At a deep level, it seems to me we are guided. Some people believe in external powers that will help us if we let them. My belief is that we are led through our lives by a hidden inner spirit that uses all of its wiles to help us make the most of ourselves if we let it.
Because I have been aware of that wise playful spirit within, there is very little I regret from my past, beyond those things out of my control, like anatomy. There are some who will recognize my reference to anatomy and suggest that I could have done something, and in fact still can, to change many things about myself and satisfy a hearts' desire. They would be right and wrong. While there is a deep need to be able to 'do what the other girls do' here in my heart, (oh my yes) on the other hand, ignoring that imperative permitted me to satisfy an even more compelling hearts' desire of an earlier time, and follow a path that continues to bring joy today.
The reality was brought to mind over the holidays as we spent a day with our children and their spouses (no grandchildren yet, but maybe someday). I could sit and listen to them, and just be with them for days and never tire. They are such interesting and loving people. Yes of course, I am biased. :)
Best memories from a long life are dominated by images of caring for those two in their infancy then having the joy of watching them grow and learn for over thirty years now. There is no way I can imagine a life without these precious people and all of the surprises they bring. I am forever grateful that my inner guide found ways to divert my attention away from my deep feminine roots and left me to live as a man so I could help give them life and then provide whatever parenting skills I could as their father.
Young transitioning women have the option of freezing sperm so that they can have offspring. I understand and support that practice without question. Perhaps some day, medical technology will find a way to grow and implant our own ovaries and uterus along with the rest, and some future sisters will have that amazing experience of giving birth. It is something I can imagine, so it is probably something that brighter minds will bring to pass.
For my part, I will always have those timeless moments, holding those lives in my arms, falling asleep with them close to my heart, and today feeling nothing but awe and gratitude that some power prevented me from knowing a lesser hearts' desire in place of this one.
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Thursday, 22 December 2011
Keeping Warm
While there are likely readers who are in locations where the temperature will stay around 25 C, or 76 F in their homes without help from wood-stoves and furnaces, that is not the case where I live. Currently outside the temperature is hovering right at the freezing point. This past week I purchased some underwear that makes my old 'long-johns' look pretty sad. For those who do not know, long-johns are generally made of cotton, and are baggy. They do provide some warmth, but very little in the way of tactile comfort.
A week ago my wife and I were shopping in a grocery store in a nearby city. This grocery store has started to carry a line of clothing in the last few years (it is a 'Superstore' for those in Ontario) and we wandered into that part of the store to get my wife a thermal undershirt. I felt the material and immediately decided that I also needed one of those to try out, especially at the price; $12.
I am wearing it now while sitting around the house (blogging to you) and it is sooo very comfortable. The blend of materials is designed to wick moisture away, and hugs your skin like an all-over embrace. I paired this with some thermal tights. With these and a sweater, jeans and boots I can go walking outside and only have to make sure the ears are covered to be completely immune from the damp and cold, yet inside they continue to be comfortable. Oh brave new world….
When I was younger, such clothing would not have been available or acceptable for men. Now they are, and why not?
Clearly, I am not 'pushing the envelope' here as our friend Meg does in the 'underdressing' department. To be honest though, if she finds comfort in wearing a camisole under a shirt, why fuss? Why shouldn't mens socks be any colour and texture we want? I love flowers, so if I have them printed on my socks that should be my choice to make. I started wearing womens knee-high socks this past winter because I got tired of the ones that had elastic just above the ankle and just below the thickest part of my calf cutting into my leg then slipping down to bunch up around my ankles. The ones in the womens wear section are longer and fit just below the knee. They don't cut into my leg and they stay up.
Thinking back to some earlier comments, and comments I have been reading on other sites recently, it is interesting how some see a slippery-slope in doing the things our heart tells us we must. It may be true that getting in the habit of doing what exactly what you want to do with your body will lead right to a path you never expected. If that bothers you, do not change a thing, and for heavens sake stop that silly self-examination stuff.
Eliminate hair where you hate it: check
Wear close-fitting garments that make you feel like you are being hugged all over: check
Monday, 19 December 2011
Owning Our Story
This is not likely to be the last time Brené Brown gets a mention here, because she is a source of inspiration for me along the way.
She reminds anyone who cares to listen or read that we are worth the risk it takes to be ourselves, no matter how we think others might react to that, no matter how difficult we may find it as we search for who that person is under layers of shame or guilt or denial.
I do not know about you, but in my life there are only two other inspirations to be true to myself; the stories of those who are also living along this continuum, and the internal light that surprises me by shining brighter as I dare to be myself.
Follow the link down below at the right for more of Brené's thoughts.
She reminds anyone who cares to listen or read that we are worth the risk it takes to be ourselves, no matter how we think others might react to that, no matter how difficult we may find it as we search for who that person is under layers of shame or guilt or denial.
I do not know about you, but in my life there are only two other inspirations to be true to myself; the stories of those who are also living along this continuum, and the internal light that surprises me by shining brighter as I dare to be myself.
Follow the link down below at the right for more of Brené's thoughts.
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Like a Rainstorm
I have tried to stay him for so long; way too much effort. I need to stop working so hard and just find out how much of him is really me. Maybe we will talk about that again, but not today. The whole, maintaining the façade thing was not working at all, so things were bound to change eventually. Apologies to those who thought me above "superficial". Today is a first (it might be the only) post about stuff that might seem superficial to many.
There was no rain of course. That is just a metaphor. No rain, but a flood happened anyway, a flood that came from some underneath source that has been held back for a very long time. This blog has been about an internal battle up until now. About a month ago, things went external on me, so either the blog could end, or it could morph with me. Let's try it and see how long it lasts.
A Hair Removal Story
I am a bit cheap and thought about going to a spa, or a hair removal clinic, or whatever to have the leg and chest and arm hair done. I then thought about what I already knew on hair removal from email conversations with others online.
Shaving makes the hairs tougher and does not last long before stubble comes in.
Waxing or epilating makes hairs come in lighter and the hairless state is longer. That was what I wanted. Waxing is best done by a professional, or a girlfriend who has done it before and wants to hear you squeal like a baby.
As I say, I am cheap (and have no girlfriend into SM, yet anyway), so I bought a medium quality epilator and went at it; it being my hands first, then my feet. Time for a little admiration. How wonderful not to feel and look like some sort of ape. The legs came next, right up to *there*. You might be saying to me at this point, Halle didn't that hurt?? You would be right of course, epilating is not for the faint of heart. I suppose this is the indication of just how much I wanted this evidence of male puberty and a long life of testosterone to be gone! No, it did not hurt; there was good pain. Every little snatch felt good. It took me a while to get the hang of the correct angle and pressure. Some skin got irritated in the learning process. The direction you travel across the skin matters. It was really helpful to trim the hairs down to less than a centimetre in length for the little tweezers to do their job.
I was really careful to clean up and wow, there sure was a pile of hair! I found the easy way to do this was to do the work in the bathtub (no water of course; not wanting to end my life, just the life of the fur) with a plug in the drain, then put a screen over the drain and rinse the evidence into the screen, thence to the garbage.
Now, I realize that for so many of you out there, this is old hat and if you got this far, thank you for hanging in. Maybe you are looking for some profound observations at this point. Let's try this.
I like the look and feel of my body better than I can remember.
Four weeks and a couple of easy 'touch-ups" later and I still get a kick out of feeling skin when I touch my hands. Why does it matter so much? It just does.
There was no rain of course. That is just a metaphor. No rain, but a flood happened anyway, a flood that came from some underneath source that has been held back for a very long time. This blog has been about an internal battle up until now. About a month ago, things went external on me, so either the blog could end, or it could morph with me. Let's try it and see how long it lasts.
A Hair Removal Story
I am a bit cheap and thought about going to a spa, or a hair removal clinic, or whatever to have the leg and chest and arm hair done. I then thought about what I already knew on hair removal from email conversations with others online.
Shaving makes the hairs tougher and does not last long before stubble comes in.
Waxing or epilating makes hairs come in lighter and the hairless state is longer. That was what I wanted. Waxing is best done by a professional, or a girlfriend who has done it before and wants to hear you squeal like a baby.
As I say, I am cheap (and have no girlfriend into SM, yet anyway), so I bought a medium quality epilator and went at it; it being my hands first, then my feet. Time for a little admiration. How wonderful not to feel and look like some sort of ape. The legs came next, right up to *there*. You might be saying to me at this point, Halle didn't that hurt?? You would be right of course, epilating is not for the faint of heart. I suppose this is the indication of just how much I wanted this evidence of male puberty and a long life of testosterone to be gone! No, it did not hurt; there was good pain. Every little snatch felt good. It took me a while to get the hang of the correct angle and pressure. Some skin got irritated in the learning process. The direction you travel across the skin matters. It was really helpful to trim the hairs down to less than a centimetre in length for the little tweezers to do their job.
I was really careful to clean up and wow, there sure was a pile of hair! I found the easy way to do this was to do the work in the bathtub (no water of course; not wanting to end my life, just the life of the fur) with a plug in the drain, then put a screen over the drain and rinse the evidence into the screen, thence to the garbage.
Now, I realize that for so many of you out there, this is old hat and if you got this far, thank you for hanging in. Maybe you are looking for some profound observations at this point. Let's try this.
I like the look and feel of my body better than I can remember.
Four weeks and a couple of easy 'touch-ups" later and I still get a kick out of feeling skin when I touch my hands. Why does it matter so much? It just does.
Monday, 12 December 2011
A New Site to Visit
Hi Blogistan,
Today, a break from me. There is a new blog up that is so well written and speaks to me, so I figure it will speak to a lot of you too.
Transsexualism Congenital Disorder.
I do not know who you are 'Sagebrush', but thank you for saying it all so well.
Let me know what you think folks.
Today, a break from me. There is a new blog up that is so well written and speaks to me, so I figure it will speak to a lot of you too.
Transsexualism Congenital Disorder.
I do not know who you are 'Sagebrush', but thank you for saying it all so well.
Let me know what you think folks.
Thursday, 8 December 2011
feeling disjointed
Today's post is about as close to 'blurting' as you will see here, for the feelings are way too raw to allow me to edit as well as usual.
In correspondence with a friend who reads this blog, she mentioned that 'things' seem to be going well for me right now. The recent posts are giving this impression it would seem, an impression that is not totally false by any means, but then, not quite true either. "Who wants to read a whiny blog?" says I, to which she pointed out "The blog is for any purpose you choose".
I choose to remind anyone who cares that no matter how calmly and carefully you might think you have approached it, being honest with yourself and others comes with a heavy price. Pulling at a thread in a tightly woven garment is dangerous, ok?
This is a world that will accept androgyny, in fact, to some extent, it seems to worship it, in fashion models and celebrities. If I desired a public life as an item of curiosity it would make my life easier, I will admit. At a personal level however, people are uncomfortable with androgyny.
Even when I was willing to pretend to be a manly man, it was never something I excelled in. No, let me be honest, I sucked at 'manly'. Since abandoning my façade this has only got worse. In a pack of men, I might as well have a bag over my head for all the conversation I can muster and the experience makes me feel like running away.
Changes have been subtle and remember, it has been an overall goal to somehow stay with my spouse of almost forty years, in spite of the obvious difficulties, for her and for me. She has never seen me dressed, because dressing is something done only from time to time and mostly to reassure myself that I am myself. I do not leave makeup or my undies lying around. I do have one thing that is pretty hard to miss that can be an indication of my rejection of male; my lack of hair from the hips down and on my hands. I really hate my furry coating, and after all, lots of men eliminate hair too, so "what of it" I thought. After all, I love her deeply, and that is more important than some superficial attribute, right?
Turns out, this is a deal-breaker for my wife. Keep in mind, virtually nothing else has changed externally here, but obviously, there has been change for her, that she has not comment on, and this has been a 'tipping point' for her. Where we stand at the moment; we are together, but emotionally disconnected. She feels abandoned by these changes, and so she has abandoned me. That is only fair I suppose. It really no longer matters what my intentions were.
We all know what it is like when a bandaid is stuck on the back of your arm and you know it has to come off, and when it comes off, it will hurt, no matter how you do it. Pulling out one hair at a time is slow and prolongs the pain. All at once in one swift pull is the right way. I am a band-aid stuck in her hair. She wants it gone. She knows it has to come off, so what is she waiting for? She is waiting for security, mostly financial, and don't think she doesn't deserve that. My wife put up with a lot and deserves better. She is right to be really pissed off, but we are not wealthy together, and apart, she would find it very difficult.
It is tempting to pull that sticky ol' mess off for her by saying "I am leaving", but that is the man talking, and I am not listening to mr. t much these days.
If I cannot continue to be a best friend to someone who has been my best friend for so long then the rest of my life will be wasted anyway, no matter what else I do. Losing the label 'lover' hurts, a lot, I am having a lot of trouble with that, but no, she will have to make up her own mind, and like a friend, I will do my best to listen and try to help her when she comes up with her plan. I have to do what is in my heart here and that is it. What she wants most of all is for me to 'Just forget about all of this nonsense and go back to the way you were!' If you are reading this you do not need me to explain.
As a good friend says, don't be like me. Be yourself. But be ready for that personal journey to reveal some surprises, and not all good ones.
In correspondence with a friend who reads this blog, she mentioned that 'things' seem to be going well for me right now. The recent posts are giving this impression it would seem, an impression that is not totally false by any means, but then, not quite true either. "Who wants to read a whiny blog?" says I, to which she pointed out "The blog is for any purpose you choose".
I choose to remind anyone who cares that no matter how calmly and carefully you might think you have approached it, being honest with yourself and others comes with a heavy price. Pulling at a thread in a tightly woven garment is dangerous, ok?
This is a world that will accept androgyny, in fact, to some extent, it seems to worship it, in fashion models and celebrities. If I desired a public life as an item of curiosity it would make my life easier, I will admit. At a personal level however, people are uncomfortable with androgyny.
Even when I was willing to pretend to be a manly man, it was never something I excelled in. No, let me be honest, I sucked at 'manly'. Since abandoning my façade this has only got worse. In a pack of men, I might as well have a bag over my head for all the conversation I can muster and the experience makes me feel like running away.
Changes have been subtle and remember, it has been an overall goal to somehow stay with my spouse of almost forty years, in spite of the obvious difficulties, for her and for me. She has never seen me dressed, because dressing is something done only from time to time and mostly to reassure myself that I am myself. I do not leave makeup or my undies lying around. I do have one thing that is pretty hard to miss that can be an indication of my rejection of male; my lack of hair from the hips down and on my hands. I really hate my furry coating, and after all, lots of men eliminate hair too, so "what of it" I thought. After all, I love her deeply, and that is more important than some superficial attribute, right?
Turns out, this is a deal-breaker for my wife. Keep in mind, virtually nothing else has changed externally here, but obviously, there has been change for her, that she has not comment on, and this has been a 'tipping point' for her. Where we stand at the moment; we are together, but emotionally disconnected. She feels abandoned by these changes, and so she has abandoned me. That is only fair I suppose. It really no longer matters what my intentions were.
We all know what it is like when a bandaid is stuck on the back of your arm and you know it has to come off, and when it comes off, it will hurt, no matter how you do it. Pulling out one hair at a time is slow and prolongs the pain. All at once in one swift pull is the right way. I am a band-aid stuck in her hair. She wants it gone. She knows it has to come off, so what is she waiting for? She is waiting for security, mostly financial, and don't think she doesn't deserve that. My wife put up with a lot and deserves better. She is right to be really pissed off, but we are not wealthy together, and apart, she would find it very difficult.
It is tempting to pull that sticky ol' mess off for her by saying "I am leaving", but that is the man talking, and I am not listening to mr. t much these days.
If I cannot continue to be a best friend to someone who has been my best friend for so long then the rest of my life will be wasted anyway, no matter what else I do. Losing the label 'lover' hurts, a lot, I am having a lot of trouble with that, but no, she will have to make up her own mind, and like a friend, I will do my best to listen and try to help her when she comes up with her plan. I have to do what is in my heart here and that is it. What she wants most of all is for me to 'Just forget about all of this nonsense and go back to the way you were!' If you are reading this you do not need me to explain.
As a good friend says, don't be like me. Be yourself. But be ready for that personal journey to reveal some surprises, and not all good ones.