I'm still here (and I'm on spiro now!)

It's been a while since I updated this blog, but I'm still here and not dead. And also I'm taking androgen-blockers.

In the last week of August I finally got around to seeing a doctor about the fact that I'm trans. Ironically what actually compelled me to go to the clinic was a bad skin rash, but I figured since I'd be there anyways I should bring up my trans-ness. (This is in keeping with my uncanny ability to put off doing important things, like seeing a doctor, until I absolutely have to do them).

I went to a walk-in clinic because I don't have a regular practitioner. After checking my ID and healthcare card, the receptionist asked what the issue is.
"Uh, well, actually it's two things," I said. "The first is a skin rash..."
She made a note of that.
"And the second is that, uh, I'm transsexual and—"
She stopped me right there. "I'll just put down 'personal' for that, okay?"
"Uh... okay."

 Wow lady, way to make me feel weird.

Thankfully the doctor himself was a lot more professional about it. He asked me a few questions, but they were all ones that made sense— how long have you felt this way? have you been experiencing depression?— that sort of thing. He gave me a prescription for the androgen-blocker spironolactone, which I've been on since then, and a referral to a psychiatrist I'm supposed to see before I start HRT.

Spironolactone

He said the waiting list for the psych would likely be close to year (ugh) and that the current psychiatrist was retiring soon and someone else would be taking over his work, so I should be proactive about contacting their office. I figured I'd probably call them in the next couple of days.

And then the depression hit. Apparently one of the side-effects of spiro is that it can exacerbate depressive symptoms. Beginning a couple days after I took the first pill and lasting for a couple weeks I had possibly the worst depression I've ever experienced. Needless to say I did not call the psych's office during that time. That's also largely why I stopped blogging.

But I guess after a couple weeks my body just got used to the drug or something, because I gradually returned to my normal baseline emotional state, which is a much more mild and intermittent sort of depression that I can usually manage.

Now I just need to phone the psych's office and see if I can still get put on the waiting list even though my referral is for a guy who doesn't work there anymore. I'm not really sure how all that works.

Other than that there hasn't been much noteworthy stuff in my life in the last couple months, but things are, for the most part, going well. I got moved to the afternoon shift at work, and while it sucks not having my evenings free I've found I enjoy the actual work a lot more: the shop's almost empty so I don't have a bunch of bosses looking over my shoulder telling me what to do, I mostly get to just do my own thing. Last Sunday I had a really nice Thanksgiving dinner with my parents and brother and sister-in-law: my contribution was the apple pie, which actually turned out quite well (and only my second time making a pie from scratch too). Today I cleaned and tidied my house and bought some cut flowers for the vase on the table and now it feels all nice and homey for a change. And at some point in the near future I probably have a date with this girl I met online (we said we'd go out for coffee or something, but haven't set a place or time yet) so that's kind of exciting.

Altogether I feel like I kind of have a handle on this whole "life" thing. I suppose I should enjoy that while it lasts. :)

Teaching and sisterhood

This story starts off on kind of a sour note, but it has a good ending so figured I wanted to share it with you guys. Remember about a month ago when the whole internet was abuzz with Caitlyn Jenner and that magazine cover photo of her?

Oh God, there's Jenner everywhere!!

Yeah I'm glad that's over too. But anyways, right around the peak of that, a cousin of mine wrote a very unpleasant anti-trans rant about the whole thing on Facebook, stating among other things that "Bruce" would never be a "real lady." This particular cousin happens to be someone I generally like so I resisted the urge to simply comment "Fuck you, [name]" and unfriend her. Even so I figured I should still address it somehow.

By the time I got around to commenting, several others had called her out on it and she had already apologized for the tone of her post, if not exactly it's content. I responded the only way I really know how to respond to these sorts of things: by making a joke. "Well that's a shame," I wrote, "I'm sure when Jenner began this transition her fondest hope was that some random ass person on the internet would think she was a reel wummin."

After that I made a few brief comments addressing some specific things that had come up in the massive thread which had by then been spawned. I didn't explicitly say I was trans but I did use the word we to refer to trans community so it couldn't have been too hard to figure out. And then I left the thread, because it's not my job to educate people and I had more important things to do with my time than write an essay on why trans identities are legitimate.

But then something interesting happened: my brother started commenting on the post. Now you need to understand, Carson almost never does anything on Facebook. The most recent item on his wall is from... *checks* ... January of 2014. So it was pretty unusual.

His first comments seemed to be more along the lines of "Being a decent person and respecting someone's pronouns is more important than whether someone's really a man or woman." (Which is nice but like, I dunno, maybe a little patronizing??) Carson's always been totally supportive of me and has always accepted the fact that trans-ness is a thing, but I feel like up until this happened he'd never really made a huge effort to actually understand it. But now he was trying to explain it to someone, and he needed to know what he was talking about, so he started texting me questions. And I did my best to answer them.

He and I ended up having a long texting conversation over the course of a couple days, going over a lot of the details of what being trans is and why it makes sense to consider trans people as the genders they say they are rather then what they were assigned at birth. I think he gained a much better understanding of the whole thing, and this understanding was reflected in his continuing comments on the ever-growing Facebook thread. He ended up quoting one of my texts (saying it was from "an actual transwoman" he knew), as well as linking to this academic paper which I'd sent him.

And he got through to her.

The next day there was a PM in my Facebook inbox from the cousin who'd started the whole thing in first place. I won't quote all of it, but to condense it somewhat, she wrote:

I feel I owe you an incredibley earnest apology. I spoke from my emotions when I posted that status and didn't give it nearly enough thought with respect to how it would come across and how it would disrespect you and many others. [...] When I realized just how much my comments had the potential to hurt, I felt, and still feel, so wretched. You are so gracious to even respond, honestly. [...] I would love to hear your thoughts on this stuff. To hear it from someone who lives it is really, I think, would give a clearer picture to someone like myself.

That's nice, eh? I thanked her and accepted the apology, (while being careful not to downplay how hurtful the original post had been). She specifically mentioned in her apology that Carson's replies had helped her understand things better. I think it's really cool how I had the opportunity to teach my bro and he in turn was able to teach our cousin, not to mention anyone else who may have been following the thread. It was also nice for me to not be the one on the front lines, so to speak.

But the perhaps the best part of the whole thing, as far as I'm concerned, is that during the course of Carson asking me questions, this happened:

(And yes, I took this photo with my camera 'cause I couldn't figure out how to just take a screenshot with my phone. Don't judge me.)

I've been thinking for some time now that at some point I would have to address with him the issue of whether I was his brother or his sister. I was kind of hoping it would just come up naturally, and it did! Definitely glad about that. :)

Nails

I like to keep my nails painted. It started out as just for fun but it's become an impotant part of my appearance. Sometimes my pretty nails are the only thing there to tell the world I'm something other than a gender-typical cis male. This is the usually case at work, where I wear grubby old clothes and forgo makeup.

I waited until the start of my second week at this job to wear nail polish. I went with pale blue. Of course people noticed and there were a couple of weird looks at first, but no one said anything unkind and we just got on with what needed to be done, which is basically what I expected to happen.

Now, recall from my previous post that I'm working at the same company as my mom. Last Sunday (so, the weekend after my second week of work) I got a phone call from her. After a rambling, apologetic preamble she asked me if I could stop wearing nail polish at the job, for her sake. She said that people were joking about it and that it hurt her heart to hear their comments.

I told simply her that, no, I would not stop painting my nails, that people making comments had nothing to do with me and that I wasn't the problem there. I also pointed out that just because people make jokes doesn't mean those jokes are mean-spirited.

It slipped my mind at the time, but I also should have told her that referring to me as a "lady" (which apparently is what some of them were doing) isn't even remotely an insult— that's just a somewhat accurate description of my gender identity. That's fine by me.

Anyways, she told me that obviously it was my descision but she just thought she'd ask. We said "good-bye" and "love you" and ended the call.

Then about half an hour later I got a text from her. It read:

Hi i need to apologize. Dad just explained why it was soo inapropriate for me to ask u not to be yourself. I truly am sorry. Dad was really upset with me but he was right. I should have thought first before i called u.

I texted her back saying I accepted the apology and telling her not to worry about it.

It means so much to me to know that my dad gets this stuff, and that he's willing to defend me. You see, he used to say a lot of weird homophobic stuff when I was growing up, but he's changed a lot between then and now. It's a change that's been especially apparent since I came out. And clearly my mom learned something important that day, too.

People grow and people change, and thank goodness for that. :)

Transy Christmas arguments with the family

Last year around this time I wrote a mopey post titled Christmas in the closet. Since I'm no longer in the closet to my parents, this year's post is somewhat less mopey, though not exactly mope-free, as we shall see.

I spent the 24th and 25th at my parents' house, as did Carson and Jamey, my brother and sister-in-law. My parents live in a small basement suite, and with the five of us humans there, plus their two dogs and one cat, no one gets much personal space.

Every year mom and dad insist on making a huge deal out of the holiday. We have to have an elaborate family meal on Christmas eve, then a large traditional breakfast Christmas morning, and finally a traditional turkey dinner Christmas evening. The result is that, with the exception of the gift exchanging, we spend nearly all our time in the kitchen, frantically preparing food or washing dishes. By mid-afternoon on the 25th we're usually all a bit snippy and short-tempered.

It was during this mid-afternoon time of snippiness that I went to put some music on with my mom's laptop. "Play something by what's-its-name," she suggested.
"Mom," I said, "I think I know who you're talking about. And that's not cool."
"Well, using 'they' is too confusing," she countered. I was right about who she meant.

My mom's really into indie rock. Recently I'd introduced her to music of Rae Spoon, which she loves. Rae is an Alberta native (though now living in Quebec) who, in addition to making some really groovy tunes, happens to have a non-binary gender identity. They prefer the pronoun "they."

"Who are you talking about?" Carson asked.
"This person is a transgender person who doesn't belong to either gender," mom explained. "It wants to be called 'they', but I think that's too confusing,"
"But mom, you can't call a trans person 'it'," I said, "that's cruel!"
"Yeah," Jamey added, "that sounds really de-humanizing."
"Well, what am I supposed to say then?" asked mom. "I'm not saying 'they'."

I sighed.

"Look mom, I totally agree that it's confusing, but I'm willing to call them 'they' in spite of that, if that's what they want. That's just being respectful."

For the record I'm not a huge fan of singular 'they' and I'm personally hoping that 'ze' or one of its variations (zie, xe, etc.) catches on instead. Even so, I believe that respecting other peoples' pronouns is more important than my private linguistic pedantry. Amazingly, I managed to correctly use Rae's preferred pronouns throughout the entire argument without a single slip-up— I think I deserve some kind of tranny award for that. :)

"Fine!" mom decalared. "From now on the pronoun I want to be called by is 'dumbass'. Unless you're calling me by name, that's what you have to refer to me as."
"Oh god," I said, facepalming. "Mom, come on..."
"Well, see? Just because you tell people what to say doesn't mean they actually have to say it."

I guess what she was trying to do was to use humour to illustrate a point, or something? That's not what it felt like though: it felt like she was just mocking me for being trans. And mocking the enitre community I belong to. Stunned, I sat down on the couch and fought back a few tears.

When she noticed she'd hurt me she came over and apologized. I said "okay," but I still felt pretty awful for the rest of the evening. I suppose I sulked for a while, though I don't think I meant to— I'm just really bad at pretending to not be sad.

After dinner I left with my brother and sister-in-law and we went to hang out at their apartment. All three of us had found Christmas to be generally stressful and unpleasant this year, and it was really helpful to be able to talk about it with them afterwards.

While I was there my dad called me to make sure I hadn't driven home and hanged myself, (of course he didn't say so, but I could tell that's why he was calling)— my parents are certainly aware of the stats about trans people, even if they could stand to learn a little more about pronoun etiquette. I assured him I was fine, and he sounded very relieved when I told him I was with Carson and Jamey.

I spent a good chunk of Boxing Day relaxing and sipping coffee, and felt a lot better about everything after that.

On a lighter note, Carson and Jamey got me nail polish for Christmas! After I unwrapped it, my brother was careful to point out that the two of them had chosen the colours together— in other words, that it wasn't just his wife shopping for the "girly" stuff. He's so cool.

Yay! They obviously know me pretty well. ^_^

I love my family, and I like Christmas. But I'm sincerely hoping that next year my parents can be convinced to celebrate it on a smaller scale, for all our sakes.

My mom wrote a letter

Driving home from work last Wednesday I heard the familiar ping of an incoming text message. I checked it when I got home. It was my mom, saying she needed to talk to me, and asking if now was a good time to call. I texted back "sure" and my phone promptly rang.

"I think we should tell your grandparents about your being transgender," she said, after the initial hellos.
"Uh, okay. You mean like, soon-ish?"
"Yeah. I think they should know. And I'm sure they'll accept you."

She explained that her parents and my dad's parents had both specifically enquired as to how I was doing recently. Both of my grandmothers are active on Facebook— (that tells you something about my age, eh)— and she figured that some of what I'd been posting recently might have made them wonder about me.

Personally I thought that she might just be reading into things, making connections between phenomena the way our brains tend to do. But regardless, my grandparents have to learn at some point. So I said okay.

As we talked about it it became apparent to me that she had, in fact, already written out an email to her parents and my dad's parents explaining the situation. She was phoning to get my permission to hit the send button. So I asked her what she'd written.

"Like, it explains that you feel like a woman trapped in a man's body, and that..."
"Uh, well,"  I interrupted her, "that's not the terminology I would use."

(Of course, the old "x trapped in a y's body" is a reasonably good answer to the what is trans? question if you're talking to someone who's completely unfamiliar with the concept and have at most one second to explain it. But otherwise it's pretty inadequate.)

"Oh," she replied, "what would you say?"

And if I had had the presence of mind to do so, I might have come up with something like, "I feel internally that I am mostly female, despite the fact that my body appears male, and this incongruity causes me a significant amount of discomfort."

But instead I said, "Oh, I don't know. I guess that's close enough." (Not a great answer on my part, I know.)

At this point I asked her to just read me the whole thing, which she did. And for the most part it was pretty good: explaining and clarifying some aspects of what trans is and isn't, as well as stating that I'd always been this way and that my parents' relationship with me was still good.

Unfortunately it also included some theologizing that I found a little unpleasant. There was something along the lines of: "We don't know why God allowed our child to be born with this condition, but we believe all things happen for a reason." She actually felt the need to clarify that they believe God intended me to be born with a male body.

That stung a bit, to be honest. Personally I think that "a thing happened, therefore God wills it" is a pretty horrifying way to look at the world. But I didn't argue with it being in the letter: she was writing from their perspective and if that's what they believe, it might as well say so.

After reading the whole thing she asked, "does that sound good?" I said "Yeah, I guess so" and she sent it.

And then she started talking about Minecraft and how monsters had recently blown up her house. (She and I play on the same server, along with my brother, which is pretty cool). And I realized that I am a lot more comfortable talking about video games with my mom than about my gender.

This was over a week ago now. I haven't heard anything from her about how or if my grandparents responded, but I'm not too worried about it. They're good people.

Mom's letter may not have been the exact words I would have chosen. But I am certainly glad I didn't have to be the one to write it, coming out being pretty low on my list of favourite things to do. So... thanks ma! :)

Becoming real

It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder...

—Regina Spektor, The Call

Not so long ago, the female version of me existed only on the internet and in the confines of my bedroom. "Ashley" was a name I used here and in a crossdressing forum. I would dress as a girl in my room, but I was still in the closet to my housemates, so I couldn't even open the door. I would snap some photos and post them online so that I could be seen by someone, somewhere.

But as I've been coming out to more people and going out into the world, that has been changing. Now, as Ashley, I've felt sunshine on my face, and grass beneath my feet. I've been smiled at by strangers (and once pointed and laughed at, but I won't dwell on that). And last Sunday I had two more important experiences as part of this gradual process: I introduced myself as a girl to someone I'd just met, and I visited my mother.

According to the website of my local Pride Centre, there's a trans social mixer that meets there the last Sunday of every month. I'd been wanting to get involved in the community, and to interact socially as a girl, so I decided to go. And oh my goodness was I nervous. Meeting new people and being in new social environments just scares the shit out of me. I parked my car around the block and spent nearly ten minutes sitting there just convincing myself to go through with it. But I when I finally walked through the door I discovered I needn't had been so nervous: I was the only one to show up.

The only other person there was one of the people who run the centre. He told me that the guy who organizes the mixer was running late, and that he doubted anyone else would come. "Now that it's summer and the weather is nice, the number of people attending this thing has dropped," he said, "but you're welcome to stay and see if any one else shows up."

I decided I'd wait for a bit. "I'm Steven, by the way," he offered. (Not his real name.)
"I'm Ashley," I said. We shook hands.

I'm Ashley. It was the first time I'd said those words out loud. The first time someone had known me by that name outside of the internet.

I chatted with Steven for about fifteen minutes before I left, but no one else came. It was kind of disappointing. Having made the effort to look like a woman I didn't want to just go home. I texted my mom saying I could stop by for a visit if she wasn't busy, and gave her the heads-up that I was in girl mode. (My dad was out of town for work.) She said I should come over, and that my brother and sister-in-law were there too.

And the whole experience was actually very normal. We all just hung out like we usually do: our regular, goofy selves. The only time the subject of gender even came up was my ma noting how the dogs made no distinction between boy mode and girl mode, which lead to my sis-in-law and I wondering whether animals would notice if someone were on HRT. I'm so glad to know I can be myself around my family.

I wore my locks in a bandanna: sort
of a transy pirate look, I guess? :)

Like Regina said, it started out as a feeling. At first my female self was nothing more than a vague sense that something was wrong. Then she was a hope, then a reflection in a thrift shop mirror, then a girl in a photo with an unspoken name, then a smiling stranger passing people on the street. At last she's meeting people and hugging her mother. She is becoming real.

At first my male self was nothing less than an unquestionable reality— all I knew and thought reasonably possible. Then he was a weight whose absence I could imagine, then a prison whose walls I had walked briefly beyond. At last he's rapidly crumbling around me.

And I look forward to a day when he is nothing more than a memory.

"Pretty"

I was visiting my mom the other day and the subject of my gender issues came up. She admitted she still had a lot of doubts and confusion, which is understandable. (She also told me my dad was having a easier time accepting it than she was, which is kind of what I expected.) I tried to address some of her concerns, but I don't think I did it very well. At one point during the conversation I offered to show her some pictures of what I look like as a girl. She seemed curious and agreed.

I grabbed a computer and brought up a photo from New Year's Eve. "Wow! I love that dress,"she said. "You know, you're actually really pretty," As we continued to peruse photos she added, "I think you're prettier as a girl than you are handsome as a boy!" I grinned and said, "I hope so!" :)

As much as I loved the affirmation of my gender, it was also slightly awkward. When you come out as trans there are certain gendered aspects of how you relate to people, and of how people relate to you, that have to be relearned. Of course, my mother never called me pretty when I was her son, so this was one of them. Afterwards she asked, "It's okay for me to say you're pretty, right? 'Cause you want to be pretty, right?"
"Yeah, it's okay," I said, "I'm just not used to it."

It was a little weird for both of us. But that, I'm sure, will change with time.

In other news, as of last week it's been one whole year since I figured out I was trans! (Perhaps some time I will write a post about how that came to pass, but not today). I've come a long way since my first terrified foray into the cosmetics section, but more and more I'm realizing I still have a long way to go.

Out!

Last Sunday I came out to my parents. Finally. And what a relief it is to not have that burden anymore! Yay!

Earlier I had asked my brother and his wife if they would accompany me for moral support. So, from their house, I texted my mom asking if they were home as there was some stuff I wanted to talk to them about. She said yes and the three of us drove there, me understandably nervous.

"So," my mom said, once we'd been there a few minutes, "what is it you want to talk to us about?"
"Well, uh," I stammermed, "The thing is, I'm pretty sure I'm transgender."
(That was a lie: I know I'm transgender, it's not something I'm "pretty sure" about. But somehow it felt easier to sound a little uncertain.)

Then followed a very long, rambling explanation from me in which I clarified all the usual stuff: that I'm not currently planning on having any medical intervention, that I've felt this way my whole life, that it's not a choice, that I'm still attracted to girls, and so on. I tried to make it clear how much happier I am now that I've stopped supressing this part of me. Lastly I said something like, but not as concise as: "I'm telling you this because I love you guys and want you to know me as the person I am, not the one I pretend to be."

"Well," my mom said slowly, "I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Of course we still love you. But I'm worried— won't this make your life more complicated?"
"I'm sure it will," I responded, "but I'd rather have a life that's complicated and happy than one that's simple and miserable."

It was clear right away that they weren't surprised. In fact, they had guessed that that was what I was going to tell them when I sent the text. My dad said it had been kind of obvious for a while. "We've always known that you were... different," added my mom. She put the word different in air quotes.

This was something I hadn't realized. If they've known since my childhood that I was "different," (to use my mother's word), than they've known for longer than I have. Suddenly it occured to me that maybe every anti-LGBT thing they said when I was growing up was not spoken out of idle bigotry, but intentionally for me to hear, in a vain hope that I might somehow turn out straight. That's probably silly though, and even if it were true, there'd be no sense in dwelling on the past now.

My mom asked what expectations I had of them now that I was out. I was confused by this and asked her what she meant.
"Well, for example, I somtimes call you son."
"Ohhhh... yeah," I said, "I guess I'd prefer something more gender-neutral. Like child."
"Okay, I'll try. But I'll probably slip up sometimes."
"That's okay," I said.
I didn't ask for female pronouns; I am, after all, still living primarily as a male.

I suppose the whole experience went about as well as I could reasonably have hoped for. It was obvious that my parents aren't happy about this, but they're willing to accept it, so that's good. Considering that some people are literally disowned over this stuff, I guess I should be grateful. Even so, I wish they could be happy for me that I'm beginning to feel comfortable as myself, or proud of me for making an effort to live authentically.

But maybe those things will come with time.

A fantabulous night!

I wore a dress for New Year's Eve! In the eight months I'd been crossdressing it was the first time I'd ever worn one, as unbelievable as that may seem. I should clarify, it was the first time I'd worn one as a girl. I'd tried on dresses in boy mode, but that's not the same thing at all.

Carson and Jamey (that's my brother and his wife) had me over at their place to ring in the new year. None of us are the sort of people who really enjoy large parties or spending loads of money at bars, so we figured we'd have a little get-together just the three of us. And just for the hell of it, it was decided the evening would be a formal affair. After all, they both enjoy dressing up fancy, and I hadn't yet had an occasion to do so as a girl.

On the day before I managed to pick out a gorgeous dress that, for some reason, actually fit well and looked good on me. That night I was so excited about wearing it the next day I could hardly sleep! I'm a bit silly like that, I guess. :) The following afternoon I bought some fabulous shoes and jewelry to go with it. I even went so far as to buy some of that shapey hose stuff, which, ironically, ended up being the most expensive part of my outfit.

I arrived at their apartment in boy mode that evening. Jamey and I did our makeup together. She helped me out a lot, and insisted I use several of her products. I learned a lot from her, and my makeup definitely looked better than it ever has before. It was a ton of fun, too!

...aaaand this is what I looked like! Possibly my favourite photo of me ever! :D

Then the three of us had a delightful evening of sushi, boardgames, and drinks, though we missed counting down to midnight because we were busy discussing how Jupiter's gravity causes gaps to form in the asteroid belt. (Yeah, we really do talk about geeky stuff like that, I'm afraid). And it was such a relief for me just to be in the right gender, especially after all the stress I had spending Christmas at my parents' house.

The three of us looking fabulous. (Posted with their permission)

I can't express how grateful I am to have those two in my life, nor how much I appreciate that I can be myself around them. In fact, there was a much more important "first" that night than just my first time in a dress. It was also, technically, my first time presenting fully female in front of them. It's just that, we reached that point so gradually I don't think any of us hardly noticed. Over the months since I came out to them I've let them see increasingly feminine iterations of my male presentation (once even wearing heels in boy mode!), so that by the time they finally met girl-me, it wasn't a big deal.

At one point during the evening I apologized to Carson for how weird it must be having a crossdresser for a brother. (Of course I know I can't help being trans, but I still feel culpable somehow). He shrugged it off: "It's a little weird, but whatever." Then with a smile he added, "You're a crossdresser, but I'm more feminine than you are!" My brother is not a typical "manly man" by any means, and his point, I think, was that I wasn't the only one with an atypical gender.

Depending on your definition of femininity, and that's a very difficult thing to define, he might even be right. I'm a bit of a tomboy; he's a bit of a pretty boy. In the end it probably doesn't make sense to compare one person's femininity to another's, since it's something each person defines for hirself. But it does go to show what a complicated, convoluted thing gender is.

Also, SUSHI!!

It was a great night, both in terms of fun and gender expression, and I'm thinking I just might need to find more excuses to get all dressed up!

A hint of gender

In a footnote of my previous post I said my mom had noticed a hint of my gender issues. Aimee called me out on leaving such a huge cliffhanger unresolved, so I'm writing this post to fix that! :)

As I said before, I was having a very hard time dealing with my gender during the time I spent at my parents' house over Christmas. On the second-last day there, being quite depressed and hoping it would help, I decided to wear a camisole under my guy clothes. (I had brought one with me to sleep in). I wore a t-shirt and a sweater over top of it, so I honestly thought I would be safe.

I did help me feel a little better.

But, of course, later on one of the straps shifted so that it was visible through my collar. My dad was in the next room. My mom pointed to it and said quietly, "You need to adjust that before your father sees it." I did, and we carried on with our game of Scrabble as if nothing had happened.

The next day, just as I was leaving to go home, and my dad was out walking their dogs, she suddenly blurted out, "Tyler, I want you to see a counsellor." This was followed by a very tense pause. I said nothing. Then she continued, "I don't know what you're going through. But when people are having a crisis of identity like this, whether that's gender or whatever, they sometimes act in the ways that are... destructive... like, self-destructive. And I don't want to lose you. Because I love you."

I was completely taken off guard by this. I just mumbled stupidly, "Uh, okay, maybe," and left before we had a chance to discuss the matter further. Perhaps that was a mistake.

Writing about it now I'm really touched by her concern for me. However I'm ashamed to admit that, at the time, I was in such a foul mood that I was mostly just annoyed. It bothered me that she assumed I was in a state of crisis, which I don't feel I am. I'm not really questioning my identity: I identify as trans. I'm quite certain about that part.

All in all though, I'm very, very blessed to have parents who care so much about me. It's important I don't lose sight of that.

Christmas in the closet

The past two months have been a time of very rapid progress for me. In a short amount of time I've advanced from peering out of the closet to taking my first tentative steps into the world as my real (female?) self. And I felt comfortable as me, and it was like fresh air and sunshine.

And then, with its great clattering of tacky songs, comes Christmas. Suddenly I am hurled back into the suffocating darkness of the closet. The door is shut and latched, and I am forced to contend once more with the absurd fact of hiding my identity from people I love.

This is because, of course, all the progress I made stopped short of coming out to my parents.

In my previous post I wrote of walking to the grocery store and buying lunch as a girl. That day also happened to be the first time I spent an entire day as a girl, which was lovely. I hoped that with all that girl-time my gender might stop bothering me for a while and I decided to be a boy the next day. But it was just as difficult as ever, and this more or less confirmed for me that I will probably have to socially transition.

A couple days later I was a girl again. This time I put gas in my car, got a bunch of groceries, talked to the cashier with my first attempt at a female voice, and went Christmas shopping at an antique store. What I've learned from all this is that either I pass, or people in general don't give a shit about crossdressers— and to be honest, the latter sounds more likely— because no one gave any signs that anything was out of the ordinary.

Christmas is a huge deal in my family, and in general I actually enjoy it. We had our celebration early, on the 22nd, because my brother and his wife, (henceforth known as Carson and Jamey), were planning on spending the 25th with her family. My family always spends the day before Christmas together as well, which meant two days of pretending to be a boy. And not the effeminate boy I usually look like when I'm presenting male either, but a "typical" boy.

And so Christmas was fun, but it was also hard. It helped a lot having Carson and Jamey there, as they at least know about me. After we finished unwrapping the presents Jamey nudged me to follow her down the hall and gave me a small container of makeup from MAC: a clandestine Christmas gift. It wasn't much, but what it meant— an affirmation of my gender at a time when that's exactly what I needed— was huge. I ended up having to lock myself in the bathroom until I stopped crying, silly me! Sometimes the tears are just one more thing you have to hide...

I went home that evening thinking I had made it through a Christmas in the closet. But as I mentioned, we did Christmas early. And since I was still in town over the 24th and 25th, my parents suggested I spend those days at their house too. I didn't have a good reason not to, and resigned myself to continue the charade.

On the 23rd my brother and his wife were making the ten hour drive to visit her family in British Columbia. Someone turning left onto the highway didn't see them coming and pulled out just in time to cause an accident. My brother texted me from the ambulance. No one involved seemed to be seriously hurt, but they were going to the hospital just to be sure. Their car, however, was totalled. In the end Jamey had some minor whiplash, but that was the only injury. They actually made it to their destination that same night, somewhat later than intended. Carson asked me not to tell mom and dad about this incident, and I understood why: we all know my father is a chronic worrier. Still, this meant one more secret to keep.

Their car. Yikes...

The next day I returned to my parent's house. And even though I love my parents, I hated being around them. I'm very bad at pretending to be happy when I'm not. After two days of this they were fairly certain that there was something wrong with me that I was keeping from them. I would have liked to have said, "Relax guys, I'm just trans, it's not a big deal." But I was in no emotional state to have that whole conversation, so I left with the source of my malaise still (mostly) unknown.*

They've been pretty worried about me since then.

The ironic thing is that, with the exception of the last few days, I've actually been doing very well lately. I am, in general, happier than I've been in a long time— taking the first small steps toward living in the right gender has a way of doing that, I suppose. But of course that's not the part of me they saw. How could they have?

I suppose I ought to come out to them, and soon. Not just for my sake anymore, but for theirs too. It's unkind of me to let them worry so much when there's really nothing wrong. I'm kind of annoyed to have had my hand forced in this way, but I guess that's life. And in any event, I've been thinking about telling them for a long time.

I hope all goes well when I do.



* My mom did pick up on a hint that it was gender-related, but I won't go into that now because this post is already really long.

A big step in an out-of-the-closet direction

Yesterday evening I walked to my car, got in, and turned the key. My heart was pounding. I took a deep breath. I told myself, "Okay Ashley, you're a big girl, you can do this."

I was about to drive to my brother and sister-in-law's house. And I was going to tell them about who I am. And I was so nervous about it that I went the wrong way and got there late!

I had been wanting to come out to Carson (my borther) and Jamey (his wife) for a while now. I had had several perfect oppurtunities to do so, but I couldn't bring myself to just say it. Countless times the words "hey, can I talk to you guys about something?" died on my tongue. So I decided I would put myself in a position where I had no choice.

Thus, last Sunday I texted my brother asking if they were home and if I could stop by as there was "some stuff" I wanted to talk to them about. I hit send and knew I was committed. But the way our three schedules worked out it ended up having to wait until Wednesday. So they spent three days wondering what great secret I had to tell, and I spent three days worrying about it.

During that time I was really depressed and experieced a lot of gender stress; (I can't dress as freely as I'd like due to my roommates, so that doesn't help). I kept thinking of reasons I didn't really need to tell them: "I'm not that transgendered; is the closet really so bad?" But I knew I'd be better off with them knowing and I knew I couldn't back out now anyways.

So, eventually, I got there, we had dinner, we sat down for tea, and after a bit of an awkward preamble I simply said, "I am transgender." I then clarified that I wasn't gay and I wasn't transsexual. I told them I felt like my brain was half boy and half girl. I told them I had spent most of my life supressing and denying the girl half, and that this had resulted in a lot of depression and some bad habits I had used to help me cope. I told them that earlier this year I reached a point where I finally had to accpet my femininity, that I had started expressing my girl half, and that as a result I had been much happier and much psychologically healthier. I told them that expressing that side of me included crossdressing. I told them I felt more comfortable in girl clothes than boy clothes. I told them I was born this way. And lastly I told them "I just wanted you guys to know; I didn't want it to be a secret."

And their response was absolutely amazing. Better, by far, then I had hoped for. You see, Carson and I both come from a very conservative religious background, and Jamey, remarkably, comes from an even more conservative religious background, so I had cause for concern. But they were totally accepting, totally supportive, and, best of all, really quite comfortable with the idea. Carson told me that he already suspected something like this anyways. Jamey told me she was really happy for me. They made it clear they didn't think there was anything bad about crossdressing. We talked a lot about gender as a spectrum, unrelated to one's biological sex and one's orientation. And I was continually sursprised by how well they understood these concepts when I had spent most of my life struggling with them. They asked a lot of really good questions, too: how long have you known? which pronouns do you prefer? are you going to tell mom and dad? All in all I was profoundly grateful to have such wonderful people as siblings.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, Jamey went and got out a bunch of her makeup stuff! And as my brother turned his attention to some boring video game, me and the sis-in-law played around with mascara and liner and eyeshadow! She tried to teach me how to do a smokey eye look, but I'm really bad at it.

Jamey is the first girl I've ever told. Before yesterday the only person I was out to was a close male friend. I deeply appreciate him as well, but being out to a girl opens up a whole world of useful makeup advice and possible shopping trips! Especially a girl like Jamey, who actually works as a sales assistant at a clothing store and as such has helped plenty of crossdressers put outfits together.

One of the best parts of this whole thing is the huge boost in confidence I've recieved by having the support of two of the most important people in my life. I now feel like I could tell just about anyone! I am so lucky to have those two in my family, and I am so glad I told them, and I am so thankful they accept me as they do.