"The unexamined life is not worth living" Socrates

- - scatterings of ideas sent to my younger self, a sensitive girl who was fooled into believing she was a boy because of anatomy - -

Monday 29 February 2016

Wow, you are so normal... NOT!

Welcome to the world of a budding woman who has had to present herself as a male for more than fifty years and did a really, really good job at it; so many accrued bad habits to lose...
Along with everything else that goes with living a "normal" life now, mine revolves around two things:

1. Let those around you know by your voice, clothing, hairstyle, makeup, gait, posture... the list goes on... that you are female. 

2. Give expression to those things which defined you as a unique and interesting person for those previous fifty years. 

Getting called 'sir' while out and about interacting as myself not once but twice this past week affected me. It bruised the ego naturally, but mostly though, such a kick in the butt provided a huge incentive to work harder on all items of list one.

At the same time, I am not normal... repeat, I am not your average person. Oh, physically I'm fine for a woman. Yes, I am five inches taller than the average Canadian woman, and ten pounds heavier too (but that makes sense since I'm taller) so I do stand out in a crowd a bit, but not much. My shoulders will always be a bit wider than the average, but it is possible to dress to emphasize one's positive qualities.

Where I am really not normal is in all those other areas that matter to me most - list two. My attitudes and feelings are unique of course; everyone's are. Nothing of who I am screams male, but it does scream DIFFERENT. Let me repeat: I am NOT normal. I get ideas that need to be let out. In fact, in these past few weeks, my mind is feeling freer and more flexible than ever; like a butterfly discovering its wings and figuring out what to do with them.

So, being true to myself is always going to be a balancing act that will slowly become more natural to me as time goes on. What I must avoid is that thing which brought me here so long ago. There will be a spontaneous person here; no façade ever again. Maybe I need some red hair...

All of this reminded me of a TED talk by Rosie King. Here are some salient quotes:

It could be that people don't want to associate with anyone who won't or can't fit themselves into a box labelled 'Normal'.... If you think about it, what is normal? What does it mean? Imagine if that was the best compliment you ever received: 

"Wow, you are really normal."

Saturday 20 February 2016

Deaths in the Family

A little over a week ago, there were two deaths and neither of them were immediately apparent to me. The first to report here and, in fact, the first I was aware of, was my dear blogging friend Ellena. She authored Ellena's Cocologie.

She also added her thoughts here so often and to such good effect. 
Ellena changed my life very certainly by her clever observations and friendship, but also by her very presence here as a friend of Two Spirits. 
With Ellena's comments and friendship others came to visit and stay. She was the very first non-transgender person to stop and stay. That changed me fundamentally into a real person. Ellena helped me find me

I want so much to keep this post short, the way Ellena would. She had (almost wrote 'has'.. sigh) such an economical way of saying things quite profoundly at times and simply spot on - always. 

Needless to say, but I will say it, I am going to miss Ellena very, very much. I wished many times she and I could meet and now that I am finally me, it would have been even sweeter. Perhaps in some other reality if the goddess permits it. 

Yes, that same day there was another death but not one I shall mourn. Yet I know others who do and it makes me so very sad to know they really think that they have lost something. He is truly gone since he was me. 

You might as well move along if it is the guy you want to see. He doesn't live here anymore.  

Ruhe in Frieden, lieber Ellena.

Saturday 13 February 2016

On clocks and other things

A good friend observed that here on my blog, there is no countdown app, or in fact any indication of my impeding transition, or weeks since starting HRT, or ... well any of that sort of thing. I honestly cannot say how long spironolactone has been part of my morning pill routine. Is it four and a half, three and a half or five and a half years? It was definitely sometime in the fall of some year. How can I be so blasé? This is just me, living in the moment, doing the best I can.

It is likely I might recall this date, well actually yesterday's date, for a while. Yesterday I went to visit camh. Yes, that camh... and I have come home totally happy with my interview with a lovely young and very thorough and professional person.
If you check that link above, you might notice that it is not easy to find anything about transsexuals because camh is about so much more. After a lovely conversation with another woman while in the waiting room, I found out what a supportive and vital place it is these days. She was there because of an addiction after using pain-killers for too long. We talked about chronic pain, and so forth. She was effusive in her praise for the support and strategies she has found there. 

I have no idea if it was reported here at some time, but this was not my first visit to camh. It was by far my more pleasant. For one thing, I went as myself, and myself I shall be from now on. 
For those who will keep track with me, it is likely going to be a year from now that I will qualify for consideration for SRS. I feel ready now; oh so very ready, but this past week is when I started to present female in my world, and that starts a clock. It seems the term "real-life experience" has been superseded by the way, and this pea-brain cannot recall what new term has replaced it, however we both got a good laugh about the nonsense of reinventing perfectly good terms because some new and trendier one has appeared. 

On a more personal note, the process of telling folks has gone as could have been predicted. Some family and long-time acquaintances have reacted poorly, but the rest, all good friends (part of my true family) and co-workers, have been totally supportive. It will be my job now to not draw unnecessary attention to my appearance, but simply be myself, as I come out to the community at large this coming week.

Yesterday after my meeting at camh, my daughter and I went for lunch together. She has known for a very long time this day was coming by the way. Apart from a conversation about how to get a discount code before ordering clothes from an online distributor, it was the very same sort of conversation we always have had, and I believe, always will have.

Life is very good right now, in the moment. 

Thursday 4 February 2016

Going Through the Motions

Perhaps it would be fair to give a warning that this post might have some triggers in it. At one time this would have been hard for me to read. Please take care of and love yourself. 

Recently many of my senses have changed; smelling things more acutely, seeing things that might have escaped my notice in the past. I feel for others more than ever before too, and I have never been one to lack empathy. 

One of the things I've noticed is how so many, especially men, age fifty and older seem to rapidly deteriorate physically and mentally. Getting old before their time, they don't seem to notice or care. Living their lives on autopilot, they go through the motions as though they have nothing much to live for. 
Putting in time before the big last disappointment. 
Don't get me wrong, I know people who defy this pattern and these wonderful people are vital and fun; some of them are transsexual, but I digress. 

It may not be a coincidence that it was around the age of fifty-five that my careful examination of who I was and now who I have revealed began. Looking back, I might have become that sort of slowly dying person. 

Going through the motions doesn't seem so terribly dangerous or awful when you are young. But it can be fatal for those without a reason to break free of it. It scares me so much to imagine myself like that; some sort of zombie apocalypse

Almost a year ago, someone who I thought loved me dearly, asked me to please just go through the motions for a while longer:
"You won't be around so much longer. 
Please, just pretend to be a man for the sake of all of those who love you."

When I was a child, not so long after World War II and the Korean War, there was a biblical quote that would get tossed out:
Greater love has no one than this, 
that someone lay down his life for his friends.

It was just this past weekend that yet another 'loved one' asked the very same thing of me... 

Just go through the motions for a while longer, please. 

It was like someone trying to reach into my chest and rip out my heart. Would it really be so much better if I had died? 

Not for me

I will not go through the motions to make others comfortable ever again. 

Tuesday 2 February 2016

Look Who is in the Driver's Seat!

It will be five years ago in May that I wrote these words in a post titled J'ecris donc J'exist!:

I know and really understand that I write to exist. If I ever stop writing, it will mean one of two things. Either I have stopped existing, or, I have decided to start driving the car, and have no need to write anymore.

Thank you to whoever it was who decided to look at that post today six times, or perhaps six different people saw it, or some combination. You drew attention to it in the statistics to the point where I needed to read it again.

Ne crains pas , j'existe!