired
an attorney. The divorce petition was filed 2 days after Christmas.
After an auto accident, I used the insurance settlement to hire a
divorce lawyer in mid January. After we filed a response to the
petition for divorce, my wife filed motions to restrict my parenting
rights. She argued that I was a danger to the children because of their
religious upbringing. She formally asked the judge to order me to
present as a man in order to see the children.<br />
<br />
In May
(2017), the two attorneys had a pretrial conference. Both sides were to
set forth their expectations for the trail, and the judge would provide
guidance. At the conference, the judge dismissed outright my wife's
petitions for restricted parenting. In fact, the judge quickly rejected
the main points of my wife's proposed settlement plan - including
requests for an order that I present as a man in order to see the
children, permanent maintenance, and an inequitable division of the
marital assets. Judge Flood added that she was a judge of the law, not
of my ex-wife's religion.<br />
<br />
At the conference, the judge
endorsed a plan we had advanced that called for use of a therapist to
help me re-connect with the children as a trans woman. <br />
<br />
The
only remaining obstacle to visitation was to find a suitable
counselor. In the following month, my wife soon put forth a motion
suggesting a church-affiliated counselor. In good faith, I contacted
the woman to ask about her experience, but it was evident that she had
never met a trans person before. After a little digging, I found the
name of another counselor who took the family insurance and had a
history of working with transgender children. She became the focus of
our motion. A hearing to decide the matter was set for July 13th.<br />
<br />
Part V:<br />
In
the meantime, relations with the children were not getting any better.
In late June, I dropped off a birthday present for one of the children,
and my daughter happened to see me through the window. This was the
first time she had seen me after almost a year into my transition.<br />
<br />
I
spoke with her on the phone a few days later. She asked who had
dropped off the presents. When I said it was me, she was hurt - she had
not recognized me. She went on to ask me to "dress as her Dad" when I
came to drop things off. I tried to explain that I love her and will
always be her parent. In response, she protested and started to talk
about religion - telling me that she knew that my transition was wrong.
I tried to explain that my transition had saved my life, but it was of
little use. I could not begin to explain that mom had given an
ultimatum that would have ended terribly for everyone.<br />
<br />
The
difficult call underscored how far apart the children and I had
become. My transition has gone really well, and I had been passing as a
woman since December. My facial features had softened and grown more
feminine. My facial hair is almost entirely gone. My breasts were a
size B, and I had stopped padding my bra months before. My hair was
shoulder length, curly, and had been highlighted. Even without female
clothing and makeup, I did not look like a man anymore. However, that
was only the beginning. The kids have stayed locked into a religion
that I had to leave if I was ever going to accept myself. They had an
extra year of Mom's influence, and have heard her side of the divorce,
and have tried to soothe her hurt feelings.<br />
<br />
Part VI:<br />
On
the 13th, the hearing was supposed to be brief, but it ended up
including an hour's worth of testimony for and against both therapists.
My testimony included an admission that I had left the church, and
discussion of how church teachings had done harm to myself and the
family. I also spoke of our therapist's experience working with the
families of transgender individuals. My wife's arguments focused on her
track record of making decisions about the children's healthcare
providers, and the experience of the counselor that she was
championing. In the end, the judge took my side. She ruled that the
family needed the guidance of someone experienced with transgender
patients.<br />
<br />
Part VII:<br />
I have a date to see the children - August 24th at 10:00. This will be the first time they have seen me as a woman.<br />
<br />
Life
has been an incredible struggle over the past ~2 years. I somehow
fought back from suicidality, but in doing so left a church that was
openly hostile towards trans people. After being separated from my
children for over a year by conditions set by their mother, I fought and
secured visitation rights. The kids are upset, and I know they are
going to judge me for many of the actions I took to save my life. They
are going to side with mom on her losses in court. I know the kids will
blame me for many things, and the older ones may never accept me as a
woman.<br />
<br />
I am sure they wish I would simply go away.<br />
<br />
Why do I persist? Because I love them. Life is hard enough, and I know they will need that.<br />
<br />
If
anything, my transition has taught me a lot about the home in which the
children live. It's a world that is judgmental, and at times openly
hostile. It's a place where love, once thought sure, is frighteningly
conditional.<br />
<br />
Some of the children may learn these lessons. When that happens, I will be close enough to make a difference.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-85848888041265332072017-07-03T08:37:00.000-07:002017-07-03T12:32:51.600-07:00Thoughts on Pride Month<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Growing up is never easy, but the difficulty is compounded when one is an LGBT youth. Born a boy, I longed desperately to be
female. I knew who I was my entire life, but felt powerless to do
anything about it because of what I was – trapped in a body that did not belong
to me. Even though I spent much of my youth in California, 90 miles from
the Bay Area, it was still the 1980’s. I was born in a conservatively
religious family. My parents were transplants from Salt Lake City, the
family religion had strict gender roles,…and I was the only “son.” In our
home, gender was not a characteristic; it was a boundary that one could not
cross without offending God. The homosexual community gained national
prominence in the 80’s. A generation was lost to AIDS, and the epidemic
ravaged the national headlines. I knew very little of homosexuality, but
I knew that Rock Hudson died of AIDS when I was in the fifth grade. The
news stories brought homophobic humor to the playground at school, and I
learned about life in the way that most young boys do. Sadly, the
transgender community, where I would have found a safe home, did not gain
prominence until Bruce Jenner became Caitlyn in 2015. What I had heard of
the transgender community was limited to curious playground talk and occasional
oddities in the newspaper.</span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
To grow up transgender in that environment was a
challenge. Even though I did not come out until one year ago, the longing
was constant. Imagine having the same daydream for 40 years. It was
what I always thought about when I could think freely. My mother used to
take me along when she went clothes shopping for my sisters - I spent countless
hours in the girls department at Gottshalks waiting for my sisters to choose
new dresses or outfits for school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
sisters used to tease me about being the only “boy" there. Sadly,
the life I truly needed was only accessible through spectator sports.</span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
My high school was originally built for 1000 students, but
there were 2,500 by the time I hit 9th grade. Out of all those students,
there was only 1 that crossed gender lines. His name was Aaron. The
nephew of a prominent television news anchorwoman in the area, he was openly
effeminate. My oldest sister sang in the women’s choir at the high
school. When they needed paper roses for a concert, Aaron was the one who
volunteered. The rumors about Aaron were that he was gay. Nobody
dared befriend Aaron, but everyone was an expert. There was always talk,
and none of it was flattering.</span></div>
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</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got through high school as an awkward
bookworm, never going on a single date and rarely hanging out with
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember being a senior when
I first had feelings for another student.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His name was Alex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a
junior, and he had the most beautiful smile that I loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Young love should be happy, innocent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, I remember being so afraid of what I was
learning about myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clearly, I was
capable of love, but not worthy of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
it was time for prom, I simply had too much homework to attend.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<br /></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I feared I was homosexual, and quietly added that t</span>o the list of
changes I needed from God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the next
25 years, I prayed that list every day – constantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I desperately needed to be something entirely
different.</span></div>
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The worst part of that environment is what I started to
carry around inside. The standards that I had to measure up to as a young
boy were set by the family religion, the expectation that I would follow my
father’s example, and society. I knew who I was, but also knew being
myself would make me a disappointment. I had an undeniable identity, but
knew I would be humiliated if anyone found out about it Despite the
consciousness of my identity, I was afraid and ashamed of who I was. The
three constants of being LGBT in the 1980s: Longing, fear, and
shame. Self-acceptance was a luxury to which I was not entitled.</span></div>
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That self-rejection and shame is the gift that society
bestowed on the LGBT community. In the U.S., we are used to thinking that
solitary confinement is a severe measure reserved only for unruly prisoners in
the penal system. While there are striking similarities to society’s
wholesale isolation of the LGBT community, we call that “living in the closet”
- oppression tidily swept under a rug of nomenclature.</span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
At times, the oppression and shame were codified in laws and
official policies. There is a long unspoken legacy of violence and often police
brutality towards the LGBT community that only came to light after the
Stonewall Riots. In the 1990s, President Clinton attempted to compromise
on the issue of gays serving in the military with a policy called “Don’t ask,
don’t tell.” The idea was simply that homosexuals could serve in the
military, as long as they kept it hidden. While it appeased
conservatives, the great crime of the policy is that it reinforced the idea
that homosexuality was something shameful that needed to be kept hidden.
In a more recent scenarios, the fight over marriage equality openly questions
whether homosexuals are worthy of having open romantic love. There is
currently serious political discussion about Transgender restroom use.
Imagine the humiliation of having your restroom use debated publicly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All issues openly question whether LGBT
individuals should be allowed to participate in public life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> So, why a Pride Month? It rights a terrible wrong - shame has been the solitary burden of so many of our LGBT brothers and sisters. Pride replaces shame and fear, and mandates the presence of self-acceptance. I turned 42 last November, and I am just now realizing what Pride - life minus the pain of self-loathing - feels like.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span>Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-65149607908684779642016-07-24T17:08:00.002-07:002016-07-24T17:08:33.799-07:00Hair: Some asssembly requiredJust a quick post. I bought a wig today and thought I'd post a photo:<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pjES4jUP3Tw/V5VRNjcOhMI/AAAAAAAAACE/wQtbaOeHl0oAkts498I4zJMHrkpvXU8pgCLcB/s1600/IMG_2453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pjES4jUP3Tw/V5VRNjcOhMI/AAAAAAAAACE/wQtbaOeHl0oAkts498I4zJMHrkpvXU8pgCLcB/s320/IMG_2453.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I tried on a wig at the local mall yesterday and went back today to make a purchase. It was a fun experience. I wanted a shortcut to longer hair, but I think this wig helps out my jawline.<br />
<br />
As this is my first experience with a wig, I learned a few thing along the way. I purchased a good quality synthetic wig - real hair was above my budget. The saleswoman was good enough to show me how to fit the wig to my head. Underneath that wig is a net cap, which is used to hide my natural hair, and helps hold the wig in place. She added a few hair pins to help anchor the wig to the cap. The saleswoman demonstrated several different hairstyles with the same wig using barrettes and clips. The hair can also be curled (but not heat-styled).<br />
<br />
I got a good lesson on wig care. Wigs require a specific wig shampoo and conditioner. The synthetic hair needs to be combed with a metal pick (no plastic). Wigs are also susceptible to something like split ends, and require periodic trimming every few months to restore the look. If the split ends are extensive enough, the wig can be cut into a completely different hairstyle.<br />
<br />
Anyways, I was really happy with the look and felt more feminine.<br />
<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-50675796123252689592016-07-23T21:20:00.001-07:002016-07-23T21:20:25.609-07:00First imageOkay, I thought it was time to post a picture of myself en femme:<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W7tMJbbWJPY/V5Q-O0iX-WI/AAAAAAAAABM/kjSzRQ9RsOA1zfH-U9Ixn7YZ4LpKTUdRgCLcB/s1600/IMG_2425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W7tMJbbWJPY/V5Q-O0iX-WI/AAAAAAAAABM/kjSzRQ9RsOA1zfH-U9Ixn7YZ4LpKTUdRgCLcB/s320/IMG_2425.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Unfortunately, I do have a fairly masculine jaw, but I do the best I can with what I have been given. The picture was taken after only 3 days of hormones, so hopefully the magic will happen as time passes. <br />
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I am exploring makeup. While I do have an occasional mishap, I feel pretty good about my progress. Today, I learned that it is best to brush your teeth before applying lipstick! I haven't made heavy use of Youtube yet, but I have been frequenting Sephora and asking lots of questions. I find the girls at Sephora to be very helpful and kind in light of my gender expression. They are more than willing to demonstrate. In any case, makeup is an adventure that I am enjoying, and I try hard to look my best.<br />
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I do have one open makeup question: Does anyone have a reasonable approach to skin care? I've been hearing a lot about it lately. I'm convinced that I need to take better care of my complexion, but I have seen a number of very expensive products that I simply cannot afford right now.<br />
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<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-37869763103017754412016-07-23T10:53:00.003-07:002016-07-23T10:53:26.107-07:00First days full-time: Acts of graceWhen I first decided to transition, I was worried that I would be dis-owned by God. A devout Mormon, I was conflicted over my fate. I knew from my personal feelings that I would continue to suffer ever-worsening depression if I didn't transition. Yet, I practice a religion that protects a conservative view of the family. Within the church, having same gender attraction is okay, as long as it is not acted upon - a difficult view that sentences homosexuals to a life of celibacy if they wish to remain faithful. While no official doctrine has yet been released on being transgender, the policy is likely to be similar to that for homosexuality. The situation could produce some very real, serious consequences. I knew I risked having my religious covenants invalidated. To take matters further, my wife views the transition as a very real risk to the upbringing of our children. In order to transition, she wanted to move out. As she views herself to be right (with me being in the wrong on this matter), she claims to have authority over all matters concerning our seven children. Visits are to be conducted on her terms (at her house, under her supervision, with me presenting as a man - wearing "Dad" clothes).<br />
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At times, I have enjoyed feeling close to God, and I credit my religious faith with some of the happiest moments of my life. I also have a deep love for my family, particularly my kids.<br />
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So, transition, for me, is not a decision lightly taken. I worried about my religious well-being and my access to our children among several other factors. <br />
<br />
On the other hand, I worried about my health if I did not transition. I have personally struggled with severe depression for the past year. At times, suicide seemed like the most attractive option.<br />
<br />
In this context, I finally took steps to move out of our home in order to begin a more sincere transition on Thursday afternoon. For me, it was an act of faith and hope. With some trepidation, I hoped that God would not leave me alone. I hoped that I would be able to find the same peace in my heart, while finally feeling right about my gender identity. I also had to hope that my own children would not find me repugnant.<br />
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So, I wanted to write my initial spiritual impressions after my first day of living full time as Rebecca. <br />
<br />
My apartment is in a town called Worth. It was a Craigslist find, a small one-bedroom place in an old 6-flat. I liked the location - on a dead end street, with a rear deck that looked over a creek. It was smaller than I initially wanted, but I thought the peaceful location would be helpful. I saw myself a little cramped, but enjoying the rear deck on days when the Chicago humidity was not to present. So far, I see two blessings in the apartment. First, there is plenty of space for everything. I furnished the apartment with second-hand furniture before I moved in. I simply bought what I thought I needed to live somewhat comfortably, but I had no feeling for the dimensions of the apartment. For example, I bought a couch without having measured to ensure that the door openings of the apartment were wide enough to move it in. Yet, everything made it in, and the place is furnished about just right. I'm not having to return anything. Second, I have the best of all possible neighbors. As a transgender person, I never know how people will receive me. Yet, "Missy" has a graduate degree in gender studies, and she was actually excited to have a transgender woman move in next door! We talked for an hour last night, and I think we'll get along really well. I thin she will be a big help.<br />
<br />
On Friday, I spent my last day in the outpatient program at the hospital. This is the conclusion of my most recent hospitalization for depression. I was hospitalized twice over the fall, but my longest hospitalization is this most recent stint. I spent three weeks inpatient, followed by five weeks in daily outpatient therapy. I was a little nervous to leave the hospital. However, I do feel very different leaving this time. After my previous hospitalizations, I was somewhat more stable, but I knew something was still very wrong. During this hospitalization, I was open about my gender identity issues for the first time, and I worked through the difficult process of deciding to transition. I made that decision while in the inpatient program, and counted on the staff and patients in the outpatient program to help me through the early stages of my transition. I open attended all but three days of my outpatient therapy as a transgender woman. To my surprise, the patients and staff were very supportive. I felt okay about myself, and felt love from others for the first time as a female - not romantic love, but the kind that carries you through difficult times. I first felt that there was something really beautiful about being transgender in the hospital. Leaving the outpatient program, they have something of a small "graduation" ceremony. The other patients in the program are given a few moments to comment on those who will be leaving. When it was my turn, I was really touched by the things that were said. People spoke about respect and courage and beauty. I was really touched. Personally, I felt a little pride in myself. I know that I have grown in unexpected ways - I've always had a passive personality, but I've finally demonstrated the courage to stand up for myself in the face of something difficult. <br />
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On Friday, I went out to have something of a celebration. It was my first day living entirely as a woman - no changing back to a man. I wore a long maxi dress and sandals - comfortable wear for a humid Chicago day. I flat-ironed my hair. I wanted to do something feminine, so I went to have my eyebrows arched, and got my ears pierced. While at the mall, I also stopped for a bra fitting. I present well as a female, but I know I am still read by many people. I remain very much a work in progress. However, I was touched by how kind everyone was that I met. At one point, I stopped in at the pharmacy to pick up some medication. The pharmacist is a woman we have frequented for the past few years, and we've seen a lot of each other as I have been treated for my depression. The pharmacist kindly asked if she could change my name in the computer so that my prescriptions would come in the name of Rebecca! We talked openly for the first time about my transition, and she wished me luck on my journey.<br />
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So, I have written about some small things. Yet, these are small things that help me to feel that God has not left me entirely alone. I do see unexpected blessings in my apartment, and in the kindness of others. I also see the Lords hand in my personal growth as I have found previously unknown reserves of courage within myself. <br />
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Anyways, I have a long ways to go. I still have work to do with my immediate family, and I will likely be working through a divorce with my wife. Yet, I feel as if I will not be forsaken by God while on my journey. <br />
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Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-31991959684620257662016-07-17T11:26:00.000-07:002017-07-04T16:21:22.282-07:00On coming out: It does get betterComing out to friends and family can be one of the most difficult steps when one begins to identify as transgender. I wanted to write some about my experience coming out, in hopes that it might help others.<br />
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Before coming out, I first had to begin to identify as being transgender. This sounds like an easy step, but it took me a long time, and the help of a very good therapist. I grew up with the desire to be female always in my mind. While I've said before that I kept those feelings buried, they were actually fairly close to the top of my mind. The desire to be female was always there, and it surfaced constantly. I just did my best to ignore it. For years, I prayed it would go away. It took a bout of severe depression and a skilled therapist for me to admit to myself that I wanted to be female, more than anything else. In a sense, my therapist helped me come out to myself first. For me, that first step was a huge relief. I finally realized that my feelings had a name, and there were a lot of other people like me. With this realization, came a lot of self-acceptance, and the desire to transition. Before telling anyone else, I spent the next few weeks talking privately with my therapist. She wanted to make sure that this was a real identity issue, and not just a passing desire to wear women's clothing. <br />
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Coming out to those close to me is where the story becomes more dramatic. I came out to my wife two weeks later. We actually had the discussion in the therapist's office, and the therapist proved to be a big help. After I told my wife that I wanted to be female, the therapist was there to encourage discussion and to listen to my wife. For me, that was the right setting; I tend to get quiet and wrap up in myself when I feel that my words might hurt someone. It was great to have the therapist there to lend a hand.<br />
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So, telling someone is only the first step in coming out. In the case of my wife, it took several conversations over the next few months before she began to be accepting. The therapist explained to me that my wife would go through a grieving process, and we talked frequently about the 5 stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I've seen most of these phases with my wife. She was initially in shock that something like this could happen to her. There was a lot of denial, mixed with anger during the first few weeks after my admission. 4 months later, I've started to see some bargaining and acceptance. The tone of our conversations has changed recently. My wife has begun to ask me friendly questions about being transgender. We've decided to separate, but we're able to have good talks about how life will be post-separation. I'm optimistic that we'll come through this with a pretty good friendship.<br />
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So, here's my advice about coming out boiled down to a few bullet points:<br />
<ul>
<li>Realize that coming out to one particular person is a process rather than a single event. For those closest to you, it will take a several conversations as they work through the grieving process. You can notice the stages of the grieving process in the conversations you have with them.</li>
<li>The friends who work through the grieving process are most likely to remain friends through your transition.</li>
<li>You may have some difficult or uncomfortable conversations with friends while they work through their feelings. It's best to not avoid these conversations. I've found it helps to reassure friends that this is a decision that you have made, and one that you are happy with.</li>
<li>You will undoubtedly have some personal ups-and-downs as part of the process. I've had a really good experience coming out at work, where people have been very accepting (I'm the only transgender person at the lab where I work. My friends and close co-workers have been very supportive. Others are good enough to respect the lab's anti-discrimination policies.). I've had a harder time with closer family members and friends who may disagree in principle with my transition. I had a difficult purge after a particularly challenging day with my wife. </li>
<li>Look for a support network. A good therapist helps. You can also find help from LGBT organizations in your local area. If you cannot interact with a local group for whatever reason, look for online support. My family situation has kept me from attending support groups in person, but I have found friends by contacting other online bloggers through email.</li>
<li>Be patient with yourself and others.</li>
</ul>
Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-79539253506109720322016-07-10T11:52:00.000-07:002016-07-10T12:34:36.737-07:00A Good WeekTransitioning has it's ups-and-downs, but this has definitely been a better week for me. A lot has happened. Some good experiences and some bad, but definitely all teaching moments:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Clocked!: I was out as Rebecca when I stopped at a thrift store for a quick look. We have a large family, and it's important for me to stretch the wardrobe dollars as much as I can, so I usually shop at thrift stores. Anyways, I passed two pre-teen girls, and I think they read me. They were staring, and switched positions to get a better look, and were talking excitedly. I acknowledged the attention with a glance. This was the first time that I felt like I was a spectacle. Being transgender does require some practice. Some people can practice in private and arrange everything perfectly. They have the luxury of transitioning once they are passable. In my case, my wife won't let me dress at home, so I have to practice in public. I honestly don't mind the feedback; I just wish I had stopped to talk with the girls for a moment. </li>
<li>New counselor: The medical group through which I receive all my mental health care recently hired a new counselor who has experience with LGBTQ care. We had our first session yesterday morning and I appreciated the difference right away. While the previous counselor helped me come out as transgender, I was her first transgender patient. I valued our relationship, but I think I disappointed her as I dealt with the ups-and-downs of the early stages of my transition. The new psychologist feels much more affirming. I went to the appointment dressed as Rebecca, and she asked right away if I had a preferred name. The one question I wanted to ask was if she would help me to become a woman. She answered, "We'll get you to where you feel you need to be!" I was happy with her reassuring nature. To top it off, she is also named Rebekah!</li>
<li>Hair: While I have generally hated my hair for most of my life, I suddenly find myself receiving some flattering comments as a woman. I have really curly hair. As a man, I would cut my hair short so I didn't have to deal with the curl. I began growing my hair out ~ 7 months ago, so it's getting long and curly. Most days, it's an easy feminine look to wear my hair curly; I use a little hair gel to help with the curl definition, but my hair does just about the right thing on its own. Yesterday, I was checking in at the psychologists office, and there was a Hispanic woman behind me in line. I suddenly heard the lady ask, "Okay, so what product do you use on your hair?" I initially didn't think the question was for me, but glanced around and there was nobody else within earshot. I turned around and we began a brief conversation about naturally curly hair. The woman had wavy hair with a lot of volume, but wanted it to look more curly, and expressed some frustration with her hair. I firmly believe there is a inherent beauty to being female, so it was easy to tell the woman that she looked beautiful. I appreciate the frankness of women; I love the feminine culture of giving and receiving compliments.</li>
<li>Transition timeline: So, my wife and I have agreed to separate so I can live as a female. I've written some in past postings that she doesn't agree with my transition and wants me to move out. We were planning that I would move out in October after we had paid off some financial obligations. We recently had some investments mature, which will allow me to move out sooner. The new date I'm working towards is August 1. I'm busy trying to find an apartment and furnishings.</li>
<li>Shopping by committee: Ever since it warned up in Chicago, I have wanted a light colorful outfit for the summer. I finally managed to go shopping yesterday. I have to admit that I had a blast. I found a skirt I liked, but had real difficulty matching a blouse. I asked the store employees for help, and soon it became a competition between the store manager and her assistant. Not long later, several patrons became involved. At one point, I had 5 ladies offering their advice on how to pull together the outfit. In the end, I found something that worked, and had a great time doing so. I'm excited to wear the new outfit tomorrow.</li>
</ol>
Anyways, a good week. I am looking forward to August 1 - I plan to go full time on that date and start hormones.<br />
<br />
Rebecca Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-8433171600108804332016-07-03T11:36:00.001-07:002016-07-03T13:18:10.232-07:00Faith Over the last few days, I have been thinking over the process that has brought me to where I am. From my own experience, I realize that there must be others out there that were raised as religious conservatives who now identify as transgender. Coming to peace with a transgender lifestyle often means setting aside long-held religious convictions. In my case, I have been a strong member of the Mormon faith all my life. At times, some of happiest moments have come because of my faith. For example, I served for two years as a Mormon missionary in Quebec, Canada in the mid 1990s. For those not familiar with Mormonism, it is common for Mormon youth, typically ages 18-early 20's, to spend 2 years spreading the word. Missionaries are assigned to a place of labor somewhere in the world by Church leadership, and are frequently required to learn a new language. The missionary also pays his own way. I realize it's often seems inconvenient when the Mormon missionaries show up at your door, but the missionaries are sincere. The work can be very hard - in my case, there was a lot of rejection, and rudeness. However, the work does grow on you in incredible ways. The spiritual growth I experienced, far outweighed any negative experiences. I learned an incredible amount about my faith, and also myself in what became an incredibly short 2 years. Indeed, I was last most happy while a missionary.<br />
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So, now I am middle-aged, and recently came out as transgender. I have struggled with gender identity all my life. Once I admitted to myself that I was transgender, much of those internal feelings I have had for years began to make sense. In some ways, I am grateful to finally know who I am, and I count myself fortunate to be transgender.<br />
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The biggest conflict that I now have is to resolve my new gender identity and my faith. While the Mormon faith has not yet made policy on transgender members, there is a good chance that I could be disciplined or even excommunicated as I proceed with my transition. It's difficult, but a choice I've already made. I've begun to live a a female in certain settings (work, in the community), and I finally feel right as myself. I do feel that God has had a hand in my recent self-discovery; it has probably saved my life in light of my struggles with depression.<br />
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So, I wanted to make an open appeal for input on this issue: What has your experience been with long-held religious beliefs and your gender identity? For those of you from more conservative faiths, how have you resolved the obvious conflicts?<br />
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Please try to be sincere. This is a sensitive topic for many.<br />
<br />
RebeccaRebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-17764771865354398512016-06-28T22:12:00.000-07:002016-06-28T22:12:08.312-07:00Simple PleasuresTo speak frankly, depression is a serious condition, particularly for those in the transgender community. The pressures on a transgender individuals are very real and can be scary. For me, being male has always been painful. This is a concept that is difficult to explain to those who are secure in their gender identity. Despite trying to bury the the feelings of wanting to be female, the desire was always there as the background noise of my life. As much as I tried to ignore the feelings and desires, they surfaced consistently. Sense of identity underlies one's health and well-being, and a transgender person can live with an uncertain identity for decades. More than just a feeling, I felt a true desire to live as a female. <br />
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On top of the drive, there are a unique set of pressures that begin to pile up. I lived in fear of being discovered. Religion, family values, and peer pressure are common examples of stimuli that can contribute, but a transgender person will have a unique set of pressures as individual as they are. The combination of a strong drive for something forbidden, pain fear, and stress easily add up to depression. If the attempted suicide rate identified transgender individuals is 45%, THE RATE OF DEPRESSION MUST BE MUCH HIGHER.<br />
<br />
I am 41, and hold a PhD. in physics. I work at a national lab, designing specialized x-ray detectors for a synchrotron light source. I've been struggling with depression for approximately 1 year. When the depression got strong enough that I felt like taking my life, I have always had the presence to find help. I have a history of self harm, but I have always stopped short of a serious suicide attempt. I count myself as one of the fortunate ones.<br />
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Having said that, I have missed 14 weeks of work over the past year. I have been hospitalized for six weeks, and spent another 6 weeks in outpatient hospitalization programs. There is a cost to my lab in lost productivity, and approximate insurance costs for hospitalization have been in the ballpark of $100,000. Out of pocket, we have personally spent in excess of $6,000 for individual therapy with psychologists. The dollar numbers do not reflect the costs to myself and family.<br />
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So, why do I want to write about simple pleasures? Simply put, I am thankful to be alive right now. I was discharged from the inpatient program 10 days ago. I have not yet been cleared to return to work, but am participating in a "partial hospitalization program," an intensive outpatient therapy program. I currently spent 6 hours at the hospital daily, 5 days each week. The day is comprised of 5 hours of group therapy, with an hour break for lunch.<br />
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The good part of this arrangement? My depression has abated somewhat, and I have been able to attend my therapy sessions as a female. I initially attended outpatient therapy as a male, but switched to female clothing after a few days. I came out as transgender to the therapy group late last week. The response has been positive.<br />
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It's hard to express how relieved I feel as a female. The depression abates, and the extra stresses disappear. There are simple pleasures. People who use my female name (Rebecca), or gender appropriate pronouns (she/her). I was using the lady's room yesterday when an elderly woman entered and complemented me on my blouse.<br />
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I've become friends with some of the female patients in the program. Today one of the other women braided my hair. Luckily, my hair is naturally curly, and I've been growing it out for about 7 months. I normally just wear it curly, but was flattered to learn it was long enough to braid. <br />
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Simple pleasures....<br />
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<br />Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-51200552123354731052016-06-22T18:45:00.000-07:002016-06-22T18:45:26.574-07:00Ups and downs: Transgender mental healthIt's been a month since I've made a posting. I was unable to write because of a major relapse; I've been fighting depression since last spring. My previous posting was about returning home from a business trip to New York state. I was a little nervous about returning home. Let me explain why.<br />
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Just before going to New York, I had been approved for hormone replacement therapy; I was going to start taking estrogen in hopes of feminizing my body. While my wife had told me she didn't want hormones in our home, I figured it would be okay. It takes several moths of estrogen before significant effects take place; I just had to explain that to my wife, right?<br />
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Was I ever wrong about that. When I tried to explain things, she went crazy. She became instantly angry and suddenly my explanation became irrelevant. She told me she was going to take the kids on a vacation, and she wanted me to move out before she returned. Not only did I not have a valid explanation, I no longer had any rights. Suddenly, my wife was ready to tear me out of the family.<br />
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At first, I didn't know what to do. I hadn't expected such response from my wife. I returned home late to spend the night on the floor.<br />
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The next day was very difficult. My wife gave me an earful as I prepared to go to work. My initial plan was to simply keep the hormones in my office until the time was right. I didn't know what I would do about housing or other matters. On the way to work, a sister began texting me about possible disciplinary actions that the Church could take. That was my tipping point. I took the day off work and tried to make things right. I gave the hormones to my wife as a peace offering. I told her I would try things her way in order to save the family. I took a large portion of my female wardrobe and donated it to a local thrift shop.<br />
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That was just the beginning of a very miserable week. I later learned that I would also lose the services of a therapist that I had come to rely on.<br />
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The following week, I went to New York. I was in a terrible state. I spent three days somewhere stuck between two genders - the one I have but do not love, and the one I desperately want but cannot have. I finally cracked mid-week and bought women's clothing while in New York. I spent the last two days of the trip as a woman, and felt better about everything.<br />
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I came home from that trip late on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. I relapsed into a full depression, and spent the next three days unable to get out of bed. Ironically, home was the one place where I had the least liberty to be myself. I just couldn't take it.<br />
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On Monday, my wife finally told me I could either voluntarily return to the hospital to have my depression treated, or she would call 911.<br />
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I went willingly. She dropped me off at the hospital, and then took the kids swimming at the local pool. I was admitted to the acute inpatient program at the hospital's behavioral health unit that afternoon for three weeks treatment. I came home late on May 20th. I'm continuing treatment in a intensive outpatient program. I will probably miss 4-5 weeks of work.<br />
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So, there are a few important take-aways. First, being transgender itself is not a mental illness. However, transgender people do have a high rate of depression for a variety of reasons. Being stuck in the wrong body has a lot to do with it. You know something is very wrong, but transitioning to the right gender can be very difficult. It is very common to feel stuck in a bad situation with no options.<br />
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Second, it's often the people we are closest to who are the most difficult. In order for me to transition, my wife wants a divorce, which I think is understandable. However, she has laid out a list of separation terms that are not very favorable. She wants full custody of the kids, and only wants me to have limited visitation rights. Any visits to the kids would require her supervision, and I would have to appear as a man. She does not want me to interact with the kids as a female. This one is hurtful. I think it's best for the kids to know openly why Mom and Dad might be separating.<br />
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Finally, I decided while in the hospital that I would transition. I don't know how things will work out, but this is something I need to do. Being male is not something I can take for much longer.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-6006483376671279262016-05-27T13:02:00.000-07:002016-05-27T13:02:20.617-07:00Going homeTonight, I return home from a business trip to New York. Once I got a handle on the trip, it actually went pretty well. A physicist, I gave a talk at an academic conference, and did some interesting work at Brookhaven National Lab. I love learning new things, and this trip allowed me to learn something about micro-fabrication, and meet new collaborators. Sometimes, it's just refreshing to get away.<br />
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So, I'm actually very nervous to return home. I have a large family that I love dearly, but with that comes a lot of expectations. I've been married for18 years. Within the Mormon Church, marriage is viewed as being binding beyond death. It's a special privilege, but one you have to live worthy of. The marriage promise is is a covenant made between spouses, but also includes promises one makes with God. It's a sacred act, that involves love and devotion, but also a lot of responsibility. It's not to be taken lightly.<br />
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When I married, I sincerely loved my wife. While I had struggled with gender my entire life, those feelings were not at the forefront of my mind at the time. I wanted to be happy; I wanted to be loved. I wanted to do the right thing. I thought if I had all that, my feelings of wanting to be female would diminish.<br />
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However, that's never really been the case. Ironically, the feelings of wanting have always been especially present during intimate moments with my wife. When I should have felt most like a man, the only thing I could think about was longing to be female. My therapist once explained to me that part of a heterosexual relationship is enjoying one's gender in the presence of the partner. She explained that she really enjoyed being female when she was around her husband. As a transgender person, I enjoy my wife, but believe I bring a different set of perceptions and needs to the relationship.<br />
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When I began to accept that I was transgender, one of the first things I needed to do was come out to my wife. It took a few weeks, but I managed to do so with the help of my therapist. I believe that was one of the hardest days we have had to face as a couple. I think my wife and I have had markedly different reactions to the situation. For me, it has been the beginning of my self acceptance and understanding. I do have a much easier time if I think of myself as a woman. So much of what has confused and pained me about myself makes sense.<br />
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My wife struggles with things, and that makes life harder for me. Based on religious teachings, she says that "God doesn't make mistakes" and refuses to see me as anything but male. She doesn't want me to go as a female around our kids. "These kids need their dad, and they need you to look the part." My wife states that we agreed to certain religious principles when we began to raise our kids, and she intends to keep things that way, even if it distances me from the kids.<br />
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So, home has become complicated. My greatest desire is to transition to life as a female, but I also feel the obligation to keep our family together. I worry about honoring my marriage to my wife, and maintaining a relationship with my kids. However, I don't know if I can keep the status quo for too much longer. It's taking at toll on me and I am really struggling.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-27802209823240030452016-05-25T20:21:00.000-07:002016-05-26T12:56:55.773-07:00Power of a nameI don't exactly know how I chose my female name, Rebecca, but it means everything to me. I was on the phone with the Howard Brown Health Clinic, a leading provider of LGBT healthcare here in Chicago. They asked me if I had a preferred name. My whole life, I've gone by a male nickname, so my unconscious reaction to that question was to give my male nickname. Then it hit me that they wanted to know if I had a preferred female name. In moment, Rebecca came to me, and that has stuck ever since.<br />
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Hearing my name when I am in female mode always cheers me up. I feel like the woman in me is a real person, with some value. Being called Rebecca makes me happy enough that I took the middle name "Joy." When you feel like you've been called the wrong thing your whole life, hearing the correct name is a luxury that you don't take for granted.<br />
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I had a difficult purge last week, immediately before leaving on a business trip. I've been in New York since Sunday. I spent three the past three days in guy mode, before my depression started to take over.<br />
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Tonight, I got dressed up as Rebecca, and went out. I couldn't find anything in particular to do, until I found myself at the makeup counter of a department store. I ended up talking briefly with the girl at the counter. During the course of the conversation, we exchanged names. As I left, she said, "You have a nice night, Rebecca!" That's all it took. Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4819191017811639830.post-16298537557842604002016-05-24T19:20:00.000-07:002016-05-27T13:37:07.344-07:00BirthdayFor much of my life, I have struggled to be male. It's not there's anything particularly difficult about being a man, but it is a painful experience when you are transgender. I grew up with the feeling that something was terribly wrong with me, and never felt right about my identity. I grew up wanting, more than anything, to be female.<br />
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I also grew up in a very religious home. I was raised Mormon, so I also had the feeling that what I wanted/needed more than anything, was morally wrong. I think I dealt with my feelings like a typical Mormon would; I buried
my feelings deep and tried to keep them from being discovered. I coped
by trying to do all the right things. I earned by Eagle Scout badge, went to BYU, served as a missionary, and even married. All the while, I never felt right about myself, but that stayed hidden. I thought that if I just did the right things, I would be blessed and the situation would be made bearable.<br />
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In the end, I only recently began to realize how real and dangerous gender issues can be. For the past year, I have been struggling with severe depression. I've been hospitalized twice after wanting to end my life. I stumped the doctors until a psychiatrist helped me trace the depression back to my gender issues. It was the first time I had opened up to anyone about wanting to be female.<br />
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That was two months ago. Since then, my life has turned upside-down more than once. I have come to accept myself as a transgender woman. My greatest hope would be to transition to life as a female. I am at peace with that desire.<br />
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The real struggle is in getting those close to me to accept the decision. My wife tells me I'll never be a real woman. She sees me as a danger, and threatens to leave with our children.<br />
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I am at a loss. I love my kids, and don't want to lose them. Yet, I also want the pain and depression to stop. I desperately want to live as Rebecca.<br />
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So, this blog is my attempt to assume my true identity and make sense of life. I need to work through feelings thrown at me by friends, family, faith... while becoming the woman I know myself to be.Rebeccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02555736986116105963noreply@blogger.com0